I Know What You Did
People can be sneaky, especially when they’re doing something they oughtn’t. Imagine if you were one of these sketchy people, and found that somebody honest was looking at your actions, talking to people, and in general collecting evidence against you. You’ve “done the crime,” and now you’re going to “do the time.”
Or maybe not.
Since at least as far back as the 1960s, there has been a way to make honest people apologize and stop asking inconvenient questions.
“That’s a conspiracy theory.”
Like any “get out of jail free” card, it gets used and used again until it gets terribly worn, and then it finally stops working. It’s time for the wicked to find some new way to avoid justice, because the old trick is just about used up.
An official story is being floated, and from your personal knowledge, your investigations, or just your common sense – you question it. You can expect shortly to be labeled a “conspiracy theorist.” You’ll no doubt blush, stammer, and assure everybody that you don’t hold with conspiracy theories, certainly not! You back away and drop the matter.
What an odd thing to be embarrassed about. A conspiracy is just an activity where two or more people work together without making their cooperation public. People do this all the time. In criminal law, there’s an entire branch of criminal charges that can be brought against you for conspiring to commit or hide a crime – “conspiracy to defraud,” “conspiracy to commit murder,” and so forth. You can be sure prosecutors don’t blush and apologize for bringing this charge against the accused.
Or perhaps you’re embarrassed about putting together a theory? Science is pretty much defined by people trying to learn something they don’t yet know. After initial research, they create a theory which they then work to either confirm or deny. Where would we be without theories as the first step in scientific progress?
You look at a group of people, and their behavior suggests that they’re up to something. You study them more closely, and eventually have an idea of who’s in this group, and what they’re secretly working to achieve. You roll this up into a description of what you think they’re doing – a theory about their conspiracy. What should you be called? If your goal is to print it in a newspaper, “investigative journalist” might fit the bill. On the internet, “blogger” could suffice. Or, you post it on some corporate-controlled social media and get a comment like “Oh, I see a conspiracy theorist is off his medication.”
Conspiracy theories matter. The 1964 US government faked a battle in the Gulf of Tonkin, leading to an escalation of the Vietnam War. A generation later, in 2003, the US swore that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction, shortly before invading the country. In both cases, there were “conspiracy theorists” questioning these stories. Both times, they were shouted down. A terrible cost in blood and treasure might have been saved if their conspiracy theories had been run down to conspiracy facts.
Hearing that something is a “conspiracy theory” is a sign that you should pay more attention – not avert your eyes. When you see something dismissed as one, ask yourself some important questions. Who is conspiring? What are they doing together in secrecy? Does it fit with the facts available? Can you tie the hypothetical conspirators to some gain in wealth or power? As in criminal investigations, look for motive, means, and opportunity.
When you make a conspiracy theory the start of a line of inquiry rather than a reason to stop looking, you remove a terribly useful tool from the hands of people with a long history of lies. Lying to the public should be a last, desperate act of the authorities. Not a convenient go-to tool for governing. Make lies expensive and dangerous again. Turning high quality conspiracy theories into conspiracy facts is a great way to do this.
