Navigating the Information Age: An Essay on Truth, Bias, and the Battle Against Disinformation
Information is the lifeblood of civilization. Civilizations flourish through the creation, storage, analysis, and proper sharing of information, and when utilized properly, information contributes to social harmony, technological advancement, and economic efficiency. Recognizing its indispensable nature, access to information is now widely considered a basic human right, compelling states to devise policies and establish agencies to ensure a healthy flow of knowledge. Yet, as the author of this essay argues, the very explosion of technology that has democratized information creation has also created a minefield of bias, manipulation, and outright falsehood. The cost of generating and disseminating information has dropped to nearly zero, and anyone with a mobile phone and internet access can now create content and share it on social platforms such as Facebook, TikTok, and WhatsApp, where it can go viral in no time and reach a global audience almost instantly. This unprecedented access is a double-edged sword. Information can interact with intellect, influence thought processes, and produce physical responses—from peaceful movements to violent mobs. To best utilize information for the cause of humanity, the author contends, we must understand its vulnerabilities and try to safeguard the interests of the public in general. The essay embarks on an exploration of these vulnerabilities, moving from theoretical observations about the nature of information to concrete examples drawn from Nepal’s recent history. It distinguishes between misinformation, disinformation, and malinformation, ultimately prescribing a remedy rooted in education and a culture of verification. The author’s overarching message is that in an era of information overload, critical thinking is not just a virtue but a survival skill, and that the failure to exercise it carries consequences that can destabilize economies, harm diplomatic relations, and even cost lives. By framing information as both a powerful tool and a fragile construct, the essay sets a cautionary yet constructive tone, urging readers to look beyond the surface of the content they consume daily and recognize the complex interplay between those who produce information, those who transmit it, and those who receive it.
The essay’s second major argument is that information is never truly neutral. Information is collected, analyzed, transmitted, and propagated by humans or their devices, and the information, as well as the agents and devices involved in the process, can carry the biases of those who control it. Even the receiver tries to interpret a piece of information in a way that best suits their own biases, creating a system where objectivity is elusive. This is compounded by the sheer volume of content flooding the global information bank. With so many hands injecting information into the system, the bank is now full of different kinds of material, ranging from actual facts and figures to doubtful, ungrounded opinions, manufactured data, false proclamations, and ambiguous stories. When these are told and retold, cited and recited, interpreted and reinterpreted, even the smartest individuals can stumble, let alone a layperson. The author illustrates this with a striking global example: the debate that erupted when China and the United States blamed each other over the origins of the coronavirus, including allegations that it had either escaped from a laboratory or been created there, during the 2020 global Covid-19 pandemic. The truth, the author observes, seemed beyond grasp. This example highlights how even life-and-death information can become a battleground of geopolitical narratives, leaving ordinary citizens unable to discern fact from fiction. It also demonstrates that information does not exist in a vacuum; it is shaped by the intentions of those who wield it and the preconceptions of those who receive it. The author uses this global backdrop to set the stage for an examination of Nepal’s own struggles with the same phenomenon, suggesting that no nation, regardless of size or development, is immune to the corrosive effects of a polluted information ecosystem. The pandemic-era blame game serves as a reminder that when information is weaponized for political ends, the first casualty is public trust, and the collateral damage can include international cooperation and public health itself.
Nepal, the author argues, is far from untouched by these dynamics, and the essay offers a series of vivid case studies. In December 2000, Nepalis hit the streets against Indian actor Hrithik Roshan, believing a rumor that he had insulted Nepal. The ‘nationalist’ mobs not only vandalized theatres showing his film but also forced the Nepal government to temporarily ban his movies in all theatres. The unrest claimed four lives and injured hundreds, and the false accusations damaged both the economy and relations with India. This incident demonstrates how a single piece of unverified information can spiral into violence and international friction, proving that the stakes of disinformation are not abstract but deeply tangible. More recently, the dispute over the Millennium Challenge Corporation (MCC) compact offers another example. Nepal signed the MCC compact in 2017 after negotiations under governments led by Khila Raj Regmi, Sushil Koirala, KP Oli, Pushpa Kamal Dahal, and Sher Bahadur Deuba, and in February 2022, Nepal’s parliament ratified the $500 million MCC grant. Yet it was opposed by some leftist activists and ‘nationalists’ who feared it would pave the way for the deployment of US troops and invite US intervention in Nepal. The controversy attracted violent, stone-throwing protests in Kathmandu and eroded Nepal’s credibility as a reliable international partner. Similarly, controversy has formed following Nepal’s engagement with China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). Nepal signed an MoU with China in 2017 and formalized a BRI cooperation framework in 2024. As with the MCC, many political parties were involved in the process, and the author emphasizes that Nepal is by no means bound to take loans under the BRI framework. Yet ‘nationalists’ are rallying against the deal, labeling it a Chinese ‘debt trap’. Such baseless blame games, the author argues, do no good; they only strain relations with a rising neighbor. These examples collectively illustrate a troubling pattern: disinformation, dressed in nationalist garb, has repeatedly undermined Nepal’s domestic stability and foreign relations, and the perpetrators often face no accountability.
The essay then turns to historical and recent instances of disinformation within Nepal, showing that this is not a new phenomenon but one that adapts to the political and social climate of each era. In the 1960s and early 1970s, rumors were used against the communists, claiming that if they ascended to power, they would not only scrap private property ownership but also erase the concept of bloodlines by banning the identification of parents and kill the elderly above sixty. The author notes that the proponents themselves certainly did not believe what they were saying, but they trusted it as a weapon—it was simply disinformation. The author also shares a personal anecdote, recalling a difficult time convincing those who held anti-Indian sentiments that the construction of the Tribhuvan Highway under Indian aid was not meant to open the market for Indian tyres and petroleum. They would repeatedly ask: if profiteering was not the intention, why would they design the highway through the high Mahabharat Mountains? This reveals how deeply entrenched conspiracy theories can be, even in the face of logical explanations, and how they feed on pre-existing prejudices. More recently, following the Bhotekoshi-Trishuli flood of August 26, two different rumors spread in Nepal. The first claimed that China was unhappy with Prime Minister Balen Shah’s pro-American policies and his visit to Mustang with American officers, and that as punishment, China had opened a dam or glacial lake on the Nepal-Tibet border, sending a destructive flood into the Bhotekoshi-Trishuli river system. The second rumor claimed that, because his father had passed away less than a year ago, Balen was considered to be within an inauspicious period and therefore unfit to visit Hindu temples and shrines. He was blamed for breaking religious norms and angering gods and goddesses, who, in turn, supposedly punished the nation with the flood. The author notes that the first claim has already collapsed, as slope failure in a section of Langtang Mountain has been established as the cause of the flood, while the second is left to be settled by concerned faith-based stakeholders. These examples illustrate the author’s point that disinformation adapts to the times, using whatever fears—political, religious, or geopolitical—are most potent at any given moment, and that even natural disasters can be exploited for ideological purposes.
The author then draws a crucial distinction between misinformation and disinformation, and addresses the complicated issue of privacy and classified content. Ignorance, misconception, and misinformation are natural shortcomings of mankind and can be reduced through education, unbiased research, and open exchanges. Disinformation, however, is a product of deceitful minds, and here, education and discussion are usually helpless. States and societies need to counter it, with words and force. This stark distinction underscores the difficulty of fighting deliberate falsehoods, which are crafted with intent and require more than just better literacy to dismantle. On the issue of leaking privacy or classified content, the author acknowledges that a unanimous opinion is difficult to reach. Certainly, disclosing the privacy of clients or wards without their consent, for reasons other than their advantage or security concerns, is and should be considered a criminal offense. Other forms of malinformation, including the leaking of state secrets, are expected in a competitive world. By ruling such disclosures illegal, the concerned authorities can control only those weak people who cannot escape their jurisdiction, and such prohibitions are meaningless beyond territories of their influence. The author concludes this section with a moral imperative: be it state, society, family, or individual, it is better to refrain from wrongdoing. This suggests that while legal measures have inherent limits, ethical behavior is universal and necessary. The author’s treatment of this topic is nuanced, recognizing that some leaks serve public interest while others are harmful, but ultimately advocating for restraint and acknowledging the reality of a competitive world where states and actors will always jostle for advantage, often through information warfare.
The essay concludes with a prescription for remedy, offering a pathway forward that balances collective action with individual responsibility. It is our common responsibility, the author writes, to help clear misinformation circulating in the education system, publications, and media, and for this, promoting proper information works well. Countering disinformation is much more difficult; it needs root-level treatment and requires collaboration among multiple stakeholders. Most important of all, the author argues, we need to instill in each individual, each family, and each society the habit of fact-checking and verifying the authenticity of any information they encounter, as well as the ability to do so. This final point is a call to action: the solution cannot be left solely to governments or institutions; it must be internalized by every citizen. The essay comes full circle, having begun with the vital role of information in civilization and ending with a warning that the very foundation of that civilization—trust in information—is under threat. The examples from Nepal, from the Hrithik Roshan riots to the MCC and BRI controversies, from Cold War-era rumors to the post-flood conspiracy theories, serve as cautionary tales that demonstrate the cost of complacency is measured in lives lost, economic damage, strained diplomatic ties, and eroded public trust. But the essay is not merely a lament; it is a roadmap for resilience. By promoting proper information, countering disinformation at its roots, and fostering a culture of verification, the author believes that societies can navigate the treacherous waters of the information age. The final message is one of shared responsibility: ensuring that information serves humanity rather than undermining it requires the active, informed participation of everyone, from the individual fact-checker to the state enforcing laws against harmful falsehoods, and ultimately, the preservation of truth is the cornerstone of a flourishing civilization.