When I worked as a private investigator, two clients suffering from paranoid delusions asked for my firm’s services. Not that their mental state was obvious at first—both (one male, one female) were presentable, middle-class, middle-aged, intelligent, and articulate.
The man wanted us to investigate his bowling league, for he believed ugly rumors were being spread about him.
The woman wanted us to investigate her psychiatrist, with whom she claimed to have had an affair and who now was trying to ruin her reputation.
To be brief, none of their fears bore up under scrutiny. When we tried to report those results, however, which we considered positive and reassuring, we were repulsed out of hand. Rather, both clients believed that we had been co-opted by their enemies. We were clearly now “one of them.”
My boss had a friend who was a brilliant psychiatrist (and crackerjack blues harp player, thus his nickname, Dr. Blues), who informed us that paranoia (unlike paranoid schizophrenia) is virtually untreatable, because the problem is a deep underlying anxiety that the paranoid delusion actually resolves.
The delusion is the cure, so to speak. Its onset is typified by a sudden, urgent, seemingly irrefutable revelation that the problem lies with certain others who are plotting against them. By offering facts and logic in response, we threatened to take away the one thing giving them peace of mind: their belief that nefarious others were plotting against them.
We stopped taking such clients at that point, and tried instead to get them to consider therapy (which usually only made them angry).
We also began using the phrase, “It’s like talking to a paranoid,” to describe any conversation with someone who stubbornly, rigidly “stuck to their guns,” no matter what facts or logic you availed. Their minds were made up. And your contrary beliefs only made you suspect.
This memory has been coming to mind quite a bit lately. If the reason isn’t already self-evident, allow me to explain.
Clint Watts, a former FBI Special Agent and a consulting cybersecurity expert, tweeted this after the recent election:
I contend [the] biggest determinant in last night’s election results was not geography, race, religion, socioeconomic status, age, or gender, but instead…..information, perception and belief.
In other words, the election results could be explained on the grounds of which story voters told themselves about the current state of the presidency, our nation, and our culture.
Historian Heather Cox Richards also noted that the string of lawsuits being filed challenging the election results are legally baseless but that’s not the point. They aren’t there to “right a wrong,” because there’s no evidence of wrongdoing. “[I]t is all about creating a narrative,” a narrative that will allow the losing side to once again confirm the insidious, treacherous power of the enemy.
This isn’t unique in our history. Another historian, Richard Hofstadter, detailed in his seminal article, “The Paranoid Style in American Politics,” a long tradition not of actual lunacy but “the use of paranoid modes of expression by more or less normal people.”
Of particular concern is that, in that tradition, “Style has more to do with the way in which ideas are believed than with the truth or falsity of their content.”
What are the key elements of this style?
- The stakes are always ultimate. There is “an apocalyptic and absolutistic framework in which [the adherent’s] hostility [is] commonly expressed,” involving “the birth and death of whole worlds, whole political orders, whole systems of human values,” with the present seen as a turning point for all of civilization.
- The apocalyptic element is not coincidental. Both Christianity and freedom (typically in the form of private property, religious liberty, or cultural traditions) are perceived as under relentless, uncompromising attack.
- There is also a millennialist, “last days,” Book-of-Revelations anxiety that incorporates “the megalomaniac view of oneself as the Elect, wholly good, abominably persecuted, yet assured of ultimate triumph; the attribution of gigantic and demonic powers to the adversary; the refusal to accept the ineluctable limitations and imperfections of human existence, such as transience, dissention, conflict, fallibility whether intellectual or moral; the obsession with inerrable prophecies . . . systematized misinterpretations, always gross and often grotesque.” (Child-molesting cannibals, anyone?)
- The logic inspiring the belief in the conspiracy “is nothing if not coherent—in fact the paranoid mind is far more coherent than the real world.”
- This same mind marshals mountains of evidence on its behalf, though this evidence, to an outside observer, is not just unconvincing but muddled, even crackpot. But to the believer it is self-evident. It’s true because it confirms the conspiracy.
- There is an implicit attribution of agency to accidents, surprising events, and the opposition’s mistakes. Rather than resulting from human limitation or error, they are instead the devious machinations of a traitorous cabal holding secret levers of power seeking to undermine the nation. That cabal through history has been comprised variously of Masons, Catholics, immigrants, international bankers, communists, socialists, the military-industrial complex, “coastal elites,” or the current bugbear, the “Deep State.”
- “Since what is at stake is always a conflict between absolute good and absolute evil, what is necessary is not compromise but the will to fight things out to a finish. Since the enemy is thought of as being totally evil and totally unappeasable, he must be totally eliminated…This demand for total triumph leads to the formulation of hopelessly unrealistic goals, and since these goals are not even remotely attainable, failure constantly heightens the paranoid’s sense of frustration. Even partial success leaves him with the same feeling of powerlessness with which he began, and this in turn only strengthens his awareness of the vast and terrifying quality of the enemy he opposes.”
- Such movements are “not merely of natural enthusiasm” but are also exacerbated by “the vicissitudes of party politics.” They attract the support of reputable statesmen who have “only mild sympathy with [the movement’s] fundamental bias, but who as politicians [can] not afford to ignore it.”
In the penultimate paragraph of his essay, Hofstadter offers this:
“[O]ne of the most valuable things about history is that it teaches us how things do not happen. It is precisely this kind of awareness that the paranoid fails to develop. He has a special resistance of his own, of course, to developing such awareness, but circumstances often deprive him of exposure to events that might enlighten him—and in any case he resists enlightenment.”
Ring any bells?
Why do I bring this up here? There is a great deal of talk of late of the special, even transcendent power of story. That we as storytellers possess a luminous gift—and play a uniquely central role in shaping the common, unifying themes that bind our culture together. That we have special access to deeper truths beyond the clamor of mere facts.
I believe this is simplistic, sentimental self-congratulation of the first order—something any honest writer should shun. And a statement like “I am more focused on the truth than the facts” may be harmless in the hands of an artist, but in other hands it can justify the burning of witches. Or caging children.
The current cultural divide does not result from a lack of powerful stories. Quite the contrary—both sides have a slew of cogent narratives in their intellectual armory and use them relentlessly to defend their irreconcilable positions.
The “information silos” in which the two sides reside have only been further fortified with the power of the Internet, where “evidence” abounds to defend virtually any position, no matter how wild-eyed.
It’s as though we are watching a boxing match in which the adversaries are kept apart by a sheet of plexiglass two inches thick and ten feet high. All they can do is prance and strut around in their half of the ring. Meanwhile, all of us beyond the bright lights have wagered our futures on the result.
Even when the same sorts of stories arise, the two sides often have entirely different perspectives on them, something noted by Clint Watts above in his remark concerning the decisive influence of “information, perception and belief.”
- Is the top one percent comprised of benevolent job creators, or wealthy parasites feeding off the working class?
- Are minorities a historical underclass now insisting on an equal role in our society, or a mass of conniving whiners playing the victim card to advance their own self-interest?
- Is government a collective effort to solve real problems, or a machine designed to crush individual liberty and rob hard-working citizens through taxation?
- Is systemic racism real, or a cynical ploy to undermine the white community and the police who protect them?
Each of these contrasting positions are animated by a narrative. Even if evidence can be marshaled to reveal the weakness in one story or its opposite, far too many cling to their interpretation for the meaning, coherence, and comfort it provides. This is known as confirmation bias, another incidence of “truth over facts.”
Even if a story is embraced by certain people on both sides, their views of that story may differ widely. I often wonder how many readers saw in To Kill a Mockingbird not a tale of the struggle for dignity and racial equality but a paeon to small-town southern life when things were simpler and less contentious.
I know for a fact that my experience of The Collector by John Fowles differed greatly from that of three men who considered it a guidebook for sexual sadism and murder.
It’s the only book I physically threw down at the end because the implications of the story horrified me so deeply. I felt that way because Fowles took such extensive pains to humanize Miranda, the abducted woman at the core of the story. She becomes so real that her ultimate fate is shattering.
At least, it was for me. For a man named Christopher Wilder, who abducted, tortured, and murdered at least eight women, it was titillating. Leonard Lake and Charles Ng found it so inspiring that they named their own plot to abduct, confine, and murder women Project Miranda.
That’s an extreme example, but it bears consideration. No matter how hard I try to write a “universal” story, there will be some readers devoted to a completely different perspective who will take from it what they want.
Let’s climb down off our pedestals and admit we lie for a living. Picasso put it this way:
“We all know that art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth, at least the truth that it is given us to understand. The artist must know the manner whereby to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies.”
I’d be careful about embracing that view blindly. Don’t overlook the humility in that qualification, “at least the truth that it is given us to understand.” I would say that our lies point toward something we regard as truthful. And if we’re candid with ourselves, we feel a curious dismay over the fact that we needed deceit to do the job.
We are not holy bearers of truth—or Truth—any more than journalists, researchers, or actors. Truth isn’t what’s called for—honesty is. Honesty about ourselves and what we’re trying to do.
I think we’re trying to give our readers a unique emotional and/or intellectual experience, one only our stories can provide. And by creating that experience we offer our readers an opportunity to get more deeply in touch with their own thoughts and feelings.
I cannot control how my reader will react, however, nor should I try, especially in service to some ginned up platitude concerning universal truths. That’s not fiction; that’s manipulation. It’s propaganda in artsy drag.
As for the paranoids—I will never reach them through stories. I will only reach them, if even then, by sitting down, face to face, and showing them I do not have cloven hooves.
Maybe not even that will work, and perhaps I can do that through what I write. But if I do, it won’t be because I revealed some higher truth. Rather, it will because I revealed honestly my simple, humble humanity.
P.S. It was only upon finishing this post that I realized it would be going up on Friday the 13th. I suppose, in its own way, it does address a certain horrorific reality. That, I guess, will have to serve.
Have you ever had a reader respond to something you’ve written in a way that surprised you so completely you wondered if they’d even really understood what was on the page?
When writing, do you think of readers with wholly different perspectives and how they might respond to your words? If so, how does that change what you’ve written?
For example, does trying to understand that different perspective also broaden or deepen your view of your theme or story world? Does it add emotional texture or additional detail you had not considered previously? Or do you consign that function to your characters, and make them as varied as possible given your story world?
About David Corbett
David Corbett is the author of six novels: The Devil’s Redhead, Done for a Dime, Blood of Paradise, Do They Know I’m Running?, The Mercy of the Night, and The Long-Lost Love Letters of Doc Holliday. His short fiction and poetry have appeared in a broad array of magazines and anthologies, with pieces twice selected for Best American Mystery Stories, and his non-fiction has appeared in numerous venues, including the New York Times, San Francisco Chronicle, Narrative, Zyzzyva, MovieMaker, The Writer, and Writer’s Digest (where he is a contributing editor). He has taught through the UCLA Extension’s Writers’ Program, Book Passage, LitReactor, 826 Valencia, The Grotto in San Francisco, and at numerous writing conferences across the US, Canada, and Mexico. In January 2013 Penguin published his textbook on the craft of characterization, The Art of Character, and Writer’s Digest will publish his follow-up, The Compass of Character, in October 2019.
This is exactly what has kept me up at night: how can so many people believe such a different narrative from the one I believe? Once I tried to watch Fox to find out how they convinced 70,000+ people to accept a totally different reality from the one I am living. It’s causing me, and other fact lovers, to despair at the lack of truth. You say ‘truth’ isn’t the right word here because that involves one’s perspective. You’re right. Those ‘alternative fact’ people are as paranoid as your two clients.
Thanks, Sally. I know both my wife and I are looking forward to a time when sleep is at least a little more reliable. I might note, however, that the Scottish writer Denise Mina and I exchanged articles this morning on how bad the coming decade will be. So peaceful sleep may remain iffy for a while.
Take care. And if you think Fox is bad, try OANN. Or one of the local Sinclair stations in the Midwest.
Your post has 52 small paragraphs. 52 divided by 4 is 13. There are 4 sides to a square or a box. Instead of Writer Unboxed you want it to be Writer Boxed, dropping the letters U and N. Therefore, you want us to drop the United Nations and accept the New World Order.
ProTip: If you wrap the tin foil around a hat you already have it’ll look better.
Thank you, brother. Read this message backwards then sideways then upsiude down and you will see I have delivered the secret truthalicious epistle of conclusive whatnot.
Excelsior!
Bravo, David!
Thank you, Stephanie.
“The delusion is the cure, so to speak.” That explains so much. I spent my first cup of coffee this morning reading a chapter called “Science and Witchcraft’ in Carl Sagan’s the Demon-Haunted World”. I read about the witch trials in 15th C Germany in which he who controls the narrative wins, in which he who can foist a convincing delusion on the ignorant or terrified can create lot of pain. I have characters in my first book with widely differing views of the world they live in. Their discussion have been the most fun for me to write and have reminded me of the dangers of certainty.
Hi, Susan:
Sadly, the witch hunts of the late medieval, early modern period, in conjunction with the Inquisition, provide a pretty good reference point. Social systems don’t give way to something new without considerable strain and strife, by which I mean violence. The historical record is pretty scant in examples of racial, ethnic, or religious minorities holding power who surrendered it peacefully.
I think having characters who perceive reality in starkly different terms, as yours do, is increasingly relevant, even necessary. It reminds me of Barbara O’Neal’s recent post about irreconcilable memories. One more PI tidbit: We had a saying in the firm, “Memory makes liars of us all.” Perhaps the same should be said of perception.
Hey David–You’ve made me feel illuminated, inspired, chastised, and terrified, all at once.
I’ve been reading book two of Joe Abercrombie’s (@LordGrimdark) latest trilogy, The Trouble With Peace, and it occurred to me that what makes it so brilliant is there are no villains. Or perhaps more accurately, everyone is a villain, depending on the perspective. He does such a wonderful job of showing us the world in all of its glorious shades of gray. In a recent interview, Abercrombie said he went back through the book–which revolves around a society fractured to the point of revolt by technological change, xenophobia, racism, unjust distribution of wealth, etc–to remove all of the scenes that were too on-the-nose. He said something along the lines of, “Good god, the last thing I want is for anyone to suspect it’s a parable.” Funny, but I personally think his work does offer a lesson. For me it’s that all of us have the equal potential to be heroes and monsters, perpetrators or victims, and most of us are at some point all of the above, depending on the perspective.
It got me thinking about whether or not I’ve been preaching, and gave me a good smack-on-the-head reminder not to. Or at least to strive to avoid it.
Heck, the news of the day has so outstripped anything I’d ever imagined, anyway. I often feel I’ll be obsolete on arrival. The thought made me think of the saying, “It’s better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.” I couldn’t recall its origin, and my wife suggested it was Eleanor Roosevelt. ER may have said it, but it turns out it’s a Chinese proverb.
Afterward, I remembered something and Googled it. Sure enough, it was something Linus said to Charlie Brown, in 1965. Of course the last panel of the strip features Lucy, shaking her fist and shouting into the void, “Stupid darkness!” Turns out we collect the truths in our lives from all over the place. Seems like a lot of mine are from comics and cartoons. What, me worry?
Here’s to honesty. Thanks for causing the mélange of reaction.
Thanks for the reply, Vaughn. I’m doing a bit of that too-on-the-nose revision as well. I sometimes revise with the mantra: Go deeper, be smarter, justify don’t judge.
But some folks just be all kindsa crazy’n’s**t.
David, thanks. Read every word, learning from your point of view and feeling some comfort from the same. I am starting to sleep better at night, but I also cannot read or would not write a book or story like THE COLLECTOR. They made it into a film in 1965, and that would have been a second version of horrific. I have my limits, which keeps me sane. Thanks for your clear-headed evaluation of where we are, what we write, how we influence others.
Thanks, Beth. Actually, Fowles wasn’t thrilled with having written THE COLLECTOR himself — he needed money. So he wrote it on a two-week binge fueled by amphetamines. As his later work showed, he had much more complex and intriguing interests in mind for the rest of his career. Sleep well.
David, heaven help us all. But if heaven won’t step in, hell has lots of experience dealing with the crazies. By the way, if you only have one hoof, instead of hooves, you can probably still make it into most clubs.
Good to know.
Thanks for chiming in, Tom. Hope all is well on your end.
Thank you for this thoughtful post. I appreciate not only the political insight of “the delusion is the cure” but also its writing insight. Recognizing that just might help me create more believable characters.
Glad you enjoyed it, Patricia, and that it may help the writing. That’s the gig here at Ol’ WU. Thanks for chiming in.
Hi David, this post is worth more than a coffee, lunch at least although breakfast works too. I spent four days flipping among NBC, CNN and Fox, trying to understand the coverage from many angles and narratives as votes were counted. Each network and interviewee constructed a coherent story that supported its version of policy, history, economics, fairness and democracy. You captured fascinating mindsets so well in this post. Thank you.
Best regards and I hope you are staying well.
Thanks, Deborah. Nice to hear from you. I can imagine this all looks bizarre and frightful from up north, but I also know you are fully aware of just how close the threat of mass madness is. Stay safe & healthy.
Starting the day here on Kaua’i, I did not expect to be so illuminated by your offering, David, though from past readings and seeing you in San Miguel, I should not be surprised. You’ve hit on the fundamental issue that is keeping me and most of my associates from a peaceful night’s sleep laely––that is, how can some people we love be so far from us in their perceptions? Your analysis answers that question so thoroughly and hopelessly that, in many ways it is a relief. However, the article does paint both extremes with that same tone–that there is no hope. Although it may be true, maybe it isn’t. I want to believe there is a spectrum of paranoia at work here and that somehow most people will come to a middle place of understanding. We have never been whole and we will probably never be whole. But if we can’t find a bit of common ground on which to stand, we will break. It seems to me, we are heading for open conflict.
I’m still digesting, at this early hour, the parts that relate to writing and they feel right to me. How can I apply them as I write today? I won’t know until the muse arrives in a few minutes. She’s been a cruel master lately.
Hi, David:
Yeah, I think the Muse has been just as distracted as the rest of us lately.
I actually think one side is ready to listen, heal, and move forward. The other exemplifies what is known as asymmetric polarization. Because of that, I’m not sure what it will take to bridge the divide. Like you, I fear it will require some crisis — but we had one, a deadly pandemic, and look what happened? How much worse does the crisis have to be?
As for writing, I think this underscores how some conflicts are simply irresolvable. They may terrify us in real life, but perhaps working them out in our fiction is a step toward healing.
Regardless, the eternal battle seems to be hope vs. fear, and the more we ground ourselves in that conflict the truer we’ll be to the human condition.
Take care. Enjoy paradise. (Not that I’m jealous or anything.)
David just got done reading your article and comments to it! You bring up some excellent points on perceptions. Coming from experience of having Bipolar I know all to well the affects of Paranoia. And recognize the signs as well. When one is in a psychosis they believe their truth to be real. No matter what. Nothing can change their mind untill they can come to terms with reality and the fact they arent in it. It is a very scarey place to be no matter what side of the looking glass you are on…
Thanks for sharing your insight.
Thanks for this insight, Eva. I don’t think I took enough time to address what you point out, that people who find their solace in conspiracy theories are suffering. There was a piece just this week about the Phoenix woman whose rampage at Target against masks went viral. She explained that she was feeling increasingly anxious and then stumbled onto QAnon and fell face first down the rabbit hole. The extremely public nature of her crisis forced her to look more deeply into what was happening to her.
The broad-based nature of this phenomenon, where tens of millions buy into a demonstrably false ideology, underscores how pround and widespread the anxiety is. People are scared. And for now that fear is allayed by knowing just who the enemy is. Not sure how this ends, but I think compassion not condemnation might be one path forward. If not, I fear where this is going. There are way too many guns in this country.
Thank you so much for commenting.
It’s late in the day, literally, but I wanted to comment: If anything good comes from these last four years, it is in shining a light on the less savory elements of society and politics, and warning us not to expect more from politicians than we do from ourselves.
For Halloween, our public radio station aired a community theater’s rendition on “War of the Worlds.” Recent events have given it a whole new level of spooky.
Thanks for the outstanding post, David. Enlightening as always, for writers and others.
It scares me how easily the “media” is perceived as a reliable source of information. A simple google search will tell you that the FCC has no regulation over cable companies (which can air content at their discretion) and platforms like Facebook.
Quote from FCC Chairman Ajit Pai June 2019 Oversight Committee hearing.
“The greatest threat to a free and open internet has been the unregulated Silicon Valley tech giants that do, in fact, today decide what you see and what you don’t. There’s no transparency. There’s no consumer protections and I think bipartisan members of both congressional chambers have now come to that realization.”
So yes, the very rich and powerful “one percent” do control the media outlets. So FOX, NBC, CNN do not air objective news stories and can report opinions, not facts, that support their respective narratives. I find it odd that upstart independent news channels are scoffed and disregarded because they don’t have the longevity, influence, or viewpoint of a major network?
It is up to Americans to be diligent about the information and misinformation we are being force fed by the media. He who controls the information controls the people. I for one and glad the voting process is being put through such intense scrutiny. The Constitution allows for ballets to recounted in the swing states when the results are within one percent. And they are. So, why are Americans so afraid/disgusted/impatient with this process? If you really want to know what is happening in our country watch news stations from outside our country who are covering our election. At least they investigate and take an in depth look at both sides of the issues. And by the way the “media” does not get to decide the president elect. Congress does. The baselessness of a lawsuit is not decided by historians. We have a legal system and the Department of Justice.
Odd thoughts, but I don’t think people who are capable of reading what I write can come from both ‘sides.’ It requires somewhat of a classical education to care about what I’m creating.
On the eye-opening side, I once had a reader (she turned out to be Indian – and I know very little of Indian mythology) who wanted to know what the Book of Job was. Since PC can be described as ‘a modern retelling of the Book of Job,’ this was startling. It is not necessary to follow the story, but you do have to be a reader, and capable of complex thought and remembering threads. I probably needed more diversity in my own reading growing up, but had English and American literature anthologies as my teachers (in Mexico, and on my own). And Spanish and Mexican literature in class.
Sadly, it is easier to believe conspiracy theories for some people than for others. The modern world is very complicated, and it’s easier to pine for a ‘better world’ that never was than to learn to deal with reality. The sheer size of ‘the other side’ is what’s terrifying – and the dumbing down of education to serve it.
Exceptionally well done article and so appropriate for the moment. First, your description of a true paranoid is playing out all around us. My concern is why people who were not previously unhinged are now believing everything they hear that confirms their story about the world. And that’s people on both sides on an issue.
It was also a real wakeup call to read the Picasso quote on the relationship between art and truth. Or should I say, something that brings a lot of us down to earth about what we are doing as artists. It seems like those who TRY to reveal “the Truth” don’t get there, but others, not intending to, make us sit up and think.
And, yes, I remember finishing the Collector depressed that the protagonist was out to try again and no one had a clue what he was. It’s not surprising that the book became the wrong kind of blueprint. I wonder what John Fowles thought of that when it came out in court. Not the kind of “truth” he wanted, I’m sure.
In writing, as in everything, I try to hone my message to accurately state my core truth. The listener/readers has the power, and the right, to interpret that in any way s/he sees fit. I have no control over that.