A couple of weeks before the Uvalde school shooting in Texas in May, I was launching the book of a good friend. When being introduced, “mass shootings researcher” was mentioned in my bio. Afterwards, “Steve” approached me, and asked if I was the mass shootings guy.
“I mean, in a sense, Steve. What can I do for you?”
“Sandy Hook.”
“What about it?”
A pause, a furrow, a lean.
“Did it really happen?”
The old saying goes that a lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes (often incorrectly attributed to Mark Twain, ironically. It’s more likely it came from Jonathan Swift).
I was stunned. Stunned that a lie as obvious and as utterly depraved and abhorrent as that can travel to an event celebrating stories and writing and readers on the other side of the globe. Stunned that someone would hear “mass shootings researcher” and think it totally acceptable to say that to them. Out loud. In front of other people. How entitled do you have to be to do that? How supremely confident and comfortable in your ignorance?
After the shock came a split-second flick through the mental rolodex of responses. The list contained the things you’d expect: reasoning, arguing, swearing, explaining, even brawling. In the end, I simply put my hand on his shoulder, said “Oh Steve”, and walked away. Because what hit me the strongest was the realisation that Steve did not deserve a single second of my time.
The purpose of knowledge isn’t to appease those who refuse to accept it. We weren’t talking about a harmless difference of opinion, as equals. His lie is destructive and vicious and abhorrent and immoral and, honestly, fucking weird. Every second spent validating that with your time is a second not spent learning and discussing issues and evidence with people who actually want to learn, and seeing the benefits knowledge can bring to the world.
Frankly, it should be up to the ignorant to work harder to bridge the gap with truth.
No, the peer-reviewed findings of the global scientific community are not the same as your YouTube video from some guy. And it is totally unreasonable of you to think something manifestly false deserves the same consideration and attention as something provably true. You can say you don’t believe in gravity, but things are still going to fall.
The cost of Alex Jones’ lies has been borne every day by the families of Sandy Hook. Of the 26 people killed at the school that day in 2012, 20 were children. They were six and seven years old.
To have the soul-shredding loss of your child compounded by accusations and madness and threats and mockery and bullets fired at your home is a purgatory at the very edge of imagining. To find out people have urinated on the grave of your murdered child… what words can match that grotesquery?
Jones is a vile human being. He exploits and inflicts suffering on innocent people. He is a snake oil salesman and a narcissist. He is contemptible and he is cruel. But he is not an idiot. His media company, Infowars, generates revenue of just under $80 million a year. Jones’ personal net worth is estimated to be around $55 million.
He has previously claimed that: 9/11 was an inside job; the government is using weather weapons; the military deploys chemicals to turn people and frogs gay. He has lied and belittled and undermined and endangered. And he has made a lot of money doing it.
He was shilling for cash while the court case findings were being delivered live on his show. It is the pinnacle of a model of media as profit, a tension between the saleable value of truth versus the saleable value of lies. Too often discussed as too sad but too hard, this case is surely a ferocious reminder that something has to change.
That there is a marketplace for lies does not mean we should value them. And the value of lies is something that can be impacted by people who make decisions. Jones is facing more trials. Dominion Voting Systems is seeking immense damages for the propagation of “the Big Lie”. It is an attempt to use the law to tackle the harm of professionally vindictive free speech, and an attempt to fight money with money. It may work, but we can also ask for an examination of the structures that have supported professional liars. We can make it less profitable to lie in the first place.
In Australia, more than half a million people signed a petition fronted by former prime ministers Kevin Rudd and Malcolm Turnbull, calling for a royal commission into, essentially, the power and reach of Rupert Murdoch. The previous government paid it no heed; the new government is showing no signs of urgency.
There was a mass demonstration of a willingness to engage with the principles and practices of who should own what, and the balance between the public interest and the private purse. Politicians ignore it at their peril. This is an opportunity to reaffirm the understanding that a healthy democracy needs a citizenry that can tell truth from lies, and know why it matters.
The value of truth also needs to be a discussion about money. How journalism is financed is the result of decisions made. Decisions that can be unmade or remade. There are ways beyond advertising and subscription revenue that can support a more sustainable and diverse media environment. It really is not a coincidence that the countries rated as having the healthiest democracies also have the healthiest media environments.
Scarlett Lewis and Neil Heslin’s son Jesse was six when he was murdered. Mark Barden’s son Daniel was seven. It took them 10 years for their day in court. Jones is already crying havoc and foul and claiming he won’t pay while using the coverage to try to raise money. He has been fined an extraordinary sum. But all it cost Scarlett and Neil and Mark, and all the parents of Sandy Hook, was everything.
Ask them what truth is worth.
