How to deal with the devastating effects of Willful Ignorance

Defeat the System, Not Each Other

Summary

This article explores the destructive nature of willful ignorance—when individuals or groups choose to ignore uncomfortable facts to protect their beliefs or positions within a system. This form of ignorance is not innocent, but rather a dangerous force that stifles progress and perpetuates harmful systems. Instead of holding people accountable for their actions, we often get trapped in cycles of personal attacks and revenge, which only serve to strengthen the very systems we oppose.

Drawing from my own experiences with willful ignorance, I argue that real change can only happen when we shift our focus from attacking individuals to addressing the flawed systems that allow this ignorance to thrive. By engaging in endless conflicts and trying to “cancel the cancellers,” we only widen the divide. We need to stop fighting people and start dismantling the structures that sustain this ignorance.

With this article, I want to invite you to take on a new challenge: stop wasting your energy on petty battles, and instead channel it into real, constructive change. Only by confronting the systems that bind us can we truly begin to break free and build something better.

What is willful ignorance?

Willful ignorance is when people deliberately choose to ignore certain facts or information. This kind of ignorance isn’t accidental or harmless—it’s intentional and often calculated. People shut their eyes to anything that threatens their worldview or their position within a system.

This form of ignorance is especially common within large institutions, like healthcare, education, or politics. Many people can see the flaws in a system or know it isn’t working as it should, but they’re too afraid to push back. The risk of personal consequences—losing their job, facing social exclusion, or being ‘canceled’—makes them conform. Systems and individuals cling to outdated ideas because admitting they were wrong would expose their vulnerability. As a result, willful ignorance persists, even when it harms others.

This phenomenon is closely tied to cognitive dissonance—the mental discomfort that arises when we’re faced with information that conflicts with our beliefs. Rather than adjusting our thinking, we often choose to ignore the facts that make us uncomfortable.

Willful ignorance isn’t just about individuals choosing to remain in the dark. It’s a deeply embedded feature of systems that perpetuate themselves. It is this systematized ignorance – much more than the individuals who represent it – that causes real harm. Those who dare to resist aren’t canceled because they’ve upset a person—they’re canceled because they challenge the system. Some are even prosecuted for hate speech or other charges simply because they’ve spoken out against the status quo.

The reaction to being canceled is understandable: we feel wronged and wonder why we’re being punished when we’re just speaking the truth. Out of frustration, we lash out at those around us—former colleagues, friends, even family members—turning them into our enemies. This leads to attacks—vengeful social media posts, doxxing, or calls to harass people online. We justify this by clinging to our sense of rightness, but in doing so, we mirror the behavior of those who rejected us in the first place. What’s the result? Our opponents double down on their belief that our intentions are evil and the divide between us grows deeper. It’s a vicious cycle that gets us nowhere.

In this article, I’ll explain why it’s so important to focus on the system itself—and how we can change that system, instead of endlessly fighting one another. I will do this by sharing my own experiences with willful ignorance, the lasting damage it has caused in my life, and why I have chosen to step out of the system, take control of my own life and encourage others to do the same.

How willful ignorance can ruin lives – My personal story

I was 38 when my life ground to a halt. It started with brain fog and an inability to handle stress. I was completely burnt out, and my hormones were all over the place. ‘You’re just exhausted,’ the doctors told me. ‘But you’re not listening,’ I replied. ‘This doesn’t fit me.’ ‘Go home and rest,’ they all said. ‘You’ll get better.’

But I didn’t. Pretty soon after, I developed serious bladder and bowel problems, and my legs started giving out. I was getting less and less done, but I was still being bounced from one specialist to another. I’m not exaggerating when I say that over the course of two and a half years, I saw at least fifteen doctors and specialists. Finally, in September 2020, when a neurologist ordered an MRI, the results lit up like a Christmas tree, revealing the true culprit: multiple sclerosis (MS).

After that, I was put on medication to suppress my immune system, but I only kept getting worse. Despite the medication, the diet changes, and lifestyle adjustments, my condition continued to deteriorate. I begged my neurologist for stem cell therapy (HSCT)¹ —the only treatment that could actually stop MS. But he refused, saying my disease was ‘under control’ because the MRI showed no new lesions. Even though I was losing more and more function and had quickly ended up in a wheelchair, he kept insisting that the medication was working.

I went for a second opinion at the national head of MS neurology. His conclusion was even worse: I was going to lose all my functionality pretty soon, but that wasn’t because of the medication. He even told me that, despite my rapid decline, I could still live ‘a very happy life.’

That’s when I’d had enough. I decided to reach out to HSCT Mexico on my own, and in March of this year, I underwent stem cell therapy at my own expense—65,000 euros. Thanks to that treatment, I was finally able to stop the progression of my MS. While in Mexico, I also found out that the assumptions behind the Dutch MS treatment policies were completely outdated. The medication I was on was totally wrong for me. In fact, given the aggressive form of MS I had, stem cell therapy should have been the first-line treatment to prevent permanent neurological damage.

But now the damage is done. A year before the HSCT treatment, I began experiencing nerve pain and muscle spasticity in my legs. The stem cell therapy halted the progression, but the damage—the breakdown of the protective myelin around my nerves—is permanent. That means I won’t get any worse, but I also can’t recover. I now live with daily stiffness and severe pain in my legs, which makes walking impossible, and I’m dependent on a wheelchair and pain relief for the rest of my life.

When I told my neurologist about this, he got angry and refused to discuss it any further. ‘We just don’t offer that treatment here,’ he snapped. For three years, he had discouraged me from even considering stem cell therapy, saying it wouldn’t work for me. This, despite the fact that thousands of MS patients have traveled to countries like Mexico, Russia, and India to successfully halt their disease. The information is there, the knowledge exists, but in the Netherlands, doctors continue to claim that their treatment is ‘up to date,’ with all the devastating consequences that follow.

My health has been destroyed. I can barely do anything on my own anymore—not even  a simple thing as loading a washing machine. I can still type up a string of words on my computer, but after three or four hours, my energy is gone. My mind gets foggy, and I have to be careful not to write something completely ridiculous (which still happens often enough, but hey, nobody’s perfect 😊).

I have every reason to be furious with the neurologist who kept me from the only treatment that could have given me my life back. I have every reason to publicly call out the head of MS neurology in this country for his incompetence and willful negligence. I have plenty of reasons to distrust the healthcare system for the rest of my life, to angrily point out the misery they’ve put me through.

But I don’t. And here’s why:

Fight the system, not the people

My neurologist is a kind man. He’s doing his best and genuinely wants to help me. I truly believe he has my best interests at heart and doesn’t want to hurt me. Yet, my health is in ruins, and he’s largely responsible for that. This contradiction makes sense when we separate intentions from actions.

There’s nothing wrong with his intentions. That’s why he’ll never accept the idea that he deliberately destroyed my life. That accusation strikes at his intentions, but it’s his actions—or inaction—that caused the real harm. The only thing I can hold him accountable for is his responsibility to stay informed and to act in the best interest of his patients. And even then, I probably won’t get anywhere because he’s simply following Dutch policy. Yet, I’m convinced that many neurologists in this country know very well that stem cell therapy is a far better option for many MS patients than what they can offer. They just don’t dare to go against the system.

So, the problem isn’t with one individual neurologist. Highly educated doctors often don’t realize they’re trapped within the narrow scope of their field. They cling to protocols, even when they’re outdated, because that’s the safe route. The real problem lies with the system as a whole, and that’s where we need to focus our efforts.

We also bear our own responsibility. We’re all part of the system, until the system turns on us. In my case: yes, many doctors dismissed me for two and a half years, insisting I was ‘just burnt out.’ But I also let them dismiss me. I wanted to believe they were right—that I was ‘just’ burnt out. Burnout is something that passes. But deep down, I knew something was wrong, that they were stringing me along, but I didn’t take action. Later, when I was diagnosed with MS and the medication wasn’t working, I did push back a few times. But even then, I let myself be turned away.

It wasn’t until the head of the MS center made an unacceptable remark that I could no longer look away. I had to face the fact that I am ultimately responsible for my own life and well-being. It taught me a hard lesson: never just accept something as true, no matter how much of an expert someone seems to be.

On platforms like Substack, I often see stories from people who’ve been canceled in some way—fired from their jobs, expelled from universities, accused of misconduct or spreading disinformation, suppressed on social media, and sometimes even convicted of hate speech. These are heartbreaking stories, and I don’t wish that on anyone. But I do want to speak out about the way people often respond. Many reactions are what I call ‘fighting a losing battle.’ There’s a lot of open aggression toward individuals, war-like language, calls to doxx and intimidate people and a general desire to cancel the cancellers and to give them a taste of their own medicine.

I always raise an eyebrow when I see this kind of rhetoric. Of course, it’s human nature to want to pass your pain on to others, but to actually wish suffering on someone else? I have come to believe that those who act this way are often driven more by a bruised ego than anything else. Because one thing I know: if you're truly in pain, if every step makes you cringe and forces you to close your eyes to hold back tears, you wouldn't wish that on anyone!

If you’re fighting a losing battle, you need to realize that you’re still part of the system. You’re not taking responsibility for your actions, you’re not showing how things could be different, and you’re not contributing to any real change. Instead, you remain stuck in a cycle of personal attacks.

When we forget this, we stay trapped in a cycle of misunderstanding and mutual blame. By attacking people who believe they’re acting with the best of intentions, you only make them dig in their heels. You get caught in an endless loop of accusations and counterattacks, while the system just keeps rolling on.

A new focus: Change the system, Not the players

Defeating the system starts by shifting our focus to the system itself—not the individual players. We need to concentrate on creating change, rather than repeatedly pointing out where things are stuck. It’s about showing how things could be done better, rather than constantly pointing fingers at what’s broken. Because honestly, haven’t we heard enough about how politicians lie and threaten democracy? That social media and the news suppress critical facts? That the COVID pandemic was mishandled? That the education system is failing and that woke culture isn’t working? That our country is stuck in debt and corporations hold too much power?

All of that is true. But repeating what’s wrong doesn’t get us anywhere. The real challenge is figuring out: what can we do about it?

On platforms like Substack, there’s a wealth of knowledge, experience, and creativity. We all share a common trait: we think critically and aren’t afraid to take a different path. We have everything we need to create new perspectives and push the system forward. So the real question isn’t about what’s wrong with the world—it’s:

how can we make it better?

With this article, I’m calling for an end to personal vendettas. Yes, we all know the system is flawed, and what happened to you is awful. But instead of constantly pointing out what’s wrong, or why you’re right and the other person is wrong, I ask:

what do you have to offer? 

Why not focus on how it should be done? Set the example. Work toward unity, not division. As long as you’re fighting people, you’re still part of the system. Don’t waste your energy trying to convince others that the system is broken—build a new system that everyone can take part in.

As for me: I’ll keep writing for as long as I can. I’ll keep urging people to take responsibility for their actions and to consider the consequences of what they do. I’ll continue to speak out against the reckless calls for conflict and I will always stand for nuance, different perspectives, and the richness of diversity of opinions. The world isn’t black and white—it’s full of color, shadows, complexity and nuance. There’s no single truth or reality, but we can strive to share our experiences and understand each other’s worlds. If there’s one thing life has taught me, it’s this:

We cannot—and will never—change the world around us until we’re truly ready to take a hard look within ourselves first.

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1. Stem cell therapy (HSCT) involves removing healthy stem cells from the body, followed by destroying the immune system with chemotherapy. The healthy stem cells are then reintroduced, allowing the body to heal itself. While the procedure isn’t without risks—there’s about a 0.5% mortality rate, and for around 20% of patients, it may not stop MS—this is currently the only treatment that can halt the disease for the majority of people, especially those who are young and otherwise healthy. It prevents long-term dependency on the healthcare system.