It is customary to associate ordinary things with specific events or celebratory moments in time. Take cigars, for example. While smoking is frowned upon in just about every corner of the world, stogeys are merrily given out to celebrate everything from newborn babies to World Series victories. Hence the phrase, “Give that man a cigar.” However, these universally-recognized icons can also come to symbolize a less happy, more dark, and sinister side of life, as in the case of the classic tinfoil hat.
Tinfoil Hat Crowd
The infamous tinfoil hat conjures visions of a threatened society attempting to shield itself from deep-state government entities and, worse yet, telepathic aliens from beyond. I know. Creepy. For the uninitiated learning about this phenomenon for the first time, a tinfoil hat wearer does not need a physical metal hat to be considered paranoid. Nevertheless, a properly-fitted tinfoil hat perched atop a distressed noggin couldn’t hurt. Or could it? Let’s find out. If we’re successful in this endeavor, we can take a puff off that victory cigar, or if you happen to be one of those staunch anti-tobacco types, a bubblegum equivalent.
Let’s begin by addressing the word tinfoil: Believe it or not, there is no tin in a tinfoil hat. Aluminum replaced tin post the second war to end all wars as a cheaper, more accessible alternative. But as for the headgear, the name tinfoil stuck. It does roll off the tongue better than the multi-syllabic and infinitely more accessible metal with the atomic symbol Al.
But why wear such a ridiculous-looking headgear? Simple. We inhabit an interconnected human civilization bombarded by fear-mongering and hysterical rants from a 24/7 news cycle via television and the internet. Coupled with grave concern that faceless and malicious government entities track our humdrum lives, and most of us are susceptible to a wacky internet rambling tweeted in our ear or shouted over the airwaves.
Let’s level down to the subset of distressed people already immersed in a deep-seated paranoid existence, focusing on a case study subject named Dave.
It’s a beautiful Tuesday afternoon in Dave’s ordinary neighborhood, but the news is just shy of apocalyptic. Dave’s neighbors tune it out or ignore it altogether, compartmentalizing the scary stuff and getting on with their lives. Not Dave. Our subject cowers in a fetal position with the blinds drawn and every appliance unplugged—in case the toaster is a camouflaged recording device.
Verging on panic-driven meltdown, Dave musters a burst of purposeful energy. Skulking into his kitchen, the sweaty fellow fumbles for the junk drawer containing that roll of foil purchased last Thanksgiving. As the beads dribble down his forehead, the poor man rips off a few yards of shiny material and clumsily forms it into a bowl-shaped hat in his trembling hands. Breathless and in tears, he presses it atop his head like a crown of thorns and sobs in uncontrollable fear and anxiety. There is nothing left for Dave to do but play the waiting game. Either an evil squad of men-in-black pound in his front door within minutes, or they don’t.
Hours later, cross-legged on the floor, having a staring contest with the cat, Dave decides his tinfoil worked as advertised. Enjoy that victory cigar, Dave. You earned it.
On the cusp of lighting up, poor Dave remembers the building’s lax-enforced no-smoking rule. Shoot.
The Crowd Angle
So for paranoid misfits like Dave, a tinfoil hat can be just what the doctor ordered to halt leaky brain pans from being siphoned by faceless government entities and evil cadres of malicious aliens. But what happens when entire populations sense paranoia’s grip invading their groupthink mentality? It is more common than one might think. The never-ending pandemic panic proves that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Not to mention the relentless undercurrent of urban myths, conspiracies, and a total collapse of trust in government.
We exist in a strange new world replete with privacy violators, foreign and domestic hackers, voyeurs, snoops, and spies. Popular culture, movies, and television exploit this conspiratorial cornucopia in the name of entertainment. In these interconnected genres, nobody is trustworthy, villainy exists in every dark shadow, and treachery is afoot around every bend.
Meanwhile, enterprising entrepreneurs turn solid profits off the perpetual, self-replicating tinfoil hat mindset as elected officials double down on instinctual fears under the banner: never let a good disaster go to waste. These vampire-like actors enact laws and regulations advertised to enhance our safety.
You may voice your preference to be left alone to your own devices, accept risk, and let the chips fall where they may. Too late.
The point here is that it’s not the symbolic metallic chapeau but a herd mentality paranoia-driven world that constitutes the Tinfoil Hat Crowd. Let’s leave Dave out of this. The man has suffered enough.
… Wait just a minute. Is a tiny drone hovering outside your window even as you finish reading this essay?
Made you look.
The Powers That Be Trilogy
Starting with THE GOLDEN ELLIPSE, the novels blend elements from Crichton, Rollins, and King into an epic science fiction trilogy that transports readers into a fast-paced and compelling epoch-spanning story that follows a multi-generational well-written cast grappling with an Earth-shattering chain of events that lead to revelations answering humankind’s most perplexing mysteries.
