BBC | Joan Baxter

Nova Scotia’s Billy Joyce – Canada’s Red Pill – erstwhile YouTube channel promoting QAnon

An earlier version of this article appeared in the Halifax Examiner on September 13, 2020, before the US election and the storming of the Capitol in Washington on January 6, which involved many QAnon adherents. This article contains graphic descriptions of conspiracy theories about child abuse and torture that may not be suitable for all readers. Jesselyn Cooke at the Huffington Post has written a powerful and heart-wrenching account of how QAnon affects families.

The change in the Nova Scotian woman – I’ll call her Lidia – was dramatic and it happened suddenly. According to a member of her family, Lidia had always been left leaning and progressive, and in 2016, had said she strongly supported Bernie Sanders in his bid to be the US Democratic Party’s presidential candidate.

Then, one day about a couple of years ago, after she spent time speaking with a sibling in the United States, Lidia did an about-face.

“She suddenly went all weird and Trumpy on us. But she couldn’t stand Trump before,” said a family member who worries about Lidia and the way her new belief system is affecting people around her, including her children.

“It has broken up the whole family,” said the relative.

The cause of Lidia’s transformation?

In a word: QAnon.

How it began

Today QAnon is a global movement fuelled by convoluted conspiracy theories. But it began with a single post on October 28, 2017 by an anonymous entity on the 4chan internet forum, on a “politically incorrect page” in a dark corner of the internet that has been criticized for its racist, violent and misogynistic posts.

In the months that followed, there was little media attention paid to this online phenomenon, with the notable exception of the excellent podcast “QAnon Anonymous,” hosted by Julian Feeld, Travis View and Jake Rockatansky, which, almost from the beginning has provided in-depth and critical coverage of QAnon. Continue reading QAnon without borders

The conspiracy theory that originated in the US has become a global movement, and has attracted adherents in Nova Scotia. Anti-hate activists are concerned about it.

By Joan Baxter

February 18, 2018

This has been adapted from Chapter 21 of my book, “A Serious Pair of Shoes: An African Journal,” published in 2000 in Canada. I am publishing it again now after being inspired by a fascinating BBC article about Babani Sissoko, “The playboy who got away with $242 million – using black magic,” by Brigitte Scheffer.

Crowds line the road from Bamako’s international airport to the centre of Mali’s capital.

Bamako, Mali. First came a couple of his more modest jetliners, a Fokker and a Boeing, screaming in for touchdown on the overheated runway. Then, from out of the wild blue yonder ‑ or to be precise, the brown dusty haze ‑ came that monstrous, white 747 barrelling in to land. The hot blasts of wind threatened to remove my skirt and blow it all the way to Timbuktu. I put my notebook away with a sigh, clutched at my skirt, and moseyed along after the throng already off and running towards the jumbo that had brought their prodigal son back home.

Here was Babani Sissoko, a mystery man who had reportedly left Mali penniless a decade earlier, now arriving direct from Miami with his own fleet of planes from his own personal airline, which was named after his native village. He had just been released from prison in Florida, where he’d done time, charged with attempting to bribe American customs officials to expedite the export of two military helicopters to Africa.

Ex‑con, yes, but also a hero. He’d made headlines in the US by handing out huge sums of money to charities or anyone that took his fancy ‑ school marching bands or disadvantaged children or just women he met on the street or in expensive jewellery boutiques in Miami or New York. And now he was coming home, bringing with him ‑ so it was said ‑ billions of dollars.

It was Friday morning, November 21, 1997. Word had it that there would be another jumbo landing on Sunday. That one would be bringing his luggage‑ luxury cars, construction equipment and lavish gifts that he was going to give away to his own people. Continue reading “Go ask God” – the homecoming of Mali’s man of mysteries