Welcome to the Liar’s Paradise

Most mornings, I browse the news over coffee with a mix of scepticism and curiosity. I scan a variety of sources—left-wing, right-wing, old-school, and so-called new media. Sometimes I let the algorithms guide me, other times I deliberately shake things up. I’m trying to stay informed, but I’m also comparing realities.

One source reports disaster; another dismisses it as fake news. One headline celebrates progress; the next predicts collapse. Wars, politics, and science now come in duplicates. My head spins—different angles, different truths.

Politics is the hardest to untangle. Some of the most successful politicians turn deception into an art form. They lie easily, confidently, and with a touch of theatre. In a world built on optics and emotion, that’s not a flaw — it’s a feature. Master the performance, and honesty becomes optional. The truth doesn’t disappear; it just ducks into hiding, like a witness in a protection program.

The Post-Truth World

People say we’re living in a post-truth world. It sounds like something a philosopher on mushrooms would say, but it rings true. Facts matter less than emotional appeal. Beliefs outgun evidence. Opinion pretends to be fact.

Algorithms, those invisible yet powerful gatekeepers, aren’t concerned with truth. They chase attention. They deliver content that provokes, flatters, or enrages—not what informs. What we see online isn’t a reflection of importance or accuracy, but emotional impact and shareability. It’s a digital hall of mirrors where outrage spreads faster than nuance, and lies—if sticky enough—outperform facts. Misinformation isn’t a glitch. It’s a business model.

Just this week, I read two reports about humanitarian aid coming under fire. One blamed the military, the other blamed militants. Both cited “reliable sources.” Both were certain. I wasn’t. I stared at the screen, wondering if truth is now just another streaming genre. Drama? Thriller? Propaganda?

What Happened to Facts?

It wasn’t always so obvious. Traditional gatekeepers—newspapers, broadcasters—once served as editorial filters. They had flaws and biases, but also editors, correction pages, and a vague sense of shame. Now, anyone with a phone can broadcast to the world. It has democratised the media landscape—and flattened it. Expertise and guesswork now appear in the same font, with the same confidence.

Still, it’s not all bad. Decentralisation empowered voices long ignored. Marginalised communities, citizen journalists, and the occasional whistleblower with a death wish. However, they arrived alongside trolls, scammers, and various idiots with the catchphrase Just Asking Questions.

We aren’t blameless in this mess. We enjoy being right. We love condemning those who aren’t. We seek stories that boost our identity, ease our anxiety, and give us someone to blame. This isn’t new. But now, the tools to do it are frictionless and relentless.

And then there's AI. Not just writing text, but creating photos, videos, and even fake voices. We’re entering an era where our senses—once the final judge—can no longer be trusted. A politician endorsing something they never actually said. A video made from pixels and imagination. The line between real and fake isn’t blurry — sometimes it’s completely gone.

The Emotional Toll

So what’s it like living in a liar’s paradise?

Disorienting. Trust erodes. Institutions—government, science, media—once felt like anchors. Now they’re just more noise. Conversations get harder. Disagreements solidify into divisions. We don’t just see the world differently—we see each other differently. Truth turns tribal.

It’s exhausting. Verifying every claim. Doubting every headline. Some of us switch off. Others dig in harder. Either way, the shared world shrinks.

And beneath the noise lurks something darker: control. Lies distract, divide, and destabilise. If you can make people doubt everything, you can make them believe anything. That’s not chaos. That’s strategy.

The Fix?

So what do we do? How do we navigate this glittering maze of bullshit?

First, don’t panic. We might just be going through the awkward teenage years of the digital age—loud, messy, and prone to bad decisions. History shows that chaos often precedes correction. Give it time, and things may settle. Still flawed, but with better filters and fewer bots.

Second, practise digital hygiene. What you click, what you share, what you amplify—all of it counts. Attention is currency. Use it wisely. Every retweet is a vote for the kind of world you want. If you share conspiracy memes “just for a laugh,” congratulations—you’re on the marketing team for nonsense.

Seek out sources that admit when they’re wrong. That mark opinion as opinion. That draw the line between reporting and speculation. We don’t need bland centrism, but we do need boundaries between passion and propaganda.

And most importantly: practise truth humility. Your beliefs weren’t handed down from a mountaintop. They were shaped by algorithms, your parents, a half-read book, and that one person you dated who wouldn’t stop talking about geopolitics. Everyone’s swimming in a different data stream. Staying open-minded isn’t weakness. It’s a sign you’re truly awake.

If we’re stuck in a Liar’s Paradise, the answer isn’t to give up on truth. It’s to dig for it. Truth hasn’t vanished—it’s just harder to find. Like a rare mineral: buried, precious, and worth the effort.