Not long ago, if someone told you the government was tracking your movements through your phone, you might’ve rolled your eyes and whispered “conspiracy theorist” under your breath.
Now? You’re more likely to double-check your settings and mutter, “Yeah … probably.”
It’s not paranoia if it’s been proven true. From Edward Snowden’s 2013 revelations about mass surveillance to Canada’s use of cellphone data during the COVID-19 pandemic, recent history has shown that governments don’t always ask before they act. Canada’s Public Health Agency admitted to collecting anonymized location data to monitor movement patterns — done without public knowledge and only revealed afterward, sparking a national conversation about surveillance and informed consent.
And yet, we still treat skepticism as suspect, as if raising an eyebrow is somehow more dangerous than blind faith.
That’s the root of the problem: when trust in institutions collapses, skepticism fills the vacuum — and not all of it is irrational. In today’s world, where faith in government, media and science has frayed, conspiracy theories thrive not because people are delusional but because the official version often feels just as manipulated as the fringe one.
Humans are wired to see patterns, to connect dots — even when they don’t belong together. That instinct helped our ancestors survive. But it also leads modern minds down Reddit rabbit holes and YouTube spirals. People become more vulnerable to bad ideas when they feel powerless, when narratives feel scripted and when experts talk down to them.
And sometimes, the doubters are right. From the Gulf of Tonkin incident in 1964, which led to U.S. which led directly to America’s large-scale involvement in the Vietnam War, to the long-standing coverup of abuse in Canada’s residential schools, history is full of once-dismissed claims that turned out to be true. That’s not a reason to believe everything — it’s a reason to stop ridiculing those who ask uncomfortable questions.
If we want a healthier public discourse, we need to replace smug certainty with honest inquiry. Here’s a simple four-part toolkit anyone can use when encountering an outrageous claim:
- Stay curious without being gullible. Ask, “What would I need to see to believe this — or to disbelieve it?”
- Consider the source. Who benefits from this story being true — or false?
- Look for patterns, not one-offs. Is this part of a broader trend or a single unverified claim?
- Hold your ego in check. Wanting to be right is natural. Being open to being wrong is rare — and powerful.
Sometimes, what passes for critical thinking is really just confirmation bias: our tendency to seek out only the information that supports what we already believe.
We’re not in danger because people ask questions. We’re in danger because we’ve stopped knowing how to respond when they do. Mockery and censorship don’t stop misinformation — they drive it underground, where it hardens.
People aren’t rejecting science or facts. They’re rejecting condescension. They’re tired of being told to sit quietly while “their betters handle it,” especially by the same institutions that have, at times, betrayed their trust.
Conspiracy theories aren’t going away. Some are nonsense. Some are misunderstood. Some are just early warnings. But if we treat doubt as a threat, we lose one of the most vital tools of democracy — critical thinking.
So the next time you hear something outrageous, don’t roll your eyes.
Raise your eyebrow — and ask smarter questions.
Faith Wood is a professional speaker, author, and certified professional behaviour analyst. Before her career in speaking and writing, she served in law enforcement, which gave her a unique perspective on human behaviour and motivations. Faith is also known for her work as a novelist, with a focus on thrillers and suspense. Her background in law enforcement and understanding of human behaviour often play a significant role in her writing.
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