The Festering Underbelly of the Internet
In the foul-smelling digital back alleys where rage festers and conspiracy thrives, a monster was born. Not with a bang, but with the quiet tapping of keys by anonymous figures lurking in the shadows. If you've ever wondered how the most bat-shit crazy conspiracy theory of our time managed to seep from the internet's rotting corners into grandma's Facebook feed and the halls of Congress, buckle the fuck up. This is the unholy story of how 4chan became the breeding ground for QAnon - a tale of digital sewage flooding into mainstream America.
4chan isn't just any website. It's an image board where anonymity reigns supreme and moderation is virtually non-existent. Characterized primarily by the anonymity of its users and loose moderation, 4chan allows participants to post text and photos on topics ranging from innocent interests like music to the most extreme content imaginable. This digital wasteland was created by a teenager named Christopher "moot" Poole back in 2003, and it quickly became a cesspool where the most vile shit could spread unchecked.
The smell of something rotten was already in the air before QAnon. 4chan's "/pol/" board (short for "politically incorrect") had become a festering breeding ground for alt-right ideology, white supremacy, and hateful rhetoric. Users regularly claimed to be government insiders with special access to classified information. This toxic environment – where shock value trumped truth and the most outrageous claims got the most attention – was the perfect petri dish for a super-conspiracy to grow.
The Birth of a Monster
On October 28, 2017, something seemingly innocuous happened that would change the course of American politics and culture. An unidentified individual, or group of individuals, known as Q posted an entry on 4chan asserting that "the arrest of Hillary Clinton was 'already in motion'" – a statement that was patently false. This anonymous poster claimed to have "Q clearance" – a high-level government security clearance – and promised to reveal secrets about a coming "storm" where Donald McDumpTrump would finally take down a cabal of child-eating Satanists.
If this sounds fucking insane, that's because it is. But in the twisted reality of 4chan, this kind of deranged fanfiction was just another Tuesday.
What's mind-blowing isn't that someone posted such delusional garbage – that happened every day on 4chan. What's truly disturbing is that this particular turd was plucked from the digital sewage and spread across the internet until millions of Americans were eating it up like it was fucking gospel.
The spread of QAnon can be traced to three specific individuals in November 2017 who banded together to promote the theory – and gain followers and financial support along the way. A small-time YouTube creator and two moderators of the 4chan website took an anonymous and cryptic post from among the many conspiracy theories on the site and amplified it. These three individuals – Tracy Diaz (a YouTube vlogger), Paul Furber (known as "BaruchtheScribe"), and Coleman Rogers (known as "Pamphlet Anon") – took Q's cryptic messages and spread them to wider audiences.
The Migration to 8chan/8kun: When Too Toxic Isn't Toxic Enough
In early 2018, something bizarre happened – 4chan, a site known for hosting some of the most offensive content on the internet, apparently wasn't extreme enough for Q. Q moved from 4chan to 8chan, claiming the original board had been "infiltrated." This migration wasn't just a change of digital address; it represented a descent into even more unregulated, lawless internet territory.
8chan made 4chan look like fucking Disney+. Created in 2013 by Fredrick Brennan, 8chan was specifically designed to have even fewer rules than 4chan. After 4chan's founder banned discussion related to Gamergate in September 2014, Brennan began advertising 8chan as a "free speech friendly 4chan alternative." The site took off, experiencing over 4,000 posts an hour that month, a major increase from around 100 posts per hour prior.
But 8chan's troubles were just beginning. The site became known for hosting child pornography, terroristic content, and manifestos from mass shooters. In 2019, 8chan was used to announce deadly attacks at mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand; a synagogue in Poway, California; and a Walmart in El Paso, Texas. During the New Zealand shooting, 8chan allowed the gunman's live-stream footage to reach millions.
After the El Paso shooting in August 2019, 8chan was finally kicked offline when its security provider Cloudflare terminated service. Q posts stopped appearing, leading to panic among followers. But this wasn't the end – just a disturbing evolution.
The Rise of 8kun: Rebranding Toxicity
In November 2019, after three months offline, 8chan changed its name to 8kun and began transferring content to the new site. Absent from 8kun was /pol/, the 8chan board that had been the site's hive of violent extremism, but every attempt was made to resume the QAnon narrative where it had left off.
The person behind this resurrection was Jim Watkins, an American expatriate living in the Philippines who had taken control of 8chan from its creator. His son, Ron Watkins, served as the site administrator. Both have been heavily implicated in the QAnon phenomenon itself.
The "chans," as they are known, are low-trafficked anonymous imageboards populated largely with hate speech, pornography and rhetorical violence. Instead of registering users, the sites issue users a tripcode – a unique sequence of code that allows a user's identity to be recognized without storing personal data. This technical feature would become crucial in determining who might be behind the Q persona.
The Men Behind the Curtain
So who the fuck is Q? While we may never know with absolute certainty, forensic evidence points strongly to a very mundane, disappointing truth.
Two teams of forensic linguists used machine learning to analyze thousands of "Q drops," and they determined that QAnon was most likely the work of South African software engineer Paul Furber and 8chan/8kun administrator Ron Watkins. Neither had any kind of special access to intelligence or classified information, but both were extremely well versed in the language and culture of conspiracy-themed message boards.
The evidence suggests that Furber, one of the first to promote QAnon, was likely the original Q on 4chan. Then, when Q moved to 8chan/8kun, control of the account appears to have shifted to Ron Watkins – who as the site administrator would have had complete access to account credentials.
In a stunning moment during HBO's "Q: Into The Storm" documentary, Ron Watkins appeared to accidentally admit to being Q when he said: "It was basically three years of intelligence training, teaching normies how to do intelligence work. It was basically what I was doing anonymously before, but never as Q." Watkins then smiled and corrected himself, saying "Never as Q. I promise. Because I am not Q, and I never was".
This awkward denial only strengthened suspicions that the man behind the most influential conspiracy theory in modern American history wasn't a high-level government insider, but rather the administrator of a fringe website known for hosting the most disturbing content on the internet.
The Toxic Spread
What began in the digital septic tank of 4chan didn't stay there. QAnon spread to mainstream platforms where it found new, often older audiences who had no idea of its origins. From October 2017 to June 2020, researchers identified over 69 million tweets, 487,000 Facebook posts, and 281,000 Instagram posts mentioning QAnon-related phrases or hashtags.
The conspiracy's reach amplified during the COVID-19 pandemic, when people spent more time online and were searching for explanations for a frightening, changing world. QAnon absorbed other conspiracy theories, becoming an all-encompassing worldview for its adherents.
By 2020, QAnon had moved from the digital fringes to physical reality. QAnon supporters were present during the January 6, 2021 Capitol riot, with several prominent activists spotted inside the building. In the 2022 election cycle, several open QAnon supporters won seats in Congress.
Why 4chan Was the Perfect Breeding Ground
Understanding why 4chan became the birthplace of QAnon requires recognizing what made this digital environment so dangerous:
Absolute Anonymity: On 4chan, there are no persistent identities, which means zero accountability. Users can make the most outrageous claims without fear of being linked to them.
Lack of Moderation: Unlike mainstream platforms, 4chan had minimal content policies. The worst ideas could flourish without being challenged or removed.
Shock Value Culture: 4chan rewards the most shocking, offensive, and attention-grabbing content. Conspiracy theories about child-eating politicians are perfectly designed to thrive in such an environment.
Pre-existing Extremism: Before QAnon, 4chan's /pol/ board was already a hotbed of far-right extremism, making it fertile ground for a conspiracy theory that painted liberals as literal demons.
LARPing Tradition: 4chan had a history of users pretending to be government insiders. LARPing (Live Action Role Playing) was not uncommon on the /pol/ board, and posters routinely claimed to be highly placed government sources. Q was just another in a long line - but one that broke containment.
The Digital Sewage Flood
The story of QAnon reveals a disturbing truth about our information ecosystem: the barriers between the internet's darkest corners and mainstream discourse are far thinner than we'd like to believe. What begins as trolling or role-playing on sites like 4chan can, under the right conditions, infect public consciousness and even shape political reality.
While both 4chan and 8kun continue to operate today, their influence has forever changed how we understand the spread of extremism and conspiracy theories. The QAnon phenomenon demonstrates that in our hyper-connected world, the most toxic ideas can spread from the digital fringe to the center of power with frightening speed.
The next time you see someone sharing a wild conspiracy theory on Facebook or hear a politician echoing unfounded claims, remember the fetid digital swamp from which these ideas likely emerged. From the anonymous message boards of 4chan to the halls of the Capitol – the journey was shorter than anyone could have imagined.
Citations
Wendling, M. 2021 “QAnon: What is it and where did it come from?” BBC
Olmstead, C. 2024 “State Secrecy Explains the Origins of the ‘Deep State’ Conspiracy Theory” Scientific American
Griffin, A. 2021 “What is QAnon? The origins of bizarre conspiracy theory spreading online” The Independent
Premium Analysis of Q
The Psychological Profile of QAnon Creators and Followers
The human mind craves patterns, seeks control, and hungers for meaning even in chaos. This isn't pathology—it's how we're wired. But in QAnon, these normal psychological mechanisms become supercharged and twisted into something far more dangerous.
The creators of QAnon—now known with high probability to be Paul Furber and Ron Watkins—exploited these tendencies masterfully. They didn't just create a conspiracy theory; they engineered a participatory alternate reality game that hijacked followers' reward systems. Studies show conspiracy theorists aren't necessarily mentally ill, but rather people seeking to satisfy fundamental psychological needs:
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