Wednesday, April 16

The Aesthetic of Conspiracy

As we break into Libra and specifically following the Frontline piece ("Who Was Lee Harvey Oswald"), it always fills me with wonder to see the people who decide to step out and comment on something with their own "correct" version of the story; just look at the comments on the Frontline webpage for the piece for several examples. Certainly, readers will note a sense of superiority in correcting a news source as lauded as Frontline in their own comments section, but what struck me was my reactions to each. If it was a short comment, (to me) it was just some uninformed idiot who didn't know what they were talking about. If it was a long comment, it was somebody trying to justify their ridiculous premise by launching words at me. If it was a poorly written comment, the commenter's inability to type properly ruined their attempts to persuade me. If it was a grammatically infallible comment, it still didn't change anything because what they were saying was still preposterous. No matter what, they couldn't win.

I wonder why I immediately presume that these commenters couldn't possibly be correct. My first thought comes to the stereotype of a conspiracy theory buff. In the television show Fringe, about a FBI team that investigates bizarre and weird occurrences and crimes believed to be connected to an international (and later interuniversal; it makes sense in context) terrorist group (very similar to X-Files), one episode in the first season sees the team meet Emmanuel Grayson, a "conspiracy monitor" who they think might be able to help them explain apparent cases of spontaneous combustion. First, however, they must be passed through his security system containing no less than eight locks. When they speak to him, you can see three computer monitors behind him, open to various conspiracy theory webpages or with a background featuring a flying saucer hovering just beyond the earth's atmosphere. Behind where members of the team sits are stacks upon stacks of manilla folders filled with various documents. On the wall hang several paintings of an abstract space vista. He insults the FBI agent for being "[a pawn] being used by the government to spread their propaganda." But when they convince him to help them, he lays out what proves later in the episode/series to be correct; a bizarre and ludicrous theory that an extremely powerful weapons and technology company (who frequently contracts with the US government) was founded so that its owner could build up a team of "supersoldiers" to fight an upcoming war. Then, Grayson goes back off the rails, saying that the war will be between the United Federation of Planets and the Romulans (from Star Trek), and that he himself is Spock. Yet, in the middle, he was completely correct, and if the team ignored him outright for his later completely unbelievable statements, they would miss out on critical leads to solve the case they were working on. Just because he looks like somebody they couldn't put their trust in, didn't mean he was never right.

Now that's interesting, isn't it? Surely the conspiracy theorists commenting on the Frontline piece would try to convince you they are even more correct than Grayson. The fact of the matter, though, is it's very hard to believe them. Just look at any of their websites. Here's one to explain the solution to the JFK murder. Here's another, that tells us that all the world's governments are run by lizard-like aliens. One more for you, about Denver International Airport. In large part, these websites share a lot in common. They were designed early in the age of the internet (and show it). They give huge and detailed explanations that are, to a non-believer, hilarious to read through. But, they bring up interesting points. The JFK murder is questionable. The Reptoids page detailed a technology that is both interesting and surprisingly similar to Elon Musk's upcoming hyperloop project far before he outlined it. Not only is DIA a creepy and weird place, but various tours of the place have been met with closed doors that could not be entered and odd vibes. Is there an underground city beneath DIA? Probably not, but it's still fun to think about.

My memory goes back to walking on Green St. a summer or two ago. There was a man on the street corner handing out fake dollar bills and brochures, both containing information about his 9/11 truther website. He looked like a nice enough guy, but my friends and I looked through his information to see what we could make of it. It was interesting, but ultimately extremely unlikely. But, specifically before I knew what this guy was handing out, I didn't think anything of him. He wasn't somebody I had to distrust, nor was he someone I implicitly wanted to believe. Once I knew what he was telling people about, I just laughed. It was silly! I tried to sneak a picture of him without him noticing. The spectacle of a conspiracy theorist was enough to entertain me by itself.

I suppose this post reads like a defense of conspiracy theory buffs, and I'm not really trying to tell anyone what to believe about anything. How should I know what's right? But, really, it's crazy how immediately we either assume somebody is believable or unbelievable based on what they believe.

1 comment:

  1. Well, there's good reason to be skeptical about a lot of these conspiracy-related stories, and the internet seems to bring all kinds of paranoia out of the woodwork. The X-Files used to play with this ambiguity a lot: maybe the messenger looks a little disheveled and unhealthy, but *what if he's right*?

    DeLillo, you'll find, clearly doesn't want his novel to be just one more entry in the annals of conspiracy theorydom--he projects one potential narrative that fits with the historical record and doesn't require too much paranoia to believe, but he's also very open to the short threads and inconclusive dead ends, and he acknowledges the role of accident and coincidence in even the best-laid conspiracy plot.

    The Bay of Pigs was a conspiracy, after all--and the planning and plotting only led to a fiasco. Real life (or history) doesn't always cooperate with how a plotter tries to shape it.

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