Reality is part of the Music

In March 2025, Michael Barone wrote in the Washington Examiner that public distrust in experts had surged, fueled by the shifting claims about COVID-19. He likened the argument over the virus’s origins to the rise of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI), suggesting both were driven by deliberate deceit. At first, his comparison might sound as solid as a crisp power chord, especially since evolving accounts of COVID-19—whether it arose naturally or leaked from a lab—have shaken public confidence. Yet believing in a conspiracy theory is like playing a guitar with only two strings: you can produce noise, but you’ll never compose anything as spectacular as Bohemian Rhapsody in a completed act.

From the earliest days of the pandemic, most scientists maintained that the virus followed the pattern of SARS in 2003 and MERS in 2012, arising naturally from animals and then spreading to humans. This hypothesis gained traction when researchers found genetic traces of SARS-CoV-2 in creatures such as raccoon dogs and civet cats at the Huanan Seafood Market—vital indicators that these animals might have been intermediate hosts. Multiple experimental studies even confirmed that a range of animal species are susceptible to COVID-19, reinforcing the plausibility of natural spillover. Like in past outbreaks, random mutations and ecological factors appeared sufficient to explain how a pathogen could leap from animals to humans without requiring an orchestrated scheme.

Still, some people clung to an alternative riff: that the virus might have escaped from a lab, specifically the Wuhan Institute of Virology, where scientists studied similar coronaviruses. Early on, many dismissed this lab-leak hypothesis, influenced in part by political polarization—then-president Donald Trump had publicly endorsed it. Over time, however, intelligence agencies, including the FBI and Germany’s foreign intelligence service, acknowledged that a laboratory mishap could be plausible. Yet they tempered these statements by underscoring their “low-to-moderate confidence” assessments. No definitive evidence or “smoking gun” has surfaced. The altered stance among experts, from outright skepticism to cautious acceptance, left the public feeling that official narratives had been retuned again and again—stirring suspicion akin to changing a song’s key in the middle of a performance.

Barone then drew a parallel between this COVID-19 origin debate and DEI efforts. He implied that both were part of an orchestrated plot by societal elites, a notion that might initially feel like a catchy bass line threading through seemingly disconnected controversies. It is the moment a string breaks, we hear the snap. In reality DEI initiatives, emerged in response to real social inequalities and the historical legacies they leave behind. Including persistent wage gaps, underrepresentation, and educational disparities. Admittedly, some diversity programs have caused frustration or backlash; for example, a few companies adopted training sessions that inadvertently shamed employees instead of fostering constructive dialogue. Such stumbling blocks often stem from rushed planning or unclear objectives rather than hidden agendas. Labeling every glitch in DEI practices as “intentional deception” is another two-string approach—overly simplistic and ignoring the many complex factors at play.

The temptation to fuse different controversies—ranging from pandemic misinformation to workplace equity—into a single grand conspiracy narrative is strong because it simplifies messy realities. A flawed study or an evolving scientific consensus may look like signs of a grand cover-up. A poorly executed diversity workshop can be read as evidence of a top-down scheme to manipulate the workforce. But the world generally operates more like an orchestra of competing parts, each with its own tempo and occasional mistakes, rather than a stage controlled by one villainous conductor. Enthralled by a unifying conspiracy, we risk drowning out the nuanced chords that give each issue its shape.

Above all, believing in a conspiracy theory is like strumming just two strings on a guitar: you can play something recognizable, but it won’t capture the richness of a fully realized melody. Yes, there are iconic riffs—like the main line of “Seven Nation Army” or parts of “Smoke on the Water”—that can be simplified down to two strings, but they lose much of their depth and texture in the process. Mistakes made by experts or institutions don’t automatically prove a dark orchestration; similarly, half-baked diversity programs are often more about imperfect solutions to systemic problems than hidden plots. Rather than letting suspicion fill in the blanks, we can view each misstep as an invitation to refine and improve. That’s how we turn discordant notes into part of a broader, more nuanced composition—one where we keep asking questions, keep listening, and keep building the layered harmonies that can only emerge when we acknowledge complexity, evidence, and reality.