Occam's Razor and Conspiracy Theory

While watching a show about 9/11 conspiracies, I started thinking about conspiracies and why I am so reluctant to believe them. For the record, I don’t believe that either Kennedy assassination was a conspiracy, I don’t think Big Pharma is conspiring to cause autism with vaccines, I don’t think the moon landing was a hoax, and I don’t think historians invented the Holocaust to make the Nazis look bad.

Of course, I could be wrong.

But I’m probably not.

Because of Occam’s Razor.

Most people think of Occam’s Razor as the principle that the simplest answer is usually right, which is sort of what Occam said. I like Wikipedia’s succinct summary a bit better: the theory “generally recommends selecting the competing hypothesis that makes the fewest new assumptions, when the hypotheses are equal in other respects.”

The so-called Truthers of the 9/11 conspiracies make a whole bunch of unnecessary assumptions about the way the Towers fell. There are LOTS of things people can very legitimately criticize the United States government for (fraud, waste, abuse; stupidity; greed; underhanded dealings; being peopled with oversexed idiots) but when people argue that our government orchestrated the 9/11 attacks, they lead us on a merry chase into speculation, hyperbole, rhetorical flights of fancy, paranoia, and denial of facts.

Cold-blooded terrorists planned and executed an attack on the United States: that’s the simplest answer and it makes the fewest new assumptions.

Of course, I could be wrong.

But I’m probably not.

That’s the beauty of Occam’s Razor.

There’s been a lot of research done on why people come up with conspiracy theories when actual evidence is thin on the ground, and if I live long enough, I’d like to read some of it. I have, however, read a lot about autism, and particularly the vaccine issue. Lots of people continue to believe that vaccines cause autism, despite the ever-growing body of evidence to the contrary. The doctor who started the whole bru-ha-ha, Andrew Wakefield, has been thoroughly discredited, but parents whose children were recently diagnosed will still find scads of information about how damaging vaccines are all over the internet and by listening to celebrities on talk shows.

The rhetoric these sites and celebrities use to argue that vaccines cause autism is, at least superficially, convincing. It appeals to distraught parents on many levels, and many people defend Wakefield despite the rather (to my mind, at least) definitive evidence that he falsified patient records, tampered with test results, and did his testing in an uncertified lab with deeply faulty lab practices. Plus, no other licenced lab has been able to duplicate his results: the kiss of death according to the scientific method.

Unfortunately, the scientific world of mainstream medicine has failed to come up with a really good explanation of the cause of autism to counter the conspiracy theories. Science just can’t give parents a meaningful answer, so parents look for a nice, systematic answer elsewhere. And they find it in accusations of greed directed at Big Pharma...accusations that are at least credible given Big Pharma's history. Until science figures this one out, we parents have to muddle through as best we can, and I really can’t blame those who fall for the conspiracy theory. An answer, after all, is easier to live with than no answer at all.

What little I’ve read about conspiracy theories stresses the fact that our frontal lobes are really active places that like to make all sorts of connections between things; this is a large part of what separates us from, say, golden retrievers. We come up with systems—of government, of manufacturing, of law, of health, of education, and so forth—systems that allowed the Romans to build aqua ducts and Americans to build Apollo 11. I’d like to see a golden retriever do either of those things.*

Conspiracy theories are systems: increasingly elaborate and inherently attractive systems that give meaning, sometimes much greater meaning, to events. Our brains derive pleasure from knowing secrets, figuring out puzzles, and getting at “the truth,” so it’s not hard to see why people who are quite intelligent and reasonable get sucked into believing conspiracy theories. It’s fun to feel like we figured it out.

Furthermore, as much as we like to be right, we are even happier when we think everyone else--especially everyone in authority--is wrong.

Unless, of course, I am wrong.

But I’m probably not.

Because of Occam’s Razor.



*Please note that I’m not maligning golden retrievers, who are pretty special in their own ways. I’d like to see a human find a victim trapped under rubble or shed glorious fur all over someone to cheer them up. You really need a golden for those tasks. But a big frontal lobe is not a gift golden retrievers can claim, as any owner of a delightfully dopey golden will tell you.