Parallel Truths
- Jean-Eric Media
- Jul 11
- 4 min read
Written on November 6, 2022
On November 3, 2022, British conspiracy theorist David Icke was denied entry to the Schengen Area. The official reason: a threat to public order. Icke was scheduled to speak in Amsterdam at a demonstration by "Together for the Netherlands"—a movement with ties to Forum for Democracy. His planned appearance near the National Monument on Dam Square sparked strong reactions, particularly from the Jewish community. The result: a ban, and a demonstration that was canceled.
The decision was explosive. Icke cast himself as a martyr, a victim of what he calls a "fascist regime." The media characterized him as an "anti-Semitic hate preacher." The truth, as so often happens, lies somewhere in between—but the consequences are far-reaching: the incident reveals the deeper interconnectedness of conspiracy thinking, populism, religious fundamentalism, and social alienation.
David Icke: from New Age guru to public enemy
David Icke has been a well-known figure in the alternative scene for decades. His books—about global elites, reptilian rulers, and secret plots—sell worldwide. What makes him infamous is his theory that an evil world order, led by hybrid reptilians (like the Rothschilds and European royal families), seeks to oppress humanity. In the media, this theory is often directly linked to antisemitism because it echoes old stereotypes that portray Jews as cunning, demonic forces.
Icke himself denies being antisemitic. He points out that his "reptilian elite" is multiethnic and that his criticism is aimed at power structures, not specific population groups. Yet, he uses sources such as the forged Protocols of the Elders of Zion —which fuels suspicion. His work has a dualistic, Gnostic-inspired structure: the world is a struggle between good and evil, in which love and awareness are the ultimate defense against oppression.
Baudet and the normalization of the conspiracy
The uproar surrounding Icke took on a political dimension when Thierry Baudet declared in a video that he believes the world is run by "evil reptiles." Although he didn't name Icke, the association was immediately made. Baudet and Icke share an ideological narrative in which globalist elites, the media, science, and democratic institutions are suspected of having hidden agendas.
Previously, this discourse was confined to the margins, but since the coronavirus pandemic, the center has shifted. The pandemic served as a catalyst: distrust of vaccination, lockdowns, and the WHO was presented by Icke, Baudet, and others as evidence of a larger plan for global control.
A toxic bond
What began as a spiritual critique of power has now become mixed with populist and religious-extremist ideologies:
Conservative Christians, both in Europe and the US, link LGBTQ+ rights and gender empowerment to a “globalist plot” to destroy the “natural order.”
Islamic conspiracy theorists accuse the West and Israel of waging a war against Islam, often using the same sources as Icke.
The far-right "replacement theory" posits that migration is a deliberate means of undermining European (Christian, white) cultures — an idea shared by Orbán, Le Pen, and also Baudet.
It is noteworthy that spiritual movements, originally anti-nationalist and anti-hierarchical, are increasingly identifying with national-populist ideas. They share a common distrust of institutions and a longing for esoteric or religious truths.
A crisis of confidence
In the aftermath of the travel ban, critical journalistic analysis was largely absent. Icke was widely labeled without a hearing. He himself claimed he was never asked for a response. This fueled the distrust of his supporters and populist movements toward the mainstream media.
This is problematic. In a healthy democracy, critical journalism is not only a guardian of truth but also a corrective mechanism. When journalists reduce conspiracy theorists to caricatures, they lose the opportunity to expose the larger phenomenon: the societal breeding ground of distrust, alienation, and polarization.
A post-2020 reality
Since the coronavirus pandemic, belief in alternative truths has ceased to be a subculture and has become a societal phenomenon. Whether it concerns COVID-19, climate policy, immigration, or war, a growing segment of the population is distancing itself from the dominant narrative and seeking truth in parallel worldviews. Conspiracy theorists are motivated not only by irrationality but often also by real-life experiences of exclusion, uncertainty, and loss of control.
This means that the ban on Icke is not merely a legal issue, but a cultural signal. When dissenting voices are excluded without open debate, a dynamic of radicalization arises at the margins of discourse.
The real danger
Icke's theories are grotesque, inconsistent, and often historically inaccurate. But the social mechanism that made him great deserves serious consideration. A society in which disagreements are no longer allowed to be discussed and are administratively excluded loses its democratic core.
The travel ban is symptomatic of a broader tension: how do we protect our democracy from disinformation without becoming totalitarian ourselves? How do we guarantee freedom of expression without giving a platform to hatred?
As long as these questions remain unanswered, the breeding ground for conspiracy theories will continue to grow. And then it's not Icke, but the democratic constitutional state itself that is being undermined—from within.



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