It’s August 29, 2015, backstage at the Conscious Life Expo in Los Angeles, a convention known for attracting both spiritual seekers and conspiracy theorists. The air is thick with the clamor of the crowd outside, eager to hear from a lineup of speakers covering everything from UFOs and the paranormal to deep-state conspiracies. Art Bell, the legendary host of Coast to Coast AM, had been invited to make a rare appearance, despite his semi-retirement. At this stage, he was more interested in focusing on his then-new show, Midnight in the Desert, which he launched that July. He remained a respected figure in the realm of the unknown, a steady voice among the chaos.
As Art takes a sip of water backstage, scanning over some notes for his upcoming talk, a familiar presence enters the room: Alex Jones. Jones had become a juggernaut in the conspiracy world, running InfoWars and positioning himself as the voice of the anti-establishment. At this point, he was a firebrand, emboldened by a rising wave of anger and distrust toward the government, global elites, and anyone he deemed part of the “New World Order.”
Jones strides toward Art, grinning broadly, his energy overpowering the small backstage area. His voice booms as he greets Bell. “Art Bell! The legend himself! Man, I grew up on your show. It’s great to see you here, really great. You paved the way for guys like me.”
Art, seated at a small table, looks up from his notes. He offers a polite but cool smile, standing up to shake Jones’ hand. There’s a brief, almost imperceptible tension in the handshake — firm but cautious.
“Alex,” Art says evenly, “good to see you.”
The cordiality is there, but it’s forced. They both know that, beneath the surface, there’s a deep philosophical divide.
Art Bell’s focus had always been centered on curiosity and open-mindedness. He welcomed a wide array of guests on Coast to Coast AM, from UFO witnesses to remote viewers, always allowing them to tell their stories without pushing an agenda. Art operated on the principle of letting his audience think critically and make up their own minds about the often bizarre or fringe topics discussed. It was this approach that kept listeners tuning in—Art never pretended to know the answers, and he never dictated what his audience should believe.
In contrast, Alex Jones built his platform around a very different set of beliefs. From the late 1990s and early 2000s, Jones positioned himself as a crusader against what he saw as a massive global conspiracy orchestrated by shadowy elites, epitomized by events like 9/11. Jones pushed the narrative that tragedies like the Sandy Hook shooting were orchestrated or faked by the government to justify taking away citizens’ freedoms. He didn’t encourage his listeners to think through the information themselves—he told them what to believe, often through a lens of fear, anger, and suspicion. This combative approach contrasted sharply with Art’s more measured, exploratory style.
Art, although not a stranger to covering controversial or conspiratorial topics—he’d interviewed Area 51 whistleblowers and covered the Heaven’s Gate cult in the 1990s—did so without asserting definitive truth. He created space for wonder, while Jones used outrage to push political agendas, as seen with his infamous claims surrounding FEMA camps or “false flags” like 9/11, where Jones asserted the U.S. government had orchestrated the attacks to impose more control.
It was this fundamental philosophical divide—Art’s emphasis on critical thinking and open inquiry versus Jones’ incendiary rhetoric and insistence on definitive, often paranoid, explanations—that lay at the heart of their differences.
Art gestures for Alex to sit down. Jones, never one to be subtle, pulls up a chair and slouches into it, radiating intensity even as he tries to appear relaxed.
“You know, Art, a lot of what I do comes from what you started,” Jones says, his tone amiable but with a self-congratulatory edge. “You got people asking the big questions. I’m just out there fighting the real fight, you know? Exposing the truth about the globalists, the elites — giving the people what they need to know.”
Art’s expression remains neutral, though a flicker of irritation passes over his eyes. He knew where this was going. He could always tell when someone was trying to turn a compliment into a defense of themselves.
“I appreciate that,” Art responds diplomatically. “But what I tried to do — what I’ve always tried to do — is let people think for themselves. Ask questions, explore the unknown. Not… force a narrative down their throats.”
Jones’ grin tightens, but he doesn’t back off. “Right, right. But people need to know what’s really going on, Art. This world — the Bilderberg Group, the Illuminati, the New World Order — it’s all real. You know that. I’m just the one who’s got the guts to say it out loud.”
Art’s eyes narrow slightly, his patience tested. He crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Alex, I’ve had people on my show for years, people who’ve experienced real things, strange things — abductions, sightings, phenomena we can’t explain. I give them a platform, but I let the listeners decide what they believe. What you’re doing…” Art’s voice takes on a harder edge, “you’re scaring people. You’re spreading anger. And that’s not the same thing.”
Jones, sensing the growing tension, shifts in his chair, his bravado faltering for just a second. “Look, I get that you’re more old-school, Art. But the world’s changed. People are waking up! They need to be mad. The government is poisoning them, lying to them. We’re on the brink of civil war! You’ve got to tell people the truth, and sometimes that means shaking them awake.”
Art lets out a slow breath, the calm exterior starting to crack. “I never had to shake anyone, Alex. People found their way to the truth by thinking, not by being screamed at. What you’re doing — what you’ve been doing for years now — it’s not just about informing people. It’s about riling them up, turning them against each other.”
Jones’ face reddens, his voice rising. “People have to fight back, Art! They’ve got to know the truth about 9/11, Sandy Hook, the FEMA camps. If they’re not angry, they’re just sheep!”
And that’s when Art snaps.
“I’ve heard enough,” Art says sharply, standing up. His calm demeanor evaporates as his voice cuts through the room, low but forceful. “You think you’re helping people by making them angry, by making them afraid? All you’re doing is feeding your ego, selling your garbage supplements, and making a mockery of everything I spent years building.”
Jones tries to cut in, but Art doesn’t let him. “You don’t care about the truth, Alex. You care about control. You’ve taken what could have been a platform for knowledge, for curiosity, and turned it into a circus of fearmongering. The truth isn’t your goal. Power is.”
Jones rises to his feet, fists clenched, but Art doesn’t back down. “I let people come to their own conclusions. You—you tell them what to think, and if they don’t agree, you scream louder. You twist everything to fit your narrative, and you sell it to them as the truth.”
Jones glares at Art, his voice dropping, almost a growl. “You think you’re better than me, old man?”
Art stares him down, his voice firm and unwavering. “No, Alex. I’m just not a liar.”
The room goes silent. Jones, visibly fuming, looks like he might throw a punch, but Art’s calm, unshakable presence holds him at bay. Art adjusts his jacket and picks up his notes, turning to leave.
As he walks toward the door, he pauses and looks back at Jones, his voice softer but no less cutting. “You’re going to burn yourself out, Alex. And when you do, all that’s going to be left is the wreckage of the people you’ve dragged down with you.”
With that, Art Bell leaves the room, the weight of his words lingering. Jones stands there, seething but momentarily silenced, left to grapple with the bitter truth that even in the conspiracy world he claims to dominate, there are lines that should never have been crossed.
