We are not living a crisis of information…
We are living a crisis of trust.
In an age where evidence is exhausting, and narrative is as light as a “share” button, truth walks slowly through a street crowded with impressions.
When Oxford declared “post-truth” the word of the year (2016), it captured the pulse of an era in which the voice of facts is not as loud as the voice of what we want to believe. Not because people hate truth, but because its complexity tires them, while a short story that matches their mood—and their tribe—feels comfortable.
And because narrative is faster than truth, the numbers came to confirm what we see every day.
The famous “Science” study by Vosoughi, Roy, & Aral (2018) on Twitter (2006–2017) found that false news spreads wider, deeper, and faster than truthful news—and humans, not bots, were the main drivers of that acceleration.
In other words: we accelerate narratives when they fit our emotions—then wonder why truth is late.
Platforms don’t necessarily lie, but they reward what evokes emotion.
A story that angers, saddens, or entertains becomes more shareable than a fact requiring context and calm.
And when emotion becomes the measure of truth, the skill of questioning recedes, replaced by a dangerous judgment:
“I feel it’s true… therefore it is true.”
Even our students—who are the most alive inside digital spaces—are not immune.
Reports by the Stanford History Education Group (SHEG, 2016; 2019) showed that many young people struggle to evaluate digital sources or distinguish credible information from misleading content.
This is not merely a media issue, but a public health issue.
The World Health Organization defined the “infodemic” as a flood of information—some true, some false—that creates confusion, undermines trust in experts, and disrupts public behavior during crises (WHO, 2020).
At home, the issue takes the form of a small, non-political question:
What do we share, and why?
At school, it takes a deeper question:
Do we teach students what to read, or how to think about what they read?
In media, it becomes a moral test:
Do we chase engagement, or guard a minimum standard of honesty?
Truth may not return through a single loud declaration, but through quiet habits:
To pause before sharing,
to ask for the source,
to accept that some issues cannot be summarized in one clip.
Truth doesn’t need an applauding audience…
It needs patient minds.
And when we grow patient, the narrative will return to its rightful place:
A tool for understanding, not a substitute for evidence.
