When Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen testified for four hours before Congress last month, she shared a fleeting detail about who's exposed to the most misinformation that should fundamentally shift how we tackle the spread of conspiracy theories online.
Based on internal data Haugen viewed as a former product manager, she described how physically and emotionally isolated users, including people who are divorced, recently widowed, or newly relocated, consume misinformation on the platform at staggering rates.
"The systems meant to keep them safe, like demoting misinformation, stop working when people look at 2,000 posts a day," she said.
Algorithms that reward highly engaging content effectively preyed on grieving or lonely users longing for connection. Haugen's insight demonstrates why it's a mistake to conceive of misinformation, which can include conspiracy theories, as a problem caused only by political polarization and poor media literacy and critical thinking skills. No amount of fact-checking or debunking will fix the emotional and psychological suffering that can make people vulnerable to conspiracy theories in the first place. That's why our approach to misinformation must include solutions that address emotional well-being and mental health.
Research suggests that people who are struggling emotionally and psychologically may be drawn to conspiracy theories because they provide certainty and security, knowledge that makes them feel unique or superior to others, and improved self-esteem as a result. Online communities devoted to misinformation also give followers a sense of belonging. People often work toward a common goal, like decoding QAnon messages or protesting COVID-19 vaccines. The camaraderie is energizing, and it helps soothe the pain of ending relationships with loved ones who hold radically different views. Some argue that we must focus on improving people's capacity for critical thinking as a defense against conspiracy theories. While that's a worthy goal, it won't dispel the allure of finding meaning in false beliefs with others who share the same fervent convictions.
Strategies to tackle misinformation must reflect how exposure to it plays into people's sense of self and well-being. Mental health appears to matter, too. When researchers studied the relationship between anxiety and/or depression and COVID-19 conspiracy theory beliefs, they found a small to moderate effect. In two studies, heightened anxiety was associated with greater embrace of such misinformation. In a third, larger study, the researchers found a relationship between depression and COVID-related conspiracy theory beliefs.
Some might dismiss these findings because the effects are small compared to, say, political identity. After all, plenty of people experience anxiety and depression yet don't become enthralled by conspiracy theories to the point where they spend hours waiting for long-deceased John F. Kennedy, Jr., to emerge from hiding to become Donald J. Trump's 2024 running-mate, as they did last week in Texas. Yet, if we ignore the role that well-being and mental health appears to play for some and insist that fact-checking, debunking, and better algorithms are the only solutions, we'll miss a critical opportunity to address underlying conditions that can help drive people headfirst into conspiracy theories. Someone in pursuit of satisfying explanations about what's happening in their life may reject one debunked theory but embrace another if they remain anxious.
This is why we need to develop conspiracy theory interventions that help people regulate their emotions and tend to their mental health. Someone who's learned to identify anxiousness and manage it with various skills, like breath work, mindfulness, meditation, physical exercise, or creativity, may be less prone to seizing on a conspiracy theory that offers the certainty humans crave. The spread of conspiracy theories in alternative wellness communities, which often preach the value of such reflective practices, suggests that emotional regulation skills should be taught specifically in the context of encountering conspiracy theories online. It's one thing to develop a mindfulness habit to deal with daily stress. It's another to employ such a tool when an algorithm keeps bombarding you with misinformation.
While we should be deeply skeptical of solutions created by social media platforms, because their priority is to make money, it'd be worth testing whether users engaging with misinformation make different choices after the content is flagged and they're invited to participate in mindfulness skill-building designed to help them pause and assess what they're consuming. Platforms could study whether mindfulness skills aimed at alleviating anxiousness or depressive feelings help as well.
Therapists can help people develop these coping skills, but they currently receive no guidance from the American Psychological Association or American Psychiatric Association about how to address conspiracy theories as they arise in treatment. Pathologizing those views as indicative of mental illness, which they are not, would only alienate clients and patients. But therapists should support people as they learn new ways of responding to difficult emotions. They can offer guidance to those who've cultivated relationships, purpose, and self-worth through their immersion in communities built on misinformation.
We also know that conspiracy theory beliefs often target vulnerable groups, turning them into conspirators. Those in the crosshairs can feel heightened fear and anxiety or develop post-traumatic stress, common experiences for Asian Americans who've been discriminated against or attacked during the COVID-19 pandemic. Marginalized people made into villains by various conspiracy theories need access to quality mental health care provided by therapists who will affirm their experiences.
While therapy may play an important role, we must be far more ambitious and creative than relying on people to seek professional help. If some turn to conspiracy theories as a source of comfort, or because their mental health has made them vulnerable to falsehoods, let's try reducing the level of systemic uncertainty so they're less worried about things like paying their rent and putting food on the table. Preliminary research on the effect of stimulus payments during the pandemic found that they significantly decreased symptoms of anxiety and depression. This is good regardless of the desired outcome, but we should explore whether such measures are a partial antidote to the lure of conspiracy theories and disinformation.
The pandemic terrified and isolated people, leaving them desperate for calm and certainty. These are exactly the conditions in which conspiracy theories and disinformation can proliferate with frightening pace. This will not be the last time, either. As climate change fundamentally alters the world, people looking for ways to cope will continue to seek truth and reassurance from dangerous sources.
This moment calls for unconventional thinking. We'll never know what could've prevented the users mentioned by Frances Haugen from descending into a bottomless well of misinformation. It's unlikely they would've been saved by fact-checking or media literacy skills alone. Searching for fulfillment, connection, and certainty, they gravitated toward falsehoods that consumed their daily lives. If we hope to be successful against the destabilizing force of conspiracy theories, we must also look at what people long for emotionally and psychologically and provide them with tools and opportunities to actually get it.
