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InternetMarch 22, 2022

How dipping a toe into ‘Covid truth’ can lead to a very deep pool of conspiracy

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Someone ‘doing their own research’ on vaccines can quickly find themselves convinced the Christchurch mosque attacks were faked, Putin is fighting for good and that a global paedophile cabal runs the world. Dylan Reeve explains for IRL.

Three years after Aotearoa and the world were shaken by the terrorist attack in Ōtautahi, online conspiracy theory claims about the event are increasing in popularity, and finding an audience among people pulled into rabbit holes by conspiratorial claims of Covid lies and vaccine harm.

A recent “documentary” about the event, which claims the entire attack was staged and victims were actors, was ruled objectionable by the chief censor because of its inclusion of the shooter’s livestream video. But the same claims are made in many other places, and they’re increasingly being shared on local Telegram channels.

This is just one example of the type of reality-defying conspiratorial belief that has become more popular online in New Zealand during the Covid-19 pandemic. People seeking a “truth” they instinctively feel is being withheld find themselves in sometimes quite extreme online communities. 

Recently we were witness to an unprecedented riot on parliament’s grounds. It was the result of a protest that was, despite assertions otherwise, ultimately based upon conspiracy theories. The predisposition to conspiratorial thinking even saw some protesters donning tinfoil hats and, unsurprisingly, the fiery end of the protest itself became the subject of conspiracy theories.

Conspiracy theory is a loaded term. Many of the people somewhat predisposed to believing conspiracy theories will cite a conspiracy theory that claims the term was invented by the CIA in 1967 in order to discredit those who doubted the official account of JFK’s death. 

Regardless of the origins (not the CIA), the term is often used in a pejorative way that amounts to dismissing the claims in question and, as “conspiracy theorists”, the people making them. 

But the reality is we don’t really have a better way to talk about these things. More accurate terms exist to describe facets of the underlying culture and communications around these ideas – disinformation, misinformation and malinformation among them. But to capture the general concept in a way that everyone understands, we’re left with “conspiracy theory”.

Protesters outside parliament in February (Photo: RNZ / Samuel Rillstone, additional design by Tina Tiller)

The current climate

Conspiracy theories are nothing new, but they have become more relevant to all of us in the last two years than perhaps at any time in the past. With the entire world facing the same crisis, and understandable anxiety about the pandemic, there has never been a better time to promote conspiracy claims.

One aspect of conspiracy theory culture that’s often overlooked in reporting on the issue, and even by those embracing some conspiracy theories, is that there are no borders – that is, no defining lines between one conspiracy idea and another.

This has become increasingly evident within communities that are, at least in principle, established around certain Covid-related claims. On Facebook there are a few groups that manage to keep a fairly tight control on what’s posted with heavy moderation, but even there, among comments or just a couple of clicks away on many of the approved links, will be the tendrils of conspiratorial ideas that go far beyond a recent pandemic and the responses to it. 

On Telegram, where oversight is almost non-existent and all manner of diverse believers congregate to share content from all over the platform, there are constant reminders of the all-encompassing suspicion and paranoia that colours the perception of so many.

The majority of Aotearoa’s conspiracy Telegram channels are big tents, encouraging all to share their beliefs on all subjects. While those channels aren’t devoted to Covid, the users there still spend most of their time discussing matters directly connected to New Zealand’s Covid response, and broader questions about the virus itself, or the very existence of germs as a concept.

But other channels are, or were, intended to primarily address topics directly related to Covid, and they still tend to be filled with other ideas, theories and interpretations of world events.

In all these venues you will see posts about NZ government actions interspersed with content forwarded from US QAnon and alt-right channels. 

“If they have their way, it will end with the extinction of the human race through bioweapons like this jab,” writes Onyx in an official Voices For Freedom community chat channel. “Bill Gates and his pedophile ring won’t have anyone to prey on.”

This claim, on the very Covid-centric Voices For Freedom channel, brings together multiple conspiracy theories that predate the discovery of the 2019 novel coronavirus – it implicates the decade-old idea that Bill Gates wants to depopulate the planet, and the Pizzagate/QAnon panic about global paedophile rings that has its origins in the 1980s satanic panic

Elsewhere in the same Voices For Freedom group, Paddy promotes the since-banned conspiracy theory film that purports to prove the March 15 Christchurch terror attack was a government-orchestrated false flag. “Adern [sic] will be doing everything she can to stop the doco,” he writes.

Another Telegram channel, New Zealand Pro Choice, theoretically created to promote an end to mandated vaccinations, has lots of similar content, with user Pamela sharing many links to online articles and videos allegedly proving the Christchurch attack was faked.

Elsewhere in the channel, Gareth brings up the same issue, but takes it a step further. “It was the [Christchurch shooter] incident that prompted me to discard my previous ambivalence to Jews,” he writes. “I realised the guy is innocent, it was a plot to grab NZer guns, for Jews to ultimately take over NZ.”

In fact, Gareth has a lot to say about Jews. The only obvious pushback he receives from other members of the channel is for saying the quiet part out loud where people like me can see it. “Meanwhile, you taint ‘the cause’ and give MSM the ammunition they need to hold against us,” rebukes Calvin.

Two Telegram messages expounding on anti-Jewish conspiracy theories
Gareth expands on his thoughts about Jews in a Telegram group

The filter of conspiracy-tinted glasses colours all discussion of current events. “This is not an attack on the people. Putin is taking down the Deep State quarters and their filthy biolabs, ie. Biden, Clinton, foundations, Rothchilds foundations etc,” writes Bea, but in all caps, in the Hikoi For Truth channel, originally founded to support last October’s Sovereign Hīkoi of Truth.

Many of those convinced that the Covid vaccine is a deep-state bioweapon are also very open to the idea that Hillary Clinton is trafficking children, the Tongan volcanic eruption was a military operation and Vladimir Putin is a good guy, actually. The theories aren’t actually connected in any meaningful way, but if you’re going to buy into one massive global conspiracy, it’s easy to accept others too.

A deep certainty that the powerful are always lying and are fundamentally evil or corrupt makes it easy to latch on to any claim and spread it like children playing the whisper game, especially if it can somehow be connected to high-profile events. In recent months this has even seen elaborate, highly detailed and entirely false allegations made about criminal issues faced by the prime minister’s partner, Clarke Gayford.

A collage of conspiracy theory messages from Telegram
A collage of conspiracy theories from Telegram

Conspiracy underpins it all 

Even where these theories aren’t being openly discussed, the ideas are percolating just beneath the surface. Across most of the Telegram groups and elsewhere, including in person at the now-defunct parliament protest, it’s widely accepted by opponents of the government Covid response that some or all aspects of that response are directly connected to UN Agenda 21 and/or Agenda 2030. The popular spectre of these UN development plans is itself a conspiracy theory – one that, like so many others, ends up pointing at “the Jews”. 

For the most part, initial scepticism and fear about vaccines wasn’t driven by any facts about the vaccines themselves, but by long-standing conspiracy theories that suggest evil forces, often helmed by Bill Gates, are seeking to depopulate the world. Claims of hidden vaccine harms, or even impending death, are manifestations of those existing well-worn conspiracy tropes. Certain people know that the vaccines are harmful because they know that the elites want to kill people with vaccines.

Likewise, long-standing conspiracy theories about 5G were rapidly wrapped up into, first, the Covid pandemic itself and, then, the vaccines. Specifics weren’t important, the existing truth was that 5G was bad, and therefore a new bad thing must be connected to it. 

It is functionally impossible to bow out of the mainstream reality of Covid and find alternative information that isn’t rife with far more extreme conspiracy theories than just those about the virus and its treatments. Instead, any dive into Covid truth becomes a dive into a very deep pool of conspiracy. Even staying away from the various online communities doesn’t help – the majority of online anti-mainstream Covid information is hosted on sites that promote countless other conspiracy claims.

The same pattern exists with the war playing out in Ukraine. People who are certain that nothing happens without a deeper secret agenda just need to search through their internalised catalogue of Bad Things to find one that fits. In the case of Ukraine they look to Covid-related ideas that the virus was deliberately engineered by the deep state and then project forward from that in order to decide that Putin, a Good Guy in their minds, is striking against efforts by the same deep state to create a new pandemic. 

Always a new conspiracy 

If one idea, prediction or plan of action doesn’t play out, there are always many more ready to be adopted.

When predictions of swift and unignorable deaths from vaccinations didn’t come to pass, the ideas adapted. Some suggested that only some people were getting the real (supposedly poison) vaccine, while others received a harmless placebo. Still other explanations suggested that the harm was more long term, and that the vaccinated would “start dropping like flies” in months or years.

Likewise, protesters from Wellington who were unable to affect change with their convoy and occupation were soon presented with an alternative by Australian conspiracy theorist Karen Brewer, who told them that a direct appeal to the governor general was the key to their freedom.

In her regular Telegram videos, Brewer loudly proclaims that Freemasons, who she contends are literally satanic, are in control at all levels of government, business and society. She also promotes ideas about a global paedophile network, and even lost a massive defamation suit in Australia for levelling allegations of involvement in that network at an Australian MP.

But Brewer’s claims of paedophiles and satanic Freemasons don’t immediately seem to put off people who were, just a week earlier, chanting “peace and love” and insisting it was all about mandates. 

From what I’ve observed, and people I’ve spoken to, it seems that encountering extreme ideas (the Christchurch massacre was faked; there’s a global paedophile cabal; Putin is the good guy; Jews are taking over the world) doesn’t push people away from these groups. Instead they simply compartmentalise – ignoring the things and people that offend them, while taking in the things that appeal. 

However, after a while, with enough repetition and “evidence”, people’s perception of what is an offensive idea shifts. Small wedge issues, like the idea that the US election was stolen, start to seem reasonable, forming new foundations on which more claims can find a firm footing.

Essentially, to all intents and purposes, one conspiracy theory is all conspiracy theories. Not every person who disappears into these rabbit holes will adopt all that they hear, but the claims are complex and interwoven, and someone who is simply “doing my own research” about Covid or vaccines will soon be learning about global cabals, paedophile rings and maybe even shape-shifting reptiles.

Keep going!
Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

InternetMarch 17, 2022

Meet the men behind Trillionaire Thugs, NZ’s most chaotic NFT project

Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

They have Culture Kings merch, they throw parties in Dubai, and they pissed off T-Pain. For IRL, Josie Adams talks to the guys behind Trillionaire Thugs about what on earth they’re up to.

Futurists believe the world will soon have its first trillionaire. If the man known as Fortafy has his way, it could be him. Fortafy, real name Sam Ratumaitavuki, is a New Zealand-born rapper, mobile game entrepreneur, and former bodybuilding champ. He’s also one of Australasia’s biggest crypto influencers.

The latest project in Ratumaitavuki’s extensive portfolio is an NFT hustle called Trillionaire Thugs. If you haven’t heard of it, that’s because he doesn’t need you to. More than 4,000 people currently own a Trillionaire Thug NFT. You can buy a Trillionaire Thugs shirt from Culture Kings for $54.90. You can listen to half a dozen songs about Trillionaire Thugs. There are 140,000 people in the Trillionaire Thugs Discord server. They had launch parties in Dubai and Miami. 

Trillionaire Thugs is a collection of 7,777 thug-themed NFTs. Some are gold, some are samurais, some are vaping. The design is, to be blunt, mid. So who’s buying them, and why does this project seem so unstoppable?

Fortafy in fashionista mode. (Photo: Fortafy)

Ratumaitavuki is currently in Geneva, visiting Louis Vuitton’s watchmaking facilities. He’s been investing in cryptocurrency since 2015, and NFTs since 2017. Everything he takes an interest in becomes part of his portfolio; music, clothing, and mobile phone apps are just some of his projects. It was inevitable that he’d make his own NFTs one day. “Trillionaire Thugs was what we came up with,” he says. “‘Trillionaire’ is an aspirational word as no one individual has reached trillionaire status. Thugs we used as an abbreviation: True Hustlers Utilise Grind.”

The place they grind is the Trillionaire Thugs Discord server. This is the most official outlet for the project, where community leaders like Adam Burns use the voice chat to communicate live with the 140,000 members. 

“They call me the voice, aka the thug conductor,” Burns tells me. Online, he goes by “Adz”. He’s a full-time NFT entrepreneur, and when the Trillionaire Thug project emerged, he approached Ratumaitavuki asking if he could play a role. Raised in New Zealand and living in Sydney, he knows a thing or two about forming communities. “The key hat I wear is guiding our community towards supporting our socials, but also supporting their ideas and their creativity in regards to their investment – which is the [Trillionaire Thug] NFTs that they hold.”

Two Trillionaire Thugs, the left owned by Adam Burns, the right owned by DJ Sir-vere.

He calls the Discord voice chat the “school of schools”. “We combined and ordered 170,000 skills and put them into a [chat] room, and you talk about how you’ve learned and shared and gained from your experience or education and you pass that forward.” I’ve heard the TThugs discuss alkaline water, the weather, how shots of vinegar cure a cold, and yell at their kids. I’ve heard them hawking Quwiex, an Auckland-based “passive income” scheme that promises an annual return of $28,000 on a $10,000 deposit.

It’s one of the most outwardly respectful online communities I’ve ever seen. In retaliation to doubters, the TThugs post about the success they’ve had and their hopes for the future. They don’t rebut anything, they just bomb haters with positivity. The transcription service I used for my interview with Burns thought my name was Quinn because of how often he called me “queen”. When Ratumaitavuki posts in the Discord, he ends with the hashtag #StrongCommunityStrongProject. TThug adherents are kings and queens, relentlessly proselytising about how crypto, and TThugs in particular, is the key to financial freedom.

There is, of course, criticism of the project. In YouTube videos dissecting the TThug scheme, on Facebook, and on Reddit, plenty of observers have reservations: TThugs is “the Instant Finance of the NFT world”, it has “MLM vibes”, and it is, to some, a “new-age pyramid scheme”. TThugs adherents don’t get into arguments with these critics. 

On February 1, US rapper T-Pain found himself in the sights of the TThug missionaries. It was a regular Tuesday for the “I’m ‘n Luv (Wit a Stripper)” hitmaker, who was just trying to do a Twitch stream with his wife. Then they came. It began on Discord, like all of the TThugs’ moves. “We should raid one of T-Pain’s live streams, he’s so interactive with his stream!” said one user. It didn’t take long for the raid to begin, and for T-Pain to lose his shit on live.

A “raid” is the thugs’ main marketing tactic: it’s when the community piles into the comments of celebrities’ Twitch, Twitter, and Instagram accounts, demanding they check out the Trillionaire Thugs NFTs. A swathe of the Discord’s 140,000 users hit T-pain’s Twitch stream, begging him to notice their NFTs. Instead, he interrupted his regularly scheduled gaming and music-making to dedicate 10 minutes to a bollocking. He called the thugs’ comments “spam”, and said their marketing technique was off-putting. 

T-Pain appears to have deleted videos of the stream, and all tweets leading up to the Twitch raid. But yours truly watched it, and can confirm he didn’t appreciate the full might of the thug community spamming his comment section. The man’s just trying to play Call of Duty. In the immediate aftermath, the Thug Discord voice chat became a place to groupthink an apology. “It’s been a learning experience for us,” was the consensus.

The raiding is part of a wider, influencer-centred marketing campaign. Local artists like Melodownz and DJ Sir-vere have spread the word, as have athletes like Manu Vatuvei and Richie Mo’unga. International celebs are part of it, too: “Rockstar” producer Tank God has some Thug NFTs, and there’s a video of legendary wrestler Ric Flair very organically spruiking the project.

Influencers hawking the TThugs across Australia and New Zealand seem to largely be part of the Pasifika and Māori communities. The 4,000 holders are largely anonymous, but those visible on social media also seem mostly Polynesian. Was the project specifically targeting this market? “No, it wasn’t my intention at all,” says Ratumaitavuki. “It just came naturally with me marketing, as I have a lot of people from my community who I’m connected with.”

Burns considers the vast Polynesian audience a good thing. “The Polynesian community is not as represented at the highest levels [in crypto] as some cultures are,” says Burns. “People like The Rock, and our founder Sam, are people that are leaning that way.” To him, Trillionaire Thugs is a chance for those left behind to join the cryptosphere. “I felt like this was a massive opportunity for our people to break a cycle and years of history, of conditioning that really didn’t give us the headstart that we may have needed or required.”

That is, for many holders, the point of Trillionaire Thugs. It’s not about the NFT art collection. Fortafy, the man and the entity, is a symbol of financial freedom. “Trillionaire” may be an aspiration for him, but “millionaire” would suffice for many of his followers.

Phillip Bell – also known as DJ Sir-Vere, ONZM – was drawn into TThugs because of Ratumaitavuki’s involvement. “I was immediately engaged because of my relationship with him directly, but also as a fan of his business journey to date,” says Bell. “He is very savvy, extremely clever and well-versed in this space.”

Bell says it’s obvious Ratumaitavuki is holding large amounts of crypto. “It’s no secret,” he continues. “He shows it on his Instagram stories all the time. With my knowledge of how real that is, and him launching an NFT, getting involved was a no-brainer.” He’s currently holding three NFTs, which he doesn’t plan on selling for five to 10 years.

The focus for TThug community leaders is often convincing people not to sell. The longevity of the project requires dedication to the cause. But despite the strength of the community they’ve built, sales will happen. Whether it’s the temptation of a quick buck or a bit of what the kids call FUD (Fear, Uncertainty, Despair), TThug NFTs have been changing hands since the minute they were first released.

The floor price has been pretty consistently sinking over the past month: it peaked at just under $10,000 around the time of the first reveal. It’s now about $1,000. That’s just a bit under what the Trillionaire Thugs initially sold them for, and if all 7,777 sold out, that amounts to just over $9 million for Ratumaitavuki and his team.

Despite the sinking floor price, the project is making money for its creators. “I’m not focused on sales or floor price as much as delivering on the roadmap,” says Ratumaitavuki. The biggest financial success for Trillionaire Thugs so far is the sale of one NFT for $45,000. It was previously sold for less than half that, and at time of writing it’s sitting at roughly $550. The current owner is a young man from Melbourne who appears to have opened an account just a week before taking that very expensive plunge.

 

View this post on Instagram

 

A post shared by Sam Ratumaitavuki (@samratumaitavuki)

“It wasn’t out of the blue, in my opinion,” says Burns. “That, to me, was a FOMO buy.” Because it was so soon after the NFT’s reveal, he believes the buyer panicked. “But also what I would add to that is that’s a paper hands thing and they sold way too cheap,” he says. The next most expensive TThug sold for half the price.

Burns has more than 10 of the NFTs, none of which he’s listed for sale. His favourite TThugs are the ones with samurai helmets. There are only 97 of them in the 7,777-strong collection. “I resonate with the Japanese history because I like a lot of Japanese things,” he explains. “Japanese imported cars, being from New Zealand – because we do get into our Jap imports. And anime which is just something I’ve taken from being a child that just carried on.”

More broadly, he says, the art and the money are both important. “I appreciate it from the art perspective,” he says. “I think you have to understand that art is kind of the first touchpoint. Why? Because it’s a picture. Or it’s an image of some sort. And then the rest is really tied into what we call utilities based on a roadmap.”

The NFTs’ utilities, based on the roadmap, are inclusion in a play-to-earn game and invites to a bunch of international parties.

The parties, the tunes and the trillionaire aspirations are all typical of the crypto world. It’s like a gold rush out there: every man and his computer thinks they can become the next bitcoin billionaire by buying into NFTs early and selling at the peak. The difference here is that Trillionaire Thugs have formed a community that insists on longevity. “I have Trillionaire Thugs tattooed on me,” says Ratumaitavuki. “It’ll always be a part of me no matter what.”

While the floor price has plummeted, those who remain loyal to the Trillionaire Thugs dream are focused on the promised roadmap. “I don’t think Trillionaire Thugs will ever fade,” says Burns. “I think it will only grow.”

Do you have a wild story about cryptocurrency or NFT investment? Got a weird internet job? Are you embroiled in community Facebook page drama? IRL is keen to tell your story: contact irl@thespinoff.co.nz.