The Paradoxical Power of Pushback: Why Your Beliefs Love a Good Fight

In 1938, Bertrand Russell made a provocative claim: “Lies need competition if they are to retain their vigor.” But what exactly drives this paradoxical relationship between falsehood and opposition? The answer, I argue, reveals a fundamental truth about power, belief, and human nature—that our most deeply held convictions, whether true or false, require challenge to maintain their force in society.

At first glance, one might object: shouldn’t truth stand on its own merits, while falsehoods crumble under scrutiny? Yet Russell’s insight cuts deeper. When he speaks of “lies,” he refers not simply to untruths, but to the broader realm of social propaganda—those narratives that shape public opinion and, consequently, power. Their factual accuracy becomes secondary to their role in societal influence.

Consider how beliefs actually persist in society. No narrative, regardless of its truth value, survives through passive acceptance alone. Instead, these “lies” endure through the passionate defense of their believers, through ethical conviction and logical argumentation. This reproduction demands effort—constant reinforcement through human agency. But what drives people to invest such energy in maintaining and spreading their beliefs?

The answer lies in an unexpected place: vulnerability. When our core beliefs face challenge, it triggers an existential anxiety. As humans, we instinctively resist this discomfort. But have you noticed how this very resistance often strengthens our convictions? When our beliefs—our “lies”—encounter opposition, the resulting vulnerability typically prompts not surrender, but a more vigorous defense.

Some might argue that leaving beliefs unchallenged provides stability. Yet history shows otherwise. Without opposition, opinions stagnate. People become complacent defenders of their views, and power, when not actively maintained, inevitably wanes. Nature abhors a vacuum, and into this space step new competitors, bringing fresh energy and ambition.

What does this mean for those who wish to spread or maintain influential ideas? Counter-intuitively, they should welcome ideological competition. Even those already in power would be wise not to shield their followers from alternative perspectives. After all, if your position truly has merit, wouldn’t exposure to opposing views only strengthen your supporters’ convictions?

Therefore, successful “lies” must be presented not as invulnerable dogmas, but as precious truths requiring protection. For long-term survival, believers need the autonomy to defend these ideas themselves. This defense should become integral to their identity, energizing their being and renewing their strength. The most powerful approach? Transform this defense into a moral imperative.

The ultimate goal transcends mere belief—it creates champions, guardians of what they perceive as moral righteousness and cosmic truth. At this stage, resistance to competing ideas no longer requires external enforcement. It becomes organic, generated by properly motivated followers who feel personally invested in their cause.

But here lies the delicate balance: these followers must retain intellectual freedom while remaining connected to their moral purpose. Regular reminders of their cause’s virtue become essential. Competition to these truths or lies becomes not just acceptable but welcome, as it maintains their vigor through constant renewal.

You might wonder: how is this moral diligence continuously reinforced in practice? The answer lies in the power of symbols—but that’s a discussion for another time.

What matters most is recognizing this fundamental dynamic: beliefs, whether true or false, gain strength not through isolation but through challenge. In an age of increasing ideological bubbles, perhaps this insight becomes more crucial than ever. How might our discourse change if we viewed opposition not as a threat, but as an opportunity for our convictions to prove their worth?