For centuries, mapmakers have used the image of the octopus to depict threats—whether political, economic, or ideological.
With its many reaching arms, the octopus has often symbolized powerful forces trying to control or invade surrounding regions.
But a new study from Northeastern University shows that these maps do more than paint a vivid picture—they may also encourage conspiratorial thinking.
Michael Correll, an associate research professor who specializes in data visualization and ethics, led the study, published in the Proceedings of the 2025 CHI Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems.
He began collecting octopus maps during the COVID-19 pandemic, curious about how this style of imagery has been used throughout history. What he found was that these maps are not just quirky artistic choices—they’re often tools of propaganda.
Throughout history, octopus maps have been used to portray enemies as sinister forces with global reach. They’ve appeared in maps depicting everything from fascism and communism to major corporations like Standard Oil.
Correll says these maps make the viewer see a group, country, or ideology as dangerous and far-reaching, with “arms” in every corner of the world.
And it’s not just one side using this imagery. During both World Wars, all major countries created maps showing enemy nations as octopuses. There were German octopuses, French octopuses, American ones, and more.
The octopus served as a powerful symbol of control, threat, and invasion—no matter who was drawing it.
Correll identifies six key traits that most octopus maps share: a clear center, long reaching arms, wide reach, a sense of intentional control, “grabby-ness,” and an overall feeling of threat. Even though real octopuses have arms, not tentacles, the image is still strong: something reaching out and trying to control everything around it.
But what’s more surprising is that even without the literal image of an octopus, maps can still trigger the same reactions. In an experiment, Correll and his team showed participants fictional maps of a made-up country called Huskiland and its military bases in nearby regions. The maps didn’t show an octopus, but they did show connections—lines linking Huskiland to surrounding nations.
Participants were then asked how they felt about Huskiland’s influence. Even without dramatic visuals, most people described Huskiland’s relationship with its neighbors as threatening or controlling. The more connections shown on the map, the more participants believed Huskiland was acting like an octopus—expanding its reach and trying to dominate others.
Correll says this study highlights an important point: the way we design and read maps can shape how we understand the world. People often assume that conspiracy thinking is something you either have or don’t have. But Correll argues that there are degrees of conspiratorial thought, and small design choices in things like maps can nudge people in that direction.
In an age where misinformation spreads easily and quickly, Correll says we need to pay attention to these subtle influences.
It’s not always about labeling something as “fake” or “true.” Sometimes, it’s about understanding how the design of information—like a map—can shape what we believe, often without us even realizing it.
