Cognitive dissonance falls under an area of psychology called "attribution theory." When Star Wars Episode I came out in 1999, many people saw it and said they loved it. For example, I'm not a huge fan, but I saw it a second time and even a third time in the theater, and that wasn't strange and I didn't have trouble finding people interested in seeing it again. After Episode II (I insist it's by far the worst), a tide had turned and most people said they hated Episode I. Both of these extremes resulted from many people unconsciously adjusting their opinions to track the way people they cared about felt. If attribution theory sounds at all interesting, I highly recommend reading more about it. But in short, it's about how we explain to ourselves how we feel about third parties (neighbors, clothes, theories, cities, countries, sports teams, foods, all the "nouny" stuff), and how we influence each other's evaluations without even realizing this is happening. On that note, attribution theory is even able to predict social polarization and illuminate why it happens using math (look up "Heider balance," well ok here). There's a natural underpinning to how, in countries whose constitutions do not recognize political parties, two big parties will form, rather than, say, three big parties, or four big parties. It's a reliable pattern. Attribution theory and its concepts of cognitive dissonance and Heider balance explain why.
A while ago my dad casually asked what cognitive dissonance really means, anyway. He thought he knew what it meant, but he wanted my psych major take on it. So here you go: cognitive dissonance is the way you reject ideas you disagree with, before even realizing that you're rationalizing instead of processing the facts well. Instead of getting curious, which would be the most appropriate response to someone challenging what you believe, you go into defense mode like a box turtle. This thing you hear clashes with what you believe for sure must be true, and rather than experience this clash inside yourself, rather than feel shaken up, rather than letting that sit and percolate, rather than (with practice you can do this) enjoying the intensity of uncertainty and confusion, rather than exploring with questions or searching for evidence against your own view, you take a potshot at the source of this discomfort. You say something that makes the person look stupid, or like a bad person. You make fun of them, you make fun of the idea, you point out some detail you perceive to be a fatal flaw, and then you go about your day as if you just won. And for cognitive dissonance, you did: you just avoided thinking, and you did it in a way that made you feel clever and right. Voilà, the very real and ubiquitous problem of cognitive dissonance. It's the uneasy feeling that prompts you to shoot the messenger, metaphorically or (God forbid in this day and age, but it's happened countless times in history) actually. I hope you can immediately see how this would lead to political polarization. We go all-or-nothing. It's easier. Still, it's nice to know that science has been examining this for decades. We know things about it. Knotty as it may be, the problem is—I am totally convinced—possible to solve.
I explained to my dad that, in my mind, cognitive dissonance is actually pretty relatable to musical dissonance. He loves music, so I thought it would help to add this. We use "dissonance" as a metaphor outside the world of music. When you're trying to sell someone on the need to upgrade equipment in the lab, you want to avoid "dissonance" in the message you give them. Your let's-upgrade-this pitch should be self-consistent. It should make sense. You don't want to tell them you really need this new microscope, but there's a better microscope coming out in two years, but you need it sooner than that. That's dissonant. In music, we have different preferences about dissonance. Some hate it and want all the notes and chords to be consonant, to be sweet-sounding, to avoid clashes. But without conflict, a story is boring. Songs and symphonies and so on, they use this idea of conflict as well: they will introduce dissonance, in other words conflict, and this will make you feel tense. There will be chords that sound tortured, or there'll be a lot of distortion on the instrument, or the regular beat will break down into chaos. And then the song will resolve the tension. Structure will rebuild itself. It'll be beautiful. Some people get used to a lot of dissonance. Some people wouldn't like music without it. For example, I actually kind of like the sound of a cat on a piano; my ear grabs bits of it that I like. I can hit any two keys on a piano and it sounds good to me, or any three or four, and I can add more random notes than that, and even if I don't think it's great, I can appreciate what I'm hearing, and perhaps tweak it until I really love it. So I have quite a strong taste for dissonance in music. It can be an acquired taste, but maybe for some it's natural. Anyway, to return to the topic at hand, when discussing ideas, it's actually very similar. We have different amounts of taste for, and tolerance of, "dissonance," that is, ideas that clash with each other and with our own beliefs.
But with experience, or maybe also by nature depending on your personality, you can appreciate the adventure of that conflict. You can enjoy it even when it hurts, like very spicy food. When you get to that point in discussing ideas, you're handling cognitive dissonance well. You can hear something you totally disagree with and find totally unacceptable, hear it out, discuss it, ask questions to learn more, etc, and you won't lose your mind or hate the person you're talking to. (Note: this is unrealistic and profoundly unfair to expect of someone who is being abused or oppressed, especially on the topic of their own oppression.) You will discover that this does not make your brain leak out of your ears, nor does it make you morally worse as a person. You can listen to the "Devil," get how the Devil is confused, and walk away not as a bad person, or a person convinced by vile views, but as a person who can understand how a human would think this way. People who are wrong tend to think they're right, just like you do. And by the same token, with such strong practice becoming a routine, you'll also be open to new ideas that seem astoundingly wrong at first yet are actually right, and you'll be able to hear criticism that's overly harsh and still derive usable information from it.
Hopefully this description of cognitive dissonance in action (and the possibility of growing through it) is more helpful than a textbook definition that you'll simply forget after the test, as it were. Specifically, to recap, cognitive dissonance it that natural discomfort that leads to arguments and unwillingness to understand another position. It's the entire reason we have the phrase "don't shoot the messenger." It's why we seemingly miraculously ignore evidence and logic that doesn't support our preexisting notion (when it's important to us). Rather than reevaluate anything or admit to a sliver of ignorance (a good practice in a forward-moving debate), we lob verbal Molotov cocktails, either disguised as rational objections, or as direct "gotchas" about the disagreeable messenger.
So let me talk about how to use this idea constructively.
For example, let's say you're talking to someone who opposes the expansion of rights and protections for a minority group. For fun, let's pick first-generation immigrants. (I am one, though most people don't know that on meeting me. It isn't something I'm sensitive about at all, I'm just vaguely proud of it. But I'm admitting which side I'm on: I'm pretty much anti-borders and pro-kindness.) Rather than getting into a distracting confrontation with your conversation partner about whether a foreign minority is actually a group of real people (word to the wise: the person you're confronting will inevitably deny that this criticism of prejudice applies to them), I've found it's better to focus on less barbed ways of seeing. For example, the way I think about minority struggles myself is in terms of "being welcoming." It isn't just that we don't want to treat someone like they don't exist or aren't human. In the conversation you can start there if you want, at that low bar, but talk about yourself and your experiences and preferences, rather than accusing the person you're addressing. Know that if you accuse a xenophobe/racist of treating people like they aren't human, they'll usually deny it, and some of them will even totally believe what they're saying. Curiously, people have a hard time asking themselves whether they're treating someone as if they're human. Frustrations can lead to resentment, and resentment can lead to disregarding someone's subjectivity to the point of actively hurting that person without really recognizing it or caring. Wherever it was that I first heard the issue of race and other minorities described as "welcoming," I'm grateful for hearing it that way, and I'll try to share that way of seeing. Whether you think someone deserves XYZ or not, the question of whether we are making sure that we are welcoming to people not like us is actually pretty easy for most people to understand. It raises the bar and it's easier to think about at the same time.
By talking about "being welcoming to people who are not in the majority," we avoid harshness that would heighten the cognitive dissonance someone is already feeling and fleeing instinctively. It comes down to seeing the existence and normality of cognitive dissonance, knowing for sure it will arise (with some appreciation of why), and then using that understanding to communicate with someone who likely wouldn't listen to you if you just gave it to them in plain words without any icing. You may not agree here, but I'll make the claim: if you swapped brains with each other, you wouldn't listen either. While directness is great, and I'm a big fan of directness, there are times when directness will totally fail. Usually that's closely related to cognitive dissonance. Don't thank me now. Just use this truth as well as you possibly can.
It'll make a difference. It can change minds in ways yelling never will. People who are experts in getting through to racists and religious extremists know this. Compassion, openly discussing what you otherwise find to be a hateful view and trying not to judge it, may seem totally misplaced, but it works much better than what you want to say. If you want to say something, tell a personal story and admit that it's just your experience. That's how you can share how you feel, and why, without putting someone's defenses up so high that cognitive dissonance closes their ears and eyes. If you disagree with someone intensely, provided of course that you can manage this, what you need is to show that 1) you care about what they think and feel, 2) you want to understand them and their view and why the world seems that way, and 3) you aren't judging them harshly. Ask questions and follow-up questions. Don't expect a sudden change, or even any change at all. Don't crowd potential like that. You may be surprised to find, though you shouldn't expect it, that this person cares about your stories and possibly even your opinions and your reasons for holding those opinions. They may listen without objecting and seem interested. After you care about their views and see them as fully human, see? Not before. And the good thing is, relating to people is much more pleasant for everyone involved than a shouting match followed by two people canceling each other.
This has been called "nudge theory," which is admirably descriptive. But it's really just understanding cognitive dissonance and applying that understanding. Often the people who most need to hear your words will hear them least, unless you take steps.
Everyone's in some kind of majority and some kind of minority. Everyone. We do not have equal experiences of this at all, but we all have some experience. Just about everyone knows what it's like to feel everyone is against them on something. For that matter, the person widely accused of racism or sexism or nationalism or classism or nepotism or despotism or any bad -ism, that person will probably be feeling singled out, will be feeling they're in a position of, well, misunderstood and unappreciated minority. Odd as it is to think of it like this, they may feel like they're standing up valiantly for the truth, even against the whole world. And if they don't feel that way, they can probably remember at least one time in life so far when they did feel embattled like that. If you are ever in the situation of talking to this person, telling them about a moment you have experienced or witnessed could bring them an opportunity to make the connection between the way they feel (misunderstood and judged and treated like they aren't fully human), and the way others feel (misunderstood and judged and treated like they aren't fully human). It's just... there are ways to bring an opportunity that have a good chance of working, and there are ways that have almost no chance whatsoever of working.
I hope that isn't too barbed a way to say it, "almost no chance whatsoever." I hope I haven't given you too much cognitive dissonance—leading to defensiveness—about this ineffective approach we all tend to use before understanding, but I'll leave that concern in as a question for you to consider. Maybe I have stirred up too much dissonance. We need to ask ourselves these questions. And other questions, too. Our best weapon against cognitive dissonance is simply asking questions.
Which way do you choose?
Why?
What is your evidence that it works?
And how are you looking for a better way?
I hope that isn't too barbed a way to say it, "almost no chance whatsoever." I hope I haven't given you too much cognitive dissonance—leading to defensiveness—about this ineffective approach we all tend to use before understanding, but I'll leave that concern in as a question for you to consider. Maybe I have stirred up too much dissonance. We need to ask ourselves these questions. And other questions, too. Our best weapon against cognitive dissonance is simply asking questions.
Which way do you choose?
Why?
What is your evidence that it works?
And how are you looking for a better way?
