There’s something endlessly intriguing about humans’ ability to cling to outdated notions, and few theories are as flat-out perplexing as the belief in a pancake-shaped Earth.
It’s not just that science has repeatedly proven the planet’s spherical nature (hello, satellites, moon landings, and the horizon itself!)—it’s the determination to reject an entire field of evidence for the comfort of an ancient myth.
Imagine, for a moment, the logistics of a pancake Earth: oceans pooling like syrup, rivers flowing off the edges into some cosmic abyss, and gravity behaving like an indecisive diner unsure which side of the pancake to flip.
If Earth were flat, airline pilots would need to recalculate their routes—no more “around-the-world” flights, just edge-to-edge sprints with a sudden stop.
What’s behind this phenomenon?
It’s more than just an alternative theory; it’s a refusal to engage with a shared reality.
Flat Earth proponents often mistrust institutions and systems of knowledge, seeing them as oppressive.
In some ways, their belief is less about the shape of the planet and more about challenging the frameworks we trust.
And in this era of conspiracy theories, the flat Earth movement offers an accessible (albeit questionable) community.
Of course, there’s humor to be had here too.
A flat Earth would be so aesthetically pleasing—like living on a pizza!
And who wouldn’t want to picture astronauts dodging flying maple syrup in the atmosphere?
But at its heart, this belief highlights a deeper truth: humanity’s incredible capacity for creativity and conviction, even when it’s misplaced.
In a world desperate for connection, perhaps we should take the time to listen to why some people think outside the sphere—and gently guide them back into orbit.