Why we do what we do (Part 1).
Our delusional responses to cognitive dissonance.
“A man with a conviction is a hard man to change. Tell him you disagree and he turns away. Show him facts or figures and he questions your sources. Appeal to logic and he fails to see your point.” ~ Leon Festinger
We’ve all felt it—the mental unease that arises when reality crashes into our cherished beliefs and desires. This gnawing tension has a name: cognitive dissonance. The phrase might sound academic, but the experience is as familiar as doubt itself.
Cognitive dissonance is the psychological discomfort we experience when we hold two conflicting thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes. It also occurs when our actions contradict our beliefs—whether in small or significant ways. Driven by a need for mental equilibrium, the mind will go to great lengths to restore balance.
The concept, which provides insight into human behavior, was coined by social psychologist Leon Festinger in 1957. He proposed that people are driven to maintain consistency in their thoughts and actions, and when conflicts arise, they instinctively work to resolve them—often not by changing their beliefs, but by rationalizing, justifying, or selectively ignoring information.
Festinger’s insight came from an unexpected source—a UFO doomsday cult. He and his colleagues infiltrated the Seekers, led by Dorothy Martin (also known as Sister Thedra), who prophesied Earth’s destruction and an alien rescue on a specific date. Festinger anticipated that when the prophecy failed, the group’s faith would collapse.
What happened next was astonishing. Rather than renouncing their beliefs, the cult members doubled down. They insisted that their unwavering faith had prevented the apocalypse, transforming what seemed like failure into a miraculous success.
Over years of observing human belief and behavior, I’ve seen this psychological phenomenon countless times. But witnessing it one night at my local pub? That was something else entirely.
I arrived early to meet friends and spotted one of them right away at the bar—tanned, fit, and dressed in his usual impeccable style. He was wearing one of those Lacoste polos (I can never remember if that logo is an alligator or crocodile) and cranberry-red corduroy pants that looked fresh out of a fancy catalog.
As I walked toward him, something weird happened. He was chatting with the bartender when suddenly, as the bartender turned towards another customer, he jerked backward, glass held high.
“Damn it!” he exclaimed, frantically gesturing at his pant leg
The performance was flawless—except for one crucial detail: I had been watching the entire scene unfold, and nothing had actually spilled.
“Hey, what happened?” I asked, sidling up beside him. “I didn’t see anything spill on you.”
His startled expression melted into a conspiratorial smile, as if I’d stumbled upon a carefully guarded secret. Then he leaned in and confessed: these were his favorite pants, but they had a stubborn stain he couldn’t get out. Rather than retire them, he’d developed a ritual—wear them proudly, then stage a spill in the same spot early in the evening. That way, he could keep wearing them without feeling (in my terms) the sting of cognitive dissonance.
The whole thing was so bizarre that I started questioning my own memory. So before writing this, I called another friend—who not only confirmed the behavior but casually admitted he did the same thing with his favorite chinos.
This was cognitive dissonance in full theatrical production. My friend couldn’t reconcile two clashing beliefs: “I am a well-dressed, put-together guy” and “I’m willingly wearing stained pants.” Instead of tossing them or accepting the imperfection, he created an alternative reality through performance.
By staging the “accident,” he turned the stain from a permanent flaw (a sign of carelessness or sloppiness) into a fresh mishap that could happen to anyone—preserving his meticulous self-image. The discomfort disappeared—not by changing the physical reality, but by reframing its meaning.
What makes this example particularly fascinating is that he wasn’t just trying to fool others—he was creating a more comfortable reality for himself. The performance wasn’t merely about social perception; it was about aligning his actions with his self-image.
Even more remarkable was discovering that our other friend had adopted a similar strategy. This highlights another aspect of cognitive dissonance: we often seek validation for our dissonance-resolving behaviors. When we see others using similar strategies, it normalizes our own mental gymnastics.
This whole pants-staining charade might seem odd, but it’s just a small-scale version of what we all do. Think of the smoker who insists they can quit anytime, the impulsive shopper who calls a splurge “an investment,” or the dieter who convinces themselves that walking to the fridge counts as exercise. And, as we see daily, political loyalties showcase cognitive dissonance at its most creative.
What’s especially striking about my friend’s case is its theatrical element. Most of us resolve cognitive dissonance internally—we rewrite the story in our heads. But he took it a step further, acting it out, as if internal rationalization alone wasn’t enough to silence the discomfort.
While these mental gymnastics are often harmless (and sometimes hilarious), chronic cognitive dissonance is draining. Keeping contradictions in check takes mental energy—energy that could be better spent elsewhere. Over time, this subtle but constant tension chips away at our well-being, leading to stress, anxiety, and a weakened sense of self
Worse, relying on rationalization instead of real change can trap us in self-defeating patterns, blinding us to reality and hindering self-awareness and growth. If my friend had simply acknowledged the truth—that he loved those pants, stain and all, and that he wanted to wear them—he would have freed himself from the need to perform. A more flexible self-concept would allow him to wear imperfect pants without feeling like an imperfect human being.
At its core, cognitive dissonance reveals the lengths we go to for mental comfort, often at the expense of facing reality.
In Part 2, I’ll examine a widespread psychological mechanism for reducing dissonance: the “have to” narrative, which people use to justify actions that don’t align with their true desires. I’ll also dive into the paradox of certainty—how you can be completely confident and still be entirely wrong.
Stay passionate!
