Hegel Knew: We Judge the Climb, Not the Summit
Take about 1,000 undergraduates, split them into three groups, and hand each group a mock news article. One group reads about celebrity carbon emissions in general. One reads the same story with Taylor Swift named in the headline and her private jet’s numbers attached. One reads something unrelated, a control piece about multitasking or air travel. Then measure how much each person identifies as a Swift fan, and watch what happens to their opinion of her, and of the climate, once the emissions numbers are unavoidable. That’s the design behind “Don’t Blame Me”: Testing the Effects of Taylor Swift Fan Identity on Emerging Adults’ Moral Reasoning Strategies and Environmental Cognitions, published Sep 29, 2026 in Psychology of Popular Media by Leah Dajches (New Mexico State University), Taylor A. Foerster (Oregon State University), Juliana L. Barbati (Union of Concerned Scientists), and Jessica Gall Myrick (Penn State University).
The finding, in short: the more a person identified as a Swift fan, the more they rationalized the private jet data instead of lowering their opinion of her. And that rationalization wasn’t free. It measurably dragged down the fans’ own concern about carbon emissions and their stated intent to do anything about it personally. Leon Festinger never met a pop star or a private jet. But in 1957 he named exactly this mechanism, and in 1956 he watched it happen to a doomsday cult in real time. The most invested believers, confronted with evidence that threatens the belief, don’t update. They defend.
| Question | What we found |
|---|---|
| What was studied? | Whether Taylor Swift fan identity predicts moral rationalization of her private jet emissions, and whether that rationalization affects fans’ own climate attitudes |
| Who ran it? | Leah Dajches (New Mexico State University), Taylor A. Foerster (Oregon State University), Juliana L. Barbati (Union of Concerned Scientists), and Jessica Gall Myrick (Penn State University) |
| Where and when? | Psychology of Popular Media, published Sep 29, 2026; covered the same week by PsyPost |
| Sample | About 1,000 US undergraduates, ages 18–29, from two public universities |
| Design | Random assignment to one of three mock articles: general celebrity emissions, Swift-specific with jet data, or an unrelated control |
| Key number | Swift’s private jet use was reported to produce roughly 1,185 times more carbon pollution than the average person generates in a year |
| Core finding | High-identification fans shown the Swift-specific data rationalized the most; that rationalization predicted lower CO2 concern and weaker pro-environmental intent |
| What Festinger already argued | A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance (1957) and When Prophecy Fails (1956): the most committed believers resolve threatening evidence by defending the belief, not testing it |
The Quick Version
Cognitive dissonance is the discomfort of holding a belief and evidence against it at once. When the belief is central to who you are, the mind usually doesn’t drop the belief — it works on the evidence instead, reinterpreting it, minimizing it, or finding a reason it doesn’t count. Leon Festinger described this in 1957 and watched it happen inside a doomsday cult in 1956. A 2026 study of Taylor Swift fans found the same pattern: the most identified fans, confronted with her jet emissions, rationalized rather than reconsidered — and the rationalizing cost them their own climate concern.
The setup wasn’t a poll asking fans to guess how they’d feel about a hypothetical scandal. It was an experiment: recruit around 1,000 undergraduates from two public universities, randomly assign each one to read a mock news article, then measure what happened next. One-third read a general story about celebrities and carbon emissions, no names attached. One-third read the same kind of story with Swift named directly and her jet’s emissions data included — reported at roughly 1,185 times what an average person produces in a year. The rest read an unrelated control article. Beforehand, everyone answered questions about how much they liked Swift and how involved they were in her fan community — the researchers’ measure of fan identification.
The researchers were looking for what they call moral reasoning strategies — the specific mental moves people use to keep admiring someone whose behavior conflicts with their own values. Two came through clearly. Decoupling separates judgment of the bad behavior from appreciation of the person’s work: you can think the jet emissions are wrong and still stream the music, because the two get filed in different mental drawers. Rationalization is blunter. It’s “making excuses for the behavior or convincing oneself that the actions are not actually that bad” — captured in survey items like “High CO2 emissions are not as bad as some other things celebrities do.” A third possible strategy, where the bad behavior actually damages someone’s opinion of the star’s work, showed up so rarely the researchers couldn’t reliably measure it.
Rationalization is where the study earns its headline. Among fans who scored high on identification, reading the Swift-specific emissions article produced more rationalization than reading the general celebrity-emissions article did — the private jet, named and quantified, hit differently than an abstract statistic about famous people’s carbon footprints. And rationalization wasn’t a dead end. It predicted lower overall concern about CO2 emissions and a measurable drop in stated intentions to act in pro-environmental ways. Not just “I don’t think Taylor Swift is that bad.” The defense of her spilled over into caring less about the thing she was being defended against.
Cognitive dissonance is the psychological discomfort of holding two conflicting cognitions — a belief and a fact that contradicts it, for instance — at the same time. Leon Festinger argued in A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance (1957) that people are strongly motivated to reduce this discomfort, and that when the belief is central to identity, the mind usually resolves the tension by reinterpreting or minimizing the threatening evidence rather than by revising the belief.
Festinger didn’t develop the theory in a lab first. He developed it after infiltrating a small Chicago group that believed a flying saucer would rescue them from a flood destined to destroy the world on a specific date in December 1954. The book he wrote about it, When Prophecy Fails (1956, with Henry Riecken and Stanley Schachter), documented what happened when the date came and went and nothing happened. The members who’d given up the most — quit jobs, given away possessions, waited on a hillside — didn’t conclude they’d been wrong. Many concluded their faith had saved the world, and proselytized harder afterward than before. The prophecy failed. The belief didn’t.
Here’s where the comparison gets more interesting than a straight match, and it’s worth sitting with rather than smoothing over.
Festinger’s cult members had skin in the game a pop fan doesn’t. They’d quit jobs, given away belongings, waited on a hillside for a flood that didn’t come. The dissonance they were managing was existential — if the prophecy was false, the sacrifices had been for nothing. A Swift fan rationalizing a private jet has invested time, ticket money, maybe genuine attachment, but nothing on that order. No jobs quit. No hillside vigils.
And yet the study found the rationalization anyway, at scale, in a population with comparatively little on the line. That’s not a weaker version of Festinger’s finding. It’s arguably a more alarming one. If dissonance reduction shows up this reliably when the stakes are parasocial attachment rather than a doomsday prophecy, the mechanism isn’t gated by how much a person has sacrificed. It’s gated by how central the belief is to identity — and a fan community can apparently make “this person is good” central enough to defend, even without a hillside vigil behind it.
The connection isn’t “a 1957 psychologist predicted a 2026 fandom study.” It’s narrower than that, and it holds up better for being narrower: Festinger’s specific claim was that a central belief, once threatened, gets defended through reinterpretation of the threatening evidence rather than through revision of the belief. This study measured exactly that mechanism in a population Festinger never studied, using an outcome — climate concern — he never tested for, and found the pattern held.
It sits close to Sartre’s account of bad faith, the self-deception Sartre argued requires you to already know, at some level, the thing you’re hiding from yourself. Rationalizing a private jet’s emissions as “not as bad as some other things celebrities do” has that same paradoxical shape — the fan has to register the comparison well enough to reach for it, which means some part of the judgment already happened before the excuse arrived to cover it.
It also connects to Rousseau’s account of amour propre, the kind of self-regard that exists only in relation to other people’s opinions. Fan identity, as this study measured it, wasn’t just enjoying the music — it was belonging to a community built around shared admiration. Defending Swift isn’t only defending her. It’s defending a social identity that a thousand other fans are watching you hold.
There’s a sharper fit still in what Sartre’s hidden-bias research found about caution masquerading as automatic response — the idea that what looks involuntary is often something closer to a choice, made and re-made, that the chooser doesn’t want to examine too closely. Rationalization here isn’t an unconscious reflex a fan has no access to. The survey items ask them to endorse a specific excuse. They’re not caught doing it by surprise. They’re doing it on the record.
And it rhymes with Noelle-Neumann’s spiral of silence — her argument that people read the room for which opinions are winning and quiet the ones that aren’t, out of fear of isolation from the group. A highly identified fan reading criticism of Swift isn’t just weighing a fact. They’re weighing whether holding onto that criticism would put distance between them and a community they belong to. Rationalizing isn’t only about Swift. It’s a way of staying inside the room.
It’s worth being precise about the size of this, because the framing invites more confidence than the data earns.
The roughly 1,000 participants were undergraduates at two US public universities, and the researchers themselves noted the sample skewed white, heterosexual, cisgender, female, and politically Democratic. That’s not a population that stands in for fans generally.
This is a study of Taylor Swift fans specifically, reading about one transgression — private jet emissions. Whether the same pattern holds for other celebrities, other fandoms, or other kinds of bad behavior is a separate, untested question.
Random assignment to article condition gives the study real causal footing for one link: reading the Swift-specific emissions content, versus the general or control article, changed rationalization among high-identified fans. The further link — that rationalization then lowered climate concern and pro-environmental intent — is a relationship observed within the same survey, not something independently manipulated. It’s a reasonable read of the data. It isn’t proof that rationalization is the sole cause of the drop.
It’s worth naming more than a wrinkle here: the original When Prophecy Fails case has been credibly accused of being built on fabricated data. A 2026 paper by philosopher Thomas Kelly, Debunking “When Prophecy Fails” (Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences), and reporting from Mother Jones drawing on newly unsealed archival material allege that Festinger’s team fabricated psychic messages, covertly manipulated the group, and interfered in a child welfare investigation — and that coauthor Henry Riecken posed as a spiritual authority within the group and later admitted he had “precipitated” the climactic events he was supposedly only observing. By this account, the group didn’t persist and proselytize after the failed prophecy the way the book claims; its leader recanted and the group dissolved. The core theory of cognitive dissonance has been replicated many times since in cleaner, ethically sound experiments. The doomsday-cult story that made it famous may not hold up as the account it was sold as.
Festinger never streamed a pop song and never watched a private jet’s flight data get tracked in real time. He had a Chicago apartment full of people waiting for a flood, a theory he trusted enough to keep building on for the rest of his career, and a finding that held up seventy years later in a population he could not have imagined. The believers who’d given up the most defended the prophecy hardest. The fans most identified with Taylor Swift defended her hardest too — and the defending, this study found, wasn’t free. It cost them some of their own concern for the very thing being defended against.
This post discusses a 2026 experimental study published in Psychology of Popular Media and Leon Festinger’s 1957 theory of cognitive dissonance alongside his 1956 case study When Prophecy Fails. The study’s causal claims apply to its randomized article-assignment design; the link between rationalization and lower climate concern is an observed relationship within the same survey, not independently manipulated. Findings come from roughly 1,000 US undergraduates at two public universities, skewing white, female, and politically Democratic, and describe reactions to one celebrity and one type of transgression — not fandom or motivated reasoning in general.