At the edge of George Street in Sydney, a woman wrapped in an upside-down Australian flag holds a banner reading 'GROOM DOGS NOT KIDS' alongside pictures of rainbow-dyed poodles. Around her, a crowd—young and old, parents with prams—wears T-shirts urging passersby to 'think while it's still legal' and carries signs opposing a town planning initiative linked, without evidence, to a new surveillance regime. It is May 2023, and smartphones are out, livestreaming and posting to Telegram, as participants await the start of the so-called We Are Ready march or Worldwide Rally for Freedom.
What unites these demonstrators is a conviction that something is deeply wrong, and that powerful, nefarious forces are operating in secret. As journalists Ariel Bogle and Cam Wilson observe, for many, this is not about a single event but an overarching interpretation of how the world works: nothing is as it seems, and everything is connected.
Theories range from the kidnapping of Prime Minister Harold Holt by a Chinese or Soviet submarine to hidden Masonic symbols in Canberra and government cover-ups of UFOs at Pine Gap. While some may treat these as speculative fun, others adopt them as an all-consuming worldview, a distinction that complicates any simple categorisation of believers.
Research on conspiracy beliefs in Australia remains limited, but a 2019 survey found that a majority of respondents endorsed at least one of the theories presented—including Holt's abduction and the claim that racehorse Phar Lap was poisoned by American gangsters. More sinister examples included the belief that the Port Arthur massacre was a government plot to justify disarmament, or that water fluoridation is a scheme to make Australians docile. The study's authors concluded that conspiracy theories are not confined to the 'fringe dwellers of society,' but that basic human motives can give rise to extraordinary beliefs among ordinary people.
Scepticism towards power is often justified, given Australia's history of state secrecy and the revolving door between politics and lobbying. But when suspicion hardens into an unyielding commitment to demonstrably false narratives—when grievance is monetised and fear becomes an end in itself—common ground rapidly disappears. The distinction between healthy scepticism and a complete conspiratorial worldview is one that increasingly shapes public life.
