When Grief Turns Into Denial: Why Conspiracy Narratives Thrive After Tragedy

PART 2 OF 4

In the aftermath of the Bondi attack, Australia has been sitting in shock. Grief like this doesn’t move in a straight line. It fractures. It disorients. It overwhelms our sense of safety and order. And in that psychological chaos, people reach for explanations that make the world feel less frightening — even if those explanations aren’t true.

I’ve already seen comments on social media claiming the attack was a “false flag.” That response is not unusual after mass trauma. But it is deeply concerning.

For some, it is easier to believe in hidden puppeteers than to accept a far more confronting reality: extremist ideologies do lead to real-world violence. They radicalise. They dehumanise. And sometimes, they end in bloodshed.

Conspiracy thinking often isn’t about evidence — it’s about emotional regulation. When reality feels unbearable, denial offers temporary relief. If the event isn’t “real,” or is secretly orchestrated, then the randomness, cruelty, and meaninglessness of violence don’t have to be faced. The problem is that this psychological coping mechanism doesn’t stay private. It spreads. And it harms.

In this case, innocent people have already been targeted, named, speculated about, and publicly vilified online — simply because their image or identity was circulated without verification. That is not justice. That is collateral damage caused by misinformation.

We need to be very clear: repeating unverified claims and conspiracy narratives does not honour the victims. It obscures the truth. It derails accountability. And it creates new victims in the process.

This is something those of us who study coercive control and extremist movements know well.

Conspiracy narratives thrive in environments of fear and uncertainty. They rely on emotional hooks rather than facts, and they often position believers as having special insight — a sense of being “awake” while others are “blind.” That structure mirrors the very extremist thinking people claim to oppose.

There is also an uncomfortable cultural resistance at play. A reluctance to admit that ideology — particularly extremist ideology — can radicalise individuals to the point of violence. Accepting that truth forces us to confront systemic failures: failures in prevention, in early intervention, in social cohesion, and in how online spaces reward outrage over accuracy.

Grief deserves compassion. Confusion deserves patience. But misinformation deserves challenge — gently, firmly, and responsibly.

Truth-telling is not cold or uncaring. It is an ethical act. It is how we protect victims, support survivors, and prevent future harm. Justice cannot emerge from fantasy. It requires reality, however painful that reality may be.

If we want to honour those who lost their lives, we must resist the urge to explain away what happened with comforting myths. We must slow down, verify, and refuse to participate in the spread of falsehoods — even when emotions are running high.

Grief does strange things to the human mind. But compassion, responsibility, and truth must remain non-negotiable.

PART 1

PART 3

PART 4