Sometimes I ask myself if it’s even possible to change the mind of someone who’s become a true believer. You know the kind—people who defend their favorite politician as if their life depended on it, or who treat every word from their pastor as if it came straight from heaven. In the Philippines, we see it constantly. Politics and religion stir emotions so strong that reason quietly slips away. I’ve watched heated arguments on Facebook where people insult friends just to protect a leader’s image. It makes me wonder if truth or logic still stand a chance when emotions take over.

Political fanaticism in the Philippines has evolved into a form of identity. Many Filipinos don’t just vote for a politician—they treat them like family, even royalty. I’ve seen supporters excuse lies, crimes, or incompetence simply because it came from “their” side. It's the same story in some churches, where followers cling to their leaders no matter what harm their decisions bring. That level of loyalty builds a wall around belief, thick enough to block out reason and compassion.

For years, psychologists have tried to understand this kind of thinking. One idea that sticks with me is motivated reasoning, a term introduced by researcher Ziva Kunda. It basically means we twist information to fit what we already want to believe. When someone deeply devoted hears something that threatens their worldview, their brain doesn’t treat it as a new idea—it treats it like danger. Instead of opening up, they lock in tighter. Instead of reconsidering, they double down.

Neuroscientist Drew Westen found in his research on political bias that when strong partisans face evidence contradicting their candidate’s behavior, their brain’s reasoning centers actually quiet down while emotional areas light up. In other words, they literally feel before they think.

In the Philippines, this plays out vividly. Supporters of a political figure often view attacks on that leader as personal insults. It’s not just about politics—it’s about belonging. To question the leader is to question the tribe. The same pattern appears in religion, where disagreement can be seen as betrayal. In both cases, emotion replaces analysis. That's why facts, no matter how clear, rarely change a fanatic's mind.

So, can you still influence them? The short answer is yes, but it takes patience, empathy, and strategy. People change not when they’re shamed, but when they feel safe enough to think. A 2017 study from the University of Pennsylvania found that moral humility—i.e., approaching discussions with curiosity rather than confrontation—made others more open to considering opposing views. It's not about winning an argument; it’s about planting a seed of doubt gently enough for it to grow later.

I’ve found that personal stories work better than statistics. When you share how a policy or a decision affects you or someone you know, it humanizes the issue. Data can be dismissed as propaganda, but stories slip past defenses. In marketing, this principle is well known. Brands like Coca-Cola or Nike don’t sell products by listing features; they sell emotions, identity, and belonging. In a way, they do what political and religious movements do: create emotional resonance. The same techniques that build brand loyalty can also gently break fanatic loyalty, if used with care.

Social psychologists also talk about the “backfire effect,” which happens when people are confronted with too much contradictory evidence too fast. Instead of changing their mind, they hold on tighter to their beliefs. That’s why bombarding fanatics with facts rarely works. The better approach is gradual exposure: small, consistent doses of truth framed within values they already hold. For example, if someone values loyalty, you can frame your argument around how true loyalty means holding leaders accountable. This reframing respects their moral code while gently challenging their logic.

In business, this same principle drives change management. When companies introduce a new system or strategy, employees often resist. The ones who resist the most usually fear losing control or identity. Leaders who succeed in such transitions don’t force change; they influence it by showing empathy, listening to concerns, and linking the change to shared goals. In a sense, converting a fanatic is like managing organizational change. You can’t impose transformation; you must nurture it.

There’s also power in modeling behavior. If you respond to fanaticism with anger, you reinforce division. But if you remain calm, grounded, and factual, others watching—those who are less extreme—might begin to question their own stance. Change rarely happens inside the fanatic first; it starts among the bystanders who observe the conversation. Social proof matters. When fanatics see people they respect shifting their views, they begin to reconsider, too.

Social media has made this harder. The more we click and share, the more the system feeds us what it thinks we like. Before long, our social feeds turn into echo chambers where only one kind of story survives. Politicians and even some religious groups know this and use it well. They pump up emotions such as anger, pride, and fear, because outrage keeps people scrolling and sharing. And the longer we stay angry, the harder it becomes to listen, to reflect, or to change.

I’ve spoken with people who were once political fanatics and changed. The shift didn’t come from debates or viral posts. It came from disillusionment—moments when their leader’s actions clearly contradicted their values. What made the difference was having someone nearby who didn't gloat or shame them, but simply listened. Influence, in the end, is relational, not intellectual.

That’s the lesson for both civic life and business. Whether you’re trying to change a company culture or a national mindset, you can’t lecture people into transformation. You have to connect first. You have to make them feel seen. As researcher Jonathan Haidt once said, intuition comes first and reasoning second. If you want to influence the second, you start with the first.

So, can we change the minds of fanatics? Maybe not overnight. But over time, with empathy, patience, and example, even the most rigid walls can crack. I’ve seen it happen in boardrooms and barangays alike. Change begins not with argument, but with understanding: one conversation, one human connection at a time.