Before we begin, two comments:

• This is an opinion-based article.
• The references provided indicate the sources and perspectives that have influenced its thinking.

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I. Introduction: The Invisible Current

We are social beings, wired by nature to connect, to mirror, and to belong. This fundamental aspect of our humanity is the wellspring of empathy, community, and collective progress. Yet, in the modern age, this innate susceptibility to influence has become a profound vulnerability. In an era of unprecedented connectivity, where information flows at lightning speed and collective emotions can surge in moments, the quiet, deliberate act of independent thought is increasingly under siege. We find ourselves caught in invisible currents, swept along by shared sentiments and ideologies that often bypass our conscious minds.

I’ve experienced this myself, observing how easily a shared outrage, a seemingly irrefutable narrative, or even a subtle shift in the emotional atmosphere of a room can shape my own reactions — sometimes before I’ve had a chance to truly process what’s happening. It’s a stark reminder that the currents of influence are powerful, and they often tug at us without our full awareness.

Like many, I consume a steady stream of information — news, online discussions, documentaries. Increasingly, what I see is a growing tension, a palpable divide that seems to plummet us into a state of combatancy. Whether it’s between left and right, Muslim and Christian, liberal and fundamentalist, the divisions feel stark and widening. My own judicial experiences have shown me firsthand how narrative can profoundly impact how a group perceives someone, creating a view that is divorced from the true experience and the actual events. I’ve seen individuals within the prison system judged terribly by society, disempowered and disengaged due to perceived crimes, without fully accounting for the systemic abuse many endured as young men within state institutions — a form of double punishment. This pattern, which I’ve witnessed throughout my life, seems to have intensified, particularly since 9/11 and the subsequent war based on non-existent weapons of mass destruction. Everywhere I look, as I’ve grown older, I see these growing divisions and tensions. This raises a critical question: how many of these perceived conflicts are genuine, and how many have become nothing more than a powerful, contagious phenomenon?

This article argues that one of our most vital defences, and our clearest path to true agency, lies in a conscious, deliberate practice: Stop. Think. Act. — only when we have come to our own agency of understanding. To navigate the complexities of our world and reclaim our capacity for genuine discernment, we must cultivate this imperative pause, this commitment to understanding before we react.

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II. The Mechanisms of Susceptibility: How We Are “Caught”

Our susceptibility to these powerful currents is not a matter of weakness, but a fundamental aspect of our design. At a biological level, we are wired for resonance. Our brains possess mechanisms, akin to mirror neurons, that fire not only when we perform an action but also when we observe someone else performing it or experiencing an emotion. This creates a physiological synchrony, a deep-seated capacity to understand, empathize, and automatically mimic those around us. As research from the Association for Psychological Science highlights, this can range from the largely unconscious transmission of physical symptoms — as seen in mass psychogenic illness — to the rapid uptake of emotional states. It’s why laughter is so profoundly contagious — we are roughly thirty times more likely to laugh in company than when alone, a testament to its function as a social bond rather than a mere reaction to humour. Similarly, we unconsciously “catch” moods, postures, and even physical symptoms from others, often without conscious awareness. This automatic mirroring, a core finding in studies like Sigal Barsade’s work on emotional contagion, is the first step in how we become susceptible, laying the groundwork for deeper forms of influence.

In my investigation into these issues, I found that these inherent mechanisms of susceptibility are not merely theoretical curiosities; they are actively at play, shaping our perceptions and behaviours in profound ways. My research and observations have consistently pointed to several key areas where this susceptibility manifests and is amplified:

• Biological Resonance and Mimicry: The foundational capacity for automatic nonverbal mimicry and physiological feedback means we are predisposed to synchronize with those around us, often beneath conscious awareness.
• Emotional Contagion: This goes beyond simple empathy; it is the rapid, often unconscious transmission of moods and affective states. Research by Elaine Hatfield and others highlights how nonverbal cues heavily influence our internal states, and Sigal Barsade’s work shows positive contagion can enhance group dynamics, while negative contagion can be equally powerful and pervasive.
• The “Automated Chain” of Digital Diffusion: In the digital realm, pathways described in Frontiers in Psychology activate a chain of “unconscious mimicry–emotional arousal–behavioural diffusion,” where emotions spread rapidly and amplify group behaviour.
• Identity Fusion and Social Pressure: As explored in psycho-legal research, emotional contagion interacts with social identity, making individuals more likely to see themselves as part of a group and to adopt its prevailing emotions and beliefs, often overriding individual discernment.
• The Weaponization of Ambiguity: Political and social actors often exploit ambiguity, leveraging shared beliefs and emotional appeals rather than objective evidence to rally support.

These interconnected mechanisms reveal a potent cocktail that can easily bypass our critical faculties, making us fertile ground for the spread of unverified claims and distorted realities. A number of years ago, while serving as a Salvation Army officer in Tokoroa, New Zealand, I personally experienced the potent influence of a movement that spread globally — the Toronto Blessing. Beginning in 1994 at a church in Canada, it became known for intense physical and emotional manifestations: uncontrollable laughter, shaking, weeping, falling to the ground, and states described as “spiritual drunkenness.” These phenomena spread rapidly across charismatic and Pentecostal circles worldwide, including in Tokoroa where I was serving.

From what I observed, these events appeared to stem more from heightened emotional states and psychological dynamics than from divine intervention. When I expressed this view, I found myself isolated. The minister’s fraternal council sent an orthodox minister to speak with me, urging me to conform, to adopt their perspective, and warning that my refusal to “buy into” the movement would mean I was “avoiding God’s move.” Though I tried to remain gentle, the pressure was real. By my final Easter service, I was not invited to participate, effectively set aside for seeing differently.

What has confirmed the significance of this experience for me is that evaluations of the movement have since borne out these very concerns. Documents examining the Toronto Blessing note how its manifestations spread through social and emotional contagion — people observing others, feeling the atmosphere, and mirroring what they saw — rather than through scriptural teaching or reasoned conviction. They record how questioning was seen as spiritual hardness, how group pressure reinforced the experience, and how those who discerned psychological or social dynamics were marginalized. To this day, I have seen no lasting, widespread spiritual fruit from that movement. What I did see then, and see repeated across the world now, is how easily even communities of faith can be swept up. Once the contagion takes hold, it becomes extraordinarily difficult for anyone to step back and ask: Is this real? Or is this something else? The pattern repeats itself — in politics, in society, and, sadly, in the church.

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III. The Consequences: When Susceptibility Leads to Fracture

When our innate susceptibility to influence goes unchecked, it does not merely produce confusion; it fractures the very ground we stand upon. Unchecked contagion — emotional, ideological, or spiritual — erodes our shared grasp of reality. We begin to treat shared feeling as shared truth, and group consensus as objective fact. We see this in the way phrases like “following the science” become slogans that close down inquiry rather than opening it up; the volume of agreement is mistaken for the weight of evidence.

This distortion deepens into division. Parallel worlds emerge — separate communities, each with its own version of events, its own villains, its own certainties. Distrust hardens into distance; difference becomes danger. We see it in the widening rifts between left and right, between cultural groups, between those who feel one version of the world and those who live in another. Tensions do not just exist — they are amplified, fed, and given moral weight until conflict feels not like a possibility but a duty.

Most deeply of all, we lose our agency. When our reactions are not our own — when they are borrowed, mirrored, or swept in on a current — we cease to be actors and become echoes. We do not choose our stance; we adopt it. We do not see clearly; we see as the group sees. And in that quiet surrender of independent discernment, something vital in us withers.

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IV. The Imperative: Stop. Think. Act.

The journey from susceptibility to understanding is not a refusal to engage; it is a deliberate, disciplined way of engaging. It begins with Stop — the conscious choice to pause before reacting, to recognise the surge of feeling and to create space between the trigger and our response. This is not withdrawal; it is the creation of breath, the moment in which we ask: What am I feeling? Where did this come from? Is this mine?

I speak as one who knows how hard this is. As we approach the election here in New Zealand, I am aware of my own leanings — of the warm feelings toward some perspectives and the immediate negation I feel toward others. There are parties and policies I see as nothing more than ideological lip-syncing to economic and social folly. When certain voices speak, my first instinct is not to listen, but to turn away. I try to do otherwise, and it is difficult. Yet this article is not about inaction. It is not about remaining neutral or accepting everything equally. It is about doing our honest best to arrive at our own agency of understanding — and acting from there.

That brings us to Think — the work of inquiry. It means asking who is speaking and what they stand to gain. It means seeking out views that do not reinforce what we already feel. It means accepting that truth does not always align with comfort, and that belonging should never require the surrender of our judgment. It means sitting with uncertainty long enough to distinguish what is truly real from what is merely loud.

And finally, Act — not from fear or borrowed fury, but from understanding. We do not remain silent; we do not stand still. But we move with intention. We become people who spread clarity rather than contagion, who offer steady engagement rather than amplified alarm. Our choices become ours — not echoes of the crowd, but expressions of what we have come to see, slowly and faithfully, for ourselves.

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Conclusion: Agency in an Age of Contagion

There is great difficulty in being human in these times — in recognising our fallibilities alongside our potentials, and discerning how one person can truly make a difference. One of the most powerful ways we can do so is to refuse the negating stories, the “nothingness” that seeks to consume us.

This is nowhere more visible than in the conversation around our changing climate. Let us be clear first: this is a serious, real challenge. A comprehensive 2024 review published in the Journal of Global Health under the auspices of the World Health Organization confirms that climate-related events — extreme weather, rising temperatures, shifting ecosystems — have measurable impacts on children’s physical health, mental well-being, nutrition, family stability, and learning. Direct exposure to disasters brings genuine trauma; heat and pollution harm growing bodies; uncertainty shapes lives. These are not inventions; they are reasons for concern and action.

Yet there is a vital distinction — one the “Stop. Think. Act.” practice exists to help us make — between recognising a problem and being consumed by the way it is presented. A growing body of research and commentary shows that when worst-case scenarios are framed as inevitable outcomes — without context, without balance, and without clear paths forward — they produce profound additional harm. Studies indicate that significant numbers of young people experience what is being called “eco-anxiety”: chronic fear of environmental doom that interferes with sleep, daily functioning, and life planning. Some hesitate to start families, commit to long-term goals, or imagine a future at all — not because all possibility is gone, but because the loudest narratives have offered only collapse, never repair.

Scholars have warned that purely apocalyptic framing — what some call “pure negativity” — does not motivate constructive action; it promotes paralysis, denial, and learned helplessness. When every message is one of unavoidable collapse, the human response is not determination — it is despair. And despair does not build anything. Importantly, researchers also note that this is not the only way to communicate such challenges: emerging evidence shows that framing dangers alongside solutions, agency, and community action fosters resilience rather than resignation. We can honour the reality of the threat without surrendering to the emotion of defeat.

So what do we do? Do we remain silent? If we say nothing, are we not like those of old who saw injustice and turned away — who, in their quiet, became complicit in harm? Yet there is danger also in speaking too quickly, in latching onto a cause without seeing the full picture. We may cry out against what we believe is wrong, only to discover we have strengthened the very thing we opposed. We may rush to defend the victim, and find we have fed the wolf at our door.

The path forward is neither silence nor reckless cry. It is engagement — careful, humble, resilient engagement. It is the practice of Stop. Think. Act. — pausing to discern what is real, what is exaggerated, what is actionable, and what is merely alarm. It is recognising that we are all susceptible, all vulnerable to the currents around us, and that our truest contribution lies not in being loudest, but in being awake.

The goal is not to arrive at a position that belongs to us simply because we arrived at it independently. The goal is to arrive at a position for which we can give an honest account — one that acknowledges the threats we face and the agency we still possess — remains open to correction, and accepts responsibility for acting upon it. In a world that seeks to sweep us along, the greatest act of courage is to pause — to think — and to act from a place that is truly our own.

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References

1. Jadovich, E. (2023). Doomism is fueling a mental health crisis. Canterbury Technology Mirror. https://ctmirror.org/2023/01/03/climate-change-doom-social-media/
2. Gregory, A. (2021). ‘Eco-anxiety’: fear of environmental doom weighs on young people. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/society/2021/oct/06/eco-anxiety-fear-of-environmental-doom-weighs-on-young-people
3. Vercammen, A., et al. (2025). Psychological impacts of climate change on US youth. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 122(16). https://www.pnas.org/doi/10.1073/pnas.2311400122
4. American Psychiatric Association. Youth perspectives on climate change. https://www.psychiatry.org/news-room/apa-blogs/youth-perspectives-on-climate-change
5. Eco-anxiety and youth well-being. National Institutes of Health. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC12496112/
6. Climate change and young people’s life plans. BBC. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-58549373
7. Amoo, B. A. (2023). Apocalyptic framing and climate communication. University of Twente. https://essay.utwente.nl/95713/1/Amoo_BA_BMS.pdf
8. Threat framing and learned helplessness in climate communication. National Institutes of Health. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9944577/
9. Media amplification of climate alarmism. Massey University. https://mro.massey.ac.nz/server/api/core/bitstreams/468680be-1132-441b-b03b-df9fce11bf11/content
10. Scrolling into stress: How climate fears hit youth. Monash University. https://lens.monash.edu/scrolling-into-stress-how-climate-fears-hit-youth/
11. Proulx, K., Daelmans, B., Baltag, V. & Banati, P. (2024). Climate change impacts on child and adolescent health and well-being: A narrative review. Journal of Global Health, 14:04061. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC11115477/