The Theory that Can’t Be Disproven

In Jesse Walker’s book, he talks about how there comes a point in the life of a conspiracy theory when the absence of proof of the conspiracy is evidence of the conspiracy. So, like, if I came to you and was like “Why did you let them redesign the back of the penny?” and you were all “They redesigned the back of the penny?” under normal circumstances, that would be evidence that you didn’t let them do anything, because you didn’t even know it happened. But once we’re in the impenetrable fortress of the conspiracy theory, I’d be convinced that you were just faking not knowing that the penny had been redesigned and that they had told you to keep your mouth shut. How high does it go? How high does it go?

I’ve been thinking some lately about when I went to see Gordon Belt and his wife talk about Confederate religious beliefs and how Southern ministers would preach against the Confederate soldiers, even to their faces, because they were convinced that the only reason the South was losing the war was because of sinfulness in the Confederate camps.

When researching my upcoming Thanksgiving piece, I found a hilarious but terrible piece in the New York Times about how Jefferson Davis kept calling for these days of Thanksgiving, even as late as March of ’65 and the Times was all “How obvious does God have to make it that He’s not on their side?! And yet, here they go again, offering thanks to a Dude who has plainly abandoned them.”

This is something we don’t really talk about when we talk about the Confederacy–but it is yet another reason the people in power in the Confederacy should thank the gods every day that they did not win the war, because, in losing, all sins could be foisted off onto those Damn Yankees, but, if they’d won, there would have been a reckoning for how soldiers were treated while the powerful sat on the sidelines playing armchair quarterback.–but the Confederate military had a bit of religious cult to it. Soldiers’ heartfelt religious beliefs, which under normal circumstances brought them comfort, were used to assign blame on the soldiers for the battles lost.

But it’s a conspiracy theory, right? If only you act right enough, God will favor you with victory. So, if you don’t have victory, it must be because you’re not acting right enough. Not because God doesn’t make those kinds of deals. It’s an arrangement that can never be disproven. The absence of the favor of God is proof that God is withholding it until we act right.

The amazing thing is that this conspiracy still carries so much cultural weight. You’d think that, after something as traumatic as a civil war, when men must have known they were behaving how their pastors and commanding officers had told them to behave, they’d be suspicious of this idea that “the men” just weren’t godly enough. But no, rather than ever looking at who benefits from keeping you chasing your tail, striving for a goal that can’t be met, they look to the people who must have failed to earn God’s favor and heaped the blame on them for the loss.

And yet, we still have a ton of people in our culture who think God is withholding “victory” in some way until we’re all acting right enough.



At dinner last night, J. was telling us how she and her friend ran around Monteagle all day because they have some 20 mile trail around town there and her friend wanted to do it. For fun. Not in a marathon or anything. Just “Let’s go out and run twenty miles and it if takes us all day to do it, cool.”

All I could think is that it would suck so hard to be kicked by J. Because not only would you be kicked by someone who can run 20 miles for fun, but she has the stamina to keep kicking you for hours.

I went out to dinner because I’m trying so hard to just fake feeling like myself in hopes that I will fall into the habit of it. But then I said something so stupid later to a friend of mine on Twitter–like I meant to be all “oooh, it’s spooky, like you’re hearing from the depths of some other dimension” but it came across like “talking to you is a chore.” And, on the one hand, it’s not that big a deal. I apologized. She joked about it. But I still just felt like, ugh, this disconnect between my thoughts and my interaction with the world.

Even my walk this morning was complete weird bullshit. My body was having a lovely time. I physically felt better. But my brain was just “Fuck no, I’m not enjoying this. I’ll be up here pouting like a 14 year old Cure fan.”

Still, I feel better than I have in ages. I think this is just the pain that comes with using a body part–in this case my “my life is not completely fucking stupid” part–that hasn’t had a lot of exercise. It’s a little wonky until it gets its groove back.