Conspiracy Theories

In the “Birds Aren’t Real” movement, three conspiracy theories are highlighted. One of the theories suggests the United States government started killing off all the birds starting in 1959 and replacing them with drone surveillance cameras. However, the other two conspiracies involve the movement’s creator, Peter McIndoe, as either a genuine believer or a satirist exposing the absurdity of disinformation. A big theory about said drones is the “Big Brother Theory,” which is the theory that the United States government started killing off all the birds starting in 1959 and replacing them with drone surveillance cameras (“Every Tweet Is a Lie”). As crazy as some people may think the movement is, there is a large following of supporters for the movement. However, the best question to ask when looking at this conspiracy is: is this all a joke, or does the claim that our beloved avian friends are gone and replaced with security drones have a solid base behind it?

 

The first conspiracy theory proposes that the United States government executed a covert operation beginning in 1959 to exterminate all real birds and replace them with surveillance drones. Movement materials assert that the operation began under President Eisenhower, with birds systematically eliminated and substituted with battery-powered drones equipped with cameras to monitor citizens. The campaign’s Memphis billboard proclaims, “Every Tweet Is a Lie’: Birds Aren’t Real Campaign Spreads Message with New Memphis Billboard” (“Every Tweet Is a Lie”). Proponents further claim that birds “charge” on power lines and that water towers serve as refueling stations for the devices. However, no declassified documents, whistleblower testimonies, or technological evidence from the 1950s support drone capabilities of this scale. Claims rely on fabricated timelines and ignore advancements in drone technology that only emerged decades later. The absence of any verifiable proof renders this theory baseless and unsustainable.

 

The second conspiracy suggests that Peter McIndoe is a genuine conspiracy theorist who believes birds are government drones and leads the movement as an authentic activist. McIndoe has maintained deadpan interviews, rallies, and online content for years, insisting that birds charge on power lines and that the CIA orchestrated the replacement program. “When people asked questions, he improvised a history for the movement and inadvertently made history himself” (Rentz). Early followers point to his unwavering persona and the movement’s detailed “historical” documents as evidence of sincere conviction. Yet, McIndoe’s background as a college student with no prior activism and his eventual admission of satire contradict sustained belief. Early followers mistook performance for conviction, but McIndoe’s own statements reveal the persona as a deliberate act. The theory collapses under scrutiny of his origins and public revelations.

 

The last conspiracy theory points to Peter McIndoe as a satirist who created “Birds Aren’t Real” as performance art to critique misinformation and the ease of spreading absurdity online. What began as “the most nonsensical thing he could think of” during a 2017 Nashville protest transformed into a viral critique of disinformation (Rentz). “Birds Aren’t Real asks us to shift our understanding of how to communicate with people who believe conspiracies by understanding those theories as being more about belonging than belief” (Rentz). McIndoe launched the movement in 2017 during a protest, evolving it into viral rallies and media appearances while never initially breaking character. “I got to see how if enough people believe something is true, then it warps the whole meaning of truth” (Rentz). “Sometimes you need to combat lunacy with lunacy” (Rentz). Some followers claim genuine belief persists within the community, but McIndoe’s interviews and the movement’s self-aware marketing confirm satire. The sustained performance mirrors real conspiracy dynamics, exposing how emotion and community drive belief over evidence. This reveals the fragility of truth in digital spaces and the power of irony as social commentary.

 

The conspiracy identifying Peter McIndoe as a satirist best solves the “Birds Aren’t Real” phenomenon. McIndoe’s intellectual irony—delivered deadpan in interviews and rallies—perfectly parodies genuine theorists while highlighting “cultural osmosis” of lies online. His awareness of polarized media landscapes shaped the movement into a mirror for society’s distrust of authority. By maintaining the persona for years, McIndoe conducted a social experiment that attracted millions, some believing sincerely, thus proving how performance can warp perception. Unlike the drone replacement theory, which lacks any evidence, or the genuine believer theory, contradicted by McIndoe’s admissions, the satire explanation aligns with documented origins, creator statements, and cultural outcomes. The movement endures as a tool for understanding conspiracy psychology, demonstrating that belonging often trumps belief.

 

The three conspiracy theories—the government’s 1959 bird-drone replacement, McIndoe as a true believer, and McIndoe as a satirist—illustrate the spectrum of interpretation, with the first two crumbling under evidentiary and contextual scrutiny while the third exposes deeper truths about misinformation. What started as a protest joke has evolved into a lasting commentary on digital-age deception. The “Birds Aren’t Real” movement remains a powerful reminder that absurdity, when performed convincingly, can reveal the mechanics of belief in an era where truth is increasingly malleable.