The phrase “grasping at straws” comes from a mid-16th century proverb, “a drowning man will clutch at a straw.” The straw can’t save him, but in panic, he reaches anyway — anything to feel in control. We’ve all done some version of that when things feel uncertain: searching for something, anything, that promises safety or understanding.
That same impulse now shapes many public debates over medicine and health. In moments of fear, people reach for explanations — some grounded in data, others no sturdier than a reed. And that’s entirely understandable when someone faces a serious illness.
HHS Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has built much of his public identity on floating straws: linking everyday products or medical practices to autism or other chronic illnesses — offering the comfort of a simple cause when the real story is more complicated. Whether Kennedy genuinely believes these connections — or uses them strategically — is unknowable for now. Yet, in an age when doubt itself can be politically valuable, even flimsy correlations can become tools of persuasion. His messages resonate with a segment of the public that feels dismissed by experts and eager for simpler explanations.
The pattern of shaky connections
Kennedy has promoted several claims that link ordinary exposures to serious harm — often autism.
Mercury in vaccines. For years he has argued that thimerosal, a mercury-based preservative once used in vaccines, causes autism. Dozens of large studies across continents have found no such link. Thimerosal was removed from most childhood vaccines in the United States by 2001, yet autism diagnoses continued to rise — clear evidence the connection was never there.
Acetaminophen in pregnancy. Kennedy has pointed to acetaminophen (Tylenol), claiming that women who take it while pregnant risk giving birth to children with autism. Some studies have found correlations, while other large studies using sibling controls have found no link. Scientists emphasize that even where associations appear, they don’t prove cause and effect. The findings remain confounded by the reasons people take pain medicine, such as illness or fever. The World Health Organization states there is currently no conclusive scientific evidence confirming this link. However, the WHO does recommend using acetaminophen at the lowest effective dose for the shortest time necessary during pregnancy.
Circumcision and autism. He has said there are two studies that show children who are circumcised early have double the rate of autism, adding that “it’s highly likely because they are given Tylenol.” These studies have been heavily criticized for methodological flaws and small or unrepresentative samples. Most circumcisions in the United States are performed in hospitals soon after birth, typically with local anesthetic rather than systemic pain medication like acetaminophen. The studies show correlation, not causation, and recent reviews have found no evidence supporting a link.
Other claims. Kennedy has pointed to Wi-Fi radiation, antidepressants, and various environmental chemicals as major hidden drivers of autism or mental illness. He also promotes raw (unpasteurized) milk as a superior health choice despite public-health warnings, and advocates for expanded access to unproven stem-cell and biologic therapies. None of these claims are supported by robust scientific evidence.
These examples share a familiar pattern: a correlation, a fearful outcome, and a story that feels satisfying because it blames something tangible. Kennedy’s claims echo through media and online communities that thrive on distrust, reinforcing the belief that experts are hiding the real truth.
Why grasping works
Humans are wired to find patterns. When outcomes are confusing or threatening, we search for causes that make sense of what we observe. The same instinct that helps us navigate danger can also make us see connections that aren’t really there.
Psychologist Karen Douglas and her colleagues identify three broad motives that drive belief in conspiracy theories: epistemic, the desire to understand one’s environment; existential, the need to feel safe and in control; and social, the wish to maintain a positive image of oneself and one’s group. Conspiracy theories seem to meet these needs by offering explanations for uncertainty, assigning blame, and maintaining a positive self-image.
Conspiracy belief also fulfills a need for uniqueness and superiority. Research shows that conspiracy theories appeal precisely because they promise access to privileged knowledge that others lack. Believers often describe themselves as “awakened,” positioning their views as intellectually superior to those who accept official narratives. This dynamic is especially pronounced among those with narcissistic traits. For people who feel dismissed by mainstream institutions, claiming hidden knowledge transforms feeling of powerlessness into elevated status.
Once such beliefs form, familiar cognitive effects reinforce them. Confirmation bias filters information so that only supporting evidence is noticed or remembered, while the illusory truth effect — the tendency for repetition to make claims feel true — magnifies this dynamic. On social media, algorithms amplify both, rewarding engagement over accuracy. A single speculative post linking Tylenol and autism can circulate millions of times, each repetition giving it the false sheen of consensus. Within those echo chambers, every reshared correlation becomes another straw to clutch.
Stronger evidence rarely breaks this cycle. Information doesn’t flow into an empty vessel; people unconsciously process it in ways that protect their existing beliefs, maintain valued identities, and avoid emotional discomfort. When someone already believes experts are corrupt, every new study from those experts only deepens suspicion. Fact checks can have limited impact, especially when people interpret them as condescending. In an era of institutional mistrust, new information often fuels defensiveness rather than reflection — proof, to some, that the system is hiding the truth. That mistrust also creates fertile ground for politicians and pundits who turn uncertainty into outrage, offering each new correlation as another rallying cry against the experts.
When the water calms
Conspiracy thinking isn’t permanent. It rises and falls depending on context.
Fluoride conspiracies of the 1950s — claims that water fluoridation was a communist plot to weaken Americans’ minds — were promoted by groups on the political right, including the John Birch Society, which opposed federal public-health programs. The theory faded by the early 1960s as dental health measurably improved and no mind-control effects materialized.
The “death panels” conspiracy during the 2009–2010 health care debate claimed the Affordable Care Act would create committees to decide who lives and dies. Coined by former Alaska Governor Sarah Palin and echoed by several commentators and elected officials opposed to the legislation, it disappeared once the law was implemented and no such panels appeared.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, vaccine-related conspiracy theories flourished most intensely between late 2020 and 2021, circulating across wellness communities, online forums, and eventually partisan and alternative media channels. Claims that the shots altered DNA, contained microchips for tracking or mind control, or were part of a population-control scheme spread widely, fueling public mistrust and political division. As real-world evidence accumulated and the most alarming predictions failed to materialize, some of these narratives lost traction — but mistrust endured, often reshaping into new forms.
These episodes suggest that conspiracies are often manufactured to galvanize political opposition, but they decline when predictions fail to materialize or when people see competence, transparency, and shared success. In more stable times, conspiracy theories lose their grip.
Building conditions where truth can breathe
If more facts and louder corrections aren’t enough, what might help? Social scientists highlight a few approaches:
Visible competence. When institutions demonstrate competence through effective action and transparent communications, public trust tends to rise.
Participation. When people feel they have some voice in policies that affect them — such as community input on vaccine rollouts — they are less likely to suspect hidden motives.
Shared identity. Framing issues around local or collective concerns (“our community’s health”) can reduce defensiveness and foster shared understanding.
Education. Teaching people to spot tactics like cherry-picked data, false comparisons, and emotional manipulation has been shown to make them more resistant to future manipulation attempts.
But even these measures work best when society itself feels stable and fair. Economic insecurity, rapid change, and information overload all make people more likely to grasp for simple stories. As long as the sea roils, straws will look tempting.
A calmer future
The phrase “grasping at straws” endures because it reflects a basic truth: Uncertainty breeds desperate explanations. The solution is not louder facts but stronger foundations — institutions people can trust and lives that feel stable enough to make truth plausible again. Hope lies in creating calmer waters, where people no longer feel the need to grasp at straws.
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