Voodoo Histories

Voodoo Histories Plot Summary

Introduction

Throughout human history, the shadows of conspiracy theories have loomed large over societies in times of crisis and uncertainty. From the whispered accusations of medieval witch hunts to the digital echo chambers of modern paranoia, these narratives have shaped public discourse and sometimes altered the course of nations. When conventional explanations seem inadequate to explain complex or traumatic events, conspiracy theories offer an alternative framework - one that replaces chaos with order, coincidence with intention, and incompetence with malevolence. This exploration takes us on a journey through the evolution of conspiracy thinking across different eras, examining how these theories reflect deeper societal anxieties and power dynamics. We'll discover how conspiracy narratives have transformed from fringe beliefs to mainstream political discourse, how technological changes have accelerated their spread, and how they've been weaponized by various actors throughout history. Whether you're a historian, a political scientist, or simply someone trying to make sense of an increasingly complex information landscape, understanding the historical roots and psychological appeal of conspiracy theories provides valuable insight into human nature and the fragility of truth in troubled times.

Chapter 1: The Protocols: Birth of Modern Conspiracism (1903-1945)

The early 20th century witnessed the emergence of what would become perhaps the most destructive conspiracy theory in modern history. In 1903, a document began circulating in Russia that purported to reveal minutes from secret meetings of Jewish leaders plotting world domination. This fabrication, known as "The Protocols of the Elders of Zion," gained international prominence after 1919 when it was translated into multiple languages and disseminated worldwide against the backdrop of post-World War I chaos and the Russian Revolution. Despite being conclusively proven a forgery by 1921, the Protocols found receptive audiences across Europe and America. In Germany, former Kaiser Wilhelm II read chapters aloud to guests, while in the United States, industrialist Henry Ford became its most influential promoter. Ford's newspaper, the Dearborn Independent, ran a 91-week series on "The International Jew: The World's Foremost Problem," later collected into books that sold half a million copies in America alone. When interviewed about the Protocols' authenticity, Ford famously remarked: "They fit with what is going on. They are sixteen years old and they have fitted the world situation up to this time. They fit it now." The appeal of the Protocols lay in its ability to provide simple explanations for complex problems. Economic hardship, political instability, and rapid social change could all be attributed to a single malevolent group rather than impersonal historical forces. This pattern would repeat throughout the century: conspiracy theories flourish during times of social upheaval when traditional explanations seem inadequate. The document described an elaborate Jewish plan to undermine national governments, control the press, manipulate financial systems, and foment revolutions – a comprehensive explanation for the tumultuous changes reshaping the post-war world. The consequences of this belief were devastating. The Protocols became a justification for violence against Jews throughout Europe and beyond. During the Russian Civil War, White forces distributed copies to troops before pogroms that killed tens of thousands. In Nazi Germany, the document became required reading in schools and was incorporated into official ideology. As SS captain Dieter Wisliceny testified after the war, a straight line ran from the Protocols to the Holocaust. The fiction forged in Tsarist Russia had transformed from fringe literature to state policy with genocidal consequences. Even after 1945, the Protocols continued to circulate globally. They spread to the Middle East, where they were incorporated into the founding documents of extremist organizations and promoted by various governments. The persistence of this thoroughly debunked document demonstrates a troubling reality about conspiracy theories: once established, they can persist for generations, jumping between cultures and contexts while maintaining their essential structure. The Protocols established a template for modern conspiracy thinking that continues to influence extremist ideologies today, showing how dangerous ideas can transcend their original context to poison minds across time and space.

Chapter 2: Soviet Show Trials: State-Sponsored Paranoia (1930s)

In January 1937, Moscow became the stage for an extraordinary political theater that would shock the world. Seventeen senior members of the Communist Party, including Georgy Pyatakov, once one of the most respected figures in Soviet economic planning, publicly confessed to sabotaging Soviet industry, collaborating with Nazi Germany, and plotting to overthrow Stalin's government. This was the second of three major show trials that would eliminate virtually all of Lenin's original revolutionary leadership and establish a pattern of state-sponsored conspiracy narratives that would define Stalin's rule. The defendants delivered their confessions with remarkable composure, elaborating on their alleged crimes with apparent candor. Pyatakov described deliberate acts of sabotage: operating coke ovens inefficiently, disrupting railway traffic, and building workers' housing too close to industrial plants. He even claimed to have flown to Oslo in December 1935 to meet the exiled revolutionary Leon Trotsky, who supposedly revealed a deal with the German government to give Ukraine to the Nazis in exchange for help overthrowing Stalin. Foreign observers were impressed by the proceedings. The American ambassador Joseph Davies wrote that Pyatakov's statement was "dispassionate, logical, and detailed," while German novelist Lion Feuchtwanger declared: "If that was lying, then I do not know what truth is." The reality, of course, was that the entire proceeding was a fabrication. Soviet archives later revealed that Pyatakov never flew to Oslo – no planes landed at Oslo airport during the period he claimed to visit. The "conspiracy" was invented by Stalin and the NKVD (secret police) to eliminate potential rivals and explain economic failures. Confessions were extracted through torture, threats to family members, and psychological manipulation. Yet at the time, many intelligent people believed the trials were genuine, demonstrating how conspiracy narratives can gain credibility when they align with ideological commitments. What makes the Soviet show trials particularly significant is how they exemplify the use of conspiracy theories as tools of authoritarian control. By blaming economic failures and social problems on "saboteurs" and "enemies of the people," the regime avoided accountability for its own policies. As one writer put it, the revelation that "a dedicated band of plotters had been at work sabotaging the first socialist state's otherwise inexorable march toward nirvana was—if anything—a relief." If problems were caused by conspirators, then eliminating those conspirators would solve everything. This pattern would repeat itself throughout the 20th century in authoritarian states around the world. The consequences of this state-sponsored paranoia extended far beyond the immediate victims. The show trials initiated the Great Terror, in which millions of Soviet citizens were arrested, executed, or sent to labor camps. Ordinary people learned that anyone could be revealed as a secret enemy, creating a climate of universal suspicion. This institutionalized paranoia penetrated every level of society, from factory floors to government ministries, with denunciations becoming a routine feature of Soviet life for decades. The conspiracy mindset, once established, became self-reinforcing – any resistance or failure could be interpreted as evidence of sabotage, justifying further repression in an endless cycle. The Soviet show trials demonstrate how conspiracy theories, when backed by state power, can manufacture their own "evidence" through coercion and create self-reinforcing systems of paranoia. They reveal the dangerous symbiosis between authoritarian regimes and conspiracy thinking – each strengthening the other while undermining the very possibility of truth-based discourse. This pattern would emerge repeatedly throughout the century, from McCarthy's America to Mao's China, showing how conspiracy narratives can transform from explanatory frameworks to instruments of terror when embraced by those with the power to make their paranoid visions reality.

Chapter 3: McCarthyism and the Enemy Within (1950s)

In February 1950, Senator Joseph McCarthy of Wisconsin delivered a speech in Wheeling, West Virginia, claiming to possess a list of 205 Communists working in the State Department. Though he never produced this list, his accusation launched one of the most notorious periods of political paranoia in American history. For the next four years, McCarthy led a crusade to root out supposed Communist infiltrators from government, entertainment, and education, transforming conspiracy thinking from a fringe belief to a central feature of mainstream American politics. The roots of this paranoia stretched back to the 1930s, when journalists like John T. Flynn began attacking Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal as a conspiracy to bring socialism to America. Flynn, once a respected financial writer, became convinced that Roosevelt had deliberately provoked Japan into attacking Pearl Harbor to draw America into World War II. After the war, Flynn and like-minded critics transferred their suspicions to the Truman administration, arguing that Communist sympathizers had infiltrated the government and were responsible for America's foreign policy setbacks, particularly the "loss" of China to Communist forces in 1949. These suspicions gained credibility when former State Department official Alger Hiss was convicted of perjury in 1950 after denying he had passed secrets to the Soviets. That same year, Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were arrested for giving atomic secrets to Russia. Suddenly, the idea of Communist infiltration seemed plausible to many Americans. McCarthy exploited these fears masterfully, painting a picture of massive conspiracy reaching to the highest levels of government. "How can we account for our present situation," he asked, "unless we believe that men high in this government are concerting to deliver us to disaster? This must be the product of a great conspiracy, a conspiracy on a scale so immense as to dwarf any previous such venture in the history of man." What makes this period remarkable is that McCarthy's charges were directed not at marginal figures but at the American establishment itself. As historian Richard Hofstadter noted, the targets included "eminent public figures like Presidents Roosevelt, Truman and Eisenhower, Secretaries of State like Marshall, Acheson and Dulles, justices of the Supreme Court like Frankfurter and Warren." The conspiracy theory had moved from the fringes to the center of American politics, with devastating consequences. Government employees were subjected to loyalty oaths and investigations. Hollywood implemented a blacklist that ruined careers. Universities purged suspected leftists from their faculties. State governments passed laws restricting the rights of Communists – Tennessee even ordered the death penalty for those seeking to overthrow the state government. By 1954, McCarthy's influence was waning. His televised attacks on the U.S. Army during the Army-McCarthy hearings backfired, exposing his bullying tactics to a national audience. The Senate formally censured him in December 1954, and he died three years later, largely forgotten. However, the paranoid style he embodied would continue to influence American politics for decades to come. McCarthy's techniques – making sweeping accusations without evidence, suggesting that denials proved guilt, and claiming to have secret lists of enemies – would be adopted by conspiracy theorists across the political spectrum. The McCarthy era demonstrates how conspiracy theories can flourish even in democratic societies when they align with existing fears and prejudices. It shows how conspiracy thinking can be weaponized for political gain, transforming complex international developments into simple narratives of good versus evil. The period also reveals how difficult it is to counter conspiracy theories once they gain momentum – facts alone proved insufficient against McCarthy's accusations, which were designed to be unfalsifiable. Only when his methods were exposed through the new medium of television did his influence finally wane, suggesting that the format through which conspiracy theories are challenged can be as important as the challenge itself.

Chapter 4: Assassination Theories: From JFK to Diana (1963-1997)

On November 22, 1963, President John F. Kennedy was shot and killed while riding in a motorcade through Dallas, Texas. This shocking event would become the catalyst for what might be called the golden age of conspiracy theories in America. Within a week of the assassination, a Gallup poll showed that only 29 percent of Americans believed that the accused assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald, had acted alone. Despite the Warren Commission's conclusion that Oswald was the sole gunman, conspiracy theories about Kennedy's death have persisted for decades, fundamentally altering how many Americans understand their nation's history. The assassination seemed to demand a larger explanation than the actions of one disturbed man. As literary critic Irving Howe wrote two weeks after Dallas, Oswald "embodies the disorder of the city, an utterly displaced creature, totally and proudly alienated, without roots in nation, region, class." The idea that such a marginal figure could single-handedly alter world history by killing its most powerful leader was, for many, simply unacceptable. Conspiracy theories about Kennedy's death took many forms. Some blamed the CIA, others the FBI or the military-industrial complex. Some pointed to the Mafia, others to Cuban exiles angry about the Bay of Pigs fiasco. Vice President Lyndon Johnson was accused, as were the Russians, the Cubans, and even space aliens. By the 1970s, belief in a Kennedy conspiracy had become the default position among educated Americans. The release of the Zapruder film in 1975, showing Kennedy's head snapping backward after the fatal shot, seemed to contradict the official conclusion that Oswald had fired from behind. Publications like the New Republic, the New York Review of Books, and Ramparts published detailed analyses of exit wounds, acoustic evidence, and missing frames of film. Congressional investigations, including the House Select Committee on Assassinations, concluded in 1979 that Kennedy was "probably assassinated as a result of a conspiracy," though they could not identify the conspirators. The assassination of Kennedy was followed by other high-profile killings that seemed to fit a pattern. His brother Robert was shot in 1968 while campaigning for president. Martin Luther King Jr. was murdered the same year. For many on the left, these deaths suggested a conspiracy to eliminate progressive leaders. As Carl Oglesby, former president of Students for a Democratic Society, wrote: "The facts surrounding the assassination conspiracies behind Dallas, Memphis, Los Angeles are like a storm of incomprehensible lightning. It changes everything." These events, occurring against the backdrop of the Vietnam War and revelations about government misconduct, eroded public trust in official narratives. Similar conspiracy theories surrounded the death of Princess Diana in a Paris car crash in 1997. Despite overwhelming evidence that the crash resulted from a drunk driver speeding to evade paparazzi, polls consistently showed that about a third of British and American respondents believed Diana was murdered. Mohamed Al Fayed, whose son Dodi died alongside Diana, spent years promoting the theory that the British royal family had ordered her death to prevent her from marrying a Muslim and bearing his child. The persistence of these theories despite multiple investigations illustrates how conspiracy thinking had become normalized across Western societies. What these assassination conspiracy theories share is a refusal to accept that history can be shaped by random, senseless acts. They offer a more satisfying narrative in which important events must have important causes. As researcher Peter Knight argues, such theories "provide a way of mapping and making sense of the complex and often disturbing changes taking place in contemporary society." They transform the chaotic and accidental into the ordered and intentional. Yet the evidence consistently points to simpler explanations. The appeal of conspiracy theories lies not in their truth but in their ability to impose meaning on events that seem meaninglessly tragic, revealing a fundamental human need for narrative coherence even at the expense of factual accuracy.

Chapter 5: Digital Acceleration: Conspiracy in the Internet Age

The dawn of the internet era in the 1990s fundamentally transformed how conspiracy theories develop and spread. What once required books, pamphlets, and word of mouth can now reach millions instantly through websites, social media, and streaming video. This digital acceleration has created both new opportunities for conspiracy entrepreneurs and new challenges for those combating misinformation, making conspiracy theories more accessible, adaptable, and resistant to debunking than ever before. The September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks marked a watershed moment for this digital conspiracy culture. Within hours of the Twin Towers' collapse, alternative explanations began circulating online, eventually coalescing into the "9/11 Truth Movement." This loose coalition claimed that the attacks were either orchestrated or deliberately permitted by elements within the U.S. government to justify military interventions in the Middle East and domestic surveillance programs. Unlike previous conspiracy theories that might take years to spread, digital technology allowed these alternative narratives to proliferate instantly across the globe. Amateur investigators analyzed video footage frame by frame, scrutinized engineering reports, and compiled timelines that supposedly revealed inconsistencies in the official account. The internet democratized conspiracy theorizing, allowing anyone with a computer to become an "expert" regardless of their qualifications. The amateur documentary "Loose Change," produced by Dylan Avery and friends from upstate New York, became one of the internet's most-viewed videos, with Avery proudly declaring, "We beat the woman getting punched in the face. We beat the guy who beats his computer with his keyboard. The viral videos, we dominate them." The film's slick production values and youthful creators helped mainstream conspiracy thinking among younger audiences. By 2006, polls showed that 36% of Americans suspected government involvement in the 9/11 attacks, demonstrating the remarkable reach of these digitally accelerated theories. Social media platforms further transformed the conspiracy landscape by creating algorithm-driven echo chambers that reinforce existing beliefs. Content that provokes strong emotional reactions – particularly anger, fear, or moral outrage – receives greater distribution, creating incentives for conspiracy entrepreneurs to produce increasingly sensational claims. Studies have shown that false information spreads faster and farther than accurate information on major platforms, with conspiracy content particularly effective at generating engagement. These dynamics have enabled conspiracy theories to reach larger audiences than ever before while simultaneously making them more resistant to correction. The economics of digital media favor conspiracy content in ways traditional media did not. Sensational claims drive clicks, views, and engagement, which translate into advertising revenue. Conspiracy entrepreneurs like Alex Jones built media empires worth millions by promoting theories about "false flag" operations and government cover-ups. Even mainstream platforms benefit financially from conspiracy content that keeps users engaged, regardless of its accuracy or social impact. This commercialization creates powerful incentives to maintain and expand conspiracy narratives regardless of their factual basis. Digital tools have also made it easier to manipulate evidence. Doctored images, decontextualized video clips, and fabricated documents can be created and shared widely before fact-checkers can respond. The sheer volume of information online makes it difficult for individuals to verify claims independently, leading many to rely on heuristics like trusting sources that confirm their existing beliefs. Foreign actors have exploited these vulnerabilities to sow division, with Russian disinformation campaigns promoting conspiracy theories about everything from 5G networks to COVID-19 vaccines. The digital acceleration of conspiracy theories presents democratic societies with unprecedented challenges. Platform moderation policies, media literacy education, and support for quality journalism can help, but there are no simple solutions. What's clear is that conspiracy theories are no longer fringe phenomena but central features of our information ecosystem. Understanding their appeal and dynamics is essential not just for historians but for anyone concerned with the health of democratic discourse in the digital age.

Chapter 6: The Psychology Behind Conspiracy Thinking

At their core, conspiracy theories fulfill fundamental psychological needs that transcend particular historical moments or political contexts. Humans are naturally drawn to narrative explanations that provide order and meaning in the face of chaotic or threatening events. When major disasters, assassinations, or social upheavals occur, conspiracy theories offer the comfort of explanation—they suggest that someone is in control, even if that someone is malevolent. This is psychologically preferable to accepting that devastating events might result from chance, complex systemic failures, or impersonal historical forces. Cognitive psychologists have identified several mental processes that make us susceptible to conspiracy thinking. Our brains are pattern-recognition machines, evolved to detect agency and intention in our environment. This tendency, while essential for survival in ancestral environments, can lead us to perceive intentional action where none exists. Studies show that people are more likely to perceive patterns in random data when they feel a lack of control, suggesting that conspiracy theories may function as psychological compensation mechanisms during times of uncertainty. This "proportionality bias" – the belief that big events must have big causes – helps explain why the idea that President Kennedy could be killed by a lone, disturbed gunman violates our intuitive sense of how the world works. Social factors also play crucial roles in conspiracy belief. People with an external locus of control—who believe their lives are primarily determined by outside forces rather than their own actions—are more likely to embrace conspiracy theories. Similarly, those experiencing feelings of powerlessness or marginalization often find conspiracy theories attractive because they provide explanations for their disadvantaged position. Rather than accepting that one's difficulties stem from impersonal economic forces or social structures, conspiracy theories offer identifiable villains to blame. This explains why conspiracy thinking often flourishes among both the far left and far right, united by their alienation from mainstream institutions. The social dimension of conspiracy belief extends to identity formation and community building. Believing in conspiracy theories can provide a sense of community and special status. Conspiracy theorists often describe themselves as "awakened" or possessing special knowledge that the "sheeple" lack. This creates an in-group identity that can be particularly appealing in an era of declining traditional community structures. Online conspiracy communities provide not just information but belonging, purpose, and social validation. As one QAnon follower explained, "I feel like I'm part of something bigger than myself... I'm actually doing something to help save the world." Confirmation bias – our tendency to seek information that supports our existing beliefs while discounting contradictory evidence – plays a crucial role in sustaining conspiracy beliefs. Once someone accepts a conspiracy framework, they often interpret all new information through that lens. Evidence against the conspiracy becomes evidence of how powerful the conspiracy must be to suppress the truth. This self-sealing quality makes conspiracy theories remarkably resistant to refutation. When witnesses deny a conspiracy existed, they must be part of the cover-up. If documents disprove the theory, they must be forgeries. Understanding these psychological underpinnings helps explain why conspiracy theories have proven so resistant to debunking. Presenting facts alone rarely changes minds because conspiracy beliefs aren't simply factual propositions but complex psychological frameworks that provide meaning, community, and identity. Addressing the underlying needs that conspiracy theories fulfill—for control, understanding, and belonging—may prove more effective than merely countering their factual claims. This suggests that creating more inclusive societies where people feel they have agency and where institutions are transparent and trustworthy may be the most effective long-term strategy for reducing the appeal of conspiracy thinking.

Chapter 7: From Fringe to Mainstream: Contemporary Conspiracy Culture

In recent years, conspiracy theories have completed their journey from the margins to the center of political and cultural discourse. What was once dismissed as fringe paranoia now regularly shapes electoral politics, media coverage, and public policy debates across the ideological spectrum. This mainstreaming represents both a transformation in how conspiracy theories function and a fundamental shift in their social significance, with profound implications for democratic governance and social cohesion. The integration of conspiracy thinking into mainstream politics has been facilitated by political leaders who strategically amplify or validate such narratives. When high-profile figures suggest that election results, scientific consensus, or media reporting cannot be trusted, they normalize skepticism toward established facts and institutions. This top-down legitimization has been complemented by bottom-up pressure from constituents immersed in alternative information ecosystems, creating feedback loops that reward increasingly extreme positions. The result is what scholars call "conspiracy without the theory" – a generalized suspicion that doesn't require elaborate explanations but simply assumes corruption and deception behind every official narrative. The QAnon phenomenon exemplifies this new conspiracy culture. Beginning in 2017 with cryptic posts on anonymous message boards, this meta-conspiracy theory claimed that a secret government insider was revealing a hidden truth: that global elites were operating a child trafficking ring, and that President Trump was leading a covert operation to bring them to justice. Unlike traditional conspiracy theories with clear narratives, QAnon invited followers to "do their own research" and connect disparate events into a grand conspiracy. By 2020, QAnon had millions of adherents and had inspired real-world violence, demonstrating how digital-age conspiracy theories can rapidly transform from online communities to political movements. The economic dimension of contemporary conspiracy culture cannot be overlooked. A substantial industry has developed around producing and disseminating alternative narratives, from subscription newsletters and merchandise to conferences and media appearances. Figures like Alex Jones built multi-million dollar enterprises by marketing both conspiracy theories and products supposedly offering protection from the threats they identified. This commercialization creates powerful incentives to maintain and expand conspiracy narratives regardless of their factual basis, transforming conspiracy theories from belief systems into business models. The COVID-19 pandemic accelerated these trends, with conspiracy theories about the virus's origin, treatment, and vaccines spreading rapidly through social networks. These theories had measurable public health impacts, with studies showing correlations between belief in COVID conspiracies and reduced compliance with preventive measures. The pandemic demonstrated how conspiracy thinking could move from abstract concerns to concrete behaviors with immediate consequences, as people refused vaccines or treatments based on unfounded fears of microchips, population control, or deliberate harm. The fragmentation of media ecosystems has created what researchers call "epistemic bubbles" where different groups operate with entirely different sets of assumed facts. This makes it increasingly difficult to establish common ground for political debate or collective action. When significant portions of the population believe that elections are rigged, scientific consensus is corrupt, and government agencies are pursuing secret agendas, the shared reality needed for democratic deliberation breaks down. As historian Timothy Snyder observed, "Post-truth is pre-fascism" – suggesting that the systematic undermining of shared facts creates conditions for authoritarian politics. Despite these challenges, there are reasons for cautious optimism. Research on "prebunking" – inoculating people against misinformation techniques before exposure – shows promise in building resilience against conspiracy narratives. Media literacy programs that teach critical evaluation of sources and recognition of emotional manipulation can help people navigate increasingly complex information environments. Most importantly, addressing the legitimate grievances and uncertainties that make conspiracy theories attractive – economic insecurity, institutional corruption, and social alienation – may reduce their appeal more effectively than direct confrontation. The future of conspiracy culture will likely depend not just on how we respond to specific theories but on whether we can create societies where people feel secure, empowered, and connected enough that the psychological appeal of conspiracy thinking diminishes.

Summary

Throughout history, conspiracy theories have evolved from marginal beliefs to central features of political discourse, reflecting deeper currents of social anxiety and institutional distrust. The trajectory from the anti-Semitic fabrications of the Protocols to QAnon's digital fantasies reveals a consistent pattern: in times of uncertainty and rapid change, conspiracy narratives offer seemingly coherent explanations that identify clear villains and restore a sense of order to a chaotic world. The technological transformation of media - from newspapers to television to social networks - has accelerated this evolution, creating ever more efficient vectors for the spread of alternative realities. The persistence of conspiracy thinking across different eras and political systems suggests it fulfills fundamental human needs for meaning, pattern recognition, and agency. However, its current prominence presents unique challenges for democratic societies that depend on shared facts and institutional trust. Moving forward, addressing the appeal of conspiracy theories requires more than fact-checking or debunking; it demands rebuilding social cohesion, restoring institutional credibility, and developing media systems that reward accuracy over engagement. By understanding the historical roots and psychological appeal of conspiracy narratives, we gain not just insight into a troubling aspect of contemporary culture, but also valuable perspective on the fragility of truth and the ongoing human struggle to make sense of a complex and often frightening world.

About Author

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David Aaronovitch

David Aaronovitch is an award-winning journalist who has worked in radio, television, and newspapers in the United Kingdom since the early 1980s. His first book, Paddling to Jerusalem, won the Madoc prize for travel literature in 2001. He is also the recipient of the George Orwell Prize for political journalism. He writes a regular column for The Times (UK). He lives in north London with his wife and three daughters.

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