*Ētita’s Note: I want to preface this entire piece by saying that this is in no way any promotion of hate speech, but rather a fraction in time. There’s moments throughout the kōrero that steered into the realm of hate and harmful topics, but it’s missed on purpose. There’s no pertinence to the outcome of what I was trying to achieve.
To call me a sceptical person is an understatement, I never really subscribe to anything controversial. The honest truth is that I believe ignorance is bliss; the unknown is a great place to exist and allowing myself to just remain impartial tends to work. Considering myself a conspiracy theorist wouldn’t be fair, as I don’t really allow myself to become subject to rambling and confusing plots that don’t make sense – but I’m certainly intrigued. Pitching the idea of a conspiracy issue to my contributors, I wasn’t sure what the response would be nor would I be able to garner enough excitement to warrant a complete 40 page publication. I was wrong. The myriad of conspiracies I was met with bombarded my simple brain and allowed me to understand the inherent human need for explanation. Nothing just exists as a thing.
There’s no argument that of the 30 odd writers on the Nexus team, I’d be the most willing to do anything to get the story. Let me say that sending the message, “give me the name of the most devout conspiracy theorist you know,” generally sent my anxiety into a spin. The responses came in, but the names rang far too many bells.
“Have you met ▇▇▇ ?” (name redacted for safety)
You know how oftentimes you’ll linger with a message in your notifications panel? Well this was one of those moments, as something about the message felt strange, not sinister, but just weird. Why are they always called ▇▇▇ ? I’m a man of my word though.
“What’s his address?”
There’s been fuck all moments in my life where I’ve been bricking it much like this, faced with the possibility that I could be driving myself into an absolute ceasepit of danger, or coming eye to eye with some deranged psychopath – all things that crossed the forefront of my brain as I key in the seemingly random address into my phone. Though this needs a preface, as I don’t think I should throw you all into the deep end with me. Admittedly I have watched my share of anti-vax propaganda and read countless ‘articles’ outlining the lives and understandings of conspiracy folks. While not completely unprepared, the most common thread I found across all resources was the unpredictability of most of these from-the-Earth hippies, that their reactions to outside communications could vary greatly.
One thing I need you to understand before we delve further into the kōrero and the life of ▇▇▇ is that this isn’t a piece meant to belittle or lessen his experiences of understanding of the world, but rather be a capsule in time – an account of his ability to consume the world post-digital boom. I understand the irony as some of you read this piece via phones or ipads or whatever-the-fuck, but the idea is you’ll read this and appreciate the opnions that differ from yours. Perhaps. I’d better not read one fucking comment about how crazy he sounds, because that shit won’t fly.
Now that you’re up to speed with my minimal research into the movement of neo-conspiracy and their understanding of how the world spins around them, we can move on. I’ll continue to mention my scepticism and inability to understand far-fetched theories, only because I move through reality in the most conditioned way I can – social conditioning is the best way of explaining my thought process thanks to the countless forums I’ve crawled through. The only thought in my head as I drove the some 35 minutes to ▇▇▇’s place was, “what the actual fuck are you doing cunt?”
Pulling into the drive, I was met with one of the most seemingly normal people, albeit a little strange with his horde of dogs surrounding him, but I was immediately mad at my preconceived idea of who he may be or what a conspiracy theorist would look like. But there he was, in his Warehouse-esque clothing and a weary expression peering back at me. His voice broke the barks.
“Can I get you to park your car on the road mate? And leave any electronics there please, they upset the dogs.”
I’m nothing if not understanding, happily obliging to his requests and wanting to start this meeting off on the right foot. To make the next 2 hours of my day easier for you to digest, I’ll break our interaction up a bit and structure it through memories and sidebars – akin to fleabag for those who’ve seen it.
The time following my hike to his home, I was met with a bunch of dogs (▇▇▇, ▇▇▇, ▇▇▇, ▇▇▇, ▇▇▇, ▇▇▇, ▇▇▇ or Meredith? I’m missing a few, apologies to my shit memory) of varying sizes and volume. There’s a huge part of my brain that thanks my love for dogs, because the sheer amount of canines could’ve been overwhelming. But zig-zagging them, I was able to shake the hand of my host.
Scott Reid explains conspiracies as, “conspiracy theory, an attempt to explain harmful or tragic events as the result of the actions of a small powerful group. Such explanations reject the accepted narrative surrounding those events; indeed, the official version may be seen as further proof of the conspiracy”. From my understanding, conspiracies are hypotheses conspired by politically motivated groups to explain events or sequences that would otherwise be taken as fact rather than explained.
Conspiracy theories, while intriguing, can be detrimental to larger groups of people as they diminish experience for a less obvious answer, opting for an ideal that aligns with confusion and idea generation though less than ideal counterparts. Being aware of the danger that comes with conspiracies is the first step in being open about kōrero surrounding difficult ideas.
So I shook his hand, not tentatively but with conviction.
Being sat in his home, it’s easy to let the eyes wander as you dart around and look for something to anchor your thoughts in. That’s easier said than done when the pages of an I Spy book actualise in front of you, the busyness confusing the brain as you try to piece together the structure of a room – taking note of everything in the hopes of understanding the psyche. It’s fucked as though, how the reflection of ones mental state becomes so self-evident in the way they structure their living spaces.
How do you even start a conversation like this? There’s the obvious exchanging of pleasantries, the back and forth about weather and how each other is doing. But are we beating around a massive fucking bush as the animal skulls stare back with sullen eyes, focusing on my soul and taunting me with the mysteries of their stories.
“Wanna try telling me more about you?” Solid way to begin a kōrero about someone’s beliefs and view on the world, while also structuring it like a choice rather than a demand. A request of information.
“Where do I even start bro? I guess my name is ▇▇▇, there’s not much to me man, I’m pretty chill.”
There’s no place where I would consider what I saw to be chill, a collection of memories being held together by spider webs and what could only be described as entrails but I’m sure it’s an attempt at macrame. “I know why you’re here and I’m happy to just chat, just rattle on and you stop me if you need to?” Fucking aye lad, took the awkwardness out of it for me.
“I’ve always questioned shit, I find it hard to just look at things without querying why and how it all works. It’s asinine to just ignore everything and not be curious. I guess I’m just curious.” Silence for a moment, “I’m not saying that everything is a lie but why would you place your trust in a government that statistically doesn’t fucking care. It’s just being a follower of a regime, a way of being a brick in the wall,” Pink Floyd reference, solid my bro. Trailing off for a minute, I found myself thinking about The Wall. The references, the symbolism, the music matched with visuals.
“-simulations are a way of living, a movement and an understanding of the human conditions. You believe in fate, in a predestined higher power governing everything you do and everything you are? No way, this shit is all some petri dish of some kind. This is all an experiment, a book being written to dictate the path of the unfortunate who don’t understand how to break free from the chains of societal binds. The world is just -”
There’s conviction in his speech, an undoubted response that he believes every word. You know how memes were created of the ‘alien’ guy with the crazy hair and vacant expression, well ▇▇▇ embodied that image as his ideas of simulations become more apparent but well intentioned. I understood, in that moment, that his life was different to this standard we create through the work of the government lizard people- not my words.
The simulation theory, while a little out of the ordinary, isn’t that far-fetched. Before you lose faith in me as a reader, I want you to please read along and not take what I’m saying as fact but rather a different idea. It’s all speccers (speculation) as I delve more into the world of far gone conspiracies. Swedish philosopher Nick Bostrom showed in 2003 that it’s more probable than one might think. In his seminal paper titled “Are You Living in a Computer Simulation?”, Bostrom argued that if humans are able to survive thousands of years to reach a “posthuman state” — one in which we have “acquired most of the technological capabilities” consistent with physical laws and material and energy constraints — it’s likely that they would have the capabilities to run ancestral simulations. So what are our odds of being in this simulation? Experts argue a 50/50 chance, as the likelihood isn’t that far from our current perceived reality.
“-why wouldn’t a book be a likely scenario or output of the human experience. We, as humans, consume media like it’s crack – wanting more constantly and feeling insatiable for the next hit of content. Why wouldn’t a book make sense for explaining the outcome of our reality? I believe there’s some omnipotent writer dictating my every move and what I’m saying or doing – like right now with our meeting being preplanned.
This is all meant to be and thinking that you could have free will in a society governed by a couple of high-profile cunts with a value condition doesn’t scream mentally stable. But those that sit on their thrones of gold, casting judgement on the ones running their machine are the normal people, forgetting that we are the reason they exist. Their machine is only a machine because of the parts in it.”
I now value the stenographers of the world, rapidly writing the words of courtrooms and not missing a beat. I value their ability to take down all the verbal exchanges and not miss the tone or the direct speech patterns of the accused or the prosecuting. I value courtroom sketch artists and their ability to capture the likeness of the speaker and give an insight to those not present. If I could paint you an accurate picture of what I was looking at, I would give you a better insight into ▇▇▇‘s world. Main character or what, I’m just sat trying to recount everything from my frantic scribblings on paper; nary a device present to record the encounter of the weirdest kind.
“I assume you’re thinking that I’m a flat-Earther based on some of what I’ve already said. Now I’m not saying there’s no validity in my research,” okay academia, I see you, “but the evidence supporting a globe comes from observations and captured content from the camera produced by man. There’s less about the Earth being flat, and more about the Earth being sort of like a boomerang, the shape being rounded and curved in places, allowing mountain ranges and sea levels to fluctuate. I don’t know about the globe concept, the idea of curved horizons being the main argument – or photos being tangible evidence. We’ve proven over time that doctored photography is evident in all facets and we have the ability to fake content to work in our favour, so what’s different?”
Thought provoking? Yes. A little bit cooked? Maybe. Whenever you look into conspiracies, trust and believe that you’ll come across flat-Earthers and their ramblings among forums and websites dedicated to the idea of our globe being a faked version of what’s actually going on. We’re not able to perceive the idea of a flat Earth thanks to the indoctrinated ideal of a rounded solar system being functionally explainable and aesthetically sensible rather than a flat floating being, suspended by nothing in a vast nothingness.
The deepdive goes further than the general understanding of a flat Earth, but the religious connotations or associations with a flat Earth. Findings of mine led to IslamiCity and their kōrero about Quran teachings not aligning with what could be considered a “general Earth image”, the citings within the Quran being deliberately misleading to that of modern teachings. “And the earth, We have made it a wide extent; how well have We then spread (it) out.” (51:48) “Until when he reached the place where the sun set, he found it going down into a black sea…” (18:86), Author Ron Webb cites the passages as an understanding to how the Quran views the build of the Earth. While I know my religious links aren’t with Muslim values, the intrigue lies more with connotations in historic scripture as to the understanding of the spacial build.
“- our entire modern history is what, a tiny percentage of the alleged age of the Earth? Humans inhabiting the planet has been a miniscule part of the development into what’s considered “modern society”. Which then leads to the conversation of life outside of Earth, what exists past this bound that we have in the atmosphere. This alleged space race and Tesla and all these big corporations being in competition to find a sustainable living environment that’s not on the planet we’re destroying. We’re raping this planet and taking all she can give us before throwing it to the side. The government is covering our eyes with news and media that isn’t showing the complete disaster that is our landscape. The Earth is dying, our world as we know it is coming to an end and we’re going to be dead within the next 5 years”. Listen, I’m already mentallly unstable but saying shit like that is going to send me into a spiral papi, please slow down. “We’re going to end this planet faster than you think. Plastics in the ocean, killing turtles is nothing compared to the absolute bio-shitstorm we’re about to inflict on ourselves. We’re taking everything for granted, and the government is using the current eco-climate to their advantage. COVID happened, and it wasn’t a hoax. That’s something I stand solid in. There was a pandemic but it’s just the beginning of the end. Not in the weird religious way that we’re used to hearing. God passing judgment and smitting those unworthy of entering his elusive gates of Heaven, that’s fucked man.
But a pandemic or worldwide illness killing those incapable of handling a viral infection in their lungs? Makes way more sense to me, and I don’t think it’s too out the gate for people to hear. Fear-mongering officials took advantage of the unknown and stopped those from free-thought. The protests, the 5g, it’s all a subset of the governments backlash they weren’t expecting. The attempts to silence free thought didn’t work, as us free from social conditioning fought for those who couldn’t. We were their megaphone, they tried to silence us.”
The fucking protest rears it’s ugly head again, and I promise I won’t waste your time getting you to read about it again. But I sat there listening to the man ramble on about something I once felt so intensely about. Something that, for me, was a waste of time being broadcast as more finite issues began unfolding overseas. But maybe that’s the antithesis of his point, that we’re focusing on enhancing the voices. “What about the Ukraine war that happened around the same time?” Finally breaking the strings of sentences he formed with such ease, getting a hearty laugh in response. There’s worry when someone laughs in response to war.
“Wars are fought as selfish attempts of ownership, land wars and people begging for the deed to a land that shouldn’t be theirs to begin with. Dictators, war criminals, and those in unimaginable power aren’t the problem but the ones making the decisions for them. I laugh because we’re caught up in the war between people where we should be worried more for the land housing the people.” Rising from his seat once again, he paced around for a moment, looking from the plants and breathing in the room.
“It’s fucking sad, people losing their lives for the gain and self-centred decisions made by one mad man with the desire for endless power in mind before the thoughts of life. His disregard for the human form is foul and I hope those blindly following understand the parallels.” I’m not dumb enough to not make the obvious links he’s making between historical context and those events happening around us right now, but once again I wonder of the loss of irony and whether his recall allows for the memory of statements from his precious protests.
Please understand that I’m not subscribing to any of the following quotes or comments, nor am I saying there’s any validity in their “teachings” as I find the anti-semitism completely cooked and fucked. But the links between the tyrannical Putin and that of Hitler was the obvious comparison I mentioned. However, if you begin a simple search into the Ukraine war, you discover the recall of the Holocaust Conspiracy. I will not be putting any merit into the words spoken from the neo-nazi purists and their bullshit reasoning.
“In the United States, the essential differences between the European and the American understanding of the free speech doctrine lead to distrust of and even objections to every single court trial or a custodial sentence for a Holocaust denier in Europe.” The argument between what is free speech and what’s hate speech is a line walked by deniers of a regime, their argument being that they’re reporting on history from a different perspective, an opinion you may not have considered before. A crock of shit if you ask me, not that anyone is to be honest. But understanding the thought process behind random connections is a great way of connecting dots alongside the brains of theorists.
There’s something odd about his movements, apart from his inability to sit still for longer than a minute, but it’s so fluid? Not that I observe robotic grinding often but the freeness of his moving was noticeable. Anxiety ridden, fuelled by the uneasiness of my dumbass questions I’m sure.
“Mung tea?” Broke the anxiety-inducing pacing, his body language relaxing as I actually take note of the boiling pot of viscous liquid, the aroma only just making its way to me. Okay I’ll admit it, what the fuck is Mung Tea? I know what Mung beans are, but mung tea? Never heard of her aye. If my Māori whānau taught me anything, it was that saying yes to kai offered is the most polite thing to do, regardless of nefarious origins.
Even as I held the cup, the colour escaping me as I became painfully aware of my colour blindness, I was still content with giving it a go. You’re probably wondering why this is pertinent to the events, but this was the turning point for me. Sipping on it, the thickness hit me first and followed by the bitter bite and sweet undertones. I’ve had some shit in my mouth but this wasn’t close to anything I’ve consumed in my life. “Yeah it’s good bro, thanks” I added as I watched him await praise like one of the many dogs scattered at my feet.
“So 3 Waters,” he continued, a sigh filling the air “basically my bro, the government has always had a sense of entitlement in power. That’s not new information to either of us. The idea that they could relinquish control over something as simple and free flowing as waterways. Why would they allow anyone to just fucking have water? There’s a sense of control of the body, sure, but the mind too? What’s the point in allowing them to put additives into some that should be consumed naturally from the Earth?” The irony as I drink something that’s for sure not meant to be inside the human body.
I add “I don’t know how much media you consume” shaking of the head, algood my bro, “They’ve actively been against the idea of it being a conspiracy for control, is that just bullshit?” What a dumb question, the answer is already obvious which is futhered from the gutteral laugh. “Okay fair enough”.
“Think about it realistically my bro, why would they only ever tell you the truth when you’re actively not arguing against the system and allowing them to just march on you like that. You need to form your own opinions and beliefs rather than being one of the many cogs that push their system in their favour. They don’t give a fuck about you. Only their political ownership over the body and souls.” The words he spoke contained so much conviction and value that you could easily be convinced that you were actually a random tui in a tree, “That’s why the treaty was a lie.” Wait, what?
He looked me in the eye as he said this, or possibly eyeing up my very prominent pounamu laid upon my chest and my use of reo in everyday speech. I’ve never possessed the ability to hide my emotions or opinions when it comes to injustice and especially when it pertains to my tangata whenua. “What?” I asked once, knowing I would hate any outcome.
“Māori made it all up my bro, they wanted to remain a minority so badly because they were no longer the only people of the land and their world was shaken-” My brain was fuzzy past this point, perhaps an effect of the Mung tea (probably an effect of the Mung Tea) or just my brain not processing audio prompts. Bits and pieces come through, warm in my brain with the heat of anger pushing me to fight him back. I remember stopping him, my body reacting to the bullshit he was spewing about Māori making up the war and strife they felt. Minimising, a great argument into the detriment of conspiracies, the struggles of an entire people.
Cutting him off was a decision not taken lightly, making sure I’m solid in my own kaupapa and protecting my wairua from the harsh reality that bigots and racists still run rampant through the darkened hills of our countryside. But I needed to get myself out of this place and the absence of time plays with the brain, unable to understand how long you’ve been somewhere. When you become so reliant on western uses of time, you can’t just shake the inability to control lengths of time spent in places. Liminal spaces and strange occurrences are enough to send the strongest brain into spirals. So I noped the fuck out and spent the 35 minutes home just processing.
Three days have passed at the time of writing this. Three days of sleepless nights, followed by sudden rushes of anxiety as I struggle to pull focus enough to understand what the fuck happened. Even as I retell the story to those who’ll sit long enough to endure the details, I feel confused. The mung tea is an integral part of this story, so I want you to understand that it’s still something sitting in my psyche and needing to be expanded on, maybe even unpack it? Fuck.
My nights have been filled with scrolling through forums again, with the hours of asking questions and highlighting paragraphs upon paragraphs of theories in an attempt to understand more of what’s going on in the universe around me. The anxiety hasn’t subsided, and while I think caffeine isn’t the best way of combating it, I possess knowledge that I feel should be protected. Knowledge that has me questioning my very foundation in life. Complacency, while the easier way of getting through, isn’t always key to succeed in life and making sure you’re aware of theories and those possessing the knowledge and key to a future that isn’t expected from mainstream data sources.
Here I am, writing this and helping you gain some sort of perspective on thoughts and opinions that differ from your own. I may have been drugged, which is fine, but take this as a cautionary tale. While I think that talking with those who differ from you is important, it’s also scary to think about putting yourself in potentially dangerous situations, which is something that I don’t follow myself apparently. The ultimate test of mental strength is putting yourself in these situations and seeing if it shakes you. Let me say this, my core is hurricane Katrina, and I can’t help but feel the anxiety and stress tenfold as my values come into question.
One last thing I need to mention, I’m missing information thanks to the damn mung tea. My brain is struggling to recall everything as I try writing this. But maybe the real conspiracy is whether he was attempting to ‘Men in Black’ me, wiping my memory of the kōrero and meeting. Either way, I want to get my ramblings out before they’re all gone and deleted for good. There’s paraphrasing for sure but the grist is real and raw. The conversation is one of those things I hope I remember for life but I don’t know if this is something my subconscious will allow me to retain.
To call me a sceptical person is an understatement, I never really subscribe to anything controversial. The honest truth is that I don’t know what to think anymore.
