by Gregory Preston
A Firsthand Look at Misinformation, Conspiracy Theories, and the Relentless War on Common Sense
I swear, if I hear one more person tell me that some secret group of “elites” is controlling the world through ancient symbols, I might actually lose my mind.
It happens more often than I’d like to admit. Sometimes, it’s a guy at the pub who leans in like he’s about to whisper the secrets of the universe, only to regurgitate some nonsense about the Freemasons and the New World Order. Other times, it’s an old friend who’s gone too deep into the YouTube rabbit hole and now believes the moon landing was staged. And then there are the real gems—the ones who tell me, with a straight face, that the Earth is flat, that 5G towers are controlling our thoughts, or that a group of hooded figures is plotting world domination from a candlelit basement somewhere.
It’s exhausting.
But here’s the thing: these people aren’t stupid. That’s what makes all of this so frustrating. They’re just caught in a trap—one that preys on their need for certainty in an uncertain world. They think they’re in on some grand secret, that they’ve cracked a code the rest of us are too blind to see. But in reality? They’re just tangled in a web of misinformation, clinging to nonsense because it makes them feel like they’ve got things figured out.
And I get it. I really do. The world is a messy, unpredictable place. It’s chaotic. Random. Things happen that don’t make sense, and when the answers aren’t clear, the human brain fills in the gaps. That’s not a flaw in our thinking—it’s just how we’re wired. We crave patterns. We look for meaning. If we don’t understand something, we construct a story that makes sense to us.
For most of human history, this instinct was useful. When our ancestors saw rustling in the tall grass, assuming it was a predator rather than the wind kept them alive. In a world where danger lurked in the unknown, it made sense to err on the side of caution and believe in unseen threats. But in the modern world, where information spreads faster than ever, that same instinct can betray us.
Think about it. Someone sees an unexplained event—a politician’s decision, a global crisis, a sudden technological breakthrough. The real explanation might be complex, requiring years of expertise to fully understand. But a conspiracy theory? That offers a simple, emotionally satisfying answer. It provides a villain, a narrative, a reason for everything. And once someone believes they’ve discovered “the truth,” they feel empowered. They’re no longer just another person trying to make sense of things—they’re part of a select group who “sees through the lies.”
That’s where the real danger comes in. Because once someone buys into one conspiracy theory, they’re far more likely to believe others. It’s never just one—it becomes a domino effect. The moon landing was fake? Well, then NASA must be lying. If NASA is lying, then maybe climate change is a hoax too. If that’s a hoax, maybe world governments are all in on it. And suddenly, a person who started with a single doubt is questioning everything—except the conspiracy theories themselves.
Just because something feels right doesn’t mean it is right. But by the time someone is fully immersed in that world, logic doesn’t matter. That’s why fighting misinformation is so hard. And why it’s so damn frustrating.
The War of the Worlds and the Birth of Collective Panic
If you want to understand how easy it is to get people to believe something absurd, look no further than the War of the Worlds broadcast of 1938.
Orson Welles and his team at CBS decided to do a little radio experiment—a dramatized alien invasion, presented as if it were a real news report. The problem? People missed the part where they mentioned it was fiction.
The broadcast unfolded like a slow-burning nightmare. A reporter, his voice trembling, described explosions on the surface of Mars. Then, chaos—Martians landing in New Jersey, deploying death rays, leveling entire towns. Listeners who tuned in late had no reason to suspect it was anything but real. This wasn’t just a story—it was a live event happening in real time.
What followed has since become legend. Newspapers reported that people ran screaming into the streets. Some packed up their belongings and tried to flee town. Others flooded police stations with panicked calls, desperate for information. The reaction was described as mass hysteria—proof that, under the right conditions, people could be made to believe just about anything.
Except, there’s a catch: the actual level of panic wasn’t as extreme as the media made it seem.
Historians now suggest that the “nationwide terror” was exaggerated, fueled more by sensationalist newspaper reports than actual widespread chaos. Some people were alarmed, sure, but the image of a country descending into panic was largely a manufactured narrative. It made for a great story, and so it stuck.
And that’s where this incident becomes even more interesting—because it wasn’t just a case of people believing in something false. It was a case of the false belief itself becoming a truth through repetition. Even today, most people still assume that War of the Worlds threw America into chaos. That’s how misinformation works: a story, told often enough and with enough conviction, becomes reality—even when it isn’t.
Fast-Forward to Today: The Internet as a Misinformation Machine
Now, let’s fast-forward nearly a century, where the same phenomenon plays out daily—except now, instead of a radio broadcast, we have Facebook, Twitter, and a thousand conspiracy-laden corners of the internet spreading misinformation at the speed of light. And instead of an alien invasion, the fearmongering revolves around everything from vaccines to secret societies.
Think about it: the War of the Worlds panic was fueled by a single night of radio. Now, imagine what happens when millions of people are exposed to misinformation 24/7.
A single tweet, a viral video, or a misleading news article can reach millions within minutes. Unlike in 1938, where people eventually realized the truth when they read the next day’s newspaper, today’s misinformation is harder to correct. Once a false story takes off, it never really dies—it just mutates.
This is where conspiracy theories thrive. A blurry video, an out-of-context quote, or a vague claim from an anonymous “whistleblower” is all it takes to start a fire. And once people want to believe something, they don’t need proof—they just need someone else who believes it too.
The War of the Worlds panic might have been exaggerated, but it taught us something invaluable: people want to make sense of the world, and when given incomplete information, they will fill in the gaps—often in ways that confirm their worst fears.
Now, instead of a single night of confusion, we have an endless, self-perpetuating cycle of misinformation. The difference? The stakes are much higher. In 1938, people were afraid of aliens. Today, people make life-altering decisions—rejecting science, distrusting institutions, and turning against one another—all because of carefully crafted falsehoods.
And, as always, Freemasonry has found itself at the center of it.
Why People Fall for This Stuff
The real question isn’t what people believe—it’s why they believe it.
Nobody wakes up one morning and thinks, You know what? I bet the world is secretly ruled by reptilian overlords. No, it’s a slow process. A small seed of doubt, planted in just the right place, can grow into a full-blown delusion.
It starts with something simple: humans hate uncertainty. If something big happens—say, a world-altering event, an economic crash, or a national tragedy—our brains go into overdrive trying to make sense of it. Some people are satisfied with reality, with facts. Others? They need something bigger, something grander. A hidden hand pulling the strings.
And if that hidden hand can’t be proven, even better. The less evidence there is, the more certain they become that the truth is being covered up.
Psychologists call this pattern-seeking behavior—the human tendency to see meaning and connections where none exist. It’s what makes us find faces in clouds, or assume that two unrelated events must somehow be connected. When people can’t find a logical explanation for something, their brains try to create one. And once that process begins, it’s hard to stop.
The Role of Confirmation Bias: Seeing What You Want to See
Once someone starts heading down the conspiracy rabbit hole, confirmation bias kicks in. This is the mental shortcut that makes people look for evidence that supports their beliefs while ignoring anything that contradicts them.
Let’s say someone believes that a secret society is running the world. They search online and find a blurry YouTube video claiming that a politician made a “hidden hand gesture” in a speech. That’s proof of a secret society! Then, they read an article debunking the claim—explaining that the gesture was meaningless, just a natural hand movement. Do they reconsider? No. Instead, they dismiss the debunking as “fake news” or “propaganda.”
And this is where things get dangerous. Every piece of evidence against them reinforces their belief instead of weakening it.
A friend sends them a fact-checked article? That’s just part of the cover-up.
A scientist debunks the claim? The scientist must be part of the conspiracy.
A journalist writes a well-researched piece disproving it? The media is controlled by the elites!
This cycle continues until the person is completely locked in. They’ve built an impenetrable mental fortress, one where everything confirms their beliefs, and nothing can challenge them.
The Identity Trap: When Belief Becomes Self-Defense
At a certain point, conspiracy theories stop being about facts and start being about identity.
Believing in a conspiracy makes people feel special. They’re no longer just another person struggling to make sense of the world—they’re in the know. They’re the enlightened ones, the ones who see the truth while the rest of us remain blind.
That’s why arguing with a conspiracy theorist rarely works. You’re not just challenging their beliefs—you’re threatening their sense of self.
Imagine spending years believing in something, investing your time, your emotions, maybe even your friendships in defending it. Then suddenly, you’re presented with undeniable proof that it’s all wrong. That would mean admitting you’ve been fooled. And no one wants to admit they’ve been fooled.
So instead, they dig in. Hard.
This is why conspiracy theorists become so defensive and aggressive when challenged. It’s not just about proving a point anymore—it’s about protecting their identity. The more they are questioned, the more they double down.
This is also why conspiracy theories are so hard to break. They don’t just explain the world—they make the believer feel like they have a purpose in it. They’re the rebels, the warriors of truth, the ones fighting against the lies. To let go of that belief is to let go of a part of themselves.
Freemasonry: The Original Scapegoat
Nowhere is the power of conspiracy thinking more apparent than with Freemasonry, which has been a target of misinformation for centuries. You’d think that in a world filled with real problems—wars, economic crises, environmental disasters—people would have better things to do than spin wild tales about a fraternity built on self-improvement and charity. But no.
Freemasons, according to conspiracy theorists, are everywhere—pulling strings, controlling world governments, running secret underground cities, and worshiping everything from the Devil to ancient Egyptian gods. And let’s not forget the classic Illuminati crossover, where people slap a pyramid symbol on anything remotely mysterious and declare it “proof” that Freemasons are behind everything.
It doesn’t matter that none of it holds up to even the most basic scrutiny. It doesn’t matter that Freemasonry is not a secret society (it’s a society with secrets, which is very different). The allure of the hidden hand is just too strong.
A History of Fear and Scapegoating
Conspiracy theories about Freemasonry didn’t just appear out of nowhere—they have deep historical roots.
Take the Anti-Masonic Party of the early 19th century in the United States. This was an entire political movement built on the belief that Freemasons were conspiring to overthrow democracy. Why? Because one Masonic member, William Morgan, disappeared under mysterious circumstances in 1826 after threatening to publish Masonic rituals. There was no hard evidence of a Masonic cover-up, but the story took on a life of its own. Soon, anti-Masonic sentiment swept across the country, leading to one of America’s earliest third-party movements.
Or consider the Nazi regime’s persecution of Freemasons. Hitler, always looking for an enemy to blame, labeled Freemasonry part of the Jewish world conspiracy. Freemasonic lodges were shut down, members were arrested, and propaganda painted them as traitors to the state. Again, no real evidence—just a convenient scapegoat.
These patterns repeat over and over. When people don’t understand something, they fear it. And when they fear it, they make up stories to justify that fear.
The Irony: A Society That Teaches Critical Thinking
The real kicker? Freemasonry actually teaches critical thinking.
It encourages its members to seek knowledge, to question, to learn—the very things conspiracy theorists claim to value. But they don’t want to see that. Because if they did, they’d have to face the uncomfortable truth: they’ve been wasting their time chasing shadows. And that’s the biggest irony of all.
How Falsehoods Gain Momentum
Ever heard of the Philadelphia Experiment?
It’s the story of a supposed U.S. Navy experiment in 1943, where the USS Eldridge was made invisible—and then accidentally teleported across time and space. Some versions of the story say sailors were fused into the walls of the ship. Others claim the entire crew went insane, their minds shattered by whatever eldritch forces had been unleashed.
Sounds like the plot of a bad sci-fi movie, right? That’s because it is.
The entire thing originated from one letter sent to a UFO researcher. No official records, no credible witnesses—just a single story that got picked up, twisted, and reimagined over the years. By the time it reached mainstream conspiracy circles, it had transformed from a bizarre rumor into a full-blown legend.
This is how misinformation spreads. It starts as a tiny seed of speculation, then snowballs into something much bigger than itself. Each retelling adds new details, each new believer reinforces the myth, and soon enough, it becomes “truth”—at least in the minds of those who want to believe it.
Once a story reaches that level, good luck stopping it.
Freemasonry and the Misinformation Machine
Freemasonry has been subjected to the exact same process. One ridiculous claim leads to another, and before long, the internet is filled with entire communities dedicated to spreading these myths.
Consider how one person’s misinterpretation of a symbol—say, the all-seeing eye or a handshake—can snowball into a global conspiracy theory. A simple depiction of an obelisk in Washington D.C.? Proof of Masonic control. A world leader photographed near a compass-and-square emblem? Evidence of a secret society pulling the strings.
It doesn’t matter that these symbols have historical and philosophical meanings that predate conspiracy theories. It doesn’t matter that no credible evidence exists linking Freemasonry to world domination. Once an idea gains momentum, logic becomes irrelevant.
And if you try to explain that to someone who has fully embraced the theory? Forget it.
They’ll defend it like their life depends on it—not because they have proof, but because they’ve invested too much of themselves in believing it.
Once misinformation takes root, it doesn’t just become a story—it becomes a belief system. And belief is far harder to disprove than a simple misunderstanding.
The Mental Toll of Conspiracy Thinking: Trapped in a World of Fear
At first, conspiracy theories seem harmless—just a fun little diversion, an alternative way of looking at the world. But for many people, they become all-consuming. What starts as a curiosity quickly mutates into an obsession, and before long, their entire worldview is shaped by a deep-seated distrust of reality itself. I’ve seen it firsthand. I know people who have spent decades glued to their screens, consuming an endless stream of conspiratorial content. They tell themselves they’re “researching,” that they’re “waking up” to hidden truths. But in reality, they’re doing the opposite—they’re shutting themselves off from the real world.
The Psychological Effects of Total Belief
Trading genuine understanding for a fantasy that keeps them afraid. The long-term mental effects of conspiracy thinking are devastating. For starters, paranoia becomes a way of life. When you’re convinced that everything around you is a deception—when you believe the media lies, the government is out to get you, and entire institutions are conspiring to control your thoughts—you stop trusting anyone. Your neighbors? Might be “sheep” who don’t see the truth. Your doctor? Probably “in on it.” Your own family? Brainwashed by the system.
I’ve seen people lose friendships, jobs, and even relationships because they can’t function outside their bubble of fear. The deeper they go, the more they isolate themselves. And in that isolation, the conspiracy world becomes all they have left.
The Illusion of Lost Freedom
One of the biggest ironies of all? Conspiracy theorists believe they’re fighting for their freedom, when in reality, they’ve already lost it. They rage against imaginary forces that they claim are taking away their rights, but the only freedom they’ve actually lost is the ability to think critically. They talk about resisting oppression, but the real oppression comes from the very people feeding them these lies. The grifters, the influencers, the so-called “truth seekers” who profit off their fear. These conspiracy-pushers aren’t interested in setting people free—they want them addicted. Hooked. Dependent. And they are. The people who claim to have “broken free” from the system are more controlled than anyone else.
Their entire lives revolve around avoiding nonexistent threats, clinging to beliefs that aren’t even their own, dictated by faceless internet figures they’ve never met. Meanwhile, the rest of us? We go to work. We enjoy time with family. We live. They don’t.
A Life in Chains
That’s the final tragedy of the conspiracy mindset—it robs people of their own lives. While the rest of us are out enjoying the world, they’re locked in a prison of their own making. While we’re moving forward, they’re stuck in place—waiting for the next “big reveal,” the next “smoking gun” that will prove them right. But it never comes. It’s never enough. Because the truth is, these people don’t really want proof. They don’t want an answer. They want the chase. The feeling that they’re part of something bigger. The idea that they’ve got it all figured out. And so they stay in the loop. Trapped. Controlled. Not by the government. Not by the media. Not by the Freemasons. But by the very people they believe are leading them to freedom.
Breaking Free from the Cycle
So how do we fix this? How do we stop misinformation from spreading? For starters, it’s not about arguing.
You’ll never win a fight against someone who’s emotionally invested in their belief. Once a conspiracy theory becomes part of someone’s identity, challenging it feels like a personal attack. If you’ve ever tried to reason with someone convinced that a secret society controls the world, you know exactly how this goes. Facts don’t matter. Logic doesn’t matter. To them, you’re the one who’s blind—a sheep who just doesn’t get it.
But that doesn’t mean all hope is lost. The key isn’t to argue—it’s to change how people think about information in the first place.
Freemasonry, at its core, is about the pursuit of truth. It’s about asking questions—not just about the world, but about yourself. It’s about having the humility to say, Maybe I don’t have all the answers. Most conspiracy theorists don’t ask questions. They demand answers—immediate, absolute answers that confirm their worldview. And if reality doesn’t provide the answer they want, they invent one.
This is where the battle against misinformation must be fought—not by shouting down falsehoods, but by teaching critical thinking. If more people understood how to evaluate sources, recognize bias, and question their own assumptions, misinformation wouldn’t stand a chance. But here’s the hard part: thinking critically isn’t comfortable.
Conspiracy theories thrive because they simplify a complicated world. They provide a villain, a narrative, and a sense of control. The truth, on the other hand, is often messy, unsatisfying, and full of unknowns. It requires humility, something conspiracy theorists lack. And that’s why those of us who care about truth have a responsibility.
A responsibility to think critically, to challenge our own biases, and to resist the pull of comfortable lies. A responsibility to approach the world with curiosity, not paranoia—to see uncertainty as an invitation to learn, not a void that must be filled with wild speculation.
Because at the end of the day, truth isn’t always easy. It isn’t always satisfying. It doesn’t come wrapped in a neat little package, and it doesn’t always give us the answers we want.
But it’s real. And that is what truly sets us free.
Exit Stage Left
At the end of the day, the real secret isn’t hidden behind locked doors or whispered in candlelit basements—it’s right in front of us. Truth, understanding, and personal growth don’t come from chasing shadows or fearing the unknown. They come from learning, questioning, and seeing the world as it truly is—not as someone else imagines it to be.
So if you’ve made it this far, thank you. I appreciate your time, your curiosity, and your willingness to reflect on something new.
I hope this gave you something to think about, maybe even a new way to look at the world. Because at the end of the day, there’s more to life than chasing conspiracies, fearing the unseen, or believing in stories designed to control through fear. There’s wisdom, discovery, and the lifelong pursuit of truth—which is exactly what Freemasonry has always been about.
If this article challenged your thinking or sparked an idea, I invite you to come back to The Masonic Journey. There’s plenty more to explore—because Freemasonry isn’t just about history, symbols, or rituals. It’s about perspective, about seeing the bigger picture, and about finding meaning in places others overlook.
The journey continues.
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