Why Do Some People Go Woke and Never Come Back?

A Deep Dive into Cult-Like Devotion on the Radical Left—and the Psychology That Keeps Them There

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In recent years, American politics has taken a strange spiritual turn. Discourse once rooted in policy and principle now teeters on the edge of something far more fervent: a kind of secular revivalism. This is especially apparent among the progressive wing of the Democratic Party, where the ideology commonly labeled as “woke” has evolved beyond social awareness into a rigid moral framework. For some adherents, it functions less as a political stance and more as a belief system—complete with sacred tenets, original sins, and modern-day heretics. The question arises: why do some people adopt this mindset so completely that it becomes impervious to evidence, reason, or real-world consequences?

One explanation often offered is cognitive dissonance—the mental discomfort we feel when our actions or beliefs are in conflict. When a person believes they are championing justice and inclusion, but the policies they support yield chaos, division, or even harm to marginalized groups, the dissonance should trigger reflection. But more often, it triggers rationalization. Rather than admit error, the believer reframes reality: the system is even more racist than we thought; the backlash is proof of progress. In this way, every contradiction becomes a confirmation. The ideology becomes self-sealing, like a belief structure designed by a paranoid software engineer—impervious to patches or shutdowns.

But this isn’t just a matter of personal psychology. The social forces at play are formidable. Groupthink—the age-old human tendency to conform for safety—now operates on a digitally amplified scale. Social media doesn’t merely encourage conformity; it demands it. The language of the movement is uniform and unrelenting. Say the wrong thing, or say nothing at all, and you're cast out of the moral circle. Many people adopt the slogans not out of conviction but survival. The slogans are never up for debate; they are incantations to prove belonging. In such a climate, to question the orthodoxy isn’t brave—it’s dangerous.

Enter moral narcissism. It’s the elevation of one’s self-image based not on actual deeds but on declared positions. It doesn’t matter what your policies do—only that you posted the correct hashtag, condemned the right person, or proclaimed your allegiance to the cause. This is virtue by proxy, righteousness outsourced to performance. Actual consequences—be they economic ruin, educational decline, or skyrocketing crime—are brushed aside. The moral pose is what matters.

At a certain point, it’s no longer the person wielding the idea—it’s the idea wielding the person. Ideological possession, as some psychologists have called it, occurs when a belief system becomes so totalizing that it replaces independent thought. Everything is viewed through a singular lens: race, gender, identity, power. People are not individuals with nuance but members of oppressor or oppressed classes. Every event confirms the theory. Nothing falsifies it. Dissent is interpreted not as honest critique but as proof of your bias or fragility. Debate is not invited—only compliance.

What makes this trend especially disconcerting is how little historical or philosophical grounding many adherents possess. Terms like “equity” and “anti-racism” may sound noble, but they are often rooted in critical theory, a neo-Marxist framework focused less on individual rights than on structural upheaval. Many well-meaning supporters do not realize that they’ve signed onto a movement with illiberal origins. They think they’re advancing progress when they may, in fact, be laying the groundwork for something deeply regressive.

And then there’s fear. The most powerful cults don’t just attract the fervent—they coerce the fearful. In today’s cultural landscape, many toe the line simply to avoid ruin. They agree, retweet, and signal allegiance not because they believe, but because they’ve seen what happens to those who don’t. Careers implode, reputations vanish, and apologies are demanded like public acts of contrition before a tribunal. Cancel culture is no myth—it’s the enforcement wing of the new moral order.

To be clear, not every progressive is part of a cult. There are genuine grievances, real injustices, and meaningful debates to be had. But when a movement becomes impervious to criticism, hostile to dissent, and driven more by performative morality than actual results, it ceases to be a movement and starts to resemble a faith-based enterprise.

What we’re seeing today is not just a cultural shift but a psychological one. Cognitive dissonance, groupthink, fear, and ideological rigidity aren’t new—but when they converge under the banner of social justice, amplified by digital mobs and institutional compliance, they create something potent. Something dangerous. The real concern is not how deeply people believe, but how unwilling they are to question what they’ve been told to believe.

The result is a culture where truth becomes negotiable, dissent becomes blasphemy, and politics starts looking an awful lot like religion—with none of the forgiveness and all of the fire.