Like so many, I adore conspiracy theories. Not so much because I believe them (although some certainly turn my head), but because they’re so damn interesting – what makes people absorb ideas that, to the outside, seem outlandish?
My take is that conspiracy theories are tridents of satisfaction, simultaneously scratching three hard-to-reach itches:
- A sense of belonging and community
- A search for the truth
- A means of defying authority.
When you think about conspiracy theories as tools to manage these often neglected needs, it’s easy to understand why, against all evidence, someone might believe the world is flat, the moon landings were faked or that an Iguana is running the civil service.
Upon reaching this conclusion, I reached peak smugness. Never would I sink into the darkness, fashioning tinfoil hats and decrying loved ones as sheeple for having the wool so easily pulled over their eyes.
But simply denying all conspiracy theories because they’re not mainstream is weak thinking. Did I seriously believe that the government wasn’t covering up any bombshells? From what I could see, incompetence and greed were mainstays in any country’s power structure and cover-ups were ten a penny.
Which one was I wrong about? Simple maths would make the chances of my being correct about each one nearly impossible. So I took stock. Which one could I wrap my head around, because if I got on board with at least one, it would ease the growing doubt in my mind.
Thus far, I haven’t found a suitable theory to settle down with. Even if it doesn’t happen, I learned a valuable lesson.
You must be sceptical even of your own scepticism.
Michael Quinn
