Conspiracies

10,000 years ago, societies of ~150 hunted, gathered, subsistence farmed, and at the end of the day, sat around the firepit exchanging stories. Everyone could contribute in this egalitarian contest of fabulist tales, the most entertaining conferring status and legitimacy on their narrators. Science, law, ethics thus gleaned were unreliable and fluid, captive in a Gossip Trap where influence trumped fact. Egyptian priests melded stories with nilometers to predict crop yield, and elaborate cosmologies to predict heavenly events. These driblets of science allowed them to grow rich and powerful, fielding religious orders, armies and construction crews. Priests were the curators and interpreters of news, law, science, and morality in service of royalty; they broadcast to their flock through temple sermons and ceremony. And so it was for millenia as religions proliferated on the back of new technologies for domination and warfare. Printing, telegraph, radio and TV were the new Gods of technology, and information flowed in only one direction – from curators to the people. All was well (so it seemed).

Then the Old World Order was challenged. Exponential acceleration in bandwidth tripling every 9 months claimed George Gilder made interactive ‘social’ media a reality. Gutenberg’s printing press gave voice to a plethora of religious and political conspiracies, instigating 150 years of European war. Five centuries later, Facebook, Twitter, TikTok competing for content and attention became platforms for a Gossip Trap redux. As in primitive tribes ten millennia earlier, these new firepits encouraged the exchange of captivating, fabulist stories. Conspiracy theories proliferated.

Successful recipes for a tasty, sticky, influential conspiracy theory require a pinch of truth, a pinch of emotion, a pinch of existential threat, and a large dollop of entertainment. A good conspiracy is nothing without a kernel of truth – a compelling mystery, an evasive explanation by authorities; where truth is too complex to comprehend and a dishonest half-truth is the next best choice. Most importantly: conspiracy theories need to be simple, communicated only in sound bites. To qualify as conspiracies, they need also to upend received wisdom in science, politics, religion and challenge authority. And just like that, we’ve returned to a post-truth world of competing narratives – gossip.

Why would we subscribe to conspiratorial narratives that have no impact on our daily lives, and where we would have next to zero influence? Maybe these are constructed of the same substance as origin myths, theologies and local gossip. Maybe they are a low consequence strategy for revenge and social status. Scratch the surface of popular conspiracies, and you too often find religion. Conspiracy theories are made of the same stuff as faith and superstition, and demand Orwellian feats of “doublethink”, “thoughtcrime”, and “2 + 2 = 5”.

On social media, lizard people, Illuminati, Bilderberg barons and urban legends jockey for our attention. Did NASA really land astronauts on the moon? Was 9/11 an inside job? Are MacDonald’s burgers filled with earthworms? Max Born observed that there are no truths, only probabilities. Though the probability of any conspiracy theory may be low, we can never be certain it is zero. So … maybe, just maybe.

Why do we allot time and attention to gossipy tales? That’s the easy part. Because they’re great fun, effective ‘ice breakers,’ and captivating cocktail banter around the modern firepit.