Why you should treat charisma as a red flag

Today’s crop of smooth talkers tap directly into a specific evolutionary vulnerability. Here’s how to defend yourself

Recently, I was alone in a bar waiting for a friend. To pass the time, I started chatting to a stranger. He had an easy, confident way of speaking, which I admired. We discussed topics I know little about: the instability of modern economies, the feasibility of commercial space travel, the likelihood of a coup in Russia. I found myself leaning in and asking questions: I felt as if I could learn a lot from this person. We eventually got to psychology, which is more my wheelhouse. I brooded about how easy it’s become for people to accept strange ideas. “Some people will believe anything,” he observed. “Some people even believe the Earth is round!”

It’s increasingly difficult to ignore how fragmented and bizarre our beliefs have become. We live in our own echo chambers, defined by the channels, feeds and influencers we follow. As a result we can arrive at very polarised conclusions about vaccines, the climate, gender, geopolitics, the shape of the Earth and everything else. Disagreements on topics like these frequently damage relationships, alienate friends and estrange loved ones.

How did things get so bad? I believe the answer is, in part, that we’re constantly exposed to a novel form of charisma. As a psychiatrist, I’ve always been fascinated by this quality: the magnetism that brings out a deep sense of trust, loyalty or enthusiasm in others. The psychology of charisma tells us that it is not necessarily a magic, undefinable X-factor, but rather a set of skills and behaviours. Sometimes people have it naturally, sometimes people learn it.

I have some experience with this. When I started my podcast a few years ago, I struggled (as I still do) with my monotonous voice. All the content creation experts said the same thing: switch up the pitch, pace and volume of your speech to maximise audience engagement. Slick production is optional, charismatic communication is not. Storytelling, body language, moral outrage and more can be mastered to help would-be internet personalities put a spell on their audience.

It’s been a huge lesson for me to discover how difficult it can be to discuss big topics in the mental health space responsibly, even as a trained professional. It’s also become shockingly clear how easily someone can distort the truth on, say, antidepressants, psychotherapy or ADHD when they have no experience or knowledge in that area – as long as they come across confidently and convincingly.

The dangers of charisma are nothing new, of course. History is filled with examples of people using charm to advance their interests. Dictators, cult leaders and con artists are all proof that an otherwise reasonable person can succumb to a well-executed charm offensive.

The difference now is one of scale. The 2024 US election, for example, was widely described as the “podcast election”, as both candidates (Trump more successfully) consented to numerous softball interviews on the medium. They reached millions, not with policy, but with good vibes. And you don’t have to be a public figure to leverage charm in this way – any video with the right allure can go viral, regardless of that person’s intentions or expertise.

Why are we so easily taken in by charisma? Like many aspects of our psychology, we can understand it more clearly through the lens of our evolutionary past.

Our ancestors spent most of their time (approximately 94% of human history) as hunter-gatherers, living in nomadic tribes that may have consisted of as few as 20 people. Groups that small, pitted against the forces of nature, needed strong leadership. Like many animals, humans have status hierarchies. High-status hunter-gatherers likely had many of the traits we still associate with charisma today: great eye contact, body language that signalled certainty, a persuasive voice.

The difference being that, back then, you had the opportunity to observe your peers all day, every day: their flaws, their virtues, their competence, often while facing lethal danger. If a person was merely superficially charming, you found out quickly. Charisma would only win out if accompanied by other important qualities, including sound judgment, good character and wisdom.

That’s not the case now. Technology allows us to shield the unpalatable parts of ourselves much more easily, selecting only the best bits for public consumption. Our brains did not evolve to process handpicked slices of someone else’s behaviour, detached from the rest of their lives, so we’re vulnerable to being duped. One frightening example is that of Ruby Franke, the parenting vlogger with millions of subscribers who was jailed for child abuse after two of her six children were found beaten and malnourished.

We spend a lot of time worrying about how the minds of teenagers are warped by the online world. We’re keenly aware how prone they are to manipulation by seemingly impressive figures. What we fail to realise is, we’re all teenagers when it comes to the internet. Algorithmic social media has only been around for about 15 years, and we remain largely unconscious of how routinely it bypasses our better judgment. Is there any way to grow out of this newly acquired susceptibility?

The best form of defence against the excesses of charisma is critical thinking. We should regard it as being like a collective immune system, and it should be central to our culture and the way we educate our young people. They should be taught how to evaluate sources, interpret information and recognise bias. Similarly, separating confidence from substance ought to be considered a basic life skill. Looking at counter-arguments when we are emotionally pulled to someone’s perspective should be routine, and changing our mind when it is emotionally difficult should be celebrated.

It would also be helpful for the average person to learn the fundamentals of confident communication. Not only can this help you express yourself when you have something of real value to offer, but it also teaches you to see through a person who would happily use such tactics to deceive or seduce.

All told, charisma should actually be a red flag that encourages us to be more sceptical of an individual, not less. When someone can convincingly hold court on important topics like finance, healthcare or the Middle East, we should ask questions. What experience do they have? Do they have a history of dishonesty? What do they stand to gain from this view? What need in me might this person be speaking to? For my part, the next time I discuss something important, I will go easy on the pitch, pace and volume, and try to let the facts speak for themselves.

Alex Curmi is a psychiatrist and host of The Thinking Mind podcast.

Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman (Penguin, £16.99)

The Age of Magical Overthinking by Amanda Montell (Thorsons, £12.99)

The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt (Penguin, £12.99)