Politics
Opinion: Want to convince a conspiracy theory believer they're wrong? Don't start with the truth
Not long ago, a millennial father of two in the Midwest whom I interviewed was convinced that many of our elected leaders like to feast on the flesh of children. He feared that the world was at the mercy of a depraved club of the richest and most powerful among us, one armed with space lasers and clones.
Most shocking to those who knew him weren’t the conspiracy theories themselves. It was that he had come to believe them. Nearing 40 years old, he was a college-educated, upstanding guy with friends, a family and an established career. How, they wondered, had this perfectly sane person gone crazy?
It’s a question more and more Americans are asking about their own loved ones. As disinformation permeates our culture, the road to QAnon-type territory is getting shorter. Healthy skepticism easily gives way to undue suspicion. The dizzying public reaction to Donald Trump’s near-assassination was a perfect illustration: Observers across the political spectrum raced to fill the information void with baseless assertions that have gained momentum despite mounting evidence to the contrary, revealing a nation increasingly at odds with reality.
The statistics are as stunning as the falsehoods. Millions of people now believe that the government, media and financial worlds are “controlled by Satan-worshiping pedophiles,” according to recent polling. These aren’t loosely held views. While reporting for my book “The Quiet Damage,” I talked to people all over the country who had tried until they were blue in the face to make the conspiracy theorists in their lives accept the truth.
But the truth is almost beside the point.
It seems entirely sensible to fight fiction with fact. In spite of passionately professed allegiances to “the truth,” however, ardent conspiracy theory adopters seldom have a desire to be accurately informed. Belief in the unbelievable, in many cases, stems from desperation to meet fundamental human needs, such as feeling valued and having a purpose. Over the last three years, while interviewing hundreds of disinformation-splintered families, it has become clear to me that facts alone can’t fix this. The solution begins with treating conspiracy theory obsession not as a sickness but as a symptom.
For the Midwestern father, the trouble began after an injury largely robbed him of his mobility — and, in turn, much of his life’s meaning. Once an active family man, he was suddenly stuck in a chair. His wife took up solo hobbies and completed the housework alone; his children played with friends instead of with their dad. If he couldn’t fulfill his role as a husband and father in the ways he always had, who was he?
In the QAnon quagmire, which he eventually stumbled into online, he was a patriot helping to bring “deep state” corruption to light. One of the good guys fighting the good fight. Someone who mattered again. During his gradual journey from QAnon-curious to feverishly embracing the most crackpot claims, his critical thinking skills didn’t mysteriously vanish — they were overpowered.
Human needs are just that: needs. Our innate need for things such as meaning and belonging is superseded only by what the body requires for subsistence, and not by any thirst for accuracy or truth. When these needs go unmet, we can become desperate to satisfy them by whatever means necessary. And the conditions that leave people deprived of what they need and susceptible to irrational conspiracy theories are common — and commonly overlooked.
In movements such as QAnon, the lonely find belonging, the aimless find direction and the angry find validation. Consider baby boomers, who share an alarming amount of fake news online. Many people believe that some mix of cognitive aging, poor digital literacy and too much Fox News is to blame. But this overlooks a bigger issue. Conspiracy-theory-entranced seniors have described to me how, before adopting a QAnon-like brand of what some called “activism,” they felt as if society no longer valued or had use for them. Facing what experts have identified as an “epidemic of loneliness,” they yearned for purpose, community and fulfillment.
By their nature, conspiracy theories provide all of the above. They give supporters an enemy to oppose and a cause to rally around. It’s not difficult to see how churning out Facebook posts (errantly) warning about killer COVID vaccines could have felt like a gratifying self-appointed job in retirement. Or how latching onto delusions that offer convenient answers and clear villains in times of debilitating uncertainty can restore feelings of agency and security.
There’s no singular mold of conspiracy theorists or set of circumstances that shapes them. In my research, I’ve encountered people of all generations, classes, races and political leanings. All had their own reasons for believing and their own needs to satisfy. A political psychology study published on factors that predispose people to conspiracy theories shows that those less capable of “bouncing back” from hardship are more susceptible, suggesting that espousing these views can be a crutch. At the deepest level, then, it doesn’t necessarily matter to believers whether Taylor Swift is truly a psy-op or chemtrails are poisoning the skies. What matters is how clinging to such convictions serves the believers’ underlying needs.
In the end, it wasn’t the truth that saved the Midwestern father, though he has come to see it clearly again. After badly damaging his life at rock bottom of the rabbit hole, he carved a long, sometimes bizarre and profoundly difficult path toward recovering his sense of purpose as a parent and partner. Only then did the ludicrous lies he’d been so consumed by lose their hold over him. He no longer needed them.
Success stories like this will remain rare if we don’t shift our approach to this crisis. We’re living in a moment where a slew of critical stressors, including an unprecedented election season and an artificial intelligence boom, are fueling a tsunami of disinformation and leaving many of us mentally and emotionally compromised. As more Americans turn to conspiracy theories to cope, we must remind ourselves that we can’t do away with delusions that meet people’s fundamental needs by simply debunking them. We need to focus on the cause, not the symptom — to look past the lunacy and probe the roots of our collective vulnerability — because none of us is as immune as we would like to think.
Jesselyn Cook is a reporter and journalism lecturer. Her new book is “The Quiet Damage: QAnon and the Destruction of the American Family.”
Politics
Video: Virginia Voters Approve New Map Favoring Democrats
new video loaded: Virginia Voters Approve New Map Favoring Democrats
By Shawn Paik
April 22, 2026
Politics
WATCH: Sen Warren unloads on Trump’s Fed nominee Kevin Warsh in explosive hearing showdown
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Sparks flew on Capitol Hill as Sen. Elizabeth Warren, D-Mass., accused Federal Reserve nominee Kevin Warsh of being a potential “sock puppet” for President Donald Trump.
Warsh, tapped by Trump in January to lead the Federal Reserve, faced a two-and-a-half-hour confirmation hearing before the Senate Banking, Housing, and Urban Affairs Committee.
If confirmed, he would take the helm of the world’s most powerful central bank, shaping interest rates, borrowing costs and the financial outlook for millions of American households for the next four years.
WHO IS KEVIN WARSH, TRUMP’S PICK TO SUCCEED JEROME POWELL AS FED CHAIR?
Kevin Warsh, nominee for chairman of the Federal Reserve, listens to ranking member Sen. Elizabeth Warren, D-Mass., make an opening statement during his Senate Banking, Housing and Urban Affairs Committee confirmation hearing on Tuesday, April 21, 2026. (Tom Williams/CQ-Roll Call, Inc via Getty Images)
In her opening remarks, Warren sharply criticized Warsh’s record and questioned his independence, arguing he is “uniquely ill-suited for the job as Fed chair” and warning he could give Trump influence over the central bank.
She accused Warsh of enabling Wall Street during the 2008 financial crisis, which fell during his tenure as a Federal Reserve governor when he served from 2006 to 2011.
“In our meeting last week, we discussed the 2008 financial crash, where 8 million people lost their jobs, 10 million people lost their homes and millions more lost their life savings,” Warren said. “Giant banks, however, got hundreds of billions of dollars in bailouts… and he said to me that he has no regrets about anything he did.”
She added that Warsh “worked tirelessly to arrange multibillion-dollar bailouts” for Wall Street CEOs, with nothing for American families.
The hearing grew more tense as Warren pivoted to ethics concerns, pressing Warsh over his undisclosed financial holdings and questioning him over links to business dealings connected to the late convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein.
The two spoke over each other and raised their voices in a heated exchange on Capitol Hill.
WARSH’S $226 MILLION FORTUNE UNDER SCRUTINY AS FED NOMINEE FACES SENATE CONFIRMATION
Sen. Elizabeth Warren: The Fed has been plagued by deeply disturbing ethics scandals in recent years. It’s critical that the next chair have no financial conflicts — none. You have more than $100 million in investments that you have refused to disclose. So let me ask: do the Juggernaut Fund or THSDFS LLC invest in companies affiliated with President Trump or his family, companies tied to money laundering, Chinese-controlled firms, or financing vehicles linked to Jeffrey Epstein?
Kevin Warsh: Senator, I’ve worked closely with the Office of Government Ethics and agreed to divest all of my financial assets.
Warren: Could you answer my question, please? You have more than $100 million in undisclosed assets. Are any of those investments tied to the entities I just mentioned? It’s a yes-or-no question.
Warsh: I have worked tirelessly with ethics officials and agreed to sell all of my assets before taking the oath of office.
Warren: Are you refusing to tell us if you have investments in vehicles linked to Jeffrey Epstein? You just won’t say?
Warsh: What I’m telling you is those assets will be sold if I’m confirmed.
Warren: Will you disclose how you plan to divest these assets? The public might question your motives if, for example, someone who profits from predicting Fed policy cuts you a $100 million check as you take office.
Sen. Elizabeth Warren questions Kevin Warsh during his Senate Banking, Housing and Urban Affairs Committee confirmation hearing on Tuesday, April 21, 2026. (Tom Williams/CQ-Roll Call, Inc via Getty Images)
Warsh: I’ve reached a full agreement with the Office of Government Ethics and will divest those assets before taking the oath.
Warren: I’m asking a very straightforward question. Will you disclose how you divest those assets?
Warsh: As I’ve said, I’ve worked with ethics officials.
Warren: I’ll take that as a no.
In a separate exchange, Warren invoked Trump’s past statements about the Fed and challenged Warsh to prove his independence in real time.
She insisted that Warsh answer whether he believes Trump won the 2020 presidential election and if he would name policies of the president with which he disagrees. The hopeful future Fed chair dodged the question and said he would remain apolitical, if confirmed.
THE ONE LINE IN WARSH’S TESTIMONY SIGNALING A BREAK FROM THE FED’S STATUS QUO
Warren: Donald Trump has made clear he does not want an independent Fed. He has said, “Anybody that disagrees with me will never be Fed chairman.” He’s also said interest rates will drop “when Kevin gets in.” Let’s check out your independence and your courage. We’ll start easy. Mr. Warsh, did Donald Trump lose the 2020 election?
Warsh: Senator, we should keep politics out of the Federal Reserve.
Warren: I’m asking a factual question.
Warsh: This body certified the election.
Warren: That’s not what I asked. Did Donald Trump lose in 2020?
Warsh: The Fed should stay out of politics.
Warren: In our meeting, you said you’re a “tough guy” who can stand up to President Trump. So name one aspect of his economic agenda you disagree with.
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Kevin Warsh listens to a question during a Senate Banking, Housing, and Urban Affairs Committee confirmation hearing on Tuesday, April 21, 2026. (Graeme Sloan/Bloomberg via Getty Images)
Warsh: That’s not something I’m prepared to do. The Fed should stay in its lane.
Warren: Just one place where you disagree.
Warsh: I do have one disagreement — he said I looked like I was out of central casting. I think I’d look older and grayer.
Warren: That’s adorable. But we need a Fed chair who is independent. If you can’t answer these questions, you don’t have the courage or the independence.
Politics
Commentary: He honked to support a ‘No Kings’ rally. A cop busted him
On March 28, a sunny Saturday in southwestern Utah, Jack Hoopes and his wife, Lorna, brought their homemade signs to the local “No Kings” rally.
The couple joined a crowd of 1,500 or so marching through the main picnic area of a park in downtown St. George. Their signs — cut-out words on a black background — chided lawmakers for failing to stand up to President Trump and urged America to “make lying wrong again.”
After about an hour, the two were ready to go home. They got in their silver Volvo SUV, but before pulling away, Jack Hoopes decided to swing past the demonstration, which was still going strong. He tooted his horn, twice, in a show of solidarity.
That’s when things took a curious turn.
A police officer parked in the middle of the street warned Hoopes not to honk; at least that’s what he thinks the officer said as Hoopes drove past the chanting crowd. When he spotted two familiar faces, Hoopes hit the horn a third time — a friendly, howdy sort of honk. “It wasn’t like I was being obnoxious,” he said, “or laying on the horn.”
Hoopes turned a corner and the cop, lights flashing, pulled him over. He asked Hoopes for his license and registration. He returned a few moments later. A passing car sounded its horn. “Are you going to stop him, too?” Hoopes asked.
That did not sit well. The officer said he’d planned to let Hoopes off with a warning. Instead, he charged the 71-year-old retired potato farmer with violating Utah’s law on horns and warning devices. He issued a citation, with a fine punishable up to $50.
Hoopes — a law school graduate and prosecutor in the days before he took up potato farming — is fighting back, even though he estimates the legal skirmishing could cost him considerably more than the maximum fine. The ticket might have resulted from pique on the officer’s part. But Hoopes doesn’t think so. He sees politics at play.
“I’ve beeped my horn for [the pro-law enforcement] Back the Blue. I’ve beeped my horn for Black Lives Matter,” Hoopes said. “I’ve seen a lot of people honk for Trump and for MAGA.”
He’s also seen plenty of times when people honked their horns to celebrate high school championships and the like.
But Hoopes has never heard of anyone being pulled over, much less ticketed, for excessive or unlawful honking. “I think it’s freedom of expression,” he said.
Or should be.
Jack and Lorna Hoopes made their own protest signs to bring to the “No Kings” rally in St. George, Utah.
(Mikayla Whitmore / For The Times)
St. George is a fast-growing community of about 100,000 residents set amid the jagged red-rock peaks of the Mojave Desert. It’s a jumping-off point for Zion National Park, about 40 miles east, and a mecca for golf, hiking and mountain-bike riding.
It’s also Trump Country.
Washington County, where St. George is located, gave Trump 75% of its vote in 2024, with Kamala Harris winning a scant 23%. That emphatic showing compares with Trump’s 59% performance statewide.
St. George is where Hoopes and his wife live most of the time. When summer and its 100-degree temperatures hit, they retreat to southeast Idaho. The couple get along well with their neighbors in both places, Hoopes said, even though they’re Democrats living in ruby-red country. It’s not as though they just tolerate folks, or hold their noses to get by.
“Most of my friends are conservative,” Hoopes said. “Some of the Trump people are very good people. We just have a difference of opinion where our country is going.”
He was speaking from a hotel parking lot in Arizona near Lake Havasu while embarked on an annual motorcycle ride through the Southwest: four days, a dozen riders, 1,200 miles. Most of his companions are Trump supporters, Hoopes said, and, just like back home, everyone gets on fine.
“Right?” he called out.
“No!” a voice hollered back.
Actually, Hoopes joked, his charitable road mates let him ride along because they consider him handicapped — his disability being his political ideology.
Hoopes is not exactly a hellion. In 2014, he and his wife traveled to Africa to participate in humanitarian work and promote sustainable agriculture in Kenya and Uganda. In 2020, they worked as Red Cross volunteers helping wildfire victims in Northern California.
Virtually his entire life has been spent on the right side of the law, though Hoopes allowed as how he has racked up a few speeding tickets over the years. (His career as a prosecutor lasted four years and involved three murder cases in the first 12 months before he left the legal profession behind and took up farming.)
He’s never had any problems with the police in St. George. “They seem to be decent,” Hoopes said.
A department spokesperson, Tiffany Mitchell, said illicit honking is not a widespread problem in the placid, retiree-heavy community, but there are some who have been cited for violations. She denied any political motivation in Hoopes’ case.
“He must’ve felt justified,” Mitchell said of the officer who issued the citation. “I can’t imagine that politics had anything to do with it.”
And yes, she said, honking a horn can be a political statement protected by the 1st Amendment. “But, just like anything else, it can turn criminal,” Mitchell said, and apparently that’s how the officer felt on March 28 “and that’s the direction he took it.”
The matter now rests before a judge, residing in a legal system that has lately been tested and twisted in remarkable ways.
Jack Hoopes’ case is now before a judge in St. George, Utah.
(Mikayla Whitmore / For The Times)
As he left an initial hearing earlier this month, Hoopes said his phone pinged with a fresh headline out of Washington. Trump’s Justice Department, it was reported, was asking a federal appeals court to throw out the convictions of 12 people found guilty of seditious conspiracy for their roles in the Jan. 6, 2021, insurrection.
“We have a president that pardons people that broke into the Capitol and defecated” in the hallways and congressional offices, Hoopes said. “Police officers died because of it, and yet I get picked up for honking my horn?”
Hoopes’ next court appearance, a pretrial conference, is set for July 15.
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