From Pizzagate to trans debate, we are falling for conspiracy theories
As Hannah Arendt wrote, those who can’t tell fact from fiction are ideal citizens of a totalitarian state, says Laura Waddell
When looking for information online about the stabbing attack in Glasgow last week, it was striking how cluttered the results were with racism, conspiracy theory, and misinformation. The draw of malicious actors to tragedies is nothing new, but what felt different from comparable incidents of unfolding news was the sheer volume of antagonising posts.
As recently as the terrorist attack on London Bridge, or the Manchester Arena bombing, it was possible to scroll social media and find mostly news and traffic updates, bystander comments, and concern from regular citizens. All, of course, to be scrutinised in their veracity, and vulnerable to inaccuracy and lack of tact. But this time, when searching ‘Glasgow’ on Twitter in the immediate aftermath of what happened, genuine news was lost in a sea of misinformation.
In Hannah Arendt’s 1951 book The Origins of Totalitarianism, she wrote “the ideal subject of totalitarian rule is people for whom the distinction between fact and fiction (ie the reality of experience) and the distinction between true and false (ie the standards of thought) no longer exist”.
Searching ‘West George Street’ was more useful. Locals were more inclined to refer to the specific area than bad actors going with more general ‘Glasgow’. Verifable figures used the incident as fodder for political ends. Pro-trump Americans and far-right Brits took advantage of the unconfirmed identity of the attacker to peddle anti-immigration rhetoric.
Figures such as Nigel Farage predictably weighed in. But there were far more anonymous accounts and bots, some made to look like news agencies, spreading conspiracy theories, fanning racist rumours, and flooding the subject with noise.
In the wake of Black Lives Matter protests, new conversations are being had about Glasgow’s merchant slavers. Racism exists here. But it was particularly unsettling to look at the sheer volume of malicious information coming from around the world about a tragedy unfolding close by. Online misinformation seems to have surged in volume in the last year or two.
The noise is disorienting; official updates are lost among disruptive messages pumped out. Even more concerning are attempts to link such events with far-right talking points, exploiting prejudice and fear, and capitalising on the confusion of internet users who are less able to distinguish between genuine news and accounts posing as authoritative.
It does not help that the depletion of local news has happened during the acceleration of social media, which has been resistant to get a handle on the publication of mistruths, and whose algorithms feed users with increasingly extreme posts complimentary to their existing world view.
Conspiracy has gone mainstream. No longer are unscientific beliefs a fringe element. It has been three years since Michael Gove’s attempt at brushing inconvenient Brexit reports under the rug with his infamous line that “people are tired of experts”. Now, the President of the United States refuses to wear a mask because he refuses to acknowledge how hard coronavirus has hit America, and his most rabid adherents believe the virus is a lie.
Conspiracy theories exploit emotional vulnerabilities. In much the same way a parasite operates, when conspiracy is inside someone, they become an agent for it. Everything