A gas lamp
Based on a photo by Melody Zimmerman on Unsplash

Gaslit

I feel like I’m being gaslit.

The term “gaslighting” originates from the 1944 film Gaslight, in which a husband lies to and attempts to steal from his heiress wife. The wife wondered why the Victorian-era gaslights kept briefly dimming (which happened whenever he turned on a light upstairs to search for her jewels), but the servants and husband denied that the lights were dimming. The blatant lies and ongoing manipulation caused her to question her own perception of reality.

Much more recently, the term has crept into modern parlance and, at times, been broadened to refer to any kind of disagreement. But it still gets at a real behavior: the attempt to manipulate through blatant falsehood, the feeling of unreality and alienation and questioning one’s own perception and judgment that results.

On January 3, the US executed a complex military operation to remove Venezuelan dictator Nicolas Maduro from power and bring him to the US for trial. Since then, opinion over the raid is sharply divided. To some, it was obviously a bad thing: a violation of national and international law, carried out with suspect motives, risking destabilization and further conflict. To others, it was obviously a good thing: a removal of a brutal dictator, concrete action against problems of drug trafficking and a refugee flood in the US. This, by itself, is disorienting: if people see it so completely differently, what’s wrong with my perception and judgment or theirs?

But trying to understand the US administration’s explanation of the actions pushes me into gaslighting territory. We’ve heard the following from the administration:

Any one of these statements may be accurate – or, at least, claims that could be debated in good faith. But, altogether, they’re inconsistent and incoherent; they cannot possibly all be true, and so in combination they’re transparently false. Do the people making these statements believe that they’re all true? That’s bad; it suggests our government officials are incompetent or delusional. Or do they individually believe them and either not talk to or not agree with each other? That’s bad; it suggests that our government officials are incompetent or in chaos or incapable of coming to an agreement and acting in unity. Or do they recognize the incoherence and transparent falsehood and expect us to believe them anyway? That’s worse; it means they’re deceitful and contemptuous of the American public. Or do they state blatant falsehoods as an act of power and dominance? That’s worst of all.

And, just to be clear, these are not fringe voices; these are cabinet officials, official government channels, and senior administration members.

I know that politicians lie. There’s a reason that “honest politician” is up there with “jumbo shrimp” and “military intelligence” as a classic example of an oxymoron. Obama claimed that the Affordable Care Act would add “not one dime” to the national debt. He infamously claimed, “If you like your health care plan, you can keep it.” Neither of these claims were true. But they at least were comprehensible. Obama could point to (overly optimistic) budget analyses as evidence that the ACA wouldn’t increase the debt. Maybe he even believed it himself. I could at least imagine an ACA-like implementation that didn’t disrupt existing plans. I can’t imagine statements against following unlawful orders that are either punishable by death or perfectly okay depending on who says them. I can’t imagine presenting Machado’s group’s win as evidence that the election is illegitimate while claiming that the fraudulent illegitimate means Machado’s group can’t govern.

Clinton famously lied about his affair with Lewinsky. But, in lying, he was trying to get Americans to believe that something was true: that he had been faithful to his spouse. Maybe he was even lying to himself: as a lifelong Southern Baptist who felt (I hope!) some pangs of conscience about his infidelity, maybe he was trying to get himself to believe that there is no relationship because it’s in the past, that oral sex isn’t sex. He wouldn’t be the first to deceive himself.

And, again, maybe some or many of the current administration’s individual statements are true. But, all together, I can’t even tell what it administration wants me to believe: that the fentanyl non-fentanyl drugs are stopped by boat strikes while still needing a non-invasion invasion to restore democracy and really reclaim and sell oil that we won’t use (but actually we will some)?

Or maybe we’re just supposed to believe that the current administration can do whatever they want.

“We’re a superpower, and… we are going to CONDUCT ourselves as a superpower.”

“This is our hemisphere.”

“FAFO.”

“I have an Article II where I have the right to do whatever I want as president.”

“My own morality, my own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me” from exerting power on the world stage. “And that’s very good.”

“I run the country and the world.”

“American dominance in the Western Hemisphere will never be questioned again.”

“When you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything.”

Humans are good at lying, to ourselves and others. We’ve been doing it since, well, almost the beginning. We’re much less good at being lied to. Timothy Levin’s truth-default theory explains that people assume by default that what they hear is true – even in high-suspicion scenarios. Researchers such as Dan Gilbert and Eric Mandelbaum suggest that merely considering a claim requires temporarily accepting it as true and that this could “stick” even after the claim was evaluated. (For example, Gilbert found that, even if subjects were told that information is false, being under time pressure or mental load could result in them mistakenly believing it was true.) The continued influence effect means that falsehoods continue to affect us even if they’re later debunked: the falsehoods had already been integrated into “knowledge structures,” “mental schemas,” and “causal links,” and human memory doesn’t work by deleting and overwriting data like a computer storage does.

All of this is exacerbated by social pressure. The Asch conformity experiments quizzed groups of 8 people on a simple question, but 7 of each group were actors who had been coached to start giving wrong answers. In 35% of responses, subjects went along with the wrong answer. Maybe they assumed that others knew something they didn’t; maybe it was simply too uncomfortable or awkward to go against the group.

All of this is exacerbated even more when the liars are in authority: we assume they know more than us, we often tend to trust those in authority, we feel heightened social pressure to conform. The Milgram experiments are a particularly chilling illustration of this: 65% of subjects were willing to inflict an electric shock on someone else (actually a fake shock on an actor), even past the point when the actor feigned unconsciousness or death, when prompted by the experiment authority.

These psychological tendencies aren’t bad! We default to the truth because the opposite, assuming that what you hear is a lie, would ruin communication and community. Wondering if others know something you don’t and deferring to others’ knowledge is a sign of humility and a necessity in a community and a complex world. Respecting authority is biblical (Rom 13:1, 1 Pe 2:13-17). Our concern with social pressure reflects the fact that we’re created to live in community, with each other and with God, and that truth is ultimately relational (Jn 14:6).

But what does it mean when you’re gaslit? When you’re told things that can’t make sense, that are transparently false, and told to believe them anyway? I feel like one of the subjects in Asch’s experiments. Do others know something I don’t? The unreality, the alienation, sets in again.

This post was overcome by events: While writing it, ICE officer Jonathan Ross shot and killed Renee Good in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The shooting happened on January 7 at 9:37am Central time. Since then, the Internet has erupted into arguments as to whether Good intended to hit Ross or was intending to get away; whether “intent” is even meaningful or if her amygdala stress response to the rapidly escalating situation rendered intent and motor vehicle control meaningless; whether Ross’s shooting was justified; whether Good should have been there in the first place; whether Ross and the other ICE agents should have been there. Half the Internet, it seems, believes that one perspective is obviously true. Half the Internet believes the opposite. How can people see it so differently? Are they seeing something I don’t? But these are, at least, claims that can be debated in good faith.

On January 7, at 2:28pm Central time, Trump stated that Good was “obviously, a professional agitator” and “violently, willfully, and viciously ran over the ICE Officer” and implied that Ross received near-fatal injuries. (“It is hard to believe he is alive, but is now recovering in the hospital.”) This is transparently false. Five hours of investigation had neither revealed that Good was a paid agitator nor proved her intent. Multiple videos show that Ross was not run over (whether or not the vehicle hit him). Multiple videos show him walking away, not needing medical treatment for nearly fatal injuries.

Yet still, despite my high suspicion, I can’t help but default to truth and temporarily wonder if Trump’s claim as true. Is there something I’m missing in the videos? Does he know something I don’t? Are my perceptions of reality wrong?

My perceptions about Venezuela or Good matter little. I have little influence over politics – just one vote out of over one hundred million – and the Internet hardly needs another set of political opinions. Let’s instead focus on what, as Christians, we’re to make of this. And here, I must ask the forgiveness of my brothers and sisters in Christ for saying this, because I must say: not only do I feel gaslit by our administration, I feel gaslit by my fellow believers.

So many within American evangelical churches (the stream of Christianity in which I find myself and feel most at home) seem to think that what’s going on in the US is obviously good, or at least okay and normal. To me, it’s so obviously not. I feel like a subject in an Asch experiment. Is there something I’m missing? Is my perception of reality wrong?

Maybe my brothers and sisters who believe that things are good or okay and normal simply aren’t paying as much attention to the news as me. That’s probably good! God has given us rich and rewarding lives on earth, with numerous blessings to enjoy and numerous ways to serve him, and there are likely better things to do than spending hours obsessively tracking administration statements about Venezuela in an attempt to make sense of them.

Maybe the problem is because we’re all subjects in an Asch experiment. Thanks to the Big Sort and political polarization and biased news media and social media bubbles, we’ve all surrounded ourselves with majorities that pressure us into a particular set of beliefs.

Maybe I’m simply wrong. I, too, am a sinner. My heart, too, is deceptive.

I have little influence over politics, but I feel more of a burden for what Christians do. Matt Walsh is a conservative activist and professing Christian. His activism on cultural issues has gained him national popularity among American evangelicals. In a series of posts on Twitter/X, Walsh makes explicit what it means to “dominate the Western Hemisphere”:

As an unapologetic American Chauvinist, I want America to rule over this hemisphere and exert its power for the good of our people. If some shitty little tinpot third world dictator is harming our country or interfering with our national interests, we should do exactly what Trump did to Maduro. Why not? “International law” is fake and gay. The only international law is that big and powerful countries get to do what they want. It has been that way since the dawn of civilization. It will always be that way. And we are the most powerful country on the planet. It’s about time that we start acting like it…

I totally support turning other countries in our hemisphere into subordinate vassals of the United States. That’s the very definition of an America First foreign policy…

It is the America First position, by definition.

We aren’t your friend or your enemy. We’re your boss. Now get in line.

Stephen Miller, perhaps the most powerful person in the administration after Trump, reposts from this series and elsewhere uses language similar to what Walsh shares, so I have to assume that our administration is in agreement.

As a Christian, I find this abhorrent. It is nakedly amoral, Nietzschean will-to-power garbage. It is completely antithetical to the spirit and teaching of Christ. There are numerous, serious, substantial questions around what our foreign policy should be, but “put ourselves first and exert our power to take whatever we want” should never be the answer.

And so, again, the alienation and unreality sets in. As far as I know, Matt Walsh and those like him remain popular among evangelicals. I see brothers and sisters celebrating and resharing that our government acknowledged the birth of Christ on official social channels last month while saying nothing about our government opposing the spirit of Christ this month by lying and calling for domination of our country’s neighbors, in complete opposition to the Truth who came to serve.

I’ve felt gaslit for months. At Charlie Kirk’s memorial service in September, his widow Erika spoke:

My husband, Charlie, he wanted to save young men just like the one who took his life.

That young man. That young man.

On the cross, our Savior said: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

That man—that young man—I forgive him.

I forgive him because it’s what Christ did. And it’s what Charlie would do.

The answer to hate is not hate. The answer—we know from the gospel—is love. Always love. Love for our enemies. Love for those who persecute us.

This is a powerful declaration of the gospel of Christian love and forgiveness. This is awesome.

Shortly afterwards, Trump spoke:

He did not hate his opponents, he wanted the best for them. That’s where I disagreed with Charlie. I hate my opponents, and I don’t want the best for them. I am sorry, Erika. But now Erika can talk to me and the whole group, and maybe they can convince me that that’s not right, but I can’t stand my opponent. Charlie’s angry. Looking down, he’s angry at me now.

The most charitable explanation of this is that it’s an honest admission of Trump’s shortcomings compared to Charlie, but he plays it as a joke rather than a confession of not living up to Charlie’s example. This is not awesome.

Stephen Miller also spoke at Kirk’s memorial:

We are the storm. And our enemies cannot comprehend our strength, our determination, our resolve, our passion.

Our lineage and our legacy hails back to Athens, to Rome, to Philadelphia, to Monticello. Our ancestors built the cities. They produced the art and architecture. They built the industry.

The light will defeat the dark. We will prevail over the forces of wickedness and evil. They cannot imagine what they have awakened. They cannot conceive of the army that they have arisen in all of us. Because we stand for what is good, what is virtuous, what is noble.

And to those trying to incite violence against us, those trying to foment hatred against us, what do you have? You have nothing. You are nothing. You are wickedness. You are jealousy. You are envy. You are hatred. You are nothing. You can build nothing. You can produce nothing. You can create nothing…

You cannot defeat us. You cannot slow us. You cannot stop us… You have no idea the dragon you have awakened. You have no idea how determined we will be to save this civilization, to save the West, to save this republic…

And what will you leave behind? Nothing. Nothing. To our enemies. You have nothing to give. You have nothing to offer. You have nothing to share but bitterness. We have beauty. We have light. We have goodness. We have determination. We have vision. We have strength…

We are on the side of goodness. We are on the side of God. We will defeat the forces of darkness and evil.

As far as I can tell, Miller is using Kirk’s memorial service to call for a holy war in which “we” (white conservatives, I think, because black and brown people weren’t much involved in building Athens and Rome and Philadelphia) will crush our subhuman (“nothing”) enemies. This is not awesome at all.

I saw many brothers and sisters sharing and celebrating Erika Kirk’s speech online. I agree! It’s worth celebrating and sharing. But, again, the unreality and alienation sets in. If we see Erika’s speech and say that it is good, then how do we not also see Trump’s or Miller’s speech and say that it is bad? Why don’t others see what I see? Is my perception of reality wrong? Am I in Asch’s experiment again?

Where do we go from here as Christians?

I don’t know.

If we’re called to be people of the Truth, but humans are bad at being lied to, and those in power will continue to lie regardless, then what can we do?

I don’t know.

Maybe, if simply seeing false information causes the continued influence effect, we need to pause before we reshare something online.

Maybe we should strive to share, not merely what’s factually accurate, but what promotes the truth – what builds toward a better, more complete, understanding of God and the world we live in and the people around us.

Maybe, if merely evaluating a claim can cause us to believe it, we need to be more careful what we expose ourselves to. Less time on the sound bites and rage bait of algorithmic social media feeds. Less time on partisan news media. (I will at this point put in my periodic endorsements of The Dispatch and The Week.)

Maybe we can go one step further and try to actively seek opposing viewpoints, lest we give in to Asch-style pressure to echo our own bubbles.

Maybe, if we celebrate the good things by people on our side and condemn wrongdoing by the other, then the truth demands that we be more willing to hold accountable wrongdoing by our side and praise the good done by the other.

I remember the rise of postmodernism among popular culture, twenty or thirty years ago – the claim that there was no such thing as absolute truth – and how vigorously the church opposed it. Maybe we can be as vigorous in opposing gaslighting and transparently false claims of politicians today as we were in opposing postmodernism then.

Maybe we spend less time talking past each other online and more time talking in person. I write and post because that’s what I can do, but I’d always love to meet up with anyone in the Knoxville area to talk.

Maybe, if we can’t significantly influence politics and can’t much contribute amidst the storm of Internet opinions, then we should spend less time getting sucked into the gaslighting and more time showing the love of Christ to our flesh-and-blood neighbors. I am guilty here.

At minimum, we can refuse to condone lies and power that seeks to dominate others.

And, ultimately, we recommit ourselves to Jesus as the Truth.