Assari is an associate professor of public health and Internal Medicine at Charles R. Drew University of Medicine and Science. He is a member of the Scholars Strategy Network.
On Thursday, we witnessed a debate between President Joe Biden and former President Donald Trump. What captured most of the audience's attention were Biden's occasional stumbles and Trump's numerous statements inaccuracies. Biden appeared humble and policy-focused, while Trump was loud, assertive and well-spoken.
However, another significant aspect was Trump's rhetoric, which was often filled with threats, fear and loss, especially on topics like immigration and crime. In contrast, Biden's points were primarily centered around policies and statistics aimed at benefiting Americans overall, with a particular focus on the vulnerable.
Despite Biden's stumbles and Trump's lower factual accuracy, Trump's emphasis on the power of negative information gave him an advantage. His strategy tapped into the human mind's bias towards negative information.
When comparing the influence of good and bad, there is an undeniable truth: Bad is stronger than good. This phenomenon, deeply rooted in the human psyche, has significant implications in various domains, including politics. Understanding this principle helps explain why Trump had the upper hand in the debate.
A basic and powerful fact about the human mind is its preferential attention devoted to threats. Our memories are also inherently biased towards negative experiences. This is not just a superficial observation; it's a well-documented phenomenon in social psychology and economics literature. It is also rooted in human evolution and the wiring of our brain. Roy F. Baumeister and his colleagues famously highlighted this in their paper, "Bad Is Stronger than Good," which has been cited over 10,000 times by other scientists.
Baumeister's review paper, published in 2001, showed us that negative events have a more significant impact on our emotions, thoughts and behaviors than positive ones.
For instance, people react more strongly to threats and failures than to opportunities and successes. This is evident in experiments where negative experiences consistently overshadow positive ones in terms of emotional impact.
In various domains, from romance to everyday interactions, negative experiences tend to have a more profound and lasting effect than positive ones. This is because the human brain is wired to prioritize and remember negative stimuli as a survival mechanism.
Baumeister's review provided us with many real-world examples that illustrate why negative information is more compelling.
Journalists know that stories about negative news often receive more attention and are more widely shared than positive ones. This is because we are naturally drawn to bad news, which we perceive as more urgent and important. On social media, posts that evoke anger, fear, or outrage tend to go viral more quickly than those that promote happiness or positivity. This is a direct consequence of the mind's bias towards bad information.
Economists have also shown us asymmetry between our sensitivity to loss and reward/gain. The pain of losing $10 may be more than the reward from winning $20. Neuroscientists, meanwhile, have shown how more primitive parts of our brain are responsible for our loss aversion.
It's essential for the audience to be aware of the power of Trump’s messaging about threats and negativity. Such messaging continues to give him an edge, regardless of the actual probabilities of these fears. This continuous advantage is not just a matter of political tactics but is deeply rooted in the psychological makeup of the audience.
At the same time, Biden did not sufficiently focus on the threats posed to our democracy by a second Trump term and MAGA Republicans. This was a missed opportunity during the debate. By highlighting the potential risks of another Jan. 6 and the negative consequences associated with a second Trump administration, Biden could have better leveraged the power of bad, which could persuade undecided voters who are wary of the MAGA agenda.
As we reflect on the impact of the debate, Americans should be mindful that some of Trump's advantage in Thursday's debate was not solely due to Biden's occasional stumbles but also to Trump's excellence in harnessing the "power of bad." This proficiency could influence election results. Understanding these psychological principles can help us mitigate the unparalleled influence of such tactics.
Eric Trump, the newly appointed ALT5 board director of World Liberty Financial, walks outside of the NASDAQ in Times Square as they mark the $1.5- billion partnership between World Liberty Financial and ALT5 Sigma with the ringing of the NASDAQ opening bell, on Aug. 13, 2025, in New York City.
Why does the Trump family always get a pass?
Deputy Attorney General Todd Blanche joined ABC’s “This Week” on Sunday to defend or explain a lot of controversies for the Trump administration: the Epstein files release, the events in Minneapolis, etc. He was also asked about possible conflicts of interest between President Trump’s family business and his job. Specifically, Blanche was asked about a very sketchy deal Trump’s son Eric signed with the UAE’s national security adviser, Sheikh Tahnoon.
Shortly before Trump was inaugurated in early 2025, Tahnoon invested $500 million in the Trump-owned World Liberty, a then newly launched cryptocurrency outfit. A few months later, UAE was granted permission to purchase sensitive American AI chips. According to the Wall Street Journal, which broke the story, “the deal marks something unprecedented in American politics: a foreign government official taking a major ownership stake in an incoming U.S. president’s company.”
“How do you respond to those who say this is a serious conflict of interest?” ABC host George Stephanopoulos asked.
“I love it when these papers talk about something being unprecedented or never happening before,” Blanche replied, “as if the Biden family and the Biden administration didn’t do exactly the same thing, and they were just in office.”
Blanche went on to boast about how the president is utterly transparent regarding his questionable business practices: “I don’t have a comment on it beyond Trump has been completely transparent when his family travels for business reasons. They don’t do so in secret. We don’t learn about it when we find a laptop a few years later. We learn about it when it’s happening.”
Sadly, Stephanopoulos didn’t offer the obvious response, which may have gone something like this: “OK, but the president and countless leading Republicans insisted that President Biden was the head of what they dubbed ‘the Biden Crime family’ and insisted his business dealings were corrupt, and indeed that his corruption merited impeachment. So how is being ‘transparent’ about similar corruption a defense?”
Now, I should be clear that I do think the Biden family’s business dealings were corrupt, whether or not laws were broken. Others disagree. I also think Trump’s business dealings appear to be worse in many ways than even what Biden was alleged to have done. But none of that is relevant. The standard set by Trump and Republicans is the relevant political standard, and by the deputy attorney general’s own account, the Trump administration is doing “exactly the same thing,” just more openly.
Since when is being more transparent about wrongdoing a defense? Try telling a cop or judge, “Yes, I robbed that bank. I’ve been completely transparent about that. So, what’s the big deal?”
This is just a small example of the broader dysfunction in the way we talk about politics.
Americans have a special hatred for hypocrisy. I think it goes back to the founding era. As Alexis de Tocqueville observed in “Democracy In America,” the old world had a different way of dealing with the moral shortcomings of leaders. Rank had its privileges. Nobles, never mind kings, were entitled to behave in ways that were forbidden to the little people.
In America, titles of nobility were banned in the Constitution and in our democratic culture. In a society built on notions of equality (the obvious exceptions of Black people, women, Native Americans notwithstanding) no one has access to special carve-outs or exemptions as to what is right and wrong. Claiming them, particularly in secret, feels like a betrayal against the whole idea of equality.
The problem in the modern era is that elites — of all ideological stripes — have violated that bargain. The result isn’t that we’ve abandoned any notion of right and wrong. Instead, by elevating hypocrisy to the greatest of sins, we end up weaponizing the principles, using them as a cudgel against the other side but not against our own.
Pick an issue: violent rhetoric by politicians, sexual misconduct, corruption and so on. With every revelation, almost immediately the debate becomes a riot of whataboutism. Team A says that Team B has no right to criticize because they did the same thing. Team B points out that Team A has switched positions. Everyone has a point. And everyone is missing the point.
Sure, hypocrisy is a moral failing, and partisan inconsistency is an intellectual one. But neither changes the objective facts. This is something you’re supposed to learn as a child: It doesn’t matter what everyone else is doing or saying, wrong is wrong. It’s also something lawyers like Mr. Blanche are supposed to know. Telling a judge that the hypocrisy of the prosecutor — or your client’s transparency — means your client did nothing wrong would earn you nothing but a laugh.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.