Goebbels’ 11 Principles of Propaganda

A rumor lands in the group chat at 11:40 p.m. It’s short, angry, and aimed at one villain. By breakfast three people you trust have repeated it, a fourth has posted a meme about it, and the original source has vanished into the scroll. You can’t remember who told you first. You just know, with a certainty that feels oddly physical, that “everyone” agrees. Check the facts later, you think. Later never arrives, and the belief has already set like concrete. Somewhere in there a message did its work without ever making an argument.

That small, ordinary scene is the reason a century-old list of rules still gets passed around: Goebbels’ 11 principles of propaganda. The list shows up in marketing blogs, political science syllabi and angry comment threads, usually stripped of context and attributed to the Nazi propaganda minister as if he had pinned it to his office wall. He didn’t. The real history is murkier, and more useful, than the viral version, and the psychology underneath it is still alive and well in every notification you receive. Teachers, marketers, campaign managers and conspiracy forums have all borrowed from the same toolbox, usually without knowing where it came from.

Learn the pattern. Lose the spell.

This article explains the 11 principles of propaganda attributed to Joseph Goebbels, where they actually come from, why they work on the human mind, and how to resist them.

It treats the subject as history and media literacy, not as a how-to. It also asks a quieter question: how many of these moves are you already making yourself?

What are Goebbels’ 11 principles of propaganda?

The 11 principles of propaganda attributed to Joseph Goebbels are a popular list of techniques used to shape mass opinion: simplification and a single enemy, contagion, transposition, exaggeration, vulgarization, orchestration, renewal, verisimilitude, silencing, transfusion and unanimity. They describe how a propagandist simplifies, repeats and amplifies a message until it feels like common sense.

Here is the list in plain English, with the psychological lever each one pulls and the question that helps you resist it. Treat the table as a field guide for recognizing tactics, not a recipe.

That’s the list. The harder questions are where it came from and what it really tells us, which the next sections tackle.

One thing to hold onto: none of these are exotic. Advertising uses several of them in gentler form. Office politics borrows a few. What makes propaganda different is intent and scale, the deliberate use of the whole toolkit to move a population toward a goal, often at the expense of an outgroup.

That gap between ordinary persuasion and organized manipulation is the thread running through the rest of this article.

Did Goebbels actually write down these 11 principles?

No, there’s no evidence that he did. Myth: Goebbels published a numbered list of 11 rules. Fact: the best-documented list of his working principles is a different, longer one compiled in 1950 by an American psychologist, and the popular 11-point version is a later summary of unclear authorship.

The scholar behind that earlier list was Leonard W. Doob, a Yale social psychologist who had worked on wartime propaganda analysis. In 1950 he published Goebbels’ Principles of Propaganda in Public Opinion Quarterly. Doob drew on Goebbels’ diaries, in the 1948 English translation, and on other captured documents, and organized what he found into 19 principles. They are mostly practical and organizational: propagandists need intelligence on events and public opinion; propaganda must be planned and executed by a single authority; it must be timed to reach the audience before competing messages; it must label events and people with distinctive phrases or slogans.

Doob’s list includes the use of “black” propaganda (material that hides its true source) when “white” propaganda would be less credible. It also notes that credibility is the deciding test of whether output should be true or false, which is a chilling way of saying that the truth was a tool, not a value.

Notice what this tells you. Goebbels’ actual approach, as reconstructed by Doob, was less a bag of tricks than a management system: centralized control, audience research, careful timing. The 11-point list popular online reads differently. It is a catalog of rhetorical techniques (single enemy, exaggeration, unanimity) that mixes real Nazi practice with later commentary on propaganda in general. It circulates mainly in Spanish-language sources and has been translated and recycled in English, usually without a primary citation.

The same problem plagues the most famous Goebbels quote of all, the one about repeating a lie until people believe it. Historians have found no evidence that he wrote or said it. The “big lie” concept comes from Hitler’s Mein Kampf, where he accused Jews of using one, a charge that was itself propaganda. In a January 1941 article, Goebbels accused the British of lying big and sticking to it. He was describing an enemy’s supposed method, not stating his own creed.

Why does this matter for you? Because a claim wrapped in a famous name feels credible. Sloppy attribution is a small example of exactly what the list describes: plausible-looking fragments passed around until they feel like fact. A careful reader asks for the source.

That doesn’t make the popular list worthless. It can still organize your thinking about manipulation. It just shouldn’t be cited as Goebbels’ own words.

Who was Joseph Goebbels and how did Nazi propaganda work?

Joseph Goebbels (1897 to 1945) was Adolf Hitler’s propaganda chief and, from March 1933 until his suicide in Berlin on May 1, 1945, Reich Minister of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda. He gave the regime a single point of control over radio, film, press, theater and the arts.

The machinery mattered as much as the message. After taking power, the Nazis centralized the media under Goebbels’ ministry, used censorship to silence dissent, staged mass rallies, orchestrated the burning of banned books in May 1933, and promoted cheap radio sets so that the regime’s voice could reach nearly every household. The point was to make the state’s narrative the default background of daily life, not merely one voice in a debate.

Historian Jeffrey Herf, in The Jewish Enemy, showed how central one theme was to wartime propaganda: the claim that “international Jewry” was behind the war and responsible for Germany’s troubles. Herf’s analysis of internal directives and published material demonstrates that antisemitic messaging was not a side feature but a driving, coordinated line, repeated across media to justify persecution and genocide. This is what the “single enemy” principle looks like in practice, and it is why the topic can’t be treated as a neutral marketing exercise.

Three features of the system are worth separating from the lists.

First, control of the channels. When one authority decides what appears in newspapers and on the air, competing information disappears. Many of the later principles, such as silencing and unanimity, are only possible where this control exists.

Second, audience research. Regime agencies monitored public opinion through secret reports, tuning messages to fit moods and rumors. Propaganda was not just broadcast; it was adjusted.

Third, blending truth and falsehood. Messaging mixed accurate reports, such as real military events, with fabrications and distortions, which lent borrowed credibility to the lies.

Consider a composite, Marta, an illustrative character in a 1930s town. Her radio is cheap, her newspaper is approved, her club has been dissolved and replaced. Nobody forbids her from thinking anything. But every channel she trusts is repeating the same story, and the alternatives have simply gone quiet.

A caution on interpretation: it’s tempting to credit propaganda with everything, as if a population had been hypnotized. Historians generally see its effects as more complicated, a mix of persuasion, intimidation, opportunism and existing prejudice. Propaganda worked best where it amplified attitudes that were already there, which leads to the tenth principle.

How do the single enemy, contagion and transposition work?

Principles one to three build the villain. They reduce a messy world to one culprit, merge all opponents into that culprit, and then flip accusations so the propagandist’s own faults land on the target. Together they turn blame into a reflex.

Simplification and the single enemy. Complex problems have many causes, which is exhausting. A single enemy is easier to hold in the mind and easier to hate. Psychologists link this to our appetite for scapegoating: when people feel threatened or uncertain, assigning blame to an identifiable group restores a feeling of control. The Nazi image of a unified Jewish threat is the grimmest historical example, as Herf’s work documents.

Method of contagion. Different opponents, such as communists, bankers and critics, are lumped together as if they were one conspiracy. Once the category is fixed, any member of it carries the stain of the rest. This exploits our tendency to treat groups as uniform, a bias researchers call the outgroup homogeneity effect.

Transposition. Your own weakness gets projected onto the opponent. If you’re accused of something, you accuse the other side of the same thing first. It confuses the audience: when both sides shout the same charge, outsiders often conclude that the truth must lie somewhere in the middle, even when it doesn’t.

Look at how this plays out in everyday settings. Take Kofi, an illustrative composite who manages a regional sales team. Quarterly numbers are poor, and a rumor spreads that the entire problem is “the new people in operations.” Within a week every delay, whatever its cause, is attributed to them. The real causes (a pricing change, a supplier delay, a weak quarter) disappear from conversation.

Notice how little malice is needed. The pattern appears whenever people want a simple story during stress. Propaganda formalizes and weaponizes it.

Warning signs that the “build the villain” pattern is operating:

One group is blamed for several unrelated problems. The accused group is described with a single label, never as individuals. Denials are treated as proof of guilt. The accuser’s own conduct goes unexamined.

A practical defense is decomposition. Ask who exactly is being blamed, for what exactly, and based on what evidence. Break the blob into parts. A blob is much easier to hate than a person.

This is also the point where history should make us humble. Scapegoating didn’t need a ministry to begin with, and it doesn’t need one to continue.

Why do exaggeration, vulgarization and orchestration make lies feel true?

Because the brain treats ease as a clue to truth. Messages that are emotional, simple and repeated are processed fluently, and fluency feels like accuracy. Principles four to six target exactly that shortcut.

Start with repetition. Lisa K. Fazio and colleagues showed in a 2015 study that the illusory truth effect, the tendency to rate repeated statements as more true, occurs even when people know better. Participants rated repeated false statements as more truthful than new ones, even when the statements contradicted things they already knew. The researchers called this knowledge neglect: people sometimes rely on how easy a statement feels to process even when relevant knowledge is available in memory. That finding overturned a comfortable assumption that smart, informed people are immune.

Orchestration is the engineered version. A few ideas, said again and again, from different voices and in different formats, so that repetition looks like independent confirmation.

Vulgarization, a term in the popular list for aiming at the least sophisticated listener, is better understood today as emotional simplicity. Messages with strong feeling and little complexity travel well and stick in memory. This is not a claim that audiences are stupid. Even experts are more persuadable when tired, stressed or distracted, which describes most of us at 11 p.m. on a phone.

Exaggeration and distortion inflates a single story. A crime committed by one person becomes proof of what an entire group is like; a minor policy flaw becomes a national catastrophe. The vivid incident beats the dull statistic every time, in part because of the availability heuristic: what comes easily to mind seems common.

Imagine Dara, an illustrative composite who scrolls her news feed on the train. Over three weeks she sees one alarming claim in a headline, a quote card, a friend’s repost and a short video. She never reads the original article. By the end of the month she’d swear it’s well established. Nothing about the claim changed. Only the number of times she encountered it did.

Researchers in this area also note limits. The illusory truth effect is real but modest in size for any single exposure, and effects can weaken when people are explicitly prompted to think about accuracy. Repetition is a nudge, not mind control.

So what helps? Slow down at the moment of familiarity. When something feels obvious, ask where you first heard it. If the answer is “everywhere,” that’s not an answer. It’s the signature of the effect.

Also notice emotion. A claim that makes you furious or terrified in three seconds has already bypassed your evidence filter. That’s the time to pause before sharing.

What are renewal, verisimilitude and silencing?

These three principles manage the flow of information: flood the zone with new claims, make them look plausible, and keep inconvenient facts out of sight. They work less by persuading than by overwhelming and by controlling what the audience gets to weigh.

Renewal. New accusations and arguments come so fast that by the time someone rebuts the last one, the public has moved on. This exploits limited attention. Corrections take effort and arrive late; claims are cheap and arrive first.

Data from online life back up that asymmetry. In a large 2018 study published in Science, Soroush Vosoughi, Deb Roy and Sinan Aral analyzed about 126,000 stories shared by roughly 3 million people on Twitter over more than a decade. They found that false news spread significantly farther, faster, deeper and more broadly than true news. False stories were about 70 percent more likely to be retweeted, and true stories took about six times as long to reach 1,500 people. Their analysis suggested that humans, not automated accounts, were mainly responsible for the difference, and that falsehoods seemed novel and emotionally charged.

Verisimilitude, resemblance to truth, means building claims from fragments: a real quote cut from its context, a genuine photo with a false caption, an old statistic presented as new. The pieces are true; the picture they make isn’t. It’s tough to debunk because every individual piece checks out.

Silencing. Unfavorable facts are ignored, buried or drowned out. The absence of a story is hard to notice. You can’t weigh evidence you never see. In the Nazi system, silencing was enforced through censorship and punishment; in open societies it more often happens through editorial choices, algorithmic ranking and sheer noise.

Think of Ana, an illustrative composite who volunteers at a local sports club. The club’s committee announces a stream of exciting changes every week: a new sponsor, a logo, a fundraiser. Meanwhile the budget shortfall never appears on any agenda. Nobody lies. The big problem simply never gets airtime.

What do these three have in common? They shape the information environment instead of arguing a point. That’s why fact-checking alone struggles against them. You can’t fact-check an omission, and you can’t keep up with a flood.

Defenses are structural: choose a few trusted, diverse sources and revisit them on a schedule; check the date and original context of images and quotes; look for what a story leaves out; and give yourself permission not to react to everything in real time. Waiting a day to form an opinion is a skill, not a failure.

How do transfusion and unanimity exploit what we already believe?

Transfusion pours a message into channels that already exist, the old grudges, myths and prejudices of a culture. Unanimity then convinces each person that everyone else agrees. Together they turn private doubt into public silence.

Transfusion. Propaganda rarely invents resentment from nothing. It attaches itself to what’s already there: a humiliating defeat, an economic crisis, a long tradition of prejudice. The Nazi regime built heavily on existing antisemitism and on the bitterness many Germans felt after World War I. A message that fits a pre-existing story needs little evidence, because the audience supplies the proof from memory. This is consistent with a broad finding in psychology called confirmation bias, the habit of favoring information that fits what we already think.

Unanimity. If most people seem to think a certain way, dissenting becomes costly. Here the classic experiment is by Solomon Asch. In his 1950s conformity studies, participants judged line lengths in a group where confederates deliberately gave wrong answers. About a third of responses on the critical trials followed the incorrect majority, and roughly three quarters of participants conformed at least once. When even one other person gave the correct answer, conformity dropped sharply.

That last detail is the most hopeful piece of social psychology I know. One ally changes the situation. Unanimity is fragile, which is why propagandists try so hard to manufacture it and to isolate dissenters.

Modern versions appear in many forms. A comment section that looks lopsided, a trending hashtag boosted by a small number of accounts, a “silent majority” that’s said to agree. We rarely see the real distribution of opinion, and we tend to overestimate how common loud views are. Researchers describe a related effect, pluralistic ignorance, in which many people privately disagree with a norm but assume everyone else supports it, so nobody speaks.

Signs that unanimity is being manufactured:

• The same phrases appear in many places at once.
• Dissenters are mocked or labeled instead of answered.
• “Everyone knows” or “nobody believes” replaces evidence.
• Questions are treated as disloyalty.
• You feel unusually reluctant to say what you actually think.

The antidote to that last one is ordinary. Ask a trusted person what they really think, privately. You may discover you were one of many.

It’s worth saying that agreement isn’t suspicious in itself. Sometimes everyone does agree because the evidence is strong. The question is whether the agreement was reached by open exchange or produced by pressure.

Why does propaganda work even on smart, skeptical people?

Because it doesn’t need you to be gullible. It needs you to be human: busy, social, emotional and short of attention. Intelligence helps in some ways and backfires in others, since clever people are often better at defending beliefs they already hold.

The French sociologist Jacques Ellul made a point in his 1965 book Propaganda: The Formation of Men’s Attitudes that surprises many readers: effective propaganda doesn’t rely mainly on lies. It uses facts, selectively, and aims to prompt action and conformity rather than to win debates. Ellul also argued that educated people can be especially exposed, because they consume more media and feel obliged to hold opinions on everything. I would soften that claim, since it is difficult to test, but the core insight, that propaganda is a social environment more than a set of false sentences, holds up well.

The philosopher Hannah Arendt, in The Origins of Totalitarianism, described a darker endpoint. She argued that the ideal target of totalitarian propaganda is not the committed believer but the person who can no longer tell fact from fiction, because constant contradiction and manipulation wear down the very sense that truth matters. Confusion and cynicism serve power as well as belief does. If everything is spin, nothing can be checked, and there is no firm ground from which to resist.

That shifts the target of defense. It’s not enough to catch particular lies. The real task is to protect the habit of caring about truth, which means tolerating uncertainty and rejecting the shrug of “they’re all the same.”

Psychology adds a few more reasons we’re vulnerable:

Cognitive load. When we’re tired or overloaded, we rely on shortcuts such as familiarity and group cues. Identity. Beliefs tied to who we are, our group or our values, are defended like possessions. Social cost. Disagreeing with the group can mean exclusion, which feels dangerous in an almost physical way. Emotion. Fear and anger narrow attention and crowd out slow reasoning.

Consider Liam, an illustrative composite and a thoughtful engineer who prides himself on checking sources. He nevertheless forwards a screenshot of an alarming claim about a group he already dislikes, because it matches what he suspected. His skills didn’t fail because he’s careless. They failed because the claim arrived wrapped in his own prior beliefs.

The respectful conclusion is that no one is immune, and that humility is more protective than confidence. People who believe they’re resistant check less.

How can you build resistance to propaganda and misinformation?

The best-evidenced approach is psychological inoculation: teach people to recognize manipulation techniques in advance, using weakened examples, so they’re better prepared when the real thing shows up. It works like a vaccine analogy, with the caveat that effects fade without boosters.

The idea comes from social psychologist William J. McGuire, who with Demetrios Papageorgis proposed in 1961 that, just as exposure to a weakened virus builds biological immunity, exposure to a weakened persuasive attack, together with a refutation, could build resistance to later persuasion. Decades later, Jon Roozenbeek and Sander van der Linden applied the idea to online misinformation with a browser game called Bad News, in which players take on the role of a fake-news producer and learn common tactics such as impersonation, emotional language, conspiracy framing and polarization. In their 2019 study, playing the game reduced participants’ ratings of the reliability of misinformation tactics. Later work found similar benefits across cultures, though effects are modest, wear off over time and are most reliably shown for recognizing techniques rather than for changing beliefs on hot-button topics.

This technique-based approach suits our topic neatly. Rather than debunking each false claim, it trains you to spot the underlying moves, the same moves that the 11 principles describe.

A practical routine you can use:

1. Pause on strong emotion. If a post makes you angry or afraid within seconds, wait before sharing.
2. Name the technique. Is it a single enemy? An exaggerated anecdote? A manufactured crowd? Naming it weakens its grip.
3. Trace the source. Find the original article, document or video. Check the date and who stands to gain.
4. Look for the missing piece. What would a fair account include that this one skips?
5. Seek disagreement from a good source. Read the strongest version of the other side, not its caricature.
6. Talk to one real person. A conversation breaks the spell of a screen full of strangers.

When you correct other people, tone matters. Public shaming rarely changes minds and tends to harden positions. Asking a curious question (“where did you see that?”) keeps the door open. Offer an alternative explanation, not just a negation.

For schools and workplaces, the strongest lesson from the research is to teach techniques, run practice sessions regularly, and avoid framing media literacy as a partisan project. Skills that apply to any side are the ones that last.

Finally, build in slow time. Propaganda favors speed. Waiting is a legitimate response to uncertainty.

Do these principles still show up in modern media and politics?

Yes, in diluted and dispersed forms, but beware of overusing the comparison. The techniques are common to persuasion in every era, from advertising to campaigns to online outrage, and spotting one of them doesn’t make someone a Nazi. Context, intent and scale are what separate ordinary rhetoric from organized manipulation.

It’s worth being strict about this. Calling every opponent a propagandist, or every disagreement a “Goebbels tactic,” is itself an example of the single-enemy and contagion principles in action. People on every political side do it. Using the list to label an opponent you dislike defeats its purpose, which is to examine your own information diet first.

That said, the techniques have clear modern analogues:

• Repetition through slogans, hashtags and coordinated posting, producing the feel of consensus.
• Outrage-driven sharing, since platforms reward content that provokes strong emotion, as the research on false news shows.
• Selective omission in news selection and feed ranking.
• Manufactured crowds via fake accounts and bought engagement.
• Mirror accusations, in which each side charges the other with exactly what it is accused of.

Media systems differ a lot, though. In a society with a free press, competing outlets, independent courts and the freedom to criticize, propaganda has to compete. The Nazi system removed those checks. Part of the lesson of history is that the institutions which allow disagreement are the real defense, and they’re worth protecting even when they’re annoying.

Questions that work as a quick audit of any message, from any source:

Who is speaking, and what do they want? What emotion is this designed to produce? What evidence is offered, and can I check it? Who is blamed, and is the blame proportionate? What is missing? Would I accept this standard of evidence if my own side were accused?

That last question is the hardest, and the most useful.

Applying it consistently is uncomfortable, because it means admitting that your own group’s messages use these moves too. They usually do. Whether the content is true is a separate matter from whether the technique is manipulative, and both questions deserve an answer.

When you next feel the group-chat certainty settling in at midnight, ask yourself who told you first.

FAQs about Goebbels’ 11 Principles of Propaganda

Did Goebbels really write 11 principles of propaganda?

No. There is no evidence that Goebbels wrote or published a numbered list of 11 principles. The best-documented list of his working methods is a set of 19 principles compiled by the American psychologist Leonard Doob in 1950 from Goebbels’ diaries and other documents. The popular 11-point version circulates widely online, mostly in Spanish-language sources, and its authorship is unclear. It mixes real Nazi practices with later commentary on propaganda. If you want to cite it, describe it as principles attributed to Goebbels, and cite Doob’s article as the primary scholarly source for what he actually did. Anyone writing about the topic can avoid repeating the myth by checking the primary source, which is a short, readable article.

Did Goebbels say that a lie repeated often enough becomes truth?

There is no solid evidence that he did. The quote is widely attributed to him, but historians have not found it in his speeches, diaries or articles. The related idea of the big lie comes from Hitler’s Mein Kampf, where it was used to accuse Jews of deceiving the public. In 1941, Goebbels wrote an article accusing the British of following the principle that when one lies, one should lie big and stick to it. So he described the idea as an enemy’s method. The modern quote is a paraphrase that took on a life of its own.

What is the illusory truth effect?

It’s the tendency to rate statements as more true simply because you’ve heard them before. Repetition makes information easier to process, and that ease feels like accuracy. A 2015 study led by Lisa Fazio found the effect even when people knew the correct answer, a pattern called knowledge neglect. This does not mean repetition makes everyone believe everything; the effect on a single exposure is modest, and prompting people to think about accuracy can reduce it. But in a media environment where claims appear again and again, it helps explain how rumors start to feel like facts. A practical takeaway is that familiarity is not evidence, so asking where you first heard a claim is a small habit with a real payoff.

Is it fair to compare modern politicians to Goebbels?

Usually not, and careless comparisons weaken both history and argument. The techniques in the list, such as repetition, simplification and blaming an enemy, appear across the political spectrum and in advertising. What distinguished Nazi propaganda was total control of the media, censorship, state violence and an ideology built on persecution and genocide. Using Goebbels as a label for a rival often turns into an example of the single-enemy and contagion moves. A better habit is to describe the specific technique and the evidence, and to apply the same standard to messages from your own side. Different historians weigh these factors differently, so it is wise to read more than one account before drawing a comparison.

How does propaganda differ from ordinary persuasion?

The line is blurry, and scholars debate where it falls. Ordinary persuasion usually gives audiences reasons they can weigh and respond to, in an environment where other voices can reply. Propaganda tends to be organized, one-sided and designed to trigger emotion and conformity rather than reflection, often hiding its source or aims and suppressing alternatives. Intent and scale matter: a single advertisement is not a state apparatus. Many everyday messages sit in a gray zone. Asking who benefits, what is left out and whether you are free to disagree helps place a message on the spectrum. Defining terms carefully keeps the conversation honest and less heated.

What did Jacques Ellul say about propaganda?

Ellul, a French sociologist, argued in his 1965 book that modern propaganda is less about telling outright lies than about shaping behavior through a constant stream of selective facts, emotion and social pressure. He thought it worked best in mass societies where people are overloaded with information and feel they must hold opinions about everything. He also claimed that educated people may be especially exposed, a claim that is harder to prove. His wider point, that propaganda is an environment more than a collection of false statements, remains influential in media studies. Ellul’s work is dense, but the chapters on integration propaganda are the easiest entry point for general readers.

Can you actually be inoculated against misinformation?

To a degree. Inoculation theory, developed by William McGuire in the 1960s, holds that exposing people to a weakened version of a manipulative argument, with a refutation, builds resistance. Modern studies using games and short videos find that people learn to spot manipulation techniques such as emotional language, scapegoating and fake experts. The effects tend to be modest, can fade within weeks without reminders, and are stronger for recognizing techniques than for changing deeply held beliefs. Researchers describe it as one useful tool among several, alongside good journalism, platform design and ordinary conversation. The bigger lesson is that inoculation works best as a habit, not a one-time event, so refresher practice matters.

What can I do when someone I love believes propaganda?

Start with the relationship, not the argument. Shaming or fact-dumping usually hardens positions. Ask open questions about where they saw a claim and what made it persuasive, listen for the need underneath (fear, belonging, anger), and share your own uncertainty honestly. Offer a different way to explain the same facts rather than just saying they’re wrong, and pick your moments, since people rarely change their mind in the middle of a fight. Keep expectations modest: shifts tend to be gradual. If the beliefs are tied to harassment, threats or self-harm, seek help from a licensed counselor or relevant authorities. People often change their minds because of a relationship, not an argument, and that takes patience.

Bibliography

• Arendt, H. (1951). The origins of totalitarianism. Harcourt, Brace.
• Asch, S. E. (1956). Studies of independence and conformity: I. A minority of one against a unanimous majority. Psychological Monographs: General and Applied, 70(9), 1-70.
• Doob, L. W. (1950). Goebbels’ principles of propaganda. Public Opinion Quarterly, 14(3), 419-442.
• Ellul, J. (1965). Propaganda: The formation of men’s attitudes (K. Kellen & J. Lerner, Trans.). Alfred A. Knopf.
• Fazio, L. K., Brashier, N. M., Payne, B. K., & Marsh, E. J. (2015). Knowledge does not protect against illusory truth. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 144(5), 993-1002.
• Herf, J. (2006). The Jewish enemy: Nazi propaganda during World War II and the Holocaust. Harvard University Press.
• McGuire, W. J., & Papageorgis, D. (1961). The relative efficacy of various types of prior belief-defense in producing immunity against persuasion. Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology, 62(2), 327-337.
• Roozenbeek, J., & van der Linden, S. (2019). Fake news game confers psychological resistance against online misinformation. Palgrave Communications, 5, Article 65.
• Vosoughi, S., Roy, D., & Aral, S. (2018). The spread of true and false news online. Science, 359(6380), 1146-1151.