In the twenty-first century, the explosion of information has presented us with unprecedented access to news and at the same time created an entirely new battlefield. This is not merely about incorrect facts but a calculated socio-political weapon capable of manipulating belief, emotion, and behaviour within moments. Bangladesh has repeatedly found itself wounded in this war- through outbreaks of violence, electoral manipulation, communal tension, and the victimisation of countless innocent people.
Recently, I spent several days in Dhaka attending a training that offered a rare pause amid my professional routine; a moment to reflect, learn, and engage with fresh perspectives. The British Council & ULAB–Youth Connect: Digital Citizenship and Misinformation Resilience Project sounded formal at first glance, but the experience was anything but. It was lively, probing, and energising. In the very first session, I encountered a group of young information investigators from the ULAB. Though young in age, they displayed a remarkable sense of responsibility. One specialised in detecting doctored images, another in verifying videos, and yet another in tracing political propaganda online. Their precision impressed me: each seemed to operate like a small laboratory, dissecting and examining information with scientific intensity.
Conversations with them revealed a simple truth: the fight against misinformation is not a technological battle. It is an intellectual and moral one. They are trained not just to delete falsehoods but to analyse them, because analysis is the foundation of awareness. In their eyes, I saw the image of a different Bangladesh- one where questioning becomes the first step of education and verification becomes the first condition of truth. It became clear that the real power in safeguarding truth does not lie solely in large institutions, but in small collectives of skilled, ethical, and curious young people.
Throughout the sessions, the danger of half-truths surfaced repeatedly. While outright falsehoods are easy to spot, half-truths are far more insidious. They carry a sliver of truth while concealing an intention to mislead. Politics manufactures them, corporations amplify them, technology accelerates them, and people accept them because they align with emotion. In Bangladesh’s digital ecosystem, this half-truth culture thrives. A Facebook post, a TikTok clip, or a one-sided YouTube monologue can instantly create a dense fog of information. We possess an abundance of data, yet very little inclination to question the source, purpose, or reliability.
Even our long-held belief “seeing is believing” no longer holds. In the age of AI, images and videos can be fabricated with uncanny realism. AI-generated propaganda influenced several global elections in 2024, and even scientific papers were later exposed as fabricated. In Bangladesh, where social division and political heat run high, such risks intensify. In an emotion-driven society, AI-assisted falsehoods do not merely mislead they can incite violence.
Bangladesh’s history of misinformation is, in fact, deeply troubling. In Ramu in 2012, a doctored Facebook image triggered attacks on Buddhist monasteries. In 2016, a fake screenshot from a hacked account ignited communal violence in Nasirnagar. And in 2019, rumours about “child abductors” and “human heads needed for the Padma Bridge” led to fatal mob lynchings. During the pandemic, myths about vaccines causing infertility or herbal remedies curing COVID-19 spread widely. Election seasons repeatedly see edited audio clips, fabricated videos, and foreign footage circulated as local events. These incidents reveal that misinformation is not a mere irritant. It poses a direct threat to public safety, social cohesion, and democratic trust.
Mainstream media struggles under the crushing speed of social media. The race for instant publishing often replaces verification, and misattributed images or YouTube videos masquerading as news sources undermine journalistic credibility. Public trust erodes, and the space for misinformation widens. State regulations, intended to curb rumours, sometimes drift toward controlling dissent, complicating the problem rather than resolving it. The war against misinformation cannot be won with software alone. Since the origin of falsehood is human, the solution must also be human. As citizens, our strongest defence remains adherence to a simple but demanding principle: “Verify before you believe.”
The Dhaka training reminded me that meaningful change begins at one’s own desk. Returning to my institution, I initiated fact-checking workshops with my students- taking them beyond classroom discussions to hands-on verification of images, videos, posts, and circulating rumours. Their enthusiasm mirrors what I saw in the young ULAB investigators: a belief that truth can be protected if someone chooses to protect it. Misinformation is not a technical glitch; it is a challenge to our ethics, education, and independence of mind. And if Dhaka’s training taught me anything, it is that our greatest strength in this struggle is our youth- their curiosity, their scepticism, and their courage to question the narrative.
What is now undeniable is this: the fight against misinformation does not belong only to governments, journalists, or technology platforms. It is a collective civic struggle. Upholding truth is difficult, but it is never impossible. So long as we are willing to stand on its side.
In this digital age, social media embodies a paradox. It has opened new avenues for civic engagement and democratic discourse giving people the power to voice opinions, debate politics, and participate in social and cultural conversations beyond the constraints of traditional media. Yet the same platforms have become strategic weapons for spreading disinformation, misleading narratives, and hate-driven propaganda. State agencies, political groups, and influential interests now use these tools to manipulate public opinion, suppress dissent, or deepen divisions. Fake accounts, bots, doctored visuals, and coordinated misinformation campaigns can reach millions within minutes- steering society away from truth and toward confusion.
Thus, social media today stands as both a promise and a peril: a democratic forum on the one hand, and one of the most formidable threats to democracy on the other. It is where dialogue begins and where truth is often buried beneath the shadows of orchestrated deception.
The writer is a Associate Professor, Communication and Journalism, University of Chittagong
