The Two Cultures Of JFK
Research
7 February 1999
Recently, one of the students in my JFK class at the University of Rhode
Island asked why the conspiracy theorists in the class couldn't just understand
that the evidence so obviously showed that a lone gunman did it. To the student
it was completely clear that there was no conspiracy. To most of the others in
the class, however, it was very much the opposite—conspiracy was the obvious
explanation.
That little exchange reminded me of my years in the Flemish section of
Belgium, a country wracked by tension between the Flemish-speaking Flemings to
the north and the French-speaking Walloons to the south. They have been at each
others' throats for many decades, with no end in sight. People in Belgium live
in a permanent state of linguistic tension. For much of my two and one-half
years there, I wondered why the Flemings and the Walloons didn't just get over
it. How could language separate people so? Why couldn't they just accept each
other's speech and move on? Then I began to realize that the Flemings and the
Walloons were separated by far more than language. Broader differences of entire
cultures were the real culprits. After being in Belgium for a while, I gradually
became aware that the Walloons represented the local aristocracy—the old money
and the high French culture, whereas the Flemings were the working class
struggling to climb the ladder and be recognized as equals. The Flemings were
working harder than the Walloons (at least in the Flemings' eyes), getting ahead
more, and gaining in number fast enough that they were about to become the
majority of Belgians.
As more time passed, I came to realize that the cultural differences between
Flemings and Walloons went deeper still. Belgium was literally the meeting
ground for the great northern European culture, represented by the Flemings, and
the great southern European culture, represented by the Walloons. The
northerners—Germans, Dutch, Scandinavians, etc.—were quieter, more formal,
and harder-working. The southerners—French, Italians, Spanish, Portuguese,
etc.—were less formal and more enjoyed the life of the present. The cultures
met and clashed along an invisible line through the middle of Belgium.
So it is in the JFK research community, I believe. Even after 35 years of
trying, neither the conspiracists nor the nonconspiracists have been able to
convert the other because far more than conspiracy/nonconspiracy is involved.
The two views are really minor manifestations of much deeper differences than
meet the eye, and perhaps even of a great philosophical divide. The
nonconspiracists are the literalists, the realists, the scientists, the
data-driven, the conservatives, the modernists, the absolutists—call it what
you want. The conspiracists, by contrast, are the humanists, the liberals, the
postmodernists, the relativists, etc. The nonconspiracists tend to hew more to
the actual data of the case and are loath to wander too far in their search for
truth. To them, nonconspiracy is more the default position, and they require
solid evidence to switch sides. The conspiracists, however, place less faith in
evidence because they fear they consider it limiting and probably tampered with
anyhow. They freely reach far and wide in their search for the truth, with their
default being some version of conspiracy. How do they know the truth when they
find it? As one person wrote to me recently, it just "feels right."
The conservative nonconspiracists, by contrast, tend to accept interpretations
that make rational, logical sense. Feelings are less important to them.
I have also come to believe that a person's position on the JFK case has as
much to do with their basic personality and their background as it does with the
case itself. For example, I have been struck by how JFK conspiracists also tend
to be conspiracists in the RFK and MLK cases, quite independent of the details
of those other cases. A number of authors have written books on two of these
cases. Every time I open one of those other books, I see the same basic
arguments being presented, with only the names and the places changed. Those
writers have a basic conspiracist outlook that they bring to other cases. (Of
course, they would say the same about the nonconspiracists.) Listen to
conspiracists or nonconspiracists discussing current events, and you will
frequently be able to pick out their basic orientations in minutes. Thus, much
of one's position on the JFK case comes from deep predisposition—we view this
case through the lens of what we are. I hope to use a separate essay to explore
the source of predisposition and the role of predisposition in JFK research.
It doesn't help that few JFK writers begin by laying out systematically how
they view evidence and how they reason. That would bring light to the dark,
murky world of current JFK research. Two writers who have tried are Jim Marrs
("Crossfire") and Gerald Posner ("Case Closed"). Neither,
however, went far enough to be of much help to the reader. The first chapter of
every book on the assassination should present a detailed exposition of how its
writer reasons and deals with evidence.
Thus we should not be surprised that nobody can win an argument about the JFK
assassination, because what is at stake is not just an argument, but the whole
orientation of the persons debating. To lose an argument, especially one on
fundamentals, is to have one's whole outlook on life repudiated. Who can stand
that? Very few of us, indeed. Thus our whole approach to discussing and debating
this case is flawed and needs to be overhauled. What should take its place? I
see only one way—revealing the real sources of the disagreement by laying bare
the fundamentals inside each of us; that is, our predispositions and their
causes as well as our basic attitudes toward evidence and reasoning. Am I driven
by intellectual principles or by feelings? Am I basically restrained by the
evidence or do I wander from it when I think it necessary? Do I hew to a
consistent pattern of thinking or do I adapt my ways to different circumstances?
Do I think there is one way to the truth of the assassination or many ways? Only
when we understand what we really are can we move to the second level of
questioning—do I truly understand the other basic way of reasoning and how it
approaches the assassination? This in turn will allow us to reach the third
level and ask the critical third question of whose way is better for
understanding the assassination. Until we experience these initial steps, we as
a community can never expect to understand our differences or begin to resolve
them.