People clinging to falsehoods is not a failure of intelligence, but a deeply human attempt to protect emotional stability in an overwhelming world.

Chas Key’s recent article in _Pearls & Irritations_ raises a question at the centre of our political and cultural turmoil: why do people cling so fiercely to beliefs that are demonstrably untrue? Why do falsehoods, conspiracies and simplistic narratives not only survive but prosper in societies that pride themselves on being better educated than at any point in history?

The answer lies not in ignorance or stupidity, nor in moral failure, but in something far more primal and deeply wired into our biology: the human need for homeostatic equilibrium, a sense of psychological and emotional safety.

People cling to falsehoods because those beliefs steady them. They reject evidence because it unsettles them. Beliefs endure not because they are accurate, but because they keep the self upright in an overwhelming world.

This is not an excuse for damaging beliefs; it is an explanation, and one we must understand if we hope to address the crises unfolding around us.

Homeostasis is the body’s constant, unconscious effort to maintain a stable internal environment. We usually think of it as a biological process, regulating temperature, breathing, blood chemistry. But homeostasis is also the foundation of our emotional and psychological lives. Everything we do as humans, whether in thought, feeling or social behaviour, is oriented toward protecting this internal balance. The brain seeks equilibrium with the same inevitability that lungs seek air. It is not optional, and it is not secondary. It is the controlling force behind behaviour, belief formation and decision-making.

Yet the world rarely cooperates with our need for stability. Reality arrives with sharp edges: uncertainty, ambiguity, sudden loss, contradictory information, social threat, shame, responsibility. Even minor disruptions can unsettle the fragile internal balance we fight to maintain. And when this balance is threatened, the brain does something extraordinarily efficient: it does not reshape the self to fit reality; it reshapes reality to protect the self. This is the origin of many false beliefs. They are not reasoned conclusions but emotional responses, constructed to keep equilibrium intact.

Chas Key is right to note that people do not cling to falsehoods because they lack information. They cling because truth can be deeply destabilising. We like to imagine our beliefs arise from logical reflection, but in practice beliefs function as emotional regulators, improvised stabilising devices we create, often unconsciously, to prevent internal fragmentation. When external reality becomes too overwhelming, it is the belief that absorbs the shock.

The dynamic becomes especially visible in the context of climate change. The science is unequivocal. The evidence is overwhelming to any honest observer, accepted across every serious scientific discipline. Yet large numbers of people, including influential political figures, continue to deny, dismiss or minimise it. The issue is not scientific at all; it is psychological.

Climate change threatens identity, economic security, political allegiance, lifestyle, cultural narratives and the sense of control we rely on to feel stable. It demands long-term thinking from a species wired for short-term survival. It asks for restraint in cultures built on consumption. It requires us to face truths that are uncomfortable, expensive and frightening. It touches every nerve that destabilises equilibrium.

When political leaders call climate change “a con job” or “absolute crap,” they are not presenting arguments; they are offering emotional relief. A falsehood that numbs anxiety is easier to absorb than a truth that demands courage, sacrifice and transformation. In this sense, false beliefs function as a kind of psychological self-medication.

Humans evolved to detect immediate threats, predators, hunger, and danger in the environment, not slow-moving existential risks. We feel fear, hunger, rejection, status loss. We do not feel atmospheric CO₂. The immediate crisis, such as the cost of living, always wins emotional priority over the long-term crisis, even when the long-term crisis is far more catastrophic. The nervous system is simply not designed to register gradual threats with the intensity they deserve. Thus, when the immediate discomfort of a complex truth collides with the need for equilibrium, the truth is discarded.

There is another powerful force at work: shame. From decades spent working with traumatised and severely dysregulated young people, I have seen how shame locks belief systems firmly in place. A child raised in chaos or unpredictability learns that cognitive flexibility can be dangerous.

As an adult, that same person may cling to rigid beliefs because those beliefs shield them from re-experiencing earlier wounds. This pattern plays out in public life as well. People who feel unheard turn to conspiracy theories that give them a sense of power. People who feel inferior hold tightly to identity myths that elevate them. People who feel uncertain cling to simple narratives that remove ambiguity. Once a belief protects someone from shame, it becomes nearly unbreakable. Evidence cannot compete with emotional relief.

Bonhoeffer was right to warn that stupidity is not a lack of intellect but a refusal to engage with reality because reality is too painful. Modern political leaders have industrialised this avoidance. Figures like Trump and Abbott do not counter scientific evidence; they erase it and replace it with simpler, more comforting stories. They do not speak to reason; they speak to equilibrium. And electorally, this works, because equilibrium always wins.

We often assume education is the antidote to false belief. It is not. Education, as currently structured, teaches information but not emotional literacy or reflective thinking. It teaches what to think, not how thinking occurs. It teaches science but not the psychology of denial. It teaches history but not the forces that shape identity and belief. As a result, adults can recite scientific facts with perfect accuracy while still believing conspiracy theories, because the belief is serving the emotional system, not the cognitive one. Facts bounce off when the internal world feels unsafe.

If false beliefs protect equilibrium, then truth can take hold only when equilibrium is restored. Beliefs shift not through argument or evidence but through emotional safety. People reconsider their beliefs only when they feel safe enough to tolerate discomfort, supported rather than shamed, and secure in their identity and agency. Truth becomes bearable only when thinking becomes safe. Complexity becomes possible only when the person can absorb it without feeling threatened.

This is the central misunderstanding of contemporary politics, media and education. They all assume belief change is an intellectual process, when in reality it is relational and emotional. When democracies fail to understand this, they default to evidence-based persuasion and are then baffled when it fails. Evidence is necessary but never sufficient. The true contest is not between truth and ignorance, but between equilibrium and disruption.

If we want a society capable of confronting climate change, inequality or democratic decay, we must first recognise that people are not defending beliefs; they are defending equilibrium. Falsehoods spread because they soothe. Truth falters because it stings. Our task is to build social, educational and political environments in which thinking feels safe, discomfort is tolerable, and the search for truth is less frightening than the maintenance of illusion. Only then, and not before will facts begin to matter again.