It all started at a party back in January.
A friend asked me casually over cheese and wine, “What’s the deal with Kate?”
They were, of course, referring to Princess Catherine’s abdominal surgery. I told the truth: “I only know what Kensington Palace has said.”
But then another friend chimed in and the speculating began. “Maybe she’s had a hysterectomy.” “Maybe she got a facelift.” It went on for a while…
Flash forward to the end of February, and a few of my friends and I had accidentally fallen down a conspiracy theory rabbit hole.
We would message daily about how suspicious it was that Catherine still hadn’t been seen publicly, musing that she could have left Prince William and fled the country in secret.
We had a field day when the official Instagram account for the Prince and Princess of Wales posted a clearly photoshopped family photo on Mother’s Day.
And my friends and I weren’t alone. In March, when The Sun published several images of the Princess of Wales at a farm shop, TikTok was rampant with conspiracy theories about her — like the one where the royal family had hired a professional impersonator.
A video featuring The Sun’s photographs with the caption, “Do you believe this is Kate Middleton?” racked up more than three million social media views in four days.
I can’t speak on behalf of the millions of people who jumped on the conspiracy bandwagon but, for me, it was all done in jest.
Did I really think Catherine was missing? Of course not. But I did get pleasure from theorising about Catherine’s whereabouts with my mates.
That was, until the sobering moment on March 22 when the Princess of Wales announced, in a heartbreaking video, that she’d been diagnosed with cancer.
I can’t put the shame and guilt I felt watching that video into words. My group chat immediately ceased kidding about Catherine, and I vowed never to partake in a conspiracy theory again.
However, old habits truly do die hard. When an assassination attempt was made on Donald Trump in July, I was sucked in again, spending hours reading theories that the former President himself had orchestrated the shooting.
It led me to wonder: Are conspiracy theories on the rise? And why do some people so easily believe even the most absurd conspiracies?
Why do people believe in conspiracy theories?
Since 2020, social media has been a swamp of conspiracy theories.
COVID-19 vaccines supposedly implanted tracking microchips into us. According to infamous conspiracy theorist QAnon, when Queen Elizabeth II died in September 2022, the “lizard person” inside her was finally released. Rachael ‘Raygun’ Gunn’s performance in breaking at the Paris Olympics was labelled either a hoax or a research project.
However, according to multiple studies, conspiracy theories are no more prevalent now than they’ve ever been.
Indeed they date back centuries. Between 1450 and 1750, witch hunts in Europe and America (blaming women for all manner of ills from failing crops to unexplained deaths) resulted in up to 60,000 executions.
It’s just one in a whole list of examples indicating that conspiracy theories often take flight during unsettling times — like in a pandemic, a drought or during a close election in a politically divided country.
Carly Dober, the principal psychologist at Enriching Lives Psychology, has tried to make psychological sense of conspiracy theories.
“Conspiracy theories thrive on cognitive biases, which are mental shortcuts that allow us to make sense of the world,” Carly says.
“A common cognitive bias at play is confirmation bias. This is the tendency to seek out and focus on information that confirms our pre-existing beliefs while ignoring or dismissing contradicting evidence. This is why, once someone starts believing in a conspiracy theory, they’re likely to interpret new information in a way that reinforces this belief.”
Essentially, most people tend to believe in conspiracy theories because they only pay attention to information that backs up their existing beliefs and overlook anything that challenges them.
But how does a person become involved with conspiracy theories in the first place?
According to Carly, there are three main reasons people are drawn in: “The desire for understanding and certainty, the desire for control and security, and the desire to maintain a positive self-image.”
Dr Mark Williams, Professor of Cognitive Neuroscience and author of The Connected Species, adds that we are likely to turn to conspiracy theories during times of high stress or when life is difficult.
“As an example,” he says, “Hitler used the economic depression that was occurring in Germany at the time to convince Germans that the Jewish people were the reason for their problems. We are more willing to believe conspiracies when we fear for our way of life.”
People who are under emotional stress are vulnerable too.
“People who are lonely or insecure tend to seek out groups that will accept them,” he explains, “and often groups that believe in conspiracies are keen to have believers.”
Why are conspiracy theories bad?
Conspiracy theories are notorious for spreading harmful misinformation which can lead to social chaos.
The unfounded theory that the 2020 US presidential election had been manipulated and “stolen” by President Joe Biden and the US Democratic Party, for example, was the spark that fired up the insurrection and storming of the US Capitol by Trump supporters in Washington on January 6, 2021.
As Carly Dober says, “believing in and being confronted with conspiracy theories decreases institutional trust, support of government regulations, adoption of public health measures during a pandemic and, at times, social engagement.”
More surprising still, conspiracy theories can be detrimental to an individual’s health.
People who believe in conspiracy theories “may feel more anxious, angry and stressed,” Carly explains, “have impacted interpersonal relationships, engage in self-medication more, and sometimes lose close personal friendships.”
Are there any benefits to conspiracy theories?
There has to be a reason they keep cropping up — right?
“The only time there could be a positive is if the conspiracy theory was true and led to the outing of some sinister group,” Dr Williams suggests.
An example of this is the Maralinga Nuclear Tests. In the 1950s and 60s, the British government conducted a series of nuclear tests at Maralinga in South Australia, with the Australian government’s approval.
For years, there were rumours that these tests caused widespread contamination and health issues among the Indigenous population and service personnel. Years later, those conspiracy theories were proven correct.
Scientific investigations confirmed the extent of the environmental damage and the long-term health impacts, which led to a massive clean-up operation and compensation.
A more recent example is the claim that Russia interfered in the 2016 US presidential election. That too was later substantiated.
The US intelligence community, as well as the Department of Justice’s Mueller Report, concluded that the Russian government had indeed conducted a sophisticated campaign of cyber attacks, disinformation and social media manipulation to influence the election in favour of Donald Trump.
While there was no conclusive evidence that the Trump campaign had directly colluded with Russian parties, the interference itself — which was initially considered a conspiracy theory — was proven to be true.
With another US presidential election upon us, it’s important to remember that, while conspiracy theories can sometimes expose corruption and wrongdoing, more often than not, they divide us.
“Conspiracy theories can erode the fabric of society to varying degrees,” says Carly. “Institutional distrust strips away a basic sense that we as citizens are protected from exploitation, which then reduces trust between strangers — which is at the core of functioning societies.”
“Conspiracy theorists are unwilling to listen to logical explanations, dividing people even further,” adds Dr Williams. “Political polarisation has become worse since social media became popular, and there’s research showing this is driven by the algorithms they run in the background. If you get two groups from different political parties and put them on social media with the normal algorithms running, they become more polarised. If you remove the algorithms, they become closer in opinion. It is dividing us.”
Can I engage with a conspiracy theory for fun?
Finally, I asked Carly for her thoughts on people who engage with conspiracy theories for fun but don’t actually believe them. (Asking for a friend … or six.)
There are pros and cons, she says, but mostly cons.
“I think sometimes it’s culturally relevant to talk about what people are saying and understand what false beliefs are circulating,” she begins. “It can help us to fact-check relatives and loved ones.
“However, I would be cautious about spending too much time engaging with conspiracy theories because the more we expose ourselves to a false belief, without engaging in either debunking or utilising our critical analysis skills, we do run the risk of believing it, which then in turn leaves us vulnerable to believing other false beliefs.”
So, tempting as it is, perhaps I should no longer believe, as Alice did, “six impossible things before breakfast”. It seems the time has come to step away from those rabbit holes and stop indulging in this conspiracy wonderland.
This feature was originally published in the December 2024 issue of The Australian Women’s Weekly Magazine. Pick up the latest issue from your local newsagents or subscribe now.
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