Selling misinformation

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I was riding my bike, crossing an underpass, when I saw a man struggling to walk with a polio-affected leg. He gestured for a ride, and I stopped to help. As he settled on the seat behind me, I casually asked, "What happened to your leg?" He sighed and replied, "It is because of polio. When I was a child, my parents refused to get me vaccinated. They believed the polio vaccine was haram (forbidden) in Islam, and they had other excuses too — saying it was part of some conspiracy or that it would make me infertile." His words stayed in my mind. A life-changing disability, not by fate but by false information.

This is the world we live in today. Influencers, not journalists, are shaping public discourse, and where truth competes with virality, engagement and profit-driven disinformation. The rise of digital content creators has fundamentally changed the way Pakistanis consume information, but not always for the better. Social media was supposed to democratise access to information, but instead, it has weaponised misinformation and disinformation, often at the cost of public health, democracy and social harmony.

Unlike trained journalists who work under editorial scrutiny, influencers operate with zero accountability. They claim expertise on everything from politics to vaccines and yet, a majority of them do not verify their content before posting. A recent UNESCO report on digital content creators found that 42% of influencers determine credibility based on engagement rather than verification. The study also revealed that 59% of them have little or no knowledge of regulations on digital communication. In short, they are influencing millions without any understanding of the responsibility that comes with it.

Pakistan has already witnessed the deadly consequences of information disorder. The tragic lynching of Mashal Khan in 2017, fueled by false blasphemy accusations on social media, was a scary reminder of how a single unchecked narrative can destroy a life. During the COVID-19 pandemic, fake news about vaccine side effects undermined national immunisation efforts, delaying progress in combating the virus.

Political misinformation, especially during elections, has fueled distrust and unrest. Influencers tied to interest groups amplify such narratives to boost engagement, weakening public trust in democratic institutions. A question arises. Why do they do it? The answer is simple: misinformation is profitable. Social media rewards controversy and outrage. The more sensational content, the more engagement it attracts.

And engagement equals money, whether through brand endorsements, YouTube monetization or political sponsorships. The UNESCO study found that 52% of influencers create sponsored content, but nearly half fail to disclose their funding sources. This raises a critical ethical dilemma: are they shaping public opinion independently, or are they merely puppets for those who pay them?

Countering this growing crisis requires more than just calling out fake news. The UNESCO Guidelines for the Governance of Digital Platforms emphasise the need for transparency, accountability and digital literacy. Pakistan must enforce stricter policies on algorithmic accountability, ensuring that platforms disclose how they amplify misinformation. Fact-checking institutions must be strengthened, and media literacy programmes integrated into education curricula.

Most importantly, Right to Information (RTI) laws must be fully enforced, ensuring proactive disclosure of certified information to minimise reliance on unreliable sources.

But while regulating misinformation is essential, Pakistan's latest approach to countering fake news is deeply flawed and dangerously authoritarian. Instead of addressing digital literacy and algorithmic responsibility, the government has introduced draconian amendments to the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (PECA), criminalising "false and fake information" with penalties of up to three years in prison.

At first glance, a law targeting disinformation may seem necessary. After all, misinformation is a serious problem. But who decides what is "fake" news? The state now claims the power to determine the truth; and in a country where press freedom is already under threat, this law is a clear attempt to silence dissent rather than counter disinformation. The PECA amendment expands the definition of a complainant, allowing government institutions and corporations to file cases against journalists and citizens alike. This means any critical reporting on the government or judiciary could be deemed "false" and punished. It further establishes a social media Regulatory Authority with unchecked powers, making the government both the judge and the jury in matters of digital content.

Such broad definitions are ripe for abuse. Under this law, a journalist reporting on corruption or human rights violations could be jailed if the government deems the information "misleading". A citizen tweeting about inflation, censorship or political repression could face criminal charges if their post considered as "causes unrest". This is not about countering fake news; it is about controlling the narrative.

History has repeatedly shown that censorship does not tackle misinformation. The answer to fake news is not imprisonment but education, transparency and effective fact-checking mechanisms. Instead of silencing journalists and citizens, Pakistan must hold social media platforms accountable for their role in amplifying disinformation. Instead of silencing voices, we need to invest in media literacy programmes to empower people to distinguish fact from fiction.

The digital battlefield is real, and Pakistan stands at a crossroads. Do we fight fake news through education and regulation of tech platforms, or do we surrender to state-controlled truth? The future of our democracy, governance and freedom of expression depends on this choice.