Why I will not be subscribing to the mainstream paranoia binge
Words & images © Paul Ransom
And so we have made ourselves a world in which it is becoming increasingly hard to trust. Our news is propaganda, our footage deeply faked, and everything we say is a lie. We have talked ourselves into a state of war readiness and elevated the mantras of doom and decline into a self-perpetuating drama of apocalyptic acceleration. Well done, everyone. Now what?
Humanity often lauds itself for its superior critical capacity. It is one of the trademarks of Anthro-exceptionalism. We have created and refined processes of investigation, devised ingenious ways of gathering evidence and testing theories, and even taught ourselves to screen for bias and assumption. Our impulse to ask questions has helped balance out the equally resilient habits of orthodoxy, wishful thinking, and blind faith. In the process we have challenged multiple tyrannies, busted countless myths, and solved a plethora of once intractable problems.
However, reflexive naysaying and automatic suspicion do not belong in the critical thinking canon, if only because the consumption and regurgitation of self-proclaimed ‘alternatives’ is not always a sign of rational disbelief. Conspiracy theorists, religious extremists, and other ideologues tend not to suspend their judgement, so much as pass it with smug, censorious and sometimes cruel certainty. To reject the prevailing view is one thing, but simply locking in another channel does not mean that we have stopped consuming the news – fake or otherwise.
After all, if everything we have been told is a lie, why believe the prophets who trade on that? What makes them the exception?
The point here is neither partisan nor a plea for blinkered credulity. Rather, it is about degree. And self-deception.
Doubt is vital, paranoia corrosive. Being critical is smart, resting in default disagreement less so. When we convince ourselves to dismiss all expertise as fraudulent or to deride all hints of nuanced intellect as a sign of elite-authored cultural collapse we are not being critical, we are merely stampeding towards a new herdthink. Moreover, when we cease to trust anyone, and view all sources of information as weaponised, we leave ourselves high and dry. Stranded in our silo, stringing up the razor wire to keep the liars at bay.
This can be a satisfying, validating prism – one that fosters a sense of surety and delivers the ego-stroke of feeling ‘awake’. In addition, by defining our enemy we locate ourselves and, in turn, gift ourselves a sense of ethical clarity and missionary focus.
Thus, ring fenced in our preferred brand of certainty, we project all doubt outwards. It’s everyone else that lies and plots and seeks to control me, who sells me false history and denies me my cosmic birthright.
All of which makes sense in a world of opportunist predators; a pragmatic and doggedly survivalist approach for an ecosystem of narrowly self-interested lone wolves.
But we are a social species – profoundly so – and although this does not negate our sense of distinct self nor delegitimise personal desires and motivations, it tells us something crucial about the wellspring of our individuality, and the context in which it thrives.
Our identity emerges and coalesces in a network of interconnection. Parents, family, culture. Language, storytelling, shared activities. We are nothing without each other; nowhere without the giant shoulders we travel on. As individuals, we leverage the value created by the tribe, (just as the tribe benefits from the input of the individual).
The key bonding agent in this complex web of relationship is trust. Indeed, we are instinctively trusting. It is only later that we learn about lies and other breaches of contract. Then, as each of us becomes adept at deception, we inevitably overstep. Here we encounter the cost of losing the trust of others. For most, this is deeply unpleasant, if not a source of shame. When we let others down, we tend to let ourselves down.
On the flipside, we all know the sting of having our trust betrayed. Exploited. Aside from the emotional upset, it is also disorienting, making the world trickier to navigate. Our typical response is increased caution. We put on a poker face, throw up a wall, go slow on commitment. Again, to an extent, understandable.
Yet, when prudence lurches into hyper-vigilance and escalates into scattergun mistrust, and we can no longer believe anything anyone says – and we do this en masse – we start to erode the crucial connectors that mesh our societies and underpin the basic codes of civility we all depend on.
A culture of mistrust is a vale of potential enemies. It reinforces, normalises, and ultimately magnifies its own suspicions. Then, voila – paranoid populism. A cold war of toxic disbelief. That is, until the tyranny-opposing holy warriors decide to take up despotism as their peacemaking weapon of choice.
I say this not to foretell imminent collapse but to illustrate the race-to-the-bottom nature of the fashionable and prideful mistrust so many of us have embraced as ‘critical thinking’ and/or wakefulness. Rather than rational scepticism, it has become a form of shared mania, driving us apart.
And what happens when we find ourselves too divided?
Some will likely accuse me of presenting a Trojan horse case for socialism or offering a last ditch defence of the Establishment. With respect, neither is true. Indeed, my focus here, and the call-to-action, centres on the individual. On how we each personally contribute.
Ask yourself this: do I really want to live in a world of blanket mistrust? In a fortress of cynicism and suspicion? Will my feelings of superior intellect and enlightened consciousness be of any comfort when I am lost and can no longer trust the maps?
Zoom out a little and ponder this: why are we feverishly inventing technologies and embracing norms of thought and socio-cultural practise that make basic trust even harder? Why are we actively and incrementally dismantling the channels of connection that ground and sustain us? Why have we instigated a war on ourselves? In pursuit of…what?
Before you rush to blame someone else – big tech, pharma, brother – be aware that your accusatory finger is tapping in code for an open source algorithm of viral self-harm. Righteous, unmoderated disbelief and the paranoid misanthropy it fosters will not liberate you. For they are tyrants and, when you have done their bidding, they will visit their violence on you.
True, people lie and conspire, and pursue their self-interests at the expense of others. Corruption and cronyism are well-established practises, and snake oil sellers peddle all manner of false hope. Privilege and disadvantage are unevenly distributed. Politicians lie, corporations cover up, media distorts. None of this is new. We humans are famous for this. Rulers, rebels and regular folk alike – we all have selfishness and deception in our toolkit. I know I do.
Yet, if we genuinely think critically about self-interest we realise that it is often served best by moderating its pursuit. Short game scores first. Long game wins. The same is true for trust.
While there are upfront pay-offs for militant mistrust – I ain’t nobody’s fool – the downstream cost is likely ruinous. When mistrust becomes the norm, who will trust me?
Think about it in risk terms. Overall, am I better served by allowing the possibility of sometimes being disappointed or deceived, or by propagating a vicious cycle of ever-amplifying poison world paranoia and ideological jihad?
Therefore, just as I would never champion a culture of arrogant absolutism, I will not take up residence in a quicksand country of trigger happy disbelief.
In the complex, large-scale societies in which we find ourselves, trust is not merely desirable but fundamental. It is our global currency, linking us in an economy of mutually beneficial exchange. To misplace trust may be costly, but to jointly devalue it is to impoverish almost all of us, with the leftover spoils going to the biggest sharks.
As a strategy, our present passion for casting everything as propaganda and ruin – and for retreating to the trenches of cultish tribal extreme – is poorly thought out. A million miles from critical thinking. We obviously failed to ‘do our research’ on this one.
Should you wish to leave the legacy of a fear-first, risk-averse culture steeped in mutual suspicion, go ahead. You are free to do so. But I will not join you – not because I’m smarter or kinder, but because I have a selfish desire to live in a world where I can reasonably trust you and what you say. Though I am not betting on a lovey-dovey utopia, neither will I invest in a start-up dystopia of virtuously signalled distrust. Artificial or otherwise.
Postscript: A note on context
To be clear, the above reflects the specific cultural bubble I live in; namely, the First World Anglosphere. Indeed, nearly all the gloomful noise I have described above reaches me via the multiple megaphones of the most privileged and comfortable cohort in human history. As such, it is a bombardment of advantaged malcontent – of which this diatribe may well be considered another example. Please forgive me.
As If You Were Listening 