An unsettling truth

Dr Fahim Chand | Tuesday June 3, 2025 10:19

To the right, an imposing row of ancient trees rose high, their vast canopies interlaced above, casting shifting shadows on the earth below. Through a break in the foliage, another structure emerged, an architectural marvel etched with exquisite detail, from a talented hand long gone. I walked alone through this pristine sanctuary, as nature enveloped me with quiet authority.

My mind loosened its grip on cluttered thoughts; my heartbeat slowed, attuned to the rhythm of leaves whispering in the breeze. Nature’s remedy, subtle yet potent, seeped into my bones without asking permission. The knapsack clung to my shoulders, heavy with the burden of books, dense volumes that fed my academic ambition and marked my commitment to knowledge. This was a time before screens replaced paper, before words were imprisoned in glass, before the world was distilled into signals and bytes. Back then, ideas had weight. And I carried them all.

As I rounded the corner of the building and continued on my quiet journey, I noticed two students walking past, mid-conversation, their words light and easy between them. As they walked by, we exchanged a fleeting smile and a gentle nod. Brief, effortless gestures that carried the warmth of something quietly human. It’s strange how life offers these passing moments of connection, three second flickers with strangers whose names we’ll never know, whose stories will unfold in directions we will never see. Yet in those small gestures, something unspoken is shared. A spark of recognition. A pulse of shared existence. They walked on, absorbed in their own rhythm, and I walked on in mine. As I stepped into Medway Hall, a strange energy hung in the air, tense and electric. My roommate, Michael Downs, met me at the door, eyes wide. “Did you see what happened?” he asked.

I shook my head, confused. Without another word, he grabbed my shoulder and led me downstairs to the common room. It was packed with dozens of my residence mates frozen in place, all eyes locked on the television. I followed their gaze just in time to catch the replay: the Space Shuttle Challenger erupting into a cloud of fire in the sky.

Silence fell, heavy and unreal. Seven lives gone in seconds. A moment of shared disbelief rippled through the room. This was before cell phones, before instant headlines and push notifications. Back then, news arrived through televisions, newspapers, or the urgency in someone’s voice. That day, Michael was my link to the world, and I trusted him without hesitation. But now, when a glowing screen in my hand tells me what to think, what to fear, what to feel, can I trust it the same way? News is everywhere now. But truth feels harder to find.A sweeping review of 69 studies published in the Journal of Medical Internet Research revealed a staggering truth: between 30% and 87% of health information shared on social media is false. The most common offenders? Posts about vaccines and infectious diseases, the marketing of e-cigarettes as “healthy” alternatives, extreme diet fads, and miracle “cures” for chronic conditions like cancer, diabetes, and epilepsy.

Much of this misinformation isn’t innocent. Researchers found it’s often crafted with intent to push products, boost profits, or serve ideological agendas.

And the damage doesn’t stop at health. Financial misinformation is just as rampant. In 2022, Americans lost $3.8 billion to investment scams, according to the Federal Trade Commission. Alarmingly, $1.2 billion of that came from schemes initiated on social media platforms. While some of this falsehood is spread by bots, a 2018 MIT study uncovered a more unsettling truth: human users were far more responsible. False information on Twitter (now X) was 70% more likely to be retweeted by real people, and reached others six times faster than factual content. The researchers suggested a simple reason: lies, especially novel and sensational ones, are simply more seductive to share. So while my old roommate Michael Downs was once a trusted source, today he’d have to shout across the Atlantic to reach me. Instead, I’m bombarded with news, half-truths, and fiction flooding my screen before I’ve even had coffee.

In this endless scroll, our filters wear thin. We fall for headlines that gleam with urgency. Who doesn’t want to be first to drop a sensational tidbit into the group chat? The thrill of being “in the know” often outruns the instinct to question. But in this digital echo chamber, it’s time to jolt our sleepy neurons, wake them from slumber and start sifting. There’s gold out there. But most of it is buried in junk.