There was a strange moment a while back when messages began to circulate saying that the Ombudsman had passed away. Messages were sent on Viber and spread on TikTok and Facebook. Speculation spread. Screenshots multiplied. The only problem was this: the Ombudsman had long recovered. He had been back at work. One hundred percent, for more than a year.

Years ago, that kind of false report would have been a national scandal. Newsrooms would have investigated how it happened. Retractions would have been front-page news. Reputations would have been at stake. Today, the reaction is different. We shrug and say, “fake news.” And we scroll on.

The same pattern has unfolded in the ongoing flood control investigations. As evidence is gathered and testimonies are evaluated, waves of online posts attempt to muddy the narrative. Anonymous accounts release half-truths. Edited clips circulate without context. Documents are selectively quoted from. The goal is rarely to inform. It is to confuse. To exhaust the public. To make people throw up their hands and say, “We will never know the truth anyway.”

This is the quiet danger of our time.

Information is power. In previous generations, that power was concentrated in institutions: newspapers, broadcasters, and universities. Today, it sits in the palm of every hand. That democratization has benefits. Voices once unheard can now speak. But power without responsibility creates distortion. When anyone can publish anything instantly, the line between verified fact and deliberate fiction blurs.

And when falsehood spreads faster than correction, trust erodes.

Social media readers must recognize that platforms are not neutral town plazas. They are algorithms designed to reward engagement. Outrage travels faster than nuance. Emotion outperforms evidence. A dramatic lie often beats a boring truth.

Other democracies have begun to confront this reality. The European Union’s Digital Services Act imposes transparency obligations on large platforms and requires mechanisms for independent oversight. Finland invests heavily in media literacy education from an early age, teaching citizens how to verify sources and question viral claims.

Independent fact-checking collaborations, such as those coordinated globally through the International Fact-Checking Network, provide cross-newsroom verification standards. These are not perfect solutions. But they recognize that information ecosystems require guardrails.

Perhaps we need similar safeguards: stronger media literacy programs, crowdsourced verification systems where communities flag and contextualize claims, and independent, neutral bodies that audit how platforms amplify content. Not to censor speech, but to ensure transparency in how speech is distributed.

Because the issue is not merely reputational harm. It is institutional harm.

When false reports declare a public official dead, it is not just an insult. It destabilizes trust. When coordinated narratives distort corruption investigations, it is not just politics. It interferes with accountability.

If we consume news primarily through social media, we carry responsibility. Before sharing, pause. Before reacting, verify. Before believing, ask who benefits.

In an age where everyone can broadcast, discernment becomes a civic duty. Truth does not defend itself. We must defend it.