Conspiracy - Part 3 - Heroes

Conspiracy is a popular explanation for events. However, the theory seems to have little basis in reality.

We’ve witnessed several genuine conspiracies in this country, but refused to use that term. During the civil war, John Wilkes Booth plotted with fellow confederate sympathizers to murder Abraham Lincoln and other union leaders. We dismiss it as an act of war, or the isolated act of an egotist. Perhaps we’ve clothed the horror of that war in the romanticism that drove us to fight in the first place, and dare not look beyond.

More recently, we’ve seen groups of individuals working through informal networks to replace the existing government with roots in the New Deal of Franklin Roosevelt with a model from before the progressives, perhaps the world of William McKinley. Journalists have identified the individuals who financed the conservative movement or who founded various groups, and documented how the disparate groups began to cooperate to reach their varied goals.

Yet, when Hilary Clinton referred to her husband’s opponents as a "vast right wing conspiracy" she was ridiculed by journalists who themselves were being used by that network.
The reason. It was easier to identify her as a villain than a network of unknown people.

Even though the term conspiracy refers to the workings of a group, our popular image is drawn from Goldfinger and The Godfather. We expect conspiracies to be organizations run by single, omnipotent individuals. As such, our view of a conspiracy is a mythic view of a paternalistic past, not a realistic view of how things operate in the present.

Conspiracy theories are neither universal nor constant in American history. They appear when people’s experience contradicts what they’ve been raised to believe. They resurfaced when Jack Kennedy was murdered because we believed we’d reached a level of civilization where such things no longer happened. They were part of the Communist world, or South America, but not here.

We knew there were still deranged individuals, but we believed our society and its institutions had evolved to protect us from such random acts. Our focus turned to groups who were supposed to protect us, the CIA, and to those who were expected to explain such events, special commissions with experts like Arlen Specter.

Our conspiracy theories do not explain things that work, like the election of George W. Bush. They attempt to explain things that fail.

Tales about complicit policemen, always unnamed, explain the failure of the municipal government. Rumors about people keeping their jobs because they have the goods on someone rationalize the failure of an organization to keep itself vital.

In an earlier age, those failures would be attributed to witchcraft or the evil eye, and trials would be proposed to restore order. When Lincoln died, the more secular Walt Whitman mediated on death, the great obsession of the 19th century. Our scientific age requires a rational, causal explanation. When none exists, people can only induce one from bits of their experience, the small group interactions of family, church and public school where they know the actors well and cliques and feuds are the rule.

The solution follows from the explanation. If failure is caused by a single villain, then the answer is a more powerful hero. At my last employer, where the failures of management became so obvious no one could protect anyone, people replaced the conspiracy theory that no longer worked with a new savior story, the belief that it was only a matter of time before the customer, the government, would act to punish the evil doers by canceling the contract.

Companies are rarely like Shatterproof Glass, where a single person runs the company, and is recognized as doing so by every single employee. In most places, the head is a faceless name, the lines of genuine communication hidden. If Shatterproof failed, everyone knew it was because of the pigheadedness of the old man. People at my last employer still believe the government or its corporate agent would act effectively.

Both assume someone, somewhere is in charge. Most people who vote in local elections are more cynical. They don’t expect a new mayor or school board member to improve police protection or the quality of education or address violence in the schools. The unease that led to conspiratorial whispers cannot be allayed the way it can when there’s still faith someone can act.

Ever since United States Steel and Chrysler had problems in the 1970s, auto companies, air lines, other corporations with problems, know the government thinks they deserve what has happened to them and will refuse to help. If my last employer loses the contract, its parent corporation will blame the CEO who’s so busy firing people to show he can act in a crisis. If GM fails, how can anyone say it was Alfred P. Sloan’s management method when it worked so well so long? How can you or I say it’s Rick Wagoner, when he helped the company survive 10 years ago?

How can you have hope after Ross Perot made rousing speeches against GM, but did nothing? The one place still has hope and a new narrative. Detroit is disillusioned, and can find no heroes. Some stockholders may hope Kirk Kerkorian will be the one who finally saves GM from itself, but most remember his role in the sale of Chrysler to Daimler-Benz.

Folklore arises when there is a need and an explanation, like Shatterproof and the last employer. When there is a need, but not enough knowledge to develop an explanation, conspiratorial thinking appears like those who’ve given up on city politics. When there is a need, but experience no longer suggests an explanation, there is superstitious repetitions like GM.