The Grumpy Doc

Grumpy opinions about everything.

Tag: Social Media

Feeling a Bit Peckish? How a Centuries-Old British Word Might Be Sneaking Into Your Vocabulary

By

On August 2, 2026

In Humor

If you’ve ever binge-watching The Crown, Ted Lasso, or any of the multitude of British mysteries, you’ve may have found yourself mimicking a British accent in the shower or casually saying “cheers” instead of “thanks.” You’re not alone — and you might be picking up more than just affectations. My wife and I are great fans of British mysteries, and I’ve been fascinated by the slang. “Ta”, “oi”, ” brilliant” and “no joy” are just a few of the terms I enjoy and all have equals in American slang.  There is one small but useful word that has no direct American parallel and is starting to sneak across the Atlantic. It’s peckish, and it’s worth a closer look.

What does it actually mean?

At its simplest, peckish means mildly hungry — not famished, not starving, just that gentle mid-afternoon nagging sensation that tells you it’s time to root around for a biscuit (or, if you’re American, a cookie). Being peckish means you’re a tad hungry, not starving, but hungry enough to poke around the kitchen.  Think of it as the polite, understated British cousin of “I could eat.”

There’s actually a second, older meaning too — irritable or peevish — though that sense has mostly faded from everyday use. Most modern speakers on both sides of the pond, when they use the word at all, use it strictly in the hunger sense.

Where does it come from?

The word dates to around 1785, built from the verb peck — as in what a bird does with its beak — combined with the suffix -ish, making it literally “disposed to peck.”  It evolved from the notion of nibbling or picking at food, suggesting a hunger not strong enough to warrant a full meal but rather a desire for something small and light.  The Oxford English Dictionary pushes the first documented use back even further, to the early 1700s.

All the pre-1988 OED citations for the word are British, which tells you something about how thoroughly it stayed home for nearly three centuries. One of the most celebrated uses comes from P.G. Wodehouse in 1936, where a character declares himself far beyond peckish — practically a homeless tapeworm. That’s the kind of comic understatement the British do so well, and it captures perfectly why the word is so appealing: it conveys hunger without any of the drama.

The Atlantic crossing

Here’s where streaming television enters the picture. Language-learning platform Babbel teamed up with Northern Arizona University researchers to measure cultural exchange between British and American English, analyzing millions of words and hours of speech — and found that British imports like bonkers, amongst, cheeky, and queue were among the fastest-growing British terms in American speech.

Peckish fits neatly into this trend. The March 2025 Netflix show Adolescence exposed American audiences to British slang and Generation Alpha online terminology that many of us had never encountered before, proving that a single binge-worthy hit can do more for vocabulary transfer than years of cultural proximity. Once Americans hear a word in context often enough — a character in Downton Abbey saying “I’m feeling rather peckish” before a garden party — the word starts to feel natural rather than foreign.

Why peckish, specifically, might stick

Not every British word makes the jump successfully. Some are too culturally specific (cheerio), some sound too pretentious (old chap), and others just don’t fill a gap that American English hasn’t already filled. Peckish, though, has a genuine advantage: it occupies a linguistic niche that American English handles clumsily. We have “hungry,” “starving,” and “famished” — all of which imply a more urgent need — and we have the clunky compound “I could use a snack.”

There’s also a certain aspirational quality at work. Borrowing British terms can feel like acquiring a touch of cosmopolitan polish, much the way earlier generations borrowed French culinary terms or Italian musical vocabulary. Saying “I’m a bit peckish” carries a different social flavor than “I’m kind of hungry.” It’s softer, less demanding, and perhaps a bit more amusing. For some speakers, that nuance is precisely the appeal.

At first glance you might think “munchies” would fill the gap. Both words describe mild, snack-worthy hunger rather than genuine meal-time starvation, but they diverge pretty sharply in tone and implication. Peckish is neutral and polite — the kind of word that fits comfortably in a country house or a BBC drama — while the munchies carries strong cultural baggage, most notably its well-documented association with cannabis use, and it implies something more compulsive and urgent than the genteel nibbling that peckish suggests. Same basic stomach situation, very different vibes.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

What makes peckish particularly well-suited for adoption is its practicality. It names a common experience with precision and brevity. In an era when snacking has become a cultural norm—when meals blur into grazing—the need for a word that captures “not quite hungry, but getting there” is more relevant than ever. Peckish sits softly with a single, breezy word. It’s casual, it’s precise, and it has a pleasant sound. Words that fill empty conceptual slots tend to survive.  American English may not have invented peckish, but it has room for it.

My prediction is that peckish will continue its quiet migration into American casual speech, particularly among younger, streaming-heavy audiences. It probably won’t replace “hungry” wholesale, but it could settle comfortably into the same type of informal usage that “hangry” now occupies — a colorful, specific alternative for a specific feeling. Language, after all, tends to absorb what’s useful and charming, and peckish is both.

In the meantime, if you find yourself three episodes deep into a British drama and muttering “I’m a bit peckish” while wandering toward the kitchen to grab a cuppa and a bag of crisps, congratulations — you’ve been linguistically colonized.

Image generated by author using ChatGPT.

“86” — A Little Number With a Big History

By

On May 2, 2026

In Commentary

Fifty some years ago when I was in the Marines, we used the term “86” to refer to something that should be ignored or discarded—in the colorful vernacular of the Corps, “shit canned”. That’s trashed to you civilians.  The Marines have never been known as a peaceable lot and we had many colorful euphemisms for doing grievous bodily harm, but “86” was never among them.

So why is “86” suddenly everywhere in the news? Blame James Comey. The former FBI Director posted a beach photo on Instagram showing seashells arranged to spell out “86 47” — and the internet promptly exploded. Republicans argued it was a death threat against the 47th president. Comey said it simply meant he wanted Trump removed from office. That dispute has brought a piece of century-old American slang back into the spotlight, so it’s worth taking a look at what the term means and where it came from.

The Short Answer

Eighty-six is slang meaning “to throw out,” “to get rid of,” or “to refuse service to.” It most likely comes from 1930s soda-counter slang meaning that an item was sold out. This was part of a broader diner code that included: 13 “the boss is around,” 81 “glass of water,” and 95 “customer left without paying”.  Over the decades it evolved from a kitchen noun into a verb with broader reach, and today it shows up everywhere from restaurant kitchens to Twitter and now worldwide headlines.

The Longer Answer

Here’s the honest answer: nobody knows for certain. Its etymology is unknown, but it seems to have been coined in the 1920s or 1930s. There are many theories about its origin — one article enumerates 18 possibilities, and another suggests there are “about 86 theories about 86.”

While the leading contender is the mundane diner option, there are several other more or less plausible and frequently more colorful options.

The most linguistically grounded explanation is that “86” is simply rhyming slang. The most common theory is that it is rhyming slang for “nix.” That’s the same “nix” meaning to reject or say no.

One of the more colorful stories involves a Prohibition-era speakeasy. Chumley’s, a bar with multiple entrances including one at 86 Bedford Street in New York. The story goes that the bar was supposedly warned by police before raids. Customers were told to “86 it” — meaning leave through the Bedford Street exit while cops came through the other door. It’s a great story, and if it’s not true it should be.

How It Evolved

First appearing in the early 1930s as a noun, it did not take long for the word to broaden its use beyond the realm of the soda counter. In the 1950s the word underwent some functional shift and began to be used as a verb — initially meaning “to refuse to serve a customer,” and later taking on the slightly extended meaning of “to get rid of; to throw out.”

It was quickly adopted and members of the military services who love slang, shortcuts, and inside terminology.  It may just be a coincidence that Article 86 of the U.S. Uniform Code of Military Justice concerns Absence Without Leave, or AWOL.

By the 1970s it had moved well beyond the restaurant world. In the 1972 film The Candidate, a media adviser says to Robert Redford’s character, “OK, now, for starters, we got to cut your hair and eighty-six the sideburns.”

Where It Stands Today

These days, people use “86” when they cancel plans, dump something, or boot someone from a chat. Social media picked it up — Twitter and TikTok users will “86 a trend” or “86 a person” in a heartbeat.

In professional kitchens and bars, it remains “everyday lingo” — one hospitality industry veteran called it “probably the most overused word in hospitality.”

The Comey controversy also resurrected an older, arcane, and darker shade of the term. According to Cassell’s Dictionary of Slang, “to 86” can alternatively mean “to kill, to murder; to execute judicially.” That said, Merriam-Webster notes this use is infrequent, and they do not include this sense due to its relative recency and sparseness of use.

The bottom line is that “86” is one of those wonderfully slippery pieces of American slang that started in a noisy kitchen, picked up mythology along the way, and is now flexible enough to mean anything from “we’re out of the salmon” to a loaded political statement — depending entirely on who’s using it and who’s listening.

Or, perhaps this entire tempest is just the response of one thin skinned man to his pathologic fear of seashells.

Truth at a Crossroads: How Trust, Identity, and Information Shape What We Believe

By

On February 2, 2026

In Commentary

When Oxford Dictionaries declared “post-truth” its word of the year in 2016, it crystallized something many people had been feeling: that we’d entered a strange new era where objective facts seemed less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief. The term exploded in usage that year, becoming shorthand for a troubling shift in how we process information. But have we really entered uncharted territory, or is this just the latest chapter in a very old story?

The short answer is: it’s complicated. The phenomenon itself isn’t new, but the scale and speed at which misinformation spreads certainly is. We are in a new world where the boundary between truth and untruth is blurred, institutions that once arbitrated facts are losing authority, and politics are running on “truthiness” and spectacle more than evidence.

The Psychology of Believing What We Want to Believe

To understand why people increasingly seem to choose sources over facts, we need to dive into how our minds actually work. People now seem to routinely sort themselves into information camps, each with its own “truth,” trusted voices, and shared worldview. But why is this and why does it seem to be getting worse?

Psychologists have spent decades studying something called confirmation bias—essentially, the tendency to seek out information that supports our existing beliefs while avoiding or dismissing information that contradicts them. This isn’t just about being stubborn. Research shows we actively sample more information from sources that align with what we already believe, and the higher our confidence in our initial beliefs, the more biased our information gathering becomes.

But there’s something even more powerful at play called motivated reasoning. While confirmation bias is about seeking information that confirms our beliefs, motivated reasoning is about protecting ideological beliefs by selectively crediting or discrediting facts to fit our identity-defining group’s position. In other words, we don’t just want to be right—we want to belong.

This matters because humans are fundamentally tribal creatures. When we form attachments to groups like political parties or ideological movements, we develop strong motivations to advance the group’s relative status and experience emotions like pride, shame, and anger on behalf of the group. Information processing becomes less about truth-seeking and more about identity protection.

Why Source Trumps Fact

So why do people trust a source they identify with over objective facts that contradict their worldview? Research points to several interconnected reasons.

First, there’s the practical matter of cognitive shortcuts. We’re bombarded with information daily, and people judge the reliability of evidence by using mental shortcuts called heuristics, such as how readily a particular idea comes to mind. If someone we trust says something, that’s an easier mental pathway than laboriously fact-checking every claim. This reliance becomes problematic when “trusted” means ideologically comfortable rather than factually reliable.

Analysts of the post‑truth phenomenon also highlight declining trust in traditional “truth tellers” such as mainstream media, scientific institutions, and government agencies. As these institutions lose authority, counter‑elites or influencers can present alternative narratives that followers treat as at least as plausible as established facts

Second, and more importantly, is the issue of identity. When individuals engage in identity-protective thinking, their processing of information more likely guides them to positions that are congruent with their membership in ideologically or culturally defined groups than to ones that reflect the best available scientific evidence. Being wrong about a fact might sting for a moment, but being cast out of your social group could have real consequences for your emotional support, social standing, and sense of self.

Third, there’s a feedback loop at work. In social media, confirmation bias is amplified by filter bubbles and algorithmic editing, which display to individuals only information they’re likely to agree with while excluding opposing views. The more we’re exposed only to sources that confirm our beliefs, the more alien and untrustworthy contradictory information appears.

Interestingly, being smarter doesn’t necessarily protect you from these biases. Some research suggests that people who are adept at using effortful, analytical modes of information processing may actually be even better at fitting their beliefs to their group identities, using their intelligence to construct more sophisticated justifications for what they already want to believe.

The Historical Echo Chamber

Despite the way it feels, this isn’t the first time truth has had competition. History is full of eras when myth, rumor, propaganda, and identity overshadowed facts.

During The Reformation of the1500s, misinformation was spread on both sides of the catholic-protestant divide.  Pamphlets—many of them highly distorted or outright fabricated—spread rapidly thanks to the printing press. Propaganda became a political weapon. Ordinary people suddenly had access to arguments they weren’t equipped to verify.  People were ostracized and some even executed based on little more than rumors or lies.  We might have hoped for better from religious leaders.

 The French Revolution (1780s–1790s) was awash in claims and counterclaims, many of them—if not most—had little basis in fact.Competing newspapers told wildly different stories about the same events. Rumors fueled paranoia, purges, and violence. Truth became secondary to whichever faction controlled the narrative.

Following the Civil War and Reconstruction, the “Lost Cause” narrative became a powerful example of source-driven myth making. Despite historical evidence, generations accepted a version of events shaped by postwar Southern elites, not by facts. Echoes of it still reverberate today, driving much of the opposition to the civil rights movement.

Fast forward to the 1890s, and we see something remarkably familiar. Yellow journalism, characterized by sensationalism and manipulated facts, emerged from the circulation war between Joseph Pulitzer’s New York World and William Randolph Hearst’s New York Journal. These papers used exaggerated headlines, unverified claims, faked interviews, misleading headlines, and pseudoscience to boost sales.

As early as 1898, a publication for the newspaper industry wrote that “the public is becoming heartily sick of fake news and fake extras”—sound familiar?

During the 20th-century propaganda states, typified by both fascist and communist regimes perfected source-based truth. The leader or the party defined reality, and disagreement was literally dangerous. In these systems, truth wasn’t debated—it was assigned.

What Makes Now Different?

While the psychological mechanisms and even the tactics aren’t new, several factors make our current moment distinct. The speed and scale of information spread is unprecedented. A false claim can circle the globe in hours. Studies show that people are bombarded by fake information online, leading the distinction between facts and fiction to become increasingly blurred as blogs, social media, and citizen journalism are awarded similar or greater credibility than other information sources.

We’re also experiencing a fragmentation of trusted authorities. Where once a handful of major newspapers and broadcast networks served as gatekeepers, now the fragmentation of centralized mass media gatekeepers has fundamentally altered information seeking, including ways of knowing, shared authorities, and trust in institutions.

So Are We in a Post-Truth Era?

Yes and no. The term “post-truth” captures something real about our current moment—the scale, speed, and sophistication of misinformation is unprecedented. But calling it “post-truth” suggests we’ve crossed some bright line into entirely new territory.  I’d argue we’re not quite there—but we are navigating a world where truth is sometimes lost in the collision of ancient human tendencies and modern technology

The data clearly show that confirmation bias, motivated reasoning, and identity-protective cognition are real and powerful forces. Historical evidence demonstrates that propaganda, misinformation, and the choice of tribal loyalty over objective fact have been with us for millennia. What’s changed is our information ecosystem driven by the technology that allows false information to spread faster than ever, and the by the fragmentation of shared sources of authority that once helped create common ground.

Perhaps a better framing would be that we’re in an era of “turbo-charged tribal epistemology”—where our very human tendency to trust our tribe’s narrative over contradicting evidence has been supercharged by algorithms that feed us what we want to hear and isolate us from alternative perspectives.  (I wish I could take credit for the term turbo-charged tribal epistemology. I really like it, but I read it somewhere, I just can’t remember where.) 

The question isn’t really whether we’re in a post-truth society. The question is whether we can develop the individual and collective skills to navigate an information environment that exploits every cognitive bias we have. The environment has changed, but the task remains the same: finding ways to establish shared facts despite our deep-seated tendency to believe what we want to believe.

Sources:

The Erosion of Decorum in Public Discourse

By

On September 5, 2025

In Commentary, Politics

The nature of public debate has undergone a dramatic change in recent years. Civility and reasoned discourse—once the hallmarks of political and social commentary—have given way to something closer to a verbal battleground.

Today’s public exchanges are increasingly defined by inflammatory rhetoric, personal attacks, and an abandonment of long-held norms of decorum.

From Respectful Dialogue to Profanity-Laced Exchanges

The decline is nowhere more evident than in the normalization of profanity. What was once limited to private conversations or edgy entertainment now spills freely across digital platforms.

Social media comment threads, online forums, and even professional publications regularly feature language that, not long ago, would have been considered unacceptable in public life. This shift reflects a broader cultural preference for emotional expression over reasoned argument.

Substack and the Temptation of Provocation

Even Substack, often positioned as a refuge for serious, long-form writing, has not been immune.

When I first joined the platform, I was drawn by its promise of thoughtful essays outside the noise of traditional media. Yet I’ve noticed a sharp increase in profanity, personal insults, and derogatory comments—paired with a noticeable decline in reasoned discussion.

False claims, easily disproven with a quick fact-check, are repeated and restacked with little regard for accuracy. The subscription model, rewarding engagement over editorial oversight, can inadvertently encourage more inflammatory tones in order to hold readers’ attention.

The Meme Problem

Memes have only accelerated this decline. And here, I’ll admit my own complicity: I’ve created and shared memes to make ironic or satirical points. But over time, irony can blur into sarcasm, and satire into insult.

Memes thrive on simplification and emotional impact. Complex policies collapse into pithy slogans and mocking images. They’re shareable, entertaining, and easy—but rarely conducive to real understanding.

The result? Substantive debate gets replaced by fast, shallow exchanges of oversimplified (and often misleading) talking points.

From Essays to Punchlines

Essays once demanded careful argument: claims supported by evidence, acknowledgment of counterpoints, and respect for nuance. Memes demand only a laugh—or a groan.

Worse, their viral nature ensures that inflammatory or misleading content spreads faster than any correction ever could.

This isn’t just an aesthetic concern. When communication prioritizes winning over understanding, democracy suffers. Citizens grow less equipped to grapple with complex issues, and leaders find it easier to appeal to emotion rather than present workable solutions.

Can We Reverse the Trend?

The trajectory is worrisome—but not irreversible.

  • Platforms could design features that reward thoughtful engagement instead of amplifying outrage.
  • Educational institutions could recommit to teaching critical thinking and civil debate.
  • Individuals can model better behavior, remembering that persuasion usually requires respect.

Still, if I’m honest, I’m not optimistic. Too many incentives—from clicks to cash—push the culture of discourse in the opposite direction.

Final Thoughts

The health of our public discourse is the health of democracy itself. As writers, readers, and citizens, we carry responsibility for raising the standard.

Our words shape not only our immediate conversations but also the norms of civic life for generations to come. The choice is ours: continue down the path of hostility and simplification—or rebuild the habits of respect and reason.

I hope we choose the latter. But hope, at this moment, feels fragile.

Who Will Tell Our Stories?

By

On January 25, 2025

In Commentary

The Decline of Community Newspapers

“Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter.” Thomas Jefferson’s words resonate now more than ever in today’s media landscape, where local newspapers—the cornerstone of informed citizenship—are vanishing at an alarming rate. But it is more than just newspapers at risk—it is our very democracy.

Growing up in Charleston during the 1950s and 60s, I witnessed firsthand how integral newspapers were to community life. From delivering The Gazette as a boy to relying on its pages for news of local events and government, newspapers were our primary connection to the world around us.

There weren’t a lot of options for news then. There were no 24-hour news channels. National news on the three networks was about 30 minutes an evening and local news was about 15 minutes. By the late 1960s national news had increased to 60 minutes and most local news to about 30 minutes. Given the limitations of time on the local stations, most of the broadcast was taken up with weather, sports, and human-interest stories with little time left to expand on hard news stories.

We depended on our newspapers for news of our cities, counties, and states and the papers delivered the news we needed. Almost everyone subscribed to and read the local papers.  They kept us informed about our local politicians and government and provided local insight on national events.  They were also our source for information about births, deaths, marriages, high school graduations and everything we wanted to know about our community. 

While newspapers were central in the mid-20th century, the proliferation of digital and broadcast media in the 21st century has transformed how we consume news. There are 24-hour news networks, but they often are a case of too much time and too little news. There are the social media—X (Twitter), Facebook, Tik Tok, Instagram, Truth Social and many other online entities that claim to provide news.

Even though local television news has expanded its format and increased coverage of local hard news, it remains heavily weighted toward sports, weather, and human interest.  It is somewhat akin to reading the headline and the first paragraph in a newspaper story. It doesn’t provide in-depth coverage, but hopefully, it motivates people to find out more about events that concern them.

Still, it’s the local newspapers that provide detailed news about local and state events.  Here in Charleston our newspapers were consolidated into a single daily paper several years ago. Despite reduced staffing and subscribership, they still make a valiant effort to cover our local news. Eric Eyre provided Pulitzer Prize winning coverage of the opioid epidemic. Currently Phil Kabler, though officially retired, continues to provide insight into the legislature and state government. Mike Tony, another reporter deeply involved in the community, provides coverage of West Virginia energy issues and the ongoing business foibles of our former governor and now senator. Mike recently informed us of an inappropriate—possibly illegal—grant made by the West Virginia Water Development Authority to a private Catholic College in Ohio. The college espouses multiple far right conservative political positions, although they claim this will not influence their project in West Virginia. Mike also pointed out the state statutory requirements for the grant were not met and that the governor’s office, as usual, had no comment.  All this was done while West Virginia communities that have been without safe drinking water for months did not receive grants or any other assistance to improve their water systems.

Will TV news ever be able to provide the details about our community?  The format of the newspaper allows for more detailed presentations and for a larger variety of stories.   The reader can pick which stories to read, when to read them and how much of each to read.  I don’t believe that broadcast news will ever fill the role of a free press.  The broadcast is an ethereal thing. You hear it and it’s gone. It is always possible to record it and play it back, but most people don’t.  Newspapers by their very nature encourage critical thinking. You can read it, think about it, and read it again.  There are times when on my second or third reading of an editorial or a news article I’ve changed my opinion about either the subject or the writer.  A news broadcast doesn’t lend itself to this type of reflection.  When listening to broadcast news I often find my mind wandering as something that the broadcaster said sends me in a different direction.

I worry about the future of newspapers.  According to a study by Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism, more than 360 newspapers have closed nationally since the beginning of the COVID pandemic. Since 2005 over 3300 newspapers have closed or consolidated—more than one third of the nation’s total.  The U.S. has also lost about 43,000 newspaper journalists, representing nearly two-thirds of the total.  It would be a tragedy to continue losing newspapers and journalists at this rate.

I beg everyone to please subscribe to your local newspapers. I generally prefer the hands-on, physical newspaper though I understand many people prefer the convenience of the digital version and I find myself moving in this direction. Whichever version you prefer, please subscribe.  Don’t pretend that online sources, such as Facebook, X, and Instagram will provide you with local news rather than just gossip.  Even the online news feeds from the dedicated news networks such as CNN or Fox provide little more than headlines. There’s little you can use to make an informed decision.

Without local news, we risk losing touch with how local and state governments affect our lives.  Without this knowledge, we may be at risk of losing our freedom.  Many countries that have succumbed to dictatorship have first lost their free press.  One of the first acts of the would-be dictator is to attempt to silence the free press.

In my opinion, broadcast news is controlled by advertising dollars and viewer ratings affecting their coverage and orientation.  News seems to be treated like any entertainment program with the output designed to attract an audience, not present facts.  I recognize that this can be the case with newspapers as well, but it seems to me that it’s much easier to detect bias in the written word than in the spoken word. Too often we can get caught up in the emotions of the presenter or in the graphics that accompany the story.

With that in mind, I recommend that if you want unbiased journalism, please support your local newspapers before we lose them. Once they are gone, we will never get them back and we will all be much the poorer as a result.

I will leave you with a final quote.

A free press is the unsleeping guardian of every other right that free men prize; it is the most dangerous foe of tyranny. –Winston Churchill

The Unprecedented Reach of Social Media

By

On November 7, 2024

In Commentary

A Vast Reach

Social media has proven to be a more effective platform for spreading propaganda than traditional media due to its vast reach, the ability to target specific users, emotional manipulation, algorithm-driven amplification, and the speed at which information spreads. While print, broadcast, and other forms of media still play roles in shaping public opinion, they simply cannot compete with the scale, focus, and speed offered by social media platforms.

This shift represents a fundamental change in the dynamics of information spread. The power to shape beliefs and influence behavior is no longer concentrated in the hands of a few gatekeepers but is now accessible to anyone who understands how to leverage the tools of technology. As a result, the modern information landscape is more fragmented and volatile, making it increasingly difficult to distinguish between genuine information and propaganda.

Understanding these dynamics is essential for navigating the digital world, particularly as social media plays an ever-larger role in public discourse. Whether we can develop better strategies for recognizing and mitigating propaganda in this new environment remains to be seen, but it must be addressed if we are to preserve the integrity of public information.

Sheer Scale

One of the primary reasons social media is more effective at spreading propaganda than traditional media is its sheer scale. Platforms like Facebook, X (formerly Twitter), Instagram, and TikTok have billions of users globally. Information shared on these platforms can be instantly viewed, and reshared by a wide audience, allowing propaganda to spread virally within hours or even minutes. Unlike print or broadcast media, which require significant resources and distribution channels, social media allows anyone with an internet connection to produce and share content.

Targeting

Another critical advantage social media has over traditional media lies in its ability to micro-target specific individuals or groups. Social media platforms utilize algorithms that gather massive amounts of data on users’ behaviors, interests, and demographics. This data is then used to curate content with which users are most likely to engage, creating a personalized experience. While this system may enhance user satisfaction and increase time spent on the platform, it also can create filter bubbles producing highly effective propaganda.

Propaganda creators can design content that speaks directly to the fears, values, or biases of particular segments of the population. By targeting users who are already inclined to believe certain narratives, propagandists can reinforce pre-existing biases, creating echo chambers in which users themselves specifically choose content that reflects their preexisting ideas without encountering opposing viewpoints.

Emotional Manipulation

Social media platforms are designed to maximize engagement, and the most engaging content is often that which provokes strong emotional responses. Whether it’s outrage, anger, fear, joy, or sadness, emotionally charged content is more likely to be shared and spread than neutral or purely informative posts. This creates an environment in which sensationalism and emotional manipulation thrive, making social media fertile ground for propaganda.  The old newspaper dictum, “If it bleeds it leads” has been carried to levels never imagined by previous generations of editors.

The Role of Algorithms

One of the most insidious aspects of propaganda on social media is the role of algorithms in determining what content users see. These algorithms are designed to prioritize content that keeps users engaged, often by promoting material that aligns with their existing beliefs or that provokes strong emotional reactions. In doing so, algorithms contribute to the spread of propaganda by ensuring that polarizing or misleading content reaches more people.

The Speed and Scale of Misinformation

Unlike print or broadcast media, where editorial processes and production timelines can act as natural checks on the spread of misinformation, social media operates in real-time. Users can share content instantly, without fact-checking or verifying sources. This speed makes it much easier for propaganda to spread before it can be debunked. By the time fact-checkers have corrected misinformation, it has already reached millions of people, many of whom may never see the correction.

The decentralized nature of social media makes it difficult to trace the origins of propaganda. Fake accounts, bots, and coordinated campaigns can obscure the sources of misleading content, making it harder for users to assess the credibility of the information they encounter. In traditional media, the source of information is typically clear, whether it’s a newspaper, a television network, or a radio station. On social media, the source of propaganda can be either disguised or entirely anonymous, or perhaps even fabricated by artificial intelligence, adding layers of complexity to the problem.

Hopefully this Brave New World of social media does not overwhelm the values that guide our country.  

Of Echo Chambers And Filter Bubbles

By

On September 27, 2024

In Uncategorized

The time has come, the Walrus said,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes – and ships – and sealing-wax –
Of cabbages and kings –
Louis Carroll
“The Walrus and the Carpenter”

Introduction

Recently, I have been researching the role of social media and the spread of modern propaganda. One of the things that surprised me, although it probably shouldn’t have, is how rapidly misinformation spreads over the internet as compared to verifiable fact-based information. I choose to use the term verified or verifiable rather than true or truth. It seems to me that we have entered an age where each person decides on their own version of truth. Truth has become relative. It’s based not on verifiable and reproducible facts but rather on who said it, where you read it, or if you agree with it.  If it doesn’t fit with your preconceived notions, it can’t possibly be true.

A study by three MIT researchers found that false news spreads more rapidly on the social network Twitter (now X), by a substantial margin, than does factual news. “We found that falsehood diffuses significantly farther, faster, deeper, and more broadly than the truth, in all categories of information, and in many cases by an order of magnitude,” reported Sinan Aral, a professor at the MIT Sloan School of Management.

They found the spread of false information is not due primarily to bots programmed to disseminate inaccurate stories but rather due to people intentionally retweeting inaccurate news items more widely than factual statements.*

To better understand how social media impacts propaganda, it is important to understand how this phenomenon occurs. This leads to two related concepts, Echo Chambers and Filter Bubbles.

Echo Chambers

An echo chamber is a social structure in which individuals intentionally surrounded themselves only with those who share similar views and opinions. Within these chambers, dissenting opinions are either absent or actively suppressed, leading to the reinforcement of existing beliefs. On social media, echo chambers are created by users themselves, as they choose to follow, like, and share content that aligns with their views while ignoring or blocking contrary perspectives.  This self-selection creates a feedback loop where individuals only hear what they already believe, which further entrenches their views.

Filter Bubbles

While echo chambers are largely the result of individual choices, filter bubbles are often shaped by algorithms. Social media platforms and search engines use algorithms to curate content for users based on their past behavior, what they click on, like, or share. The stated intention behind these algorithms is to provide users with content that is most relevant to them. But we shouldn’t overlook that it is also a method to make users more receptive to focused advertising and other forms of influence. The net result is a significant narrowing of the variety of opinions presented.

Individual Choice

Both echo chambers and filter bubbles limit the diversity of information by consistently show users content that aligns with their established interests and beliefs, isolating them from conflicting viewpoints and leading to a narrow and sometimes distorted understanding of the world. Over time, this can result in a skewed perception of reality, where the individual believes that their perspective is universally accepted or unquestionably correct.

While echo chambers and filter bubbles are often discussed in terms of algorithms and platform design, it is crucial to recognize the role of individual decisions in their creation and perpetuation. Each time we choose to follow a particular account, share a piece of content, or engage in a discussion, we are making decisions that shape our information environment.

The choices we make, whether to engage with diverse perspectives or retreat into familiar territory, have a profound impact on the information we encounter and share. When we choose to engage only with like-minded individuals and content, we contribute to the formation of echo chambers. Similarly, when we rely on algorithms to curate our content without seeking out alternative viewpoints, we become trapped in filter bubbles.

Echo chambers and filter bubbles are not exclusive to any political affiliation, religion, ethnicity, or social class.  They are found across society.  The willing acceptance of echo chambers and filter bubbles is the antithesis of critical thinking. When we fail to recognize that we are not considering alternative views, regardless of our political orientation, we are succumbing to indoctrination rather than education.  We become unthinking automatons rather than critical thinking individuals who decide what is best for ourselves. Failure to actively engage with the information that we receive, to ensure that we receive multiple viewpoints (even those with which we disagree) and then failing to critically evaluate everything presented is a sure recipe for a loss of freedom.

*The paper, “The Spread of True and False News Online,” was published in Science, 9 March 2018

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