Dr. Thomas Nichols is an international affairs expert and a professor at the U. S. Naval War College. Several years ago he published an essay in the popular press on the subject of respect for expertise, which he argues has been waning. His essay was so well-received that he expanded it to book length as “The Death of Expertise: The Campaign Against Established Knowledge and Why It Matters.”
I found his book worthwhile, though it doesn’t say a lot about the “campaign.” In the course of his discussion he talks about conspiracy theories. What he says about conspiracy theories is relevant to conservatism and consistent with what's known about conservative cognition. The following is based upon Dr. Nichols' comments, and in the spirit of his book is meant as acknowledgement of his expertise. The linking of conservatism to conspiracy theories is my responsibilty, not Dr. Nichols'.
Conspiracy theories are deeply embedded in our culture. Consider the Bourne books and films, James Bond, “The Manchurian Candidate,” X Men, etc. The genre is popular among kids of all ages. Such stories typically put a single hero, or a small group of them, facing down a massively powerful conspiracy that threatens immense harms.
Conspiracy theories are difficult to refute in part because they can always be elaborated to escape a challenge. They deliberately flout Occam’s Razor, the heuristic that favors the simplest explanation with the fewest assumptions. They seem to follow the principle that “if I can imagine it, it’s as good as true” or the principle that "if you can't prove it ain't so, it is so." Or "if it feels good, believe it." Donald Trump pushed this type of argument into national political affairs and beyond, something like Buzz Lightyear. ("To infinity and beyond!")
To the believer, absence of evidence is seen as confirmation. The complexity is part of the attraction, like a Rube Goldberg machine.
Conspiracy theories are complex but they require little background knowledge or analytical chops to be understood, as witnessed by their popular nature. In addition, they are easily customized to reflect their adherents’ prejudices. They provide their adherents with a responsible group, responsible for whatever regrettable state of affairs the theory concerns itself with. They offer an imaginary opportunity for redress by simple imaginary actions that require little organization or intellectual expertise, and so appear to provide an opportunity for heroism.
Lacking the conspiracy, people may have to see themselves as incidental casualties of an uncaring world. (This again points to belief in a just world.) The conspirators take the role that Satan plays for some Christians, opposing what is right and generally fouling the world.
And, if they are popular, they supply a social reference group with shared special knowledge. What’s not to like? It's a role-playing game.
If you debunk a conspiracy theory you become a part of it and increase the imaginary heroism of the believers. Like a lot that we've gotten recently from the right, the role of "conspirator" is flipped.
Next: Conservative Neuroscience
More information:
“The Death of Expertise: The Campaign Against Established Knowledge and Why It Matters,” Tom Nichols, Oxford University Press, 2017.
© 2021, Ross A. Hangartner