#VoxPopuli | A Truth Downtrodden
by Daniella de Guzman
I have yet to see a sunset more beautiful than the sunsets I’ve seen with my friends. I can only think about those moments of peace now, as if the pictures in my mind have grayed with time. It hasn’t been very long, but the last I heard of their voices were through online calls, with all the energy an exasperated student could muster through the static of overused phones. And I miss them. More than that sunset, more than the forgotten normalcy of the pre-pandemic.
Ever since the lockdown began, our lives have all shifted to the internet. We’ve been using it for work, for “I miss you”s, and for daily COVID updates. We’ve all learned to use the internet as a substitute for what used to be physical connections. And that should be fine, if only we could trust the internet. But we can’t, because rumors used to look like whispers. They used to look like your sleight of hand, that sly little wink. Rumors used to look all frumpy with its patchwork of clashing colors. But after months in a pandemic, they’ve come to look like twitter threads punctuated by bright emojis and haunting photos. These tweets get lots of interactions, and suddenly they’ve graduated from ragged clothes to tuxedoed get-ups. Rumors have the potential to grow larger than the truth — don’t be fooled by all the pretty words and bold statements.
We have a world of information at our fingertips. A couple taps, and we’ve got a Google search; a click more, and we have access to an article. In the openly accessible World Wide Web, anyone can post anything. Anyone can react, anyone can share, and anything we do will bring more attention to pages and articles that claim falsehoods to be truths. The internet meets its downfall in its accessibility — things go viral all the time, and most times, it takes a couple cross-checks and a few unearthings to find a truth tangled within the web of misinformation. Fake news is grounded in some semblance of a truth, always, and that’s why it’s tricky trying to correct false claims that have already reached so many people.
Who should we trust? How much should we trust them? Sift through all the information, all the truths downtrodden. This is even more important now, since misinformation could lead to another new wave of cases and another new wave of deaths and victims. COVID spreads. A few wrong clicks, a few shares, and you’ve endangered lives. Check the websites you’re on. Do these end with .gov, .edu, or .org? Is it a reputable website? If not, who wrote the article you’re reading? Are they a public figure backed with credentials? No? Leave it, check something else.
If you’re on Twitter or Facebook, check the user. Are they verified? If not, are they at least in some position of authority? Considering the pandemic, listen to your doctors and scientists most. The very reason why we’re in this situation is because we didn’t listen to them the first time, so we have to begin listening now.
There are truths downtrodden by the voices of the youth and the unheard, clamoring for a spot in history. This clash of voices, so irrevocably loud in their activism, refuse to be silenced. As people raised in the chaos of the internet, we fail to notice that in talking about the truth, we tend to talk over the truth. We tend to speak for people we shouldn’t speak for, and speak over them. We claim to amplify their voices by using our platforms; we claim to help, even if their truth is not ours to tell.
Step back, and let the main actors tell their stories. Let them talk. Quiet down, let their voices ring loud in a silent room. Talk to support this truth because this truth is important. Don’t cut out any details, don’t change a thing. You may simplify or summarize but never omit. Offer corrections and clarifications. Intervene when necessary, and speak politely. Whether we like it or not, our voices are still not meant for the roar of the crowd.
There is no lack of truth. Instead, we have truths rephrased, redressed, rearranged. In social media, there is an inevitable spread of information, and we have little say in what goes viral and what doesn’t. There is a kaleidoscope of truths online, but they will not always be ours. And even then, these truths remain buried beneath the million ways they’ve been retold. Like rumors, they grow. Like rumors, they change.
We’ve come to rely on social media for discourse and connections. We were raised in this era, and so we’ve come to treat these sites as pillars. Now that they’ve come center-stage, star of the pandemic, we have all the more reason to scroll through our phones all day, exposed to every other truth but our own. We know how to use the internet best, so the least we can do is to hold the hands we can still hold. When their eyes close and their hands limp, there is nothing else we can do but grieve.
I miss those sunsets, I really do. I miss picking flowers and tucking them beneath my hair. I miss watching the kalachuchi lights flicker on and complaining about tomorrow’s requirements. I miss tugging at my friends’ arms, asking them to stay a while longer like we have all the time in the world. We’ve lived on the internet for so long that we’ve forgotten the simpler, quieter truths of afternoons spent outside our homes. Now, we’re stuck. Stuck facing this loneliness, this pandemic, this “new normal.” We have to face the challenges in front of us, the most prominent of which are the dangers of the internet and the pandemic. We have to move forward if we want to go back to those sunsets.
Know that there is a truth downtrodden, and walk forward.
