Standalone Essays · Triad of Stewardship

Conspiracy Theories, Myths, and Foolishness

There’s a quiet danger in believing you’ve found a truth no one else sees. Not because truth is rare, but because certainty—especially the kind forged in shadows—feels like power. When life shrinks us, that power tempts. We spot patterns. Hidden hands. Secret plots. Suddenly, the world snaps into focus. It’s not necessarily accurate, but it’s simple. One cause for every crisis. One villain for every loss. It isn’t just comforting; it’s cinematic.

The Three Hungers

We fall for these stories to satisfy three deep human hungers:

The Epistemic Hunger: The urge to make sense of chaos.
The Existential Hunger: The craving for control in an unpredictable world.
The Social Hunger: The desire to feel that our group—or ourselves—is special, the “awakened” few.

Conspiracy thinking feeds them all at once. It hands us meaning where randomness reigned and a scapegoat when accidents feel unbearable. Real life, though, is messy. It is full of coincidence, flawed systems, and human error—not master plans, but ordinary people in meetings that ran too long. Facing that means owning our share of responsibility. That weight is harder to carry than a grudge against a ghost.

The Pull of the Villain

I get the pull. We all do. A lost job, a scary diagnosis, a broken relationship—the instinct is to search for a villain rather than accept that sometimes things simply break, and we must rebuild. But the longer we chase whispers in the dark, the less energy remains for what’s right in front of us: the people we love, the work that matters, and the unglamorous habit of showing up.

Curiosity is vital. Questioning authority is healthy. But obsession? That is an escape. It’s simpler to rage against a global cabal than to name our own loneliness. It’s more comfortable to indict “the system” than to ask: What can I actually change today?

Fiction vs. False Reality

Not all escape is equal, though. Escapism can be a perfectly valid form of entertainment—I generally prefer non-fiction, but when I do reach for a story it tends to be Science Fiction, particularly of the “hard science” kind. Good fiction offers imaginative worlds that let us step away from our everyday lives and explore new ideas and perspectives. So what sets conspiracy thinking apart as dangerous? Science Fiction and Fantasy are clearly fictional; they announce themselves as invention. Conspiracy theories, by contrast, often purport to explain or uncover “hidden truths” about the real world. That blurring of the line between fiction and reality is what leads to confusion, misinformation, and even harmful actions when people believe in and act upon the theory. Worse, conspiracy theories thrive on fear-mongering—promoting distrust in institutions, experts, and even fellow citizens—and that erodes the social cohesion we need to address our genuine problems. A well-crafted story can actually encourage critical thinking and empathy; a conspiracy dulls both.

From Shadows to Everyday Myths

This same impulse shows up in “lite” versions—the everyday myths and old wives’ tales we trade like currency. Take the persistent belief that “cold air gives you a cold.” It feels intuitive; it explains the winter sniffles neatly. Yet science shows viruses, not temperature, are the culprit.

The risk isn’t just swallowing the wrong idea; it’s halting the search for truth. When we decide we’ve “arrived” at an answer, we stop asking sharper questions. This violates the Mandate of Truth. Truth isn’t a trophy to claim; it’s a practice requiring the humility to be wrong.

Consider a more damaging social myth: “Nice guys finish last.” We tell ourselves this to justify our own cynicism. If we believe the world is rigged against the kind, we feel “allowed” to abandon the Mandate of Kindness. These myths aren’t just harmless thoughts—they are intellectual shortcuts that give us permission to be our worst selves.

No Conspiracies of Goodness

Here is a tell worth noticing: there are few, if any, conspiracies of goodness. No one comes up with a theory in which the government has our good at heart and is doing its level best to improve our lot. No one watches a billionaire spend money philanthropically and thinks, “What a great person; they must have a good heart.” They think, “I wonder what he’s getting out of this—a tax break, at the very least.” Almost every theory of conspiracy is negative and slanderous in nature, and that fact alone should inform Sojourners as to how such theories ought to be handled. It is often easier to believe in a malicious plot or a hidden agenda than to trust that someone might genuinely be trying to do good—a reflex probably rooted in an evolutionary past where suspicion and caution kept us alive. But the overwhelming prevalence of negative, slanderous theories speaks volumes about the mindset they promote. Weigh them accordingly.

How to Meet the “Awakened”

So how do we meet someone deep in these waters? Not with scorn. Not by trying to “win.” Approach with the Mandate of Speech: clarity paired with care. A gentle acknowledgment often opens more doors than an argument:

“I see why that feels true. It gives a sense of order when everything feels out of control. But what happens to our community if we live as though that fear is the only reality?”

Some won’t hear it. They’ll armor themselves in “truth” to keep others at bay. When that happens, you don’t have to dive down the rabbit hole with them. Stay grounded. Choose what builds instead of what burns.

The Real Rebellion

The real rebellion isn’t in unmasking secrets no one else sees. It’s in the quiet, unglamorous act of being reliable. It’s living with integrity when the room is empty and being kind when it gains you nothing. That isn’t naive. That’s courage. And it’s the only force that has ever truly changed the world.

Part of the Triad of Stewardship’s Standalone Essays. Companion pieces: Forgiveness and Its Limits (forthcoming) · The Mandates of Conflict · Criminal Justice.