Why We Want to Believe: the Psychology Behind Political Conspiracies

For years, as a fact-checker and human rights lawyer, I have analyzed thousands of news stories, hoaxes, and manipulated narratives. And there is one question that keeps coming back, often from very intelligent people: “How can so many individuals believe things that are clearly not true?”

I used to think the answer was simple: lack of information, poor education, or just stubbornness. But after decades of observing political communication, I no longer believe that is the full picture. The truth is more human, more emotional, and frankly, more interesting. Today, I want to sit down with you — especially if you have ever felt that “something is being hidden” — a nd try to decode why conspiracy theories feel so true, even when they are not.

We Are Pattern-Seeking Animals

Let us start with a confession: your brain is wired to find connections. It is not a flaw; it is a survival mechanism. Thousands of years ago, if you heard a rustle in the grass and assumed it was a predator, you lived. If you assumed it was just the wind, you might not. Our minds evolved to see danger and meaning everywhere.

This is where political conspiracies find their first home. When something huge happens — a pandemic, a war, the assassination of a leader — we instinctively look for causes equally large. Psychologists call this the proportionality bias. We refuse to accept that a lone, confused gunman changed the course of history. We reject the idea that a virus crossed species by accident. It feels wrong. It feels small. And we are hardwired to believe that big events must have big villains.

Daniel Kahneman, Nobel laureate and father of behavioral economics, would explain this as our brain taking cognitive shortcuts. We prefer a simple, structured story — even if it is false — over a chaotic, ambiguous reality. Uncertainty is painful. Conspiracies are aspirin.

The Illusion of Control

Now, let us talk about power. Or rather, the lack of it.

I have practiced my profession in very diverse political contexts, always with respect and support for their sovereign processes. This proximity has allowed me to observe something that does not distinguish colors or ideologies: distrust in institutions is now a global phenomenon, and understanding it does not imply condemning any government, but rather trying to strengthen the bond between the people and their leadership.

This is where the second psychological layer appears: existential motivation. When we feel anxious or threatened, conspiracy theories offer a strange kind of comfort. They identify an enemy. They name the guilty. And if we know who is to blame, we can imagine a solution: “If we stop them, everything will be fine.”

It is a mirage of course, but it is effective.

Professor Karen Douglas, a leading researcher in conspiracy psychology at the University of Kent, has demonstrated that exposure to conspiracy theories reduces feelings of autonomy and increases alienation — yet people still cling to them because the alternative (accepting random suffering or systemic complexity) is unbearable. We prefer a malicious world we understand over a chaotic world we do not.

We Want to Be Special

There is also a social reward. Believing in a conspiracy theory is not just about what you know; it is about who you are.

If you possess information that “the masses” ignore, you are no longer a spectator. You are an insider. You belong to a select group that can see beyond the veil. This boosts self-esteem. It also creates community.

In my years analyzing digital political communication, I have observed that many conspiracy narratives function as identity badges. Sharing a post about a hidden agenda is not always an act of information transmission; it is often an act of bonding. It says: “I trust you with the truth.”

This is reinforced by a phenomenon called collective narcissism. It is the belief that your group is special but not sufficiently recognized by others. When you combine a need for recognition with suspicion of outsiders, conspiracy theories become almost irresistible. They validate the group’s superiority and explain its lack of recognition simultaneously: “We are not failing; we are being sabotaged.”

A Final Reflection

I am not writing this to mock or dismiss. I have sat across from people who genuinely believe that governments control the weather or that pandemics are manufactured. I do not see them as irrational. I see them as humans trying to make sense of a world that often makes no sense.

But here is the paradox: conspiracy theories do not actually give us control. They give us an enemy, which is not the same. They reduce complexity, but they also reduce accuracy. They comfort us, but they also isolate us from those who see things differently.

If we want to counter misinformation, we must stop treating conspiracy believers as ignorant and start treating them as what they are: people with unmet psychological needs. We do not need more facts. We need more security, more community, and more trust in institutions. Until we rebuild those, the conspiracy theories will keep coming.

And honestly? Given the state of the world, it is easy to understand why.

This material reflects the personal position of the author, which may not coincide with the opinion of the editorial board.