The Seven Crap Commandments

I’ve got to know the insides of the so-called “science-denial” community.

I’ve met and talked to mostly pleasant people with whom I am about to politely part ways. It’ll feel like opening a window on a sunny day, catching a fresh breeze, and emptying a bucket of insane, junky, corrosive Facebook content.

There’s only one way to list what I’ve learned. Having been in this game for a year, I wrote a manual – a guide on how to get Facebook likes and YouTube views… just for talking crap.

It’s the seven crap commandments. What?

 

Number 1: no half-measures. If you want to be a flat-earther, you’d better be willing to not just dispute the shape of the ground, but publicly deny the existence of gravity, space travel, and fundamental science. If you’re not, skeptics will more easily target the inconsistencies in your argument, even as your own team ostracises you as “controlled opposition” because your views are too suspiciously normal for their liking. Plus it’s a small stage – there will always be a more zealous preacher ready to take your social media limelight if your opinions don’t get enough blood pumping.

Number 2: trust nobody. Unlike typical cults where money and services change hands, your only currency as an anti-scientist is internet fame among your community. Grow too high and you run the risk of being cut down by those envious of your social media success. They will say you are acting as a “shill” for a perceived enemy, usually space agencies or governments. Meanwhile your old friends from normal life are all just one aggravating comment away from being un-friended as your social network narrows more and more into only science-deniers.

Number 3: never get high on your own supply. Meaning: the most successful science-deniers are the ones who don’t plunge into deeply believing what they preach, instead focussing on developing a charismatic persona and skills for making YouTube videos. True believers are more likely to become reclusive as their existential questions lead them to increasingly bizarre corners of the internet and away from the majority of the community. Your perfect level of belief should support your self-esteem and sense of belonging, but it shouldn’t be dug in so deeply that it affects how you process reality. Otherwise your mental health is at real risk.

Number 4: keep your family and business completely separated. If you think the whole world is a lie and your wife doesn’t, you’ve got a problem. You could solve this problem by not having a wife, or not telling her. Science-deniers who have not told their wives have been known to not have a wife as a result. Or you could bypass the whole thing if your family is your business, selecting a partner whom you met inside the science-denial community. This is an excellent way of raising unvaccinated children, should that be your aim. Just hope that your partner never has a change of heart about conspiracies for the rest of their life.

Number 5: the vaguer your statements, the better. Your beliefs fall down under scrutiny and, on some level, you know it. So stick to the big picture. Arguing the details of physics or aviation runs the risk of encountering a real physicist or aero engineer, but you’re safe if you say the whole world is a giant lie. Such a huge statement will elicit incredulity from the person opposite. You can interpret this as an inability to process the sheer scale of the secret knowledge to which you have access. You will use the phrase “cognitive dissonance” at this point. As a last resort, vagueness can also provide a path for dignified retreat: “everything is a conspiracy” can be wound back to “governments are keeping secrets”, a statement that people typically agree with.

Number 6: learn to fight dirty. Eventually, someone in a face-to-face conversation will ask you a question you can’t answer. Your dignified escape will depend on your ability to do one of three things: Avoid, Alter, or Appeal. So firstly that’s Avoid the question – by changing the subject and hoping the other person doesn’t notice or doesn’t want to be rude. Or you Alter the question, answering something slightly different on premises favouring you. Or lastly you could Appeal – position your argument morally with an appeal to “natural wisdom”, an appeal to our children’s wellbeing, or a reminder of what Hitler did – the list is endless. One example, appealing to common sense, is so useful that it has its own commandment.

Number 7: appeal to common sense. You’re going to be targeting educated people who embody the ideas you oppose. Your best weapon is a self-awarded sense of grassroots wisdom that you think they don’t have. It can be used in several ways. Firstly you can end many arguments by saying that the truth is obvious. For example, the moon looks small and close so, in a sense, it’s ludicrous to suggest otherwise. You can also dismiss any argument involving sophisticated reasoning or theory: too complex to understand equals too complex to be true, by virtue of common sense. Last but not least, you can attack your opponent’s character, suggesting that their excessive time spent in academic institutions has robbed them of the street-smarts that you yourself possess. When they point out that their day-to-day life is much the same as yours, remind them that’s irrelevant: they must lack common sense… because they believe the moon landings happened.