There’s something in the air, isn’t there? The two main political coalitions in the US are both united by conspiracy theories about their opponents. Democrats believe that Trump, in collusion with Russia, basically stole the election—Russian provokatsiya energized the base, while kompromat keeps Trump in line. Trump’s supports believe that the Deep State—Hillary and her allies, Mueller and his minions, Big Media, Big Finance, Brussels—are conspiring to rob Middle America of their jobs and their culture.

These conspiracies may or may not be valid, but there’s something to the idea of politics as a conspiracy theory. (As with many other aspects of the Trump era, what’s different is not what’s happening but the fact that we’re talking about it.)

History is replete with conspiracy theories. Back when power changed hands by force of arms, this was obvious. The early Tudors were of dubious legitimacy, so when Perkin Warbeck claimed to be the (almost certainly long-since murdered York dynasty heir) Richard of Shrewsbury, Tudor opponents rallied to his banner. The implicit deal was: Overthrown Team Tudor, and Team York will share some loot, courtesy of the losers. It’s not a coincidence that Warbeck’s claim was supported by, among others, the King of France, the King of Scotland, the Duke of Burgundy, and the Holy Roman Emperor—all powers who would benefit from having a more pliant king on the English throne.

The story ends the way most conspiracies do. Some time shortly after getting off the ground, things stalled, and then disaster. The Scottish king tried to invade England to support Warbeck/York’s claim; popular support didn’t materialize; the Scots ditched Warbeck; he tried again with Cornish rebels; this failed, too; he was caught and executed; other co-conspirators were executed, too.

We have a much more civilized approach to conspiracies, now. Instead of raising armies, we just count noses: whoever can muster the most people on election day is the winner, no invasion required. Foreign intervention is expected—“I’m not going to pay for that fucking wall,” “i’m a hacker, manager, philosopher, women lover. I also like Gucci! I bring the light to people. I’m a freedom fighter!”—but frowned upon when it’s too blatant.

And, in the absence of real political dynasties, everyone is a pretender. Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump worked hard to assemble the trappings of executive legitimacy. Hillary had her policy proposals and speeches, her resume, her supporters. Trump had… well, he had a plane, an electrifying stage presence, and some live-wire policy proposals of his own. Both Hillary and Trump were very much conspiring to seize control of the government, and enlisting supporters by appealing to their sense of legitimacy and their desire to be rewarded. The Trump conspiracy won, although it was a close call.

A conspiracy theory about one’s opponent confers a level of legitimacy that mere electoral popularity can’t match. Hillary Clinton could have swung the election by slightly tweaking her ad buys in the last few weeks, or holding a couple rallies in Michigan, Wisconsin, or Pennsylvania. Trump supporters know this. They know he doesn’t have a mandate the way Reagan did in ‘84 or Nixon did in ’72. What gives Trump legitimacy in their eyes is not his popularity with the voters; that’s a means to an end. They really like him because he’s defending them against the Elites. Granted, Trump himself lives in a luxury apartment building on Fifth Avenue and owns his own plane, so he’s a little bit elite himself. But a good conspiracy needs a double-agent. Trump lined up some strange bedfellows—nativists, trade restrictionists, the subset of Big Business that emits carbon rather than clicks, the media (who were on Trump’s side the way an addict is on the same side as his dealer)—and led them to victory.

The Trump campaign, like all successful campaigns, had a nub of principle but survived day to day through one cynical ploy after another. Trump has an instinct for orchestrating media coverage; he can’t make it more positive, but he can shift the spotlight.

From a 35,000-foot view, politics is about choosing the right policy and persuading the electorate to see it your way. But one precinct at a time, it’s about making whatever promise, enduring whatever boring parade, and kissing whatever baby it takes to incrementally shift things in your favor. That’s why principled people have such a hard time winning: they’re unwilling to make the million tiny principled sacrifices it takes to mobilize millions of people to do things your way. Libertarians talk a good game, but they’ll only start winning elections when they accept a $500 million cash contribution from Los Zetas in exchange for dropping cocaine legalization from the platform. (It’s no coincidence that Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, the most electorally successful far-off-center candidate in recent US history, combines solid ground game with principles too incoherent to be violated .)

Principles are for boring nerds; tribalism gets people excited. And in a relatively post-racial country like the US, tribes unite around stories. No story could be more compelling than the story you tell about the perfidy your opponent is up to, and your daring plan to stop it. And if your opponent’s story is based on the same ground truth with the villains and heroes reversed, well, that keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?

Follow @matthews_bd on Twitter. All conspiracies will be organized in a group DM.