Why We Fall for Conspiracy Theories
The Psychology behind why our brains and minds like it
I was reading the news this afternoon and felt the urge to write this piece. I am not shocked, but sad about how R. F. Kennedy Jr. (US Secretary of Health and Human Services since Feb 2025) is promoting debunked conspiracy theories. From linking vaccines to autism, to claiming COVID-19 was “ethnically targeted,” to questioning the science of HIV/AIDS, and suggesting pharmaceutical drugs are linked to mass shootings. The danger isn’t just in the claims, it’s in the credibility granted by the speaker’s influence.
When public figures promote conspiracy theories, they give fringe ideas mainstream visibility and emotional weight, eroding public trust in science, medicine, and democracy itself.
I have known for a while that we live in an era where information and misinformation collide. However, the consequences of falsehoods are no longer confined to obscure online forums. They’re being aired on debate stages, amplified by high-profile figures, and dressed up in the language of skepticism and freedom.
This post isn’t just about RFK Jr.; it’s about the broader phenomenon of conspiracy theories and what I now know the science says about why we fall for them.
Why do so many people fall for conspiracy theories? Why are these beliefs so sticky?
We live in an information-saturated world where truth, half-truths, and outright lies fight for attention, often on the same screen. But before we can explore why we fall for conspiracy theories, we need to define the landscape:
Misinformation: False or misleading information shared without intent to deceive. Consider: my uncle forwarding a meme about a miracle cure for cancer, claiming Haldi can cure it - “just in case it helps.”
Disinformation: Intentionally deceptive information designed to manipulate, often for political, financial, or ideological gain. Think: Russian troll farms, fake news sites, or bot networks targeting elections.
Conspiracy Theories (CTs): Beliefs that powerful, secret actors control major world events behind the scenes, despite lacking credible evidence. Think: Lizard overlords, fake moon landings, global vaccine plots, the hits keep coming.
Which is More Dangerous? - It depends on context, intent, and impact.
Misinformation, despite lacking malice, can dangerously sway public opinion, especially in healthcare and politics.
Disinformation is lethal when it targets democratic trust, like elections or public institutions.
Conspiracy theories are uniquely dangerous because they give us the illusion of truth. Like cognitive Trojan horses, they sneak in under the guise of alternative explanations, offering emotional and narrative rewards, order, agency, and meaning. But their costs escalate quickly: They can erode public health compliance, justify violent extremism, deepen polarization, and promote distrust in science, medicine, and government.
And here’s where it gets even trickier: conspiracy theories feel true.
That’s because of something called the Illusory Truth Effect- the more often we hear a false statement, the more likely we are to believe it, especially if it’s presented in a fluent, confident, or emotionally engaging way. I also think conspiracy theories are especially seductive because they tap into something more profound: our psychology. Let us explore what the research says about why we believe in these false alternative explanations.
Five Reasons We Fall for Conspiracy Theories
1. Reality is Uncertain. Conspiracy Theories Offer Control
Uncertainty triggers anxiety. When we can’t explain what’s happening, our minds instinctively crave closure, control, and coherent explanations. The idea that no one is in charge—that randomness rules the world—is deeply unsettling.
That’s why, paradoxically, we’d rather believe in evil forces than admit that life is unpredictable. At least a conspiracy gives us a villain and a storyline. We as humans are pattern-seeking beings and love to search for intention behind patterns.
Reality: “I don’t know what’s happening.”
Conspiracy Theory: “It’s a planned scheme by Big Pharma.”
One is terrifying; the other is comforting.
This phenomenon becomes especially appealing during times of collective crisis, such as pandemics, political unrest, or war, when people feel powerless or distrustful of institutions. Research supports this observation: conspiracy beliefs often rise during social and existential uncertainty (Douglas et al., 2017) and serve as a compensatory mechanism for perceived loss of control (Kay et al., 2009). Even when the story is false, its sense of structure and agency is powerfully real.
2. Reality is Boring. Fiction-based Conspiracies are not
It's a fact that reality is uncertain, but it's also true that reality is boring. Both of these features push us toward conspiracy theories, but in different ways. Reality is dull. Many horrendous events are caused by bureaucratic delays, policy failures, ignorance, delayed actions, or sheer stupidity, not some cinematic villainy. None of these reasons has the potential to go viral. Most of the time, there’s no evil mastermind, just a tired government employee who missed a memo.
Reality, with its list of facts, is utterly boring, coming with caveats, full of phrases like “probably,” “possibly,” and “pending peer review.”
Boredom is a lack of stimulation, and our brains crave novelty, drama, and emotional intensity. Conspiracy theories meet that need. They’re emotionally engaging, narratively tight, and come with everything a good Netflix drama has:
Clear heroes and villains
Secret plots
A satisfying explanation that fits in 280 characters
Meanwhile, facts are messy and full of caveats: “We’re 85% confident pending further peer review.” No music, no plot twist, no YouTube rabbit hole.
Reality: COVID-19 was a novel virus, and our understanding evolved over time.
Conspiracy: It was a secret bio-weapon with embedded microchips created by global elites.Guess which one gets a three-part docuseries with ominous music?
CTs give us cognitive closure, accompanied by a dose of dopamine. Conspiracy theories don’t just create certainty; they entertain. They provide us with meaning, drama, and a cast of characters to root for or rage against. And that's the point: facts tell you what happened, while conspiracy stories tell you who to blame.
3. Our Brains Are Pattern-Addicted Prediction Machines
We don’t passively observe reality—we predict it. Our brains are wired to connect dots, even when the picture isn’t there. Some people, especially those with elevated dopamine, are neurologically more prone to this. Studies using EEG scans have shown that these individuals exhibit heightened beta oscillations during perceptual tasks, meaning their brains are firing in ways that make them more likely to detect (or invent) patterns in noise.
But it's not just biology, it's cognitive laziness too. Our minds are cognitive misers. We love shortcuts and default to heuristics like:
Confirmation bias – we seek evidence that supports what we already believe.
Availability heuristic – we overestimate what is most recent or dramatic.
Belief perseverance – we cling to beliefs even when proven wrong.
Add to that the proportionality bias—our instinct that big events must have big causes—and you get a cocktail of conspiracy logic.
“A global pandemic from a bat in a market? Too random.”
“A bio-weapon released by a secret elite cabal? Now that sounds properly catastrophic.”
4. Social Media Rewards Outrage, Not Accuracy
Social media platforms are designed to maximize engagement, not truth. Conspiracy theories? They are pure fuel for engagement.
Algorithms prioritize sensational content over substantiated views. Rage and shock spread faster than nuance and evidence. This means false claims—especially emotional, dramatic ones—get liked, shared, and pushed up the feed.
More likes = more reach = more believers.
But it’s not just algorithms. Humans are also susceptible to pattern overload. When bombarded with dozens of similar false claims (e.g., anti-vax content), we start to see connections; this is called illusory pattern perception.
And then there’s belonging. Social media creates echo chambers and tribal group identities. When your friends, influencers, and community share the same conspiracies, it feels like truth through consensus.
“Everyone I follow believes this, so it must be true.”
The result? Conspiracy theories become not just ideas, but identity badges—who you are, not just what you think.
5. Some People Are Just More Prone to Believing Them
Not everyone is equally susceptible. Research shows that certain personality traits are more common among conspiracy believers:
Higher levels of paranoia and distrust of authority
High openness to experience – a tendency to explore abstract, novel ideas.
Intuitive thinking styles – relying on gut feelings over analysis.
People who are more intuitive and emotionally driven are often more susceptible to pseudo-profound nonsense—statements that seem profound but are actually meaningless.
That does not mean these individuals are less intelligent. Often, they are curious, imaginative, and sensitive to existential uncertainty. However, curiosity turns into vulnerability without critical thinking skills and media literacy.
Let’s Test Our Theory... with a Hypothetical Example 🙃
To illustrate how these psychological factors play out, let me offer a hypothetical example that is not controversial. Let’s evaluate this statement together:
“Religion is the most professionally produced conspiracy theory of all time.”
I know, I know—bold claim. But hear me out. Suppose you take the five core psychological reasons people fall for conspiracy theories. In that case, religion checks every box, as if it were applying for the Head of Narrative Design role at the Vatican. Here’s how it stacks up:
1. Uncertainty Reduction: Life is chaotic, scary, and filled with unanswered emails.
Religion says, “Don’t worry—God has a plan.” Which is way more soothing than, “The universe is an indifferent void, and your inbox will never be zero.”
2. Narrative & Emotional Engagement: Religion doesn’t just offer belief. It delivers cinematic excellence:
A compelling story of origin
A cosmic villain (Satan)
A heroic savior (Jesus, Krishna, insert-your-deity-here)
And a dramatic finale: apocalypse, rapture, reincarnation… pick your franchise.
Honestly? It’s not just faith—it’s box office gold. You want lore? This thing's got lore and merchandising.
3. Pattern Recognition: Religion turns chaos into cosmic Pinterest boards. Rainbows? Messages from above. Bird poop on your car? Divine punishment—or at least, a teachable moment. Nothing happens "just because." It all means something, even if it's just a sign to stop texting your ex.
4. Social Proof and Belonging: Religion is the original global echo chamber. Billions of followers, coordinated dress codes, shared rituals, and scheduled potlucks. You're not just believing. You belong to a community, a legacy, and a WhatsApp group that occasionally debates vegetarianism during Navratri.
5. Personality Fit: People high in openness to experience and existential curiosity love a good cosmic narrative. For some, it’s quantum physics. For others, it’s the Book of Genesis—same need, different footnotes.
Psychologists suggest that religion evolved because it satisfies our deepest human needs: meaning, morality, and community. Which makes it—dare I say—a kind of socially sanctioned conspiracy theory, just with better branding and incense.
It resists disproof.
It explains everything.
And it defines who you are.
So, no, I’m not saying religion is a conspiracy theory.
But I am saying that if you understand why conspiracies are so seductive, you might also understand why religion has lasted for a few thousand years—and why it still has the best costumes. Whether it’s divine order or deep-state agendas, we’re drawn to any story that helps us make sense of the mess.
So… What Can We Actually Do About It?
Let me be clear: I’m not trying to talk anyone out of religion.
But I want to help people recognize how these psychological drivers make us vulnerable to other conspiracy theories. Such theories affect public health, social cohesion, and democratic stability.
Because most people assume you can fight a conspiracy theory with facts. Just drop a spreadsheet. Copy-paste a peer-reviewed study. Link to a 60-page WHO report in the family group chat. Unfortunately, that’s not how it works.
Think back to everything we’ve discussed—how conspiracies appeal to our need for identity, meaning, and emotional coherence. Now try to fight that with:
Uncertainty
Randomness
And a list of facts with footnotes and no villain?
Yeah. That’ll go great.
When someone’s beliefs are tied to their identity or sense of control, pushing back with cold logic often makes them dig deeper. It doesn’t feel like a correction. It feels like a threat to the self.
What Actually Works
If we want to push back against conspiracy thinking, we must stop lecturing and start storytelling.
Use emotionally compelling narratives to convey truth.
Don’t just tell people what to believe, show them how to evaluate what they’re hearing.
Skip the shame. People don’t change their minds when they feel mocked.
We also need to teach psychological inoculation—help people understand why conspiracy theories are tempting and how cognitive biases manipulate us. Give them tools to spot manipulation before it takes hold.
Fighting conspiracy theories isn’t about overwhelming people with data. It’s about encouraging people to learn how to think, not just what to think.
Remember, Conspiracy Thinking Isn’t Just About Being Wrong—It’s About Being Human
At their core, conspiracy theories aren’t just intellectual mistakes. They’re emotional responses to a chaotic, confusing world. They’re about our human need for Order, Clarity, and Community. We're all susceptible to the pull in a world that often offers none of those on demand. That’s why it’s more productive to approach conspiratorial thinking with curiosity, not contempt. Use fact-based stories to challenge it. Build trust rather than debate clubs. And most importantly, learn to examine your emotional reactions to what you believe.
Because We All Have Personal Conspiracy Theories
Not all conspiracy theories are about the Illuminati or lizard people. Some are deeply personal, strangely petty, and—let’s be honest—relatable.
Take mine: I’m convinced my dog understands English perfectly… and chooses to ignore me. That’s not disobedience. That’s premeditated gaslighting.
I also believe my printer has a grudge. It jams only when I’m in a rush and only when the document is important. Coincidence? I think not.
These little beliefs aren’t just quirks but part of how our brains deal with everyday frustration and helplessness. They’re called personal agency illusions—tiny narratives that help us make sense of infuriating randomness.
Now I am in the mood to confess. The simulation Hypothesis Is Weirdly Compelling.
I have to admit I almost believe in the simulation hypothesis. You know, the idea that life is just one elaborate video game run by a higher-dimensional IT department? It explains so much.
The weird déjà vu. The coffee spills just after you change into clean clothes.
The moment you open your mouth in a Zoom meeting, and someone tells you that “you are on mute.”
I know the simulation hypothesis is a philosophical idea from Nick Bostrom.
But when Elon Musk also believes it, I feel like it’s become a TED Talk and a crypto scam that had a baby. Still, it’s comforting. The glitches in my life suddenly feel designed—like I’m not unlucky, I’m just running outdated firmware.
Check the Buzz Before You Buy the Belief
Awareness is the first line of defense. The next time a theory, idea, or story…
It gives you a sudden sense of control.
Neatly explains the chaos of the world.
Makes you feel excited, entertained, and superior to the “sheep”...
Pause.
You might not be discovering the hidden truth.
You might just be getting high on your brain’s favorite psychological cocktail: certainty, entertainment, belonging, and uniqueness.
You may be falling for the narrative equivalent of comfort food: warm, satisfying, and completely fake.
Be a Fact Detective
Not because the truth is always fun. But because it’s almost always harder, messier, and far more critical than the lie.
So: Be curious. Stay skeptical. Stay human.
And remember:
Reality is often random.
Mostly boring.
Frequently unfair.
And still—real.
So, beware of any idea that feels too good to be true.
Because it probably is.
Enjoyed this post? Please share it, discuss it, or leave a comment below. I’d love to hear your own wild encounters with conspiracy culture—or how you’ve learned to resist the narrative trap. Follow me for the future deep dives into psychology, belief, and stories that shape us.