Silencing in the Age of Disinformation

These days, my research on disinformation feels heavier than usual. Maybe it’s the creeping sense that we’ve lost the information war…at least for now. On top of the endless flood and firehose of lies, manipulations, rage bates, fake news, and deepfakes engineered to provoke the most primitive instincts, there is an additional threat that gets less attention but is just as corrosive: silencing.

We talk about disinformation as noise, but we forget that it also produces silence. And silence in information warfare is not neutral; it is instrumental.

Leaving Twitter Was an Ethical Choice and a Victory for Disinformation

When Musk took over Twitter, academics, including me, migrated elsewhere. I simply could not stomach the political capitalism of the platform or the emotional whiplash every time I opened the app.

A space that once encouraged discussion of urgent issues decayed into a swamp: algorithmic garbage, unmoderated hate, and corporate ego masquerading as “free speech.”

The good old days of the Kyrgyz Twitter segment are now subjects of nostalgia. The cover image of a green Trojan Horse in Bishkek city centre is taken from the Kyrgyz Facebook publics. I am not sure who the author is, as the image has been circulating widely. It is a perfect illustration of Nomad TV tricks played in the country.

Those who found the X (former Twitter) environment ethically intolerable left, giving more space to those who thrive in chaos and extremism.

In other words, the people who cared about truth and accountability voluntarily silenced themselves, leaving the machine of nonsense unchallenged. The platform became an echo chamber of its worst impulses, now largely uncontested. It’s not just that the disinformation intensified; it’s that the absence of counter-narratives became part of the problem.

Meanwhile, across platforms, AI is used to generate fake images and further spread hate and fear. Like this screenshot from a Facebook page of a Ski resort in Austria.

It’s Getting Dangerous to Speak. Not Only in Autocracies

Silencing is not only digital or emotional; it is increasingly physical and legal.

In Central Asia, speaking out about politics, corruption, or human rights can land you in prison. The last of the Mohicans fell, so to speak, as Kyrgyzstan declared Kloop an extremist organisation and welcomed the Russian propaganda channel Nomad TV with open arms. Might have been expected amid the greater autocratization process in the country, yet the issue is global. Safety is no longer guaranteed in the United States either. Posting about genocide in Palestine, calling out state violence, or even sharing evidence of oppression can lead to job loss, police visits, harassment, or deportation, especially for migrants, students, and anyone living in precarious conditions.

So we get silence layered on silence:

• We leave platforms driven by ethical concerns and emotional discomfort.

• We self-censor out of fear.

• We lose momentum in public debate.

• We lose legal battles.

• We lack resources to produce counter-narratives.

  
  

Meanwhile, disinformation networks are well-organised, well-funded, and unconstrained. They fill the vacuum with speed and volume. The asymmetry is staggering. The algorithms help promote their messages.

What Now? Fighting Decadence Without Becoming What We Resist

The question that haunts me is simple:

What can be done?

How do we challenge this expanding decadence of information manipulation without becoming everything we stand against?

• How do we protect the vulnerable without replicating the authoritarian instincts we criticise?

• How do we rebuild trust without imposing new forms of control?

• How do we speak loudly, clearly, ethically when every structural force pushes us into silence?

I don’t have full answers yet. But naming the problem is a start. Silencing is not just the absence of speech; it is a political technology. And if we want to win the next round of the information war, we need to understand the silence as much as the noise.

Whatever we do, one thing is certain: we must not become the very thing we are fighting against. This makes the battle infinitely more difficult. We have to remain honest, grounded in facts, and committed to our humanity, even when the other side abandons all three. And we must try to win with what we have: limited coordination, limited unity, and limited resources. It is unfair, it is exhausting, and yet it is the only path that keeps us aligned with our values.

P.S. You might be wondering who exactly this “we” refers to. And that, too, is part of the problem. In post-truth realities, identity markers are diverse and exist in odd combinations (think Nazi cat lovers). They use fear and press on sentiments of anti-immigration, racism, Islamophobia, homophobia (and pink-washing at the same time), the sanctification of the “traditional family” (while blaming non-integrating Muslims for not accepting 'free choice' values) the weaponisation of children as victims of supposed LGBTQIA+ “propaganda” (a narrative mirrored in both the U.S. and Russia), isolationism (hand in hand with imperialism), intolerance. This camp is wide because it builds on exclusion, on boundary-drawing, on naming enemies. Yet I see contradictions on the "left" side as well. One can oppose putin but be ok with territorial annexation and condemn migration. One can express pity for Ukraine but support Israel using the same phrases that they once criticised a la “if they wanted to destroy, they would have already done that”, “they are there fighting terrorists”, “this is justified”, “they were given no other option”, “they were provoked”. You get the point.

Then, who are we? I don't know. The real challenge is that everyone is subject to bias. What would benefit all parties is the ability to debate without vitriol, without bullying, and without fear of prosecution or other forms of silencing.