We Don't Need Conspiracies
The real stories behind our problems are scary enough
I’m reposting this gem from back when I had very few subscribers, most importantly because I’m ready to complete the series. It feels especially relevant after the UnitedHealth assassination, and the contrasting trials of Luigi Mangione and Daniel Petty. As we face a fascist turn and an ongoing climate collapse, it will be increasingly tempting to settle for scapegoats. The harder task will be to nurture trust and community anyway, even where they don’t grow naturally. Such efforts are worth everything they ask of us.
Part one of a short series on whom we vilify and why.
It might seem to some that anarchists are like conspiracy theorists: that we blame the current state of the world on the nefarious workings of government officials and corporate tycoons, and the evil power of mysterious systems like capitalism and hierarchy.
It might seem to others that we’re like communists: that we call for the overthrow of both capitalism and the state, that we look forward to a revolution that equalizes wealth, power, resources, and agency for everyone.
And thus far you’d be right. But I’d like to differentiate the anarchist aspiration from both conspiracy and communism.
I’m not interested in making converts; if you prefer for other people to run your life, or if you prefer to run other people’s lives, then what I have to say is probably not for you. Instead I want us to regain or strengthen our sense of agency. We don’t have to capitulate to powers beyond our comprehension or systems beyond our control. We can live differently, freely, together.
When people try to understand what’s wrong with the world, one of our most natural responses is to find someone to blame. I’ve noticed a hierarchy of badguys that we tend to vilify, from the supernatural to the personal, including, eventually, oneself. I want to touch briefly on how these ideas impact our ability to imagine alternatives and act to implement them.
Conspiracy theories are in vogue. One could argue they always are, but it does feel that in this moment our politics and culture are particularly saturated with them. Many fringe ideas have made it to the mainstream, especially as fewer grand narratives about who we are and how we got here are holding up under scrutiny.
On the most abstract level, there are conspiracies about religious or alien forces — reptiles in human skin, satanic cults, UFOs, QAnon — that influence the world through godlike powers of manipulation and malice. These kinds of supernatural or extraterrestrial villains are ultimately unanswerable. You can’t do anything against the demonic or diabolical, and you can’t comprehend the truly inhuman. Engaging with these ideas is usually a waste of time, especially because people don’t arrive at them by rational means.
Why do so many buy the bit? Part of it is the thrill of having insider knowledge: in our new dark age1 of information, where it’s hard to distinguish fact from fiction, having a story to explain things can help you feel secure and superior. Bonus points if it’s a story the wealthy and powerful don’t want you to know. It’s comforting. It makes you feel important.
Like religious fundamentalism, conspiracy theories offer an explanation for everything. All the signs point to one conclusion; it’s simple, it’s powerful, it’s complete. Never mind everything they leave out.
These conspiracies also bring a great relinquishment: the relief of not having to do anything about it.
If we are really being controlled by puppeteers in the heavens or in space, if our politicians are actually cloning themselves and controlling our minds with windmill 5G cancer radiation, then nothing we say or do matters. Might as well do nothing. If it’s that impossible and absurd to try and respond to the problems we face, as individuals and as a species, then we’re released from the responsibility of doing so. We don’t have to try because we can’t.
This apathetic despair is obviously the reverse of the healthy, courageous, rested way of being I want to nurture in myself and with others. To find belonging and autonomy, we can do better.
The quickest way to shift the conversation might be to accept the premise and reframe the approach: yes there are horrible people influencing world events, but they aren’t lizards or baby-eaters, they’re just capitalists and warmongers.
It’s true that a cabal of rich and powerful elites run the world’s biggest corporations and nation-states, it’s true that they conduct much of their business in secret, and it’s true that they manufacture conflict and consensus both at home and abroad. But these people aren’t the Illuminati — they’re our elected officials. They’re the CEOs on the Forbes List. They’re just doing their jobs. And it’s those jobs that lead to war, poverty, alienation, and climate collapse.
It’s true that the government often responds to disasters in ways that escalate them, so that corporations can reap huge profits off our suffering. But this doesn’t mean The Great Reset is real — it’s just disaster capitalism. COVID may have originally been cooked up in a lab, it’s probably too late to ever know for sure, but it’s not necessary to posit evil intent when the obvious reality is that, wherever it came from, healthcare companies make billions off the disease.
Similarly, the real conspiracy is not that the government is making up the idea of climate change, but that the fossil fuel industry is fighting it every step of the way. They knew since the 1970s that their industry is dangerous to the planet’s health. They responded to this by launching a massive propaganda campaign to flood the media with climate denial and other obfuscations. If you want a crazy cover up, there it is.
The United States government has publicly admitted to atrocities that should keep any would-be conspiracist satisfied. Operations like COINTTELPRO, MKUltra, the assassinations of MLK, Malcolm X, the Kennedys, and others show that they’re not above conspiratorial tactics. Whistleblowers like Assange and Snowden help reveal even more.
The US was behind regime change in South America, the Middle East, and the Philippines, they helped provoke the war in Ukraine, and they are escalating tensions with China. They didn’t orchestrate 9/11 any more than they did Pearl Harbor, but they sure used both disasters to launch devastating wars that wiped out millions of innocent people and wrecked entire countries. In the case of Japan, the war was already won before they dropped the bombs — they just really wanted to see if it would work.
If anyone wants a story of a massive, globe-spanning empire that conspires against enemies and citizens alike, that actively works to destabilize peace and democracy in several regions at once, look no further than the American experiment.
Conspiracy theorists can’t or won’t face the facts: the real world is much more boring, and therefore much scarier, than their fantasies. Reptilian baby-eating pedophile satanists are interesting because they’re inhuman and therefore unfathomable. You can’t take it seriously, even when you’re sincere. Reality is, in one sense, worse: life sucks because of poverty and alienation, and those are the direct result of policy decisions and cultural taboos.
The difference is that the normal operations of business and government are in fact destructive enough to render our biosphere dangerously close to uninhabitable. The regular rhythms of our daily lives under capitalism are drudgery enough to render us desperate and depressed.
It’s thrilling to imagine yourself privy to a plot that makes sense of everything. It’s strangely comforting to know there’s nothing you could possibly do about it. It’s horrifying to realize the truth: that the boredom and mundaneness of our daily lives are the cause of the planet’s plight.
But there’s good news on the other side of conspiracy. Thankfully, we can do something about our fellow human beings making bad decisions that affect the entire globe. We can do the hard work of making better decisions: building alternative lifeways, connecting to others with a shared vision, and taking ownership of our lives in community.
It’s not as exciting, perhaps, as secret satanic supervillains, but it is humanly possible. Future posts will delve into the details of what that could look like, in your life and mine.
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