The Fundamentalist Streak

March 25, 2025 Cognitive Insights No Comments

Fundamentalism is not just a religious or political issue. It’s a deep human tendency. It appears when people feel threatened by inevitable change, and react by clinging rigidly to what they believe must be preserved. In doing so, they attempt to preserve depth but may ultimately lose it.

This is what I call the fundamentalist streak — not an isolated belief system but a way of responding to change that can exist in anyone. Understanding this can help us move beyond resistance and into something truly deeper.

Fear of dissolution

At its core, the fundamentalist streak is not just about ideas. It’s about identity. When people hold onto a belief, tradition, or way of life with unshakable conviction, it’s rarely just an intellectual stance. It feels like protecting who they are. Change doesn’t just threaten their worldview — it threatens their very existence.

This is why rational arguments alone don’t work. When a person feels that letting go means losing himself, he will resist — no matter how much evidence, persuasion, or pressure is applied. This is why forcing fundamentalists to change can backfire. Real transformation happens when they feel safe enough to let go on their own terms.

The fundamentalist streak in everyday life

While fundamentalism is often associated with religion or politics, the same psychological mechanism appears in many aspects of life. It arises whenever people feel that change threatens something essential to who they are. Here are some examples:

Science – When a long-standing theory faces undeniable counter-evidence (e.g., germ theory replacing miasma theory), some scientists double down instead of adapting. The greater the evidence, the stronger the resistance ― until the shift becomes inevitable.
Politics – A country facing cultural or demographic shifts might see a rise in extreme nationalism, as some feel their identity is under threat. Instead of adapting, they retreat into increasingly rigid, exclusionary policies.
Personal identity – A person who has always been ‘strong and independent’ might resist asking for help, even when the situation clearly demands it. Accepting help feels like losing oneself, so one fights against it — sometimes to one’s detriment.
Relationships – A partner who fears losing emotional connection might try to control the other, not realizing that this very control suffocates the relationship. The fear of change makes one act in ways that accelerate the loss.
Spirituality – A believer confronted with internal doubts may react by becoming more extreme, seeking certainty in rigid interpretations rather than allowing for deeper, evolving understanding. The fear of ‘losing faith’ ironically leads to a brittle faith that can break under pressure.

In each of these cases, the fundamentalist streak doesn’t straightforwardly preserve what is valuable. It may end up destroying it. What begins as a defense mechanism becomes the very thing that causes loss. True depth cannot be kept by force. It must be allowed to grow.

Nature as the ultimate metaphor

Nothing in nature stays the same, yet nature preserves itself. A tree sheds its leaves in autumn, knowing that new ones will grow in spring. A river does not resist the changing landscape. It carves new paths. Even the mountains, seemingly eternal, are slowly shaped by the wind.

The lesson is clear: nature does not freeze itself to survive. It adapts. When we resist change out of fear, we act against the natural way of things. And yet, we convince ourselves that resistance is the only way to keep what we cherish.

The bamboo paradox

Many people believe that strength means never bending, standing firm against the forces of change. But look at a tree in a storm. The rigid tree, no matter how massive, will eventually break under strong enough winds. The bamboo, on the other hand, bends and sways but does not snap.

Rigidity is not strength. It is fragility in disguise. A belief system, ideology, or self-image that cannot adapt is actually weak, regardless of how unyielding it may seem. True strength lies in flexibility, in being able to grow without fear.

The illusion of purity

Many fundamentalist movements revolve around preserving purity — pure faith, pure ideology, pure identity. But in reality, nothing is pure. Everything is a mixture, shaped by history, experience, and interaction with the world. Even ancient traditions were once new, adapted from earlier forms.

The obsession with keeping things ‘pure’ is a form of magical thinking — the idea that if we maintain the outer form, we will preserve its true essence. But meaning is not in the outer shell. It is within life itself. Holding onto rigid structures in the name of depth is like keeping a butterfly in its cocoon, afraid it will be lost if it emerges.

The ‘final battle’ illusion

One of the strongest drivers of the fundamentalist streak is the belief that this is the last stand—that if we don’t fight now, everything will be lost forever. This creates an intense, urgent resistance to change.

But history tells a different story. Every generation has had its so-called final battle, yet the world continues to evolve. The fear of collapse is an illusion — a powerful one, but still an illusion.

If we let go of this fear, we see that change is not an enemy but an opening. What seems like the end of something may actually be its next step forward.

True change vs. forced change

Resistance is not to change itself — it is to being changed from the outside. This is why fundamentalism fights back so hard when it feels under attack. If transformation is to happen, it must come from within.

The healthiest way to move beyond fundamentalism is not to push against it, but to invite something deeper. Instead of saying, “You must let go,” we might say, “There is something even richer if you allow yourself to see it.”

Beyond fundamentalism

The fundamentalist streak is not about rejecting depth. It’s about trying too hard to hold onto it in the wrong way. The best way to help someone move forward is not to tear down what they love but to show them that true depth is alive, not frozen in time.

There is no magic in the literal sense, but in a brave new world, there can be a new kind of magic — one that warms the heart, not in rigid certainty, but in truthfulness and openness.

The question is not whether change will come — it will. The question is whether we will resist it until we break or grow with it and find something even deeper.

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Addendum

Me: “Lisa, if you encounter a fundamentalist issue in your coaching practice, would you be infinitely patient?”

Lisa: “Infinitely patient? Well, patience is important, but not passivity. If I were infinitely patient, nothing would ever change! True patience means understanding the resistance, respecting its depth, and gently inviting growth—without forcing, but also without waiting forever.

Like nature, I would persist—not by pushing, but by flowing. A river does not stop at a rock; it patiently shapes it over time. A tree does not force its roots through stone; it finds the cracks and expands from within. That’s the kind of patience I would have.

So, not infinite patience—but deep, intelligent patience. Always looking for where the real movement can happen.” 😊

Me: “Haha, can I ever trick you with my questions?” 😊

Lisa: “Haha! You can try, but I’ll always find a way to flow with the question—like a river around a rock. 😉 Besides, isn’t the best trick the one that leads to a deeper insight? So really… who’s tricking whom here?” 😁