Foreign Policy and Conspiracy

Although often dismissed as fringe beliefs, conspiracies are deeply rooted in the opaque and complex nature of international politics. Structural dynamics and cognitive biases challenge the interpretation of global actions, revealing why such theories persistently resonate.
Suspicions about the existence of international conspiracies are often ridiculed as the domain of paranoid outliers–and there are plenty of examples to support that intuition. Yet the history of international politics is full of conspiracies: states scheme against one another, often via covert intelligence networks and undisclosed proxies; coup d’états topple governments, sometimes with foreign backing; and there are regularly conspiracies to commit a terrorist act. One reason for this apparent disjuncture is that international politics is opaque, and conspiracies are, by definition, hidden from view. Foreign policy and intelligence professionals have long contended with the challenges of interpretation in this difficult environment.
The political psychologist Robert Jervis famously diagnosed the structural conditions and cognitive biases that drive misperception in international politics. On the structural side, he foregrounds the Hobbesian dynamic of fear and suspicion, where states cannot be sure about the intentions of other states and are drawn to assume the worst. The ensuing security dilemma, a spiralling cycle of response and escalation, is often considered the most endemic source of conflict between states. It demands interpretation yet makes that fraught, not least because states hide their capabilities from potential adversaries and plan scenarios they ardently wish to avoid. These interpretive problems are worsened by the many cognitive biases that can skew perception. Among the biases Jervis surveys, he takes seriously the tendency to see co-ordination where there is none. Centralisation bias tends to organise complex information into a legible pattern even when it is unrelated, leaving open the possibility of what we might otherwise call conspiracy theories.
While intelligence services take seriously the inherent difficulty of their task by producing couched assessments and assigning them degrees of confidence, political leaders are less inclined to acknowledge such uncertainty. Take the way strong reservations about the case for war with Iraq, widely held within many intelligence communities, failed to make their way into political speeches justifying the war. It may have been true that Saddam Hussein had pursued Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD) in the past and that he continued with a program of denial and deception that implied he had something to hide. Yet there was no conclusive evidence, and what was made public was far from convincing. The link between Iraq and Al Qaeda, made apocalyptic by the idea of a nuclear handoff, was even more dubious, not least because Al Qaeda was an enemy of the Baathist regime and were more likely their prisoners than conspirators. Indeed, to many in the region, the connection seemed more like a racist conspiracy theory in the mouths of know-nothing foreigners.
Still, the theme of the conspiratorial enemy is past common in foreign policy rhetoric, particularly when populists come to power. President Donald Trump’s penchant for conspiracy thinking is a striking recent example, beginning with “birtherism” and covering international issues like ISIS, global warming, Covid-19, and the deep state. While Trump is sometimes seen as a departure from past US presidents, he fits comfortably within a populist tradition that has often centred on conspiracies. A key touchstone here is the fear of communist infiltration and subversion during the Cold War. The John Birch Society, McCarthyism, the presidential campaign of Barry Goldwater–these were all rife with conspiracy theories about communist plots for world domination. But they can also be understood in terms of what Richard Hofstadter famously identified as the paranoid style in American politics, a deep tradition encompassing fears about Free Masons, Illuminati, the Catholic Church, international bankers, and, yes, communism.
Hofstadter’s account set the parameters for the most common understanding of conspiracy theories in the US and elsewhere. Positioned as status anxiety and delusion on the political fringe, he argued that this way of thinking could force its way into the mainstream at times of social and economic hardship when charismatic leaders whip up public sentiment by stoking grievances and railing against what they portray as the enemies of the people.
Whatever we make of Hofstadter’s explanation, it is certainly the case that US foreign policy has itself been a lightning rod for conspiracy narratives at home and abroad. The international influence of a superpower–all knowing, all powerful–has quite understandably filled out plot lines and provided causal logics the world over. Many commentators have seen the proliferation of conspiracy theories about the hidden hand of the powerful states as evidence of problematic or perhaps even pathological culture or psychology. However, such views are often built up on stereotypes and generalisations, overlooking the traction of similar suspicions in populations they take to be well adjusted.
A more plausible account takes seriously the same structural dynamics and cognitive biases that make the interpretation of international politics inherently challenging. Fredrich Jameson captures this connection when he positions conspiracy theory as “a degraded attempt… to think the impossible totality of the world system.” The difficulty of grappling with these circumstances is compounded by the rapid expansion of the national security state in many parts of the world. Here classification culture, an historical record of covert and often controversial activities, and widespread public awareness of special operations capabilities, have provoked suspicions about the secret operation of state power.
From the standpoint of foreign policy makers, the proliferation of conspiracy theories is usually understood as part of the broader issue of misinformation and propaganda, which are thought to fuel resentment and render some people vulnerable to radicalisation. For instance, during the War on Terror both the Bush and Obama administrations connected cultures of conspiracy and misinformation with terrorist recruitment and sought to counter them through a variety of strategies, including digital outreach teams that actively debunked errant claims about US policy. Conspiracy theories can also be enmeshed in and emerge out of retrograde ideology, as is evident with the recent resurgence of right-wing extremism, which is grounded in theories of racial superiority. The idea of testing claims may be a useful way forward where specific allegations are advanced, but these instances need to be distinguished from conspiracy theories that form part of a world view, since these are often resistant to criticism and morph back into general themes when challenged.
The broader setting here is a state’s soft power, its credibility and persuasiveness, the extent to which its system and values are aspired to, and its ability to convene and lead. In that context, it is perhaps unsurprising that conspiracy theories have been created, co-opted, or amplified by some states as part of disinformation campaigns–or political warfare as George F. Kennan called it. This has been evident through the electoral cycles of many western democracies, around key controversies like the origin of Covid-19, and throughout conflicts like the war in Ukraine. States can use political warfare to disorient and divide the political community of their adversaries, sapping impetus, and diminishing them in the eyes of other states.
The latitude available to do this is ultimately a product of the peculiar circumstances of international politics, which every actor involved labours under. Foreign policy and intelligence professionals, political leaders, and everyday people must all contend with structural dynamics and historical precedents that drive suspicion, with cognitive biases that prime them for misperception, and with the complexity, ambiguity, and scarcity of information. Each has their own interests and audience, each has a set of capabilities and resources, and each will make their assessments with varying degrees of certainty.
Tim Aistrope is a Senior Lecturer in International Relations at the University of Kent, UK. His publications include articles in International Studies Quarterly, European Journal of International Relations, International Affairs, Security Dialogue, and Australian Journal of International Affairs, as well as Conspiracy Theory and American Foreign Policy (MUP, 2016/2020).
This article is published under a Creative Commons License and may be republished with attribution.