The Political Mind: Q&A with Dr. Lakoff

In today's edition of FrameLab: First, a link to a thoughtful piece by Antonia Scatton, who writes a newsletter called Reframing America. Second, a gift link to a Washington Post column by Karen Attiah, who seeks to reframe attacks on diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI). Third, a written Q&A with Dr. Lakoff on chapters one and two of The Political Mind: A Cognitive Scientist's Guide to Your Brain and Its Politics.

Restoring Sanity: 'We will prevail. We need to talk like it'

The first step to defeating Trump's onslaught? Remember that democracy will prevail in the end, writes Antonia Scatton at Reframing America:

Trump and Musk are trying to gaslight us all into believing that they have unlimited power. They do not. Experts say that fascism succeeds by making it so that people can no longer envision the alternative. Our job is to help people see the real reality: that Trump and Musk can - and already are - being stopped.

Scatton provides some concrete tips on how to reframe our current political situation in a way that makes people feel empowered rather than defeated. This is crucial, she writes, because:

Experts on tyranny point out that people are ill equipped to handle fascism because they make it look inevitable, and we lose our ability to envision the alternative.

Please read the entire post, “Restoring Sanity,” at Reframing America. Follow Antonia Scatton on BlueSky.

Framing Racism

Over at the Washington Post, columnist Karen Attiah delivers a masterful lesson in the power of reframing. With Donald Trump and Elon Musk engaged in a war against diversity, equity, and inclusion, Attiah focuses on what’s really behind these attacks: abject racism.

While much of the media discusses “anti-DEI initiatives” or “diversity rollbacks,” Attiah cuts through the euphemisms to name what she sees: resegregation. Her column shifts the frame from corporate policy to civil rights history, and she reveals how current attacks on inclusion programs echo historical patterns of systematic exclusion.

Writes Attiah:

Frankly, I wish the media would stop using “DEI” and “diversity hiring” altogether. Any official, including the president, who chooses to blame everything from plane crashes to wildfires on non-White, non-male people should be asked whether they believe that desegregation is to blame. Whether they believe resegregation is the answer. We need to bring back the language that describes what is actually happening.

Attiah builds her case methodically, connecting the dots between government directives, corporate retreats, and measurable impacts. Attiah challenges journalists to abandon sanitized terminology and speak plainly about what’s at stake. Her piece reminds us that frames shape how we talk about issues and how we understand and respond to them.

It's a rare example of a journalist paying close attention to how a debate is being framed. Here's a gift link to read the entire piece for free: "The Assault on DEI? It's aimed at resegregation."

FrameLab Book Club: Q&A with Dr. George Lakoff

Our first meeting for the FrameLab book club had to be abandoned due to technical issues. We are working to fix the glitches and will probably use another app, like YouTube, for future meetings. We'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, to keep things moving, here is a written version of the Q&A we planned with Dr. Lakoff for that first meeting. These questions cover chapters one and two. While we were not able to address every question, we picked the ones we thought were best – and which stuck to the book.

The first set of questions are the ones Jason Sattler and I planned to ask Dr. Lakoff to get the meeting started. The second set of questions is from readers. We'll be in touch soon about next steps for Chapters 3 and 4 (please send any questions relevant to those chapters to gil@theframelab.org).

Jason and Gil Questions

George, for many of us, this is a dark time. But you also wrote this book during a dark time: In 2008, during the George W. Bush administration, with its constant wars and attacks on reality. You wrote: “We have reached a point where our democracy is in mortal danger – as is the very livability of our planet. We can no longer put off an understanding of how the brain and the unconscious mind both contribute to these problems and how they may provide solutions.” These words seem prophetic today, but they were also true in 2008. Tell us about why you decided to write The Political Mind and how the book came about.

Writing a book is a major enterprise. I've written a number of books, but only when it has been necessary, that is, when either the content of the book is needed to understand a variety of other issues as they arise, that is, when it is a lot easier in the long run to write it and refer to it than not to write it and have to repeat much of its content over and over as it is needed. For example, Mark Johnson and I wrote Metaphors We Live By because the same basic metaphors recur over and over on a huge variety of issues in our daily lives.

I started writing The Political Mind because the Bush years weren't just bad policy – I was watching something deeper happening to how Americans thought and talked about democracy itself. The wars, the lies, the power grabs – they were rewiring our political consciousness in ways that traditional political science couldn't explain. But in my cognitive science work, I kept seeing patterns that made sense of it: how metaphors shape reality, how neural frameworks determine what feels true or false, how moral reasoning actually works in the brain.

The darkness of those years lit up something crucial – our democracy was facing a crisis not just of policy but of mind. People weren't just choosing to believe lies or vote against their interests; their neural circuitry was being systematically shaped to make anti-democratic ideas feel natural and right. I realized that without mapping how our brains construct political reality, we'd keep losing ground to these forces.

The book became my attempt to build a bridge between what we know about the brain and what we were watching happen to American democracy. Not because cognitive science could save us, but because I saw how the same patterns of manipulation would keep emerging in new forms until we understood their neural roots. Looking back now, I wish I had been wrong about how relevant that warning would remain.

How was The Political Mind received? Did it have any impact at the time?

It received praise from reviewers from The New York Post, Publishers Weekly, Kirkus Reviews, and the Penguin Publisher’s book club as well as from George Soros, Howard Dean, and Arianna Huffington. It has sold more than enough to remain in print, which is a real accomplishment. Unfortunately, it did not change how the Democratic Party communicates, but there’s still time.

In the introduction to The Political Mind, you say a major problem in our politics is that Democrats have ignored the role of the brain. This stems from Democrats’ embrace of Enlightenment Reason and the belief that reason is logical, rational, unemotional and fact-based. But Republicans don’t suffer from this problem. Have the Democrats made any progress in moving past Enlightenment Reason and grasping the importance of cognitive science in politics?

Not really. Democratic political leaders tend to concentrate on policy, on policies that benefit the public. This makes sense since Enlightenment Reason lay behind the goals and ideals of our Constitution and still does. Democrats today tend, in addition, to follow Barack Obama's insight that democracy is based on empathy — on caring about one's fellow citizens, while Republicans tend to have a politics based on pursuing one's own self-interests, and they depend on financial support from those who have pursued their self-interests successfully.

This split runs deeper than policy – it's about how each side understands human nature. Republicans, particularly those from business backgrounds, intuitively grasp marketing and persuasion. They study how to frame messages, build brand loyalty, and trigger emotional responses. They're comfortable with the idea that humans are emotional beings whose choices can be shaped through sophisticated messaging.

Democrats, often emerging from law, academia, and the humanities, remain deeply committed to Enlightenment ideals. They believe that if you present people with clear facts and logical arguments, reason will prevail. They see marketing techniques as manipulative and fundamentally unethical – a form of cognitive coercion that undermines authentic democratic discourse. This creates a painful paradox: their ethical stance against "brain manipulation" leaves them less equipped to defend democracy itself.

What's fascinating is how this plays out neurally. When Democrats focus solely on policy details and rational arguments, they're activating the brain's analytical networks while leaving its emotional and social networks untapped. But these emotional networks are crucial for moral reasoning and decision-making. Republicans instinctively engage these networks through storytelling, identity-based appeals, and clear moral frameworks.

Maybe what's happening now will finally break through. Trump's return to power, the way tech corporations are reshaping our neural pathways through algorithmic control – these aren't just political challenges. They're showing us, in the starkest possible terms, what happens when one side understands how to shape the political mind and the other doesn't. Democrats can keep clinging to Enlightenment reason while democracy slips away, or they can finally embrace what cognitive science tells us about how humans actually think and decide. The tools are there. The science is clear. The only question is whether Democrats will grasp them before it's too late.

In The Political Mind, you use Anna Nicole Smith to explain how narratives, and especially deep narratives, work. You talk about all the ways her life resembles well-known tropes – the Rags to Riches story, the Gold Digger, the Woman’s Lot – that resonate with Americans. Anna Nicole was a reality TV star, which is why tens of millions of Americans knew her story. You specifically pointed to the power of Reality TV, which taps into our brains in powerful ways. You wrote: “Reality TV is based on the idea that the viewers play roles in the show.” When you wrote these words in 2008, could you have imagined that we would have a Reality TV president? How have brain-hijacking mediums like Reality TV and social media changed politics?

Nobody could have predicted this specific outcome in 2008, but the signs were there. Reality TV wasn't just entertainment – it was rewiring how millions of Americans formed emotional connections. When I wrote about Anna Nicole Smith, what fascinated me wasn't just how her story hit familiar narrative grooves, but how Reality TV created this sense of intimate participation. Viewers felt they knew her, could judge her, were part of her story.

Trump grasped this power instinctively. The Apprentice didn't just make him famous – it established him as a character in people's mental lives. That weekly ritual of watching him pass judgment, make decisive calls, fire people who disappointed him – it laid down neural patterns about authority and leadership that would later shape how millions saw him politically. He wasn't just a businessman or a celebrity; he became a presence in people's homes, a figure they felt they understood on a gut level.

Social media amplified these parasocial bonds to unprecedented levels. Trump's tweets weren't policy statements – they were ongoing conversations with followers who felt personally connected to him. Each tweet, each rally, each controversy deepened these neural pathways of intimacy and loyalty. His supporters weren't just agreeing with his positions; they were participating in his story, defending someone they experienced as a presence in their daily lives.

What's troubling now is how these parasocial effects are accelerating. Social media algorithms are getting better at triggering emotional responses, at making us feel connected to figures we've never met. The lines between performance and reality, between mediated relationship and authentic connection, are blurring in ways that reshape political consciousness itself. We're seeing politicians, influencers, and ideological movements exploit these parasocial bonds more deliberately, more effectively.

This is why traditional political analysis keeps failing to grasp what's happening. When you measure Trump's support through policy positions or approval ratings, you miss the neural reality – millions of Americans have him wired into their brains as a trusted presence, a familiar voice, someone who feels more real to them than their local representatives. It's not about logic or facts anymore. It's about who controls the emotional architecture of people's minds.

Understanding this is crucial for democracy's survival. These technologies aren't going away – they're getting more sophisticated, more persuasive, more neurally intimate. Either we learn to grasp how they're reshaping political consciousness, or we'll keep being blindsided by their effects. The future of democracy depends not only on policy debates but also on who best understands how these new forms of mediated relationship remake how we think and feel about power.

FrameLab Book Club Reader Questions

You discuss how our brains over time develop strong neural connections for different ways of thinking, and how bi-conceptualism in our brains (being progressive on some issues and conservative on others) allows us to switch between them. My question concerns the speed of this process, particularly in immediate situations. Given that these neural connections are formed and strengthened through repeated activation over extended periods, could a powerful, in-the-moment experience cause our brains to quickly form new neural connections, temporarily overriding these years of established thinking patterns and leading to a sudden shift in political perspective, such as from conservative to progressive, in that specific context?

This generally doesn't happen – and it certainly doesn't change all at once. It's a more gradual shift. Think of neural pathways like highways in your brain. You can't instantly build a new interstate; what happens instead is that repeated experiences slowly carve out new routes, like water wearing a path through rock.

But here's what can happen in powerful moments: A shocking event or intense experience can create a kind of neural "bookmark" – a moment that marks the start of questioning old patterns. Imagine someone who's always been tough-on-crime conservative witnessing police brutality firsthand. That moment won't instantly rewire their whole conservative framework, but it might create a crack in it, a point of tension their brain has to reconcile.

This is why personal experiences – having a gay child, befriending an immigrant, facing medical bankruptcy – can sometimes mark the beginning of political shifts. The immediate experience creates an emotional disruption that the brain then has to process over time, gradually building new neural pathways that can accommodate this new reality. The initial shock provides the motivation for change, but the actual rewiring still requires repeated activation and reinforcement.

What's crucial to understand is that this process is about building connections, not just replacing old ones. The old neural pathways don't vanish – they're still there, which explains why people can slip back into old thinking patterns under stress. Real change happens when new pathways become strong enough to compete with and eventually dominate the old ones through consistent use and reinforcement.

I’m curious about unconscious thought — what my mind is thinking that I’m not aware of. I understand the existence of bodily functions, like processes in the brain automatically controlling breathing. But you hint at a lot of unconscious thought that is closer to what people could think consciously. Can you give some examples of this?

Think about what happens when you walk into a room. Without conscious thought, your brain is instantly computing distances, mapping escape routes, reading facial expressions, assessing social hierarchies, and activating emotional memories from similar spaces. You're not aware of doing any of this – but try walking through a room blindfolded and you'll realize how much unconscious processing you rely on.

Or take language. Right now, as you read this, your brain is unconsciously activating complex metaphorical frameworks. When I say "grasp an idea," your motor neurons for physical grasping fire slightly. You don't think about this – it just happens. These unconscious metaphorical connections shape how you understand abstract concepts like time ("the future is ahead of us"), morality ("a clean conscience"), and causation ("that led to disaster”).

This matters enormously for politics. When people hear "tax relief," their brains unconsciously frame taxes as an affliction, even if they consciously support public spending. When they hear "family values," neural networks related to their own family experiences activate automatically, coloring their political judgment before conscious thought begins.

Understanding these unconscious processes isn't just academic – it's crucial for democracy. Because while we can't stop this unconscious processing, we can learn to recognize its effects and build better conscious frameworks to work with it rather than pretend it doesn't exist. The way you think unconsciously reflects who you are.

On page 45 (Chapter 2), Dr. Lakoff mentions that at the beginning of the 1970s, most Americans used a progressive mode of thought across many issue areas. How did this cognitive reality develop? What led to the progressive mode of thought being used on most issue areas? What can we learn from the individuals, movements, or circumstances that led to the activation of the progressive worldview during that period?

Modern progressive thought was developed under the presidency of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. His fireside chats on radio were a crucial means of communication with the national public. They were crucial during the Depression and World War II. Remember immortal lines like "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."

But what made these communications so powerful wasn't just their content – it was how they rewired the American political mind. Roosevelt didn't just explain policies; he created a new framework for understanding government's role in American life. His metaphor of government as protector, as the institution that steps in when citizens face overwhelming challenges, became neurally encoded through repeated activation during crisis after crisis.

This neural restructuring deepened through the postwar period. The GI Bill, union power, high corporate tax rates, massive public investments – these weren't just policies. They were experiences that strengthened neural pathways connecting government action to personal prosperity. Millions of Americans literally lived the progressive narrative: public investment led to private success, collective action solved shared problems, government could be a force for good.

By the early 1970s, these frameworks were so deeply embedded that even Republicans like Nixon operated largely within them. The EPA, wage and price controls, proposals for universal healthcare – these came from a Republican administration because the progressive mode of thought had become the default way Americans understood political reality.

What's crucial to understand is that this didn't happen through argument alone. It happened through sustained experience and narrative reinforcement. The Depression experience activated empathy networks. The War effort strengthened collective action frameworks. Postwar prosperity reinforced the connection between public investment and private good. Each crisis and response built neural patterns that made progressive solutions feel natural and right.

This is why simply explaining progressive policies today often fails. We've lost the lived experiences and narrative frameworks that once made progressive thought feel natural to most Americans. Rebuilding progressive thought patterns will require more than just good arguments – it needs sustained experiences that rewire how Americans understand the relationship between government, community, and personal wellbeing.

On page 65 (Chapter 2) Dr. Lakoff states that, for conservatives, their moral system comes first and “that George Bush is not himself the source of the authoritarianism of his administration.” Will Trump be the source of the authoritarianism of his administration? What is his moral system, and has it replaced the conservative one? Will Republicans obey and support him regardless of his moral system and policies?

Trump is understood by his supporters as the ideal strict father. He sees himself as in charge of the country with the authority — the moral authority — to determine what happens politically, and hence in the economy and in all major areas of life.

But what's fascinating is how he's mutated the conservative moral framework. Traditional conservatism emphasized personal discipline, moral rectitude, and respect for institutions. Trump's version keeps the authoritarian structure but strips away these moral constraints. What matters isn't virtue but strength, not principles but winning, not tradition but loyalty to him personally.

His supporters accept this shift because the emotional architecture of strict father morality – the need for a strong leader who punishes enemies and protects the in-group – remains intact. The neural pathways that make people respond to authoritarian leadership are still being activated, just redirected toward pure dominance rather than traditional values.

This is why Republicans who once opposed him now fall in line. Their brains are wired to respond to hierarchical authority, and Trump has successfully positioned himself at the top of that hierarchy. The specific content of his moral system matters less than his ability to trigger these deep conservative neural patterns of authority, protection, and punishment. He's shown that the authoritarian structure matters more than the traditional conservative values it was supposed to serve.

Do inequalities, systemic injustices, or other factors in society make people more susceptible to framing, manipulation, and propaganda?

Yes. Sadly, these social realities have a major effect. It's not easy to live with them. When people are struggling with economic insecurity, racial discrimination, or other systemic pressures, it changes how their brains process political information.

Stress and scarcity literally rewire neural pathways. When you're worried about paying rent or facing discrimination, your brain shifts toward short-term thinking and stronger emotional responses. This makes people more susceptible to frames that offer simple explanations and promise quick solutions – especially frames that identify clear enemies and savior figures.

Think about how economic anxiety affects metaphorical thinking. When people feel their world is unstable, they're more likely to respond to metaphors of strength, protection, and control. This is why authoritarian messaging often gains power during times of social stress – it activates these neural patterns of seeking safety through strength. This also explains why Republicans are always trying to blame someone else – immigrants, environmentalists, and progressives. It is a pattern of demonization.

But here's what's crucial: These aren't just individual responses. Systemic inequalities create collective neural patterns that shape how whole communities process political information. Understanding this is essential for building genuine democratic resistance to manipulation and propaganda.

Can political tides like the recent global anti-incumbent one and other factors be overcome or effectively countered with good framing and messaging?

Yes, but that is no small undertaking. It takes major coordinated efforts and funding to produce well-trained, effective messengers. And we need to understand what we're really fighting against here.

The anger at those incumbents in power isn't just about bad policies – it comes from a deeper place. When people feel their lives getting harder, when nothing seems to work anymore, they start seeing the whole system as rotten. That's why "drain the swamp" hits home. It connects with how people physically feel about decay and the need to clean things out.

We can't counter this with clever phrases alone. We have to rebuild people's lived experience of democracy actually solving problems. This means coordinated action – media, social networks, community groups all working together, and above all, voting! But more importantly, it means connecting our words to real changes in people's lives.

Look at how Roosevelt did it – the fireside chats worked because they came alongside programs that put food on tables and got people back to work. Good messaging amplifies real positive change; it can't replace it. Our challenge now is creating networks that can both deliver immediate help and change how people understand what government can do for them.

The money and coordination this takes is massive. But we've done it before. The key is understanding that changing political tides means changing lived experience, not just changing words.

What will it take for the Democratic Party to play the long game and adopt a long-term strategy that systematically builds and funds a robust progressive movement?

First, Democrats need to face a hard truth: their faith in pure reason isn't working. They keep thinking that if they just explain policies clearly enough, people will naturally choose progressive solutions. But that's not how human thinking works.

Look at what Republicans have built over decades: think tanks shaping language, media networks spreading frames, business schools teaching persuasion, churches reinforcing values, and now social media empires triggering emotions. They understand that people think through stories, values, and trusted relationships.

But here's the crucial point: Democrats don't need to copy Republican tactics to build progressive power. They need to understand and respect how people actually think and decide – through emotion, through metaphor, through moral frames – and then connect progressive values to these natural thought patterns. We already know empathy and care are built into human nature. We just need to stop ignoring how the mind really works.

This means investing in new infrastructure: communication networks, message training, community organizing that builds emotional connections. But first, Democrats have to let go of their Enlightenment fantasy that pure reason will save us. The path to progressive change runs through the heart as much as the head.

It seems like the Democrats are always responding to the Republican framing of events rather than being the ones to set the frame in the first place. How can the Democrats put forth its own frames at the get go versus having to respond to Republicans’ framing? With everyone in their media bubbles (Fox News, MSNBC, …), how do Democrats get their frames to be accepted by independents and even by a significant number of Republicans?

Democrats need to understand brains and framing. That's a first step. Then Democrats need to make a concerted effort to frame issues, over the long-term, on a constant basis, with the needed funding.

Repetition is crucial to reframing. The effective naming of issues is also crucial. Those names have to carry an understanding of WHY the issues matter. Doing all of this will not be easy or quick. But it IS necessary!

Look at how Republicans shaped the immigration debate. They didn't wait for crisis moments – they spent years hammering "invasion" and "border security." By the time Democrats try to talk about "immigration reform," the frame is already set. People are already thinking through metaphors of invasion and defense.

Here's what's crucial: You can't just react. When Republicans say "tax relief," Democrats rush to explain why taxes aren't so bad. Or worse yet, they also use the frame of “tax relief.” Wrong move. You need your own frame and you need to repeat it constantly, build stories around it, make it feel natural before the crisis hits.

This takes money, organization, and patience. But mostly it takes understanding that you're not just pushing policies – you're helping people to make sense of their world in order to make the world a better place.