Chasing Chaos
Calamity is everywhere—the pandemic, cancel culture, fickle supply chains, and even war. But why do some people embrace this chaos, and can we help them simmer down?
By Jena E Pincott published May 3, 2022 - last reviewed on May 3, 2022
![Tim McDonagh, used with permission Tim McDonagh, used with permission](https://cdn2.psychologytoday.com/assets/styles/article_inline_half_caption/public/articles/2022-04/final1_web.jpg?itok=_hJog_nZ)
If it were an experiment, it would be unethical. Take a population and give them a pandemic—a fast-mutating virus, wide-scale vaccine controversy and mandates, a manifest loss of life. Give them devastation caused by climate change—raging wildfires, heatwaves, floods, the Texas deep freeze. Throw in cancel culture, widespread protests, price hikes, supply-chain volatility, terrorism, a growing sense of scarcity, and fear of nuclear war.
In response, some people embrace chaos. Conspiracies circulate as fast as viruses. Outrage reigns in the media. We all seem to have at least one acquaintance who has declared distrust in institutions and turned to extreme ideology. Perhaps one such person is training for “disobedience” and prefers to defund the police. Another is conscripting friends to join the app Telegram and fight against the “Great Reset,” a global totalitarian regime planned by the elites. Anyone with a different view is the enemy.
Most Americans yearn for a return to normalcy; many are anxious and burnt out. A small group of agitators has a different agenda: They want to ratchet up the hostility and instability and push society to the tipping point. Who are they, why are so many people drawn to them, and what can the rest of us do?
The Mindset That Sows Chaos
In January, a user on the message board Reddit vented on a forum popular among family members of conspiracy theorists. What do you do when someone you know is so angry at the world that you’re afraid of what he might do? The Redditor’s relative had been spreading disinformation online and off about “people in smoke-filled rooms moving all the chess pieces.” Then, over the holidays, he told his family that he’d bought a gun. Why did he buy a gun? Would he use it the way he fires off tweets?
The urgency of questions like these persuaded Kevin Arceneaux, a professor at Sciences Po Paris and his colleagues at Aarhus University, in Denmark, to study what they call the “need for chaos.” Gathering information from respondents in the U.S. and English-speaking countries abroad, they asked, What mindset makes people sow havoc? Conspiracy theories, like the “Plandemic,” are so successful that nearly everyone has come across them. Familiar, too, are scenes from January 6 at the Capitol and the looting of designer purses during BLM riots. Chaos seems to be everywhere.
In 2021, the researchers published “Some People Just Want to Watch the World Burn,” a research paper that analyzed different types of chaos-seekers and their motivations. Their data showed about 5 percent of the U.S. population, known as high-chaos types, scored high on the need for chaos. Like most malcontents, these people feel increasingly marginalized. They have an intense need for social dominance; they’re angry that they’re not on top. While the demographic most strongly represented was right-wing males who had not obtained a college degree, the far left was also represented. “Chaos isn’t owned by one group,” the authors carefully point out.
One trait did separate high-chaos types from all others: nihilism, a lack of morality. They strongly agreed with statements like, “I get a kick when natural disasters strike in foreign countries.” Lacking empathy and remorse, they scored high in the Dark Triad trait of psychopathy. They want the world thrust into a frenzied free-for-all simply because they believe they’d have more power. They spread conspiracy theories—pharmaceutical companies create diseases to sell drugs or the National Butterfly Center is a coverup for child trafficking—because they crave the outrage and discord that these stories create.
It’s likely that many high-chaos influencers are simply frustrated loners, but “the red flags are screaming” as the Redditor said of the gun-owning conspiracist relative. How many of them would use their guns illegally or participate in a riot is unknown, but a study at the University of Miami found that people who spread conspiracy theories were twice as likely as others to say violence is an acceptable form of protest.
In fact, high-chaos types do their best damage online, injecting disinformation, both homegrown and from foreign sources, into the mainstream and seeing what sticks. And it’s working, says Robert Mather, a former psychology professor at the University of Oklahoma. “Extremist ideas attract attention in the media. Moderate views are just not as interesting. And as extremism becomes normalized, there is a shift in ideology to play to the base.”
It’s easy to dismiss the high-chaos 5 percent as a fringe element of society. But in the age of social media, when the fringe is on fire, the whole tapestry can go up in flames.
The Need for Significance
“Trust the Plan, Sheep No More, The Great Awakening, Fake News, Time to Feed, Dark to Light, Expand Your Thinking, Good vs. Evil, You Have More Than You Know, Trust the Plan, Up Is Down, Boom.”—QAnon Hoodie
How bad is the spread? To get a sense of how receptive the public is to extremist ideas, the chaos researchers homed in on the responses to two telling statements: “When it comes to our social institutions, I cannot help thinking: Just let them all burn.” and “We cannot fix the problems, we need to tear them down and start over.”
Nearly 20 percent of respondents from the U.S. and other English-speaking countries concurred with these statements. This was a striking number, one in every five people. (Incidentally, 25 percent believe the pandemic was probably or definitely planned.) But there is a crucial distinction between most of these aspiring mutineers and the high-chaos 5 percenters. Going by their other responses, the larger set of respondents don’t enjoy destruction for the sake of it; they want to rebuild, too. They’re not personality disordered.
What the data likely picked up on is the growing anxiety and despair of people who, in a time of change and high conflict, feel their prospects in life have tanked. People who believe the system isn’t working for them. People who have “done their own research” and deeply distrust the government. Many came of age on the internet, and even if they know the algorithms of social media are designed to promote hate and extremism, they’re sitting at their computers more than ever, and the pull is too strong.
Restore Meaning to Life
What draws them to chaos? Psychologists Arie Kruglanski, Jocelyn Bélanger, and their colleagues outlined a psychological model for extremism called the “significance quest.” The theory in a nutshell: People need to feel they matter and that their lives have purpose. These needs intensify when they feel powerless, as in times of stress and uncertainty or after a serious loss or humiliation. People will do nearly anything to restore meaning in their lives. All too often, meaning comes in extremist packaging.
If chaos agents had a playbook, it would be the following: Inflame grievances, exaggerate differences, appeal to pride, sow doubt and suspicion, and make an evil brainwashed caricature of the enemy. Tell them they’re being conned and the system is rigged. Give them a group identity, a community that validates them and rewards their sacrifices. Then, show them the way out of darkness: a radical mission.
In this context, it’s easy to see extremism’s draw for the anxious, angry, adrift, and sidelined. Objectors to mask and vaccine mandates, for instance, might go online to find like-minded people who go on to introduce them to conspiracy cults. Their plight might resonate with groups—for example, those who stormed the Capitol—who “feel their heritage, ethnicity, and background offer limited opportunities in these times,” explains Mather. Others, incensed by the inequality they see, may be drawn to anarcho-socialist groups that loot and destroy property in defiance of “capitalist imperialists and their profit motives.”
“Part of the motivation for joining extremists could be empathy-related,” says Michael Poulin, at the University of Buffalo. “To the extent that someone perceives that people they care about are hurt by a certain group or certain policies, that could drive them to look for ways to take action that they believe could protect others.” A mother who loves her country and is convinced that QAnon fights sex trafficking of minors by global elites might join out of the same fierce mother-bear instinct that drives her to protect her own children.
![Tim McDonagh, used with permission Tim McDonagh, used with permission](https://cdn2.psychologytoday.com/assets/styles/article_inline_half_caption/public/articles/2022-04/final2_web.jpg?itok=bNbmdjOn)
The Dark Side of Empathy
Poulin’s research also found that empathy can trigger aggressive acts that the offender knows are not “morally sound.” “Empathy can narrow the scope of moral concern,” he explains. “If I am strongly feeling empathy for one person or one group, I can become so motivated to help that I do not give appropriate weight to how my actions on their behalf may, deliberately or inadvertently, harm others.” Intriguingly, the same neurohormones that give rise to caregiving and empathy—vasopressin and oxytocin—can, in the presence of a perceived threat, do double-duty as drivers of aggression. Extremist leaders may exploit this instinct in their followers, leveraging it to invoke violence.
Boredom, too, is exploitable. People who are adrift are likelier to seek exciting, risky pursuits that give them a sense of purpose and meaning. Diehard ideologies fit the bill. Furthermore, when research subjects were asked to look for meaning in their lives, they became both more sensation-seeking and more willing to support ideological violence.
“One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star,” wrote Nietzsche, reminding us that inner turmoil can be as creative as it is destructive. People with an appetite for chaos are angry, anxious, and restless. They want significance and systemic change. They’ll fight to reclaim meaning and agency. The question is: How do we prevent extremists from hijacking this tremendous energy and using it to sow destruction for its own sake?
How to Stop the Spread
Also on Reddit, in a forum popular with reformed radicals, a survivor gave advice to others at risk of going down the extremist wormhole: Get offline now.
“What made me snap out of it was going out in the real world and realizing that it wasn’t all doom and gloom. I had built an echo chamber,” wrote TheFallenStarMI, who detailed years spent online, in a “far-left radicalization pit,” before waking up to the realization that the real world, with real friends, is not only healthier but more stimulating. “It was a breath of fresh air, not getting bombarded with daily rants and the usual infographics posting about how everything is just f*d and we have no hope for the future…”
Would more ordinary Americans resist chaos if their needs for purpose and stimulation were met elsewhere? Emerging research offers hope. In one study led by University of Amsterdam psychologist Birga Schumpe, animal rights protestors were offered the scenario of an emotionally stimulating but peaceful spectacle—skits, music, fiery speeches, and refusal to disperse. Satisfied, their focus torqued toward constructive activism and away from violence.
The best way to reach those with extremist ideas is by attending to their underlying psychological need to feel seen and heard, says Julia Minson, an associate professor of public policy at the Harvard Kennedy School of Government. Minson’s research on conflict, which is used in depolarization workshops around the country, centers on conversational receptiveness. “People don’t change their views when presented with facts,” she says. They change when they feel the other side is listening. If you’re receptive, they tend to be receptive.
This may sound straightforward, but the listening cues should be far more explicit than nods, smiles, and uh-huhs. A receptive conservation begins with the mindset to be as neutral as possible, says Minson. You need to assume the other person is intelligent, reasonable, and good, no matter his or her beliefs.
The goal isn’t to talk someone out of extremist views, which, according to Mather, wouldn’t work anyway. “People don’t like to be told what to do or think,” he says. This is especially true of Americans, many of whom pride themselves on being freethinkers and are suspicious of people in power. “It’s the concept of psychological reactance,” Mather explains. “Threaten people’s freedom to act as they want, and they’ll do the opposite.” Challenge or denounce their ideology, and you risk making it more extreme.
At the end of an open, candid exchange, people will still disagree, but something has softened or shifted. The other side doesn’t seem as hostile and brainwashed. The us-vs-them distrust that drives polarization has diminished. There are life experiences and beliefs that deeply inform people’s thinking and are not always apparent: Having experienced violence in the U.S. or abroad, being a mother with cancer who can’t afford to go to the E.R., seeing a wildfire outside one’s door, being outraged at police brutality, believing that illegal immigrants get a free ride while one’s own family is scraping by, lacking job prospects and suffering the humiliation of moving back in with parents, being depressed and restless as a result of the pandemic, and feeling an urgent need to do something.
“These conversations help me sleep better at night,” says Minson, “I’ve learned people are not nuts; they have a rationale for how they think, even if I don’t agree.” There is no easy solution to the world’s problems, but it all begins with the ability to talk to one another.
Of course, there are limits, Mather warns. Engaging deeply with opposing viewpoints is rewarding at times, exhausting at others. “It’s like a casino: Practice discipline, distance, and an awareness of limits,” he says. Interactions with nihilistic high-chaos types may be anything but fruitful. Too many of us are emotionally drained already.
After all, empathy takes different paths. It can elicit aggression, as Poulin’s research shows. It can also lead to burnout. Feeling the pain of others, taking on the world’s rage and trauma, elevate the body’s stress hormones. In the short-term, a high-cortisol state helps us respond to a threat. Over time, it leads to exhaustion and apathy.
Keeping It All in Perspective
Do I want to add fuel to this?
“Asking myself questions is my practical approach to the chaos,” explains Jackie Tian, who left a career in finance and now manages a bakery. Whether the chaos in question is societal or personal, the answer, for Tian, is usually no. “It’s an emotional budget,” she says, “and, for me, the big revelation is I get to choose how to spend it. I can choose whether to be on Facebook or other social media and get caught in a cycle of envy and outrage. I can choose whether to be angry and upset by the news or microaggressions.”
It’s this deliberateness about where to channel emotional energy, says Tian, along with her daily meditation practice, that protects her well-being. “It allows me to hear friends and family from both extremes and see their humanity, whether or not I agree,” she says. She knows that feeling too much can lead to depression and hopelessness.
For Tian, perspective-taking can also mean a more objective look at our current predicament. “The other wake-up call was Victor Frankl, the Austrian psychiatrist who survived Auschwitz and wrote Man’s Search for Meaning,” she says. “I look at the world and think, We have
COVID, instability, and extremism; but what am I experiencing compared to what he went through? Nothing. If he could come out of that and find purpose, gratitude, and good, there’s no reason I can’t.”
What if everything feels worse than it really is? Chaos-makers would have us believe that we live in a doomsday, that suffering is pervasive and the system is broken. Chaos fuels chaos. The quickest way to get perspective? “Take a media break,” advises Mather. We can choose to look away from screens and find stimulation and significance elsewhere—through family, friends, career, music, sports, spirituality. Chaos in the soul? We can choose to use it to build up the world, not burn it all down.
Create a Little Distance
How to separate yourself from the source of pain.
Research, both old and new, on the empathic response holds that there’s much to gain by putting psychological distance between ourselves and sources of pain and strife. Michael Poulin’s work centers on a mindset that imagines the perspective of others. “Think about how people feel without imagining how you yourself would feel in their situation,” he says. The shift moves empathy into the arena of clear-eyed concern and reason.
Acknowledge pain by labeling it:
These people are treated unfairly.
Don’t just put yourself in their shoes, actually shift to the second-person perspective of a compassionate bystander:
What about this triggered me, and what can I do to help?
Perspective-taking might protect an empath from exploitation by groups with darker motives:
You understand their suffering, but is the remedy they’re pushing really the best one? How might this hurt someone else?
Hear Them Out: How To Talk, How To Listen
Let your curiosity lead you by asking questions: “I’ve always been curious about (fill in the blank).”
In the course of conversation, emphasize agreement and common ground:
I agree this is a scary time. I think we both want America to be great.
Acknowledge what is said:
It seems important to you that…
I think you mentioned…
Thank you for saying that because…
Occasionally, reframe what has been shared in the positive: This is great because I’ve been wanting to understand why…
When introducing an opposing perspective, don’t outright refute a person’s beliefs, Harvard’s Julia Minson says. Humility is the best approach. Hedge or soften statements with words like might, maybe, or sometimes.
Instead of making an assertion, hedge:
I think another way to tackle this is…
This might have happened.
Jena Pincott’s most recent book is Wits, Guts, Grit.
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