I became a conspiracy theorist for a week

Chloe Coules turns on Incognito Mode and delves into the dark internet world of conspiracies, to understand their prevalence and popularity

Unsettling ambient noise ushered in the start of the film. The documentary cut between charismatic male speakers, and landed on Robert Dean, a retired Command Sergeant Major wearing a cravat and a knowing smirk.

He lent in slowly, as if to tell a secret: “About 90% of the human beings on this planet are asleep. They have no idea what’s going on in the real world.”

Gesticulating commandingly, he told the camera that the greatest story in human history was unfolding around us, and we didn’t have a clue.

I peered around the edges of the duvet I had wrapped myself in, and hesitantly panned my eyes across the room, as if some great mystery would manifest itself and jump out at me. Satisfied there were no flying saucers peeking out from between the scattered paperbacks and wilting plants on my bookshelf, I settled in to learn more about UFO conspiracies – just one of the many types of conspiracy theory I would become an expert in this week.

The spread of misinformation around Covid-19 has solidified growing concerns about the risks that conspiracy theories pose. A recent BBC investigation has linked conspiracy beliefs to hundreds of cases of arson, assault and even death during the pandemic. Despite this, many people still know very little about the nature of conspiracy theories and the culture surrounding them.

I was not prepared to accept the black and white narrative around conspiracies in the media – I wanted to learn what it is like inside these communities and how people ended up in those dark corners of the internet in the first place.

For one week I was going to embrace a kind of thinking that would usually send me running for the hills. I would talk to members of the community and experts and read as much conspiracy material as I could get my hands on, to understand this concerning social phenomenon and the people at the heart of it.

It all started with a doomscroll

Like all good journeys in the technological age, this one starts with a Google search. I poured through news stories, academic research, and sketchy websites offering enlightenment to gain an understanding of what a conspiracy theory was.

According to a recent paper, a conspiracy theory is an attempt to explain the cause of a significant social or political event by suggesting the presence of a secret plot by multiple powerful actors. A person who believes in a specific conspiracy theory or has a strong tendency towards this kind of thinking is referred to as a conspiracy theorist. As a psychology graduate who subjects herself to personality tests for fun, I was keen to determine whether I was, unbeknown to myself, a conspiracy theorist. I completed the Generic Conspiracist Beliefs Scale and was disappointed to find that I was below average (at least in terms of conspiracy-loving tendencies). Clearly, I didn’t have a natural knack for this kind of thing, so it was time to bring in an expert.

The man, the myth, the legend

If anyone has the credentials to know the truth behind the conspiracies, it’s Nick Pope. Nick is an ex-Ministry of Defence worker turned journalist, who in his long career ran the government’s “UFO desk”, assessing whether extra-terrestrials posed a risk to Britain’s national security. His day job made him the subject of many conspiracy theories, which he later went on to become an expert in.

After a long day of researching everything from UFO’s to the Queen’s supposed reptilian nature, I shot Nick an email and he agreed to guide me. Having been subject to several conspiracy theories, I expected him to be well-versed in their negative side. He spoke to me about the historic link between conspiracies and racism, from “blood libel” – one of the most ancient conspiracy theories, where Jewish people were falsely accused of sacrificing Christian children – to the current violence against the Chinese population due to Covid-19 conspiracies.

We also talked about the personal cost of excessively engaging with conspiracy theories. He said conspiracists create echo chambers for themselves, which can be satisfying as it reinforces their beliefs. The downside of this is conspiracy believers become more obsessive, and often angry, given that many conspiracies revolve around organisations or governments colluding to “dupe ordinary people.”

_{Images courtesy of Nick Pope}

A life consumed by conspiracies

I wanted to gain a greater understanding of the personal impact of exposing yourself to these theories, so I spoke to an ex-conspiracist, Aidan, over social media, about his reasons for leaving the community.

Aidan’s interest in conspiracy theories stems from 9/11: “I was nine when it happened, and it was a big moment. I remember the day pretty well still - I just remember how weird it felt.” His interest spiralled from there, but he no longer spends time engaging with the theories as it began to consume his life.

“I was watching and listening to three hours of podcasts a day and every conversation I had would come back around to a paedophilic elite ruling the world,” he joked, “It’s just not sociable unless people are looking at the same stuff as you.”

"I was watching and listening to three hours of podcasts a day and every conversation I had would come back to a paedophilic elite ruling the world"

Although he has “moved on” from researching the theories, he told me he doesn’t think you ever stop believing them. He did not seem optimistic that he would be able to stay away for long, telling me he thinks he will be back down the “rabbit hole” soon, explaining they are too interesting to leave behind.

Although I had only spent a short time researching conspiracy theories, I was starting to understand how they might consume your life. I found myself exhausted and antisocial, having sacrificed a decent night’s sleep to lurk on Reddit until the early hours of the morning, and when I did sleep the outlandish theories had invaded my subconscious, filling my dreams with convoluted coverup plots.

The addictive quality of conspiracy theories, that makes them so life-consuming, has led to psychologists defining conspiracy theory addiction as a unique disorder, with symptoms such as anxiety, low self-esteem, isolation and disengagement from society.

Image by Olesya Yemets on Unsplash

The silent majority

Speaking to Aidan shattered my expectation of what a conspiracy theorist was like. He was laidback and didn’t take himself too seriously – the polar opposite of the paranoid tin hat-wearing recluse I had been fed by popular culture.

This reminded me of something Nick said when asked to characterise the typical conspiracy theorist he had encountered. While he conceded that the “centre of gravity” in the community tends to be men in low socio-economic groupings with tendencies towards feeling disempowered, angry, and paranoid, he suspected there was a “silent majority” we could not see. I was starting to realise that conspiracy theories and the people that believe them exist on a spectrum, with lots of grey area around who belongs in the community.

Owen would not label himself a conspiracy theorist. He stressed his hesitancy to associate his beliefs with conspiracies, as he told me he believes Jeffrey Epstein didn’t kill himself and the latest US election was rigged by the media.

Owen is logical and scientifically-minded – he explained his theories in terms of the unlikely string of coincidences that would have to occur to bring about the suspect events, and the weight of the implications of the events: “[Epstein] was in a position to make a plea deal that would shake the very foundations of the elite.”

"[Epstein] was in a position to make a plea deal that would shake the very foundations of the elite"

While I could not begin to empathise with more bizarre conspiracy theories like lizard people running the earth, I could understand where he was coming from. In fact, I could not think of one reason why his theory isn’t true.

Therein lies the appeal of conspiracies – you can prove them but it’s very hard to disprove them. How do I convince my friend that Epstein did indeed kill himself, when I have no evidence of it other than a government’s word, and the reality seems almost more far-flung than any fiction?

I had the same problem when I got an unexpected text from my mother, who, knowing how I was spending my week, was ready to volunteer her conspiracy beliefs. I was, for want of a better word, flabbergasted when she nonchalantly dropped the bombshell on me that she did not believe man had been to the moon.

She told me how she had watched the moon landing on TV as a child, and that she believed the momentous scientific event was orchestrated by the American government. Her conviction in this was so strong that on a trip to an observatory she decided to tell the expert guide that he was wrong. The guide and I both had similar difficulty figuring out how to convince her of the credibility of the famous small step for man and giant leap for mankind.

The pandemic perfect storm

Hearing my mother talk about her beliefs hammered home for me that conspiracy theories are all around us, we just neglect to talk about them.

This has never been truer than it is now, with the lockdowns inducting a new generation of conspiracy theorists into the fold, who after strict restrictions and isolation have learnt to distrust the government and the frightening reality of a pandemic-stricken world.

Sarah believes the origins of the pandemic may be more sinister than we are led to believe. “I believe Covid-19 was man made as there is no 100% evidence telling me any different. I believe it was made to reduce the population – that’s why it attacks older people more than the younger generation – everyone is living longer, and we can’t all live forever,” she said. Her conspiracy beliefs stem from growing up in a developing country, where she saw the effects of corruption and poverty on the population and the different picture the media seemed to paint.

"I believe Covid-19 was man made as there is no 100% evidence telling me any different. I believe it was made to reduce the population"

Sarah is not alone in believing conspiracies about the pandemic. A survey by the French Cevipof political research centre found 31% of Brits believed the health ministries were covering up vaccine risks, while 41% thought the government was exploiting the pandemic to control and monitor citizens.

Nick explained why Covid-19 conspiracies were so hard to tackle: “With Covid-19, not only are there multiple conspiracy theories, but also, because there are still many unknowns about the virus itself and about the pandemic, we’re missing a lot of data to make final judgements.”

When the time came in my week for me to enter the murky waters of pandemic postulation, I was hesitant to try and find something to relate to. It was one thing to entertain the existence of aliens, but the pandemic is an emotional topic affecting every aspect of our lives right now, and conspiracies around it have serious implications for public health.

While Sarah said her beliefs do not stop her from following the lockdown restrictions and getting vaccinated, this is not always the case. A study in 2014 found that British parents who were exposed to anti-vax materials were less likely to plan on vaccinating their children, with a strong link found between holding anti-vax conspiracy beliefs and vaccination intentions. This highlights how certain conspiracy beliefs can directly threaten public health and are crucial to tackle.

_{Images by Daniel Schludi and Martin Sanchez on Unsplash}

There's a little tin hat in us all

While the dangers of conspiracy theories are serious and obvious, I was surprised to find the emotion behind the beliefs I encountered relatable. I can understand the anger felt by conspiracy theorists towards authorities and governments – I think everyone can. We live in a heavily politicised world, where corruption is not only present but public knowledge, and it is often left to the people to hold authorities to account, so I understand feeling like politicians might not have your best interests at heart.

Conspiracies do happen – famous plots range from the murder of Julius Caesar by the Roman Senate to the Wannsee Conference in 1942, where Nazi officers devised their plan leading to the genocide of millions of Jewish people. However, despite the undeniable reality that atrocious events have been covered up in the past, they also eventually came to light – someone always talks in the end.

So am I a conspiracy-convert? Probably not. But I experienced first-hand just how addictive and isolating they can be, and I gained a new sympathy for the people who believe them. I was shocked to discover just how widespread conspiracy beliefs were in my own life, and how many people keep their beliefs hidden. The majority of conspiracy theorists are not paranoid, anarchistic or deluded – they are your mate down the pub or an unsuspecting relative.