To spread, a dogma must include believer behaviors that cause it to spread. That means that, to avoid the confrontation with the Shadow that the dogma is supposed to protect against, the believer feels compelled to enact some behavior that proselytizes. This manifests most simply as an experience of discomfort when the dogma is contradicted, or when in the presence of a nonbeliever. On the other hand, for the target, an emotional need must be present that the dogma satisfies. In fact, it must seem to the adopter to be the least costly way to satisfy that need. Thus, the dogma-spreading behaviors the believer engages in must arouse or even create psychological discomfort in the target, and the dogma must be made to seem the cure for it. This can only work if acceptance seems less costly to the target than running away. This is one of the reasons friends and family members are such good spreaders of dogma. We stand to gain or lose the most in our relationships with them.
A target's rejection of the dogma is often met with anger. This is one of the basic strategies dogma uses. To be angry is to threaten social rejection, thus raising the cost of disbelief. It's also a seemingly natural way to react to disagreement. We learn to suppress it only because participation in a liberal, pluralist society demands that we do; we can be easily enticed to revert to it. In terms of Jung's categories, the anger of the believer communicates that the target's Persona is not adequate to the social situation, and needs to incorporate the dogma in order to remain functional.
A subtler strategy is to kindly introduce the dogma to the target, along with the implication that to disbelieve the dogma would be monstrous. Perhaps denying the dogma is equated to the denial of morality itself, like how the two meanings of "Christian" are conflated: it is the same thing to be a Christian (one who believes the orthodox religious teachings) and to be Christian (one who behaves as Christianity recommends, which is to say, morally). A simpler trick is the passive-aggressive version of the outrage response: hurt feelings. The softness of the dogmatic presentation activates the target's care instincts, so that the pain expressed at rejection is itself a threat to the Persona of the target. A girlfriend of mine told me about an encounter she had with an Evangelical Christian who asked, on the subject of Christ, "He died for your sins, and you don't even believe in Him?" It's an obvious con, and she knew it, and yet she felt guilty. Part of the trick here is that the apparent harmlessness of the believer is evidence that the dogma does not make one a monster. The target is forced into a dilemma - are these people monsters, despite their smiles and mildness, or am I the real monster? This can work even on healthy people, because a healthy person is never finished updating her Persona. Revisions are inevitably necessary. The dogma acts as a parasite on the healthy person's natural doubt of her own Persona's adequacy.
To an unhealthy target, or at least to one with strongly felt and unmet needs, the dogma offers projection, a way out of his anxiety over his failing Persona. The dogma projects the believer's flaws onto something else. This can be external (You're tempted by the devil, you've been bewitched) or internal (you believe with insufficient fervor). The projection can be anything, so long as it is a conscious concept, and the dogma claims to have firm knowledge of it. If those two conditions hold, the dogma presents as a complete and final answer to the mystery of the Persona's failure. Note that it isn't the flaw itself that the embrace of dogma repairs, but merely the anxiety produced by the awareness of the Shadow.
Some dogmas provide genuine benefits along with the psychological protection. Real religions, as opposed to cults, are an example. How many stories have we heard of the prison inmate who finds God and completely reforms his life? In a sense, rationality itself is such a dogma. It is impossible to justify rationality outside of the system itself; we accept it only because it protects us from uncertainty in the justification of our ideas. But it has the added benefit of actually improving those ideas, and even telling us about how justified our ideas are. (I say that from within the system, of course. You have to stand somewhere.)
The identification of belief with virtue is what sets dogma apart from genuine ideas, which can spread around without moral loading based on their apparent value as ideas. This is the power of reason: by separating belief from morality and social standing, bad ideas can be detected and discarded, even when dogmatic believers use all the tools in their arsenal against us. Reason is the anti-dogma.
The most effective method for spreading dogma remains the indoctrination of children. This is why every religion has its own schools. You will encounter few barriers if you attempt to insert the dogma into children's minds before reason has taken strong root, and you gain the advantage that they may never learn it at all. This is likewise why Enlightenment thinkers promoted the notion of universal education. Reason, adopted early, is an inoculation.