How Should We Relate to Conspiracy Theorists?

The Problem of Other Minds

If you are a “normie,” conspiracy theory probably makes you think of people who are ungrounded in reality, paranoid, irrational.

If you are an edgy, counter-cultural, skeptical person, who is fundamentally suspicious of mainstream institutions and has an anti-authoritarian streak, perhaps conspiracy theory sounds overly harsh and demeaning, exclusionary—all the more obnoxious because it is used by people who think of themselves as “inclusive.”

By conspiracy theorists, I mean, people whose evidence (or lack thereof) fails to persuade or compel the mainstream. One reason it fails to compel is because it offers a grand narrative that implicates such a vast number of actors as to be overwhelming and incredible.

Conspiracy theorists are a minor, but extreme species of dissidents and contrarians. As the name conspiracy, implies, conspiracy theorists posit elaborate, mass-scale, organized deception almost as an axiomatic fact of life: “They’re lying to us” (never mind who this “they” is or how it works). Since the belief is axiomatic, it can’t be proven, only asserted. Anyone who disagrees must be “bought” or part of the conspiracy.

If you think someone has such a distorted view of the world that you have no basis on which to argue or persuade, why bother, you may think. And, depending on context, that’s probably a wise thought. Not all views need to be heard, entertained, offered credibility. Time is limited.

But suppose you want to be in relationship with this person, or suppose that you don’t find the person holding the views to be a threat to you and all you hold dear.

Maybe the best way to be with them is the same as the best way to be with a person with advanced dementia. The encounter will be more fruitful if you are simply present with them, perhaps even enter into their reality for a little bit. When the visit’s over, you can return to your reality. Leave correcting the person to the doctor or social worker; as a chaplain or friend you have the luxury of being able to access their truth, even if it is delivered in a warped form.

I don’t recommend the chaplaincy model when it comes to the world of public debate and politics. But in the world of interpersonal relationships, how much should it matter if you think another person’s views are crazy or baseless?

While it might be hard to be friends with someone who believes aliens are spying on us, the earth is flat, or that vaccines are a mechanism for governmental mind control, might it still be possible and desirable?

Are a shared social fabric and narrative necessary to sustain meaningful relationships—or can we love and learn from people whose inner worlds are utterly different from our own?

Is this not simply the problem of other minds, more generally? If so, why should conspiracy theorists be treated as a special case?