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By:

Anil D. Salve

21 March 2026 at 8:11:09 pm

A Drought of Wisdom in an Ocean of Information

We live in an age where information is everywhere. With a single click, we can access news from across the world, thousands of opinions, countless videos and endless claims. Knowledge has never been so accessible. Yet, in this overwhelming flow of information, something increasingly scarce is discernment-the ability to distinguish what deserves our belief from what deserves our doubt. Information and knowledge are not the same. Reading, watching or hearing something does not automatically...

A Drought of Wisdom in an Ocean of Information

We live in an age where information is everywhere. With a single click, we can access news from across the world, thousands of opinions, countless videos and endless claims. Knowledge has never been so accessible. Yet, in this overwhelming flow of information, something increasingly scarce is discernment-the ability to distinguish what deserves our belief from what deserves our doubt. Information and knowledge are not the same. Reading, watching or hearing something does not automatically make it true. We need the ability to verify information, understand its context, recognise its purpose and only then form an opinion. In the digital age, this ability has become one of the most important forms of wisdom. Social media has transformed the way information travels. WhatsApp, Instagram, Facebook and other platforms have made communication faster, wider and more accessible. But the same speed that connects society can also overwhelm it. Information often reaches us before facts do. A headline is read before the full story. A short video is watched without knowing what happened before or after it. A photograph is circulated without its original context. A message arrives with the familiar words, “Forwarded as received,” and within minutes it may reach thousands of people. By the time the truth catches up, the rumour may already have done its work. The problem becomes even more serious when misinformation is deliberately created and circulated. Rumours may be planted not merely to mislead individuals but to divert public attention from an important issue, create suspicion, damage someone's reputation or push society towards a particular narrative. A distraction does not always need to be completely false. Sometimes a small piece of truth is mixed with exaggeration, selective facts or emotional language. The result can be more powerful than an outright lie because it appears believable. This is how narratives are manufactured. Social media platforms can become powerful tools in this process. A repeated claim begins to look familiar, and familiarity is often mistaken for truth. A provocative post attracts attention. Thousands of reactions create the impression that “everyone” believes it. One emotional video triggers another, comments intensify the mood, and before facts have an opportunity to speak, public sentiment may have already shifted. This is where mob psychology enters the picture. A society can move from calm to anger, suspicion to trust, or optimism to fear with surprising speed. People who would ordinarily think carefully may react differently when they see thousands of others expressing outrage, fear or hostility. The individual begins to follow the crowd, and the crowd begins to reinforce the individual. The danger is not limited to negative emotions. The same mechanism can also be used positively-to mobilise people for social causes, humanitarian assistance, disaster relief, public awareness and community action. Technology itself is neither wise nor foolish. Its impact depends on how information is created, amplified and consumed. The greatest danger, therefore, is not that we have too much information. It is that we may lose the habit of thinking while consuming it. We are increasingly becoming consumers of information rather than creators of thought. Everyone has access to information today, but access does not necessarily mean understanding. The boundaries between a rumour and a report, an opinion and a fact, popularity and truth are becoming increasingly blurred. A post does not become true because thousands of people have liked it. A video does not become evidence merely because it has gone viral. An opinion does not become a fact because it is expressed confidently. An idea does not become correct simply because it confirms what we already believe. This last point deserves particular attention. We often accept information not because it is accurate, but because it is comfortable. We are naturally attracted to information that confirms our existing beliefs and suspicious of information that challenges them. In the digital world, this tendency can be amplified by algorithms that repeatedly expose us to content similar to what we have already watched, liked or shared. Gradually, we may find ourselves living inside an information bubble where we hear many voices-but mostly voices that agree with us. That is not diversity of information. It is an illusion of certainty. Discernment does not mean doubting everything. It means thinking before believing. It means asking simple but powerful questions: Who is saying this? What is the evidence? What is the context? What may be missing? Who benefits if I believe it? And have I heard the other side? These questions may take only a few seconds, but they can prevent hours, days or even years of misunderstanding. This responsibility is particularly important for the younger generation. Children today are growing up in an environment of unprecedented information exposure. They can encounter more information in a few hours than earlier generations might have encountered in weeks. Therefore, education cannot merely teach students how to collect, remember and reproduce information. It must teach them how to question, verify, analyse and interpret it. A student who can write the correct answer in an examination may be academically successful. But a student who knows how to ask the right question is better prepared for life. The classroom of the future must therefore produce not merely informed students, but thinking citizens. They must learn that forwarding a message is also a form of responsibility. Sharing a post is not an innocent act when it can affect someone's reputation, create public fear or influence social behaviour. The challenge becomes even greater in the age of Artificial Intelligence. AI can generate information, images, audio and video with extraordinary speed and sophistication. The distinction between what is real and what merely appears real may become increasingly difficult. In such a world, human judgment becomes more valuable, not less. Technology can produce an answer in seconds. It cannot automatically tell us whether that answer deserves our trust. Some answers require experience. Some require context. Many require the ability to think independently. We have more information, more technology and more connectivity than any previous generation. Yet our real challenge is to preserve something technology cannot manufacture for us: the capacity to think for ourselves. The ocean of information will only become larger. The question will no longer be, “How much information do we have?” The more important questions will be: What should we accept? What should we question? What should we verify? And what should we reject? No technology can completely answer these questions for us. No number of likes can substitute for evidence. No viral trend can replace judgment. No majority can turn misinformation into truth. That responsibility belongs to human beings. Information can tell us what happened. Discernment helps us understand what it means, why it happened, what may be missing from the story and how we should respond. Perhaps, therefore, the greatest educational challenge of our time is not to teach people how to find more information. They already know how to do that. The greater challenge is to teach them how to pause-to pause before believing, to pause before reacting, to pause before forwarding and to pause before joining the crowd. Because sometimes the most intelligent response to information is not an immediate reaction, but a moment of reflection. The ocean is already around us. It is growing deeper every day. What we need now is not more information to swim through it-but the wisdom to know which direction to take. (The writer is the Principal of Podar International School, Ausa, Latur. Views personal.)

An Open Letter to President Donald Trump

Writer: C.S. Krishnamurthy
C.S. Krishnamurthy
Apr 1
3 min read

Mr. President,


History has a quiet way of asking uncomfortable questions. It does not shout. It observes. And then, years later, it decides.


What makes a leader endure in its memory? Is it the wars he wages, or the wars he prevents? Is it the force of command, or the wisdom of restraint? When the world stands at the edge of uncertainty, does true strength lie in action, or in the courage to pause?


The Gulf today is a fragile crossroads of humanity’s future. The rising smoke from its tensions carries the anxiety of millions, the instability of economies, and the quiet fear of children who have never held a weapon, yet bear its consequences.


The United States has never been a distant observer of global events. By history and design, it remains a central force shaping them. Your decisions travel across continents, markets, and minds.


History offers a lesson that still whispers with relevance. During the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis, the world came dangerously close to catastrophe. It was not military might that saved humanity. It was restraint, dialogue, and the willingness to step back.


Today, the Strait of Hormuz resembles a narrow bridge carrying a heavy burden. Nearly a fifth of the world’s energy flows through that slender passage. When uncertainty grips it, the world feels the tremor with rising oil prices and inflation.


For countries like India, dependent on energy imports, even a small rise in oil prices widens deficits and burdens households. Medicines cost more. Food prices climb. The invisible tax of war reaches the poorest first.


War leaves footprints not just on land, but on the human mind. One in six children today grows up in a conflict zone. It is a lullaby replaced by sirens. A young girl once said that even the bursting of a balloon makes her tremble because it sounds like gunfire. That is the true echo of war. It lingers long after the noise fades.


Even those far removed from conflict are not untouched. Through screens and headlines, fear travels swiftly. Children who have never seen war begin to imagine it at their doorstep. Their world shrinks, not in geography, but in spirit. Trust erodes quietly. Fear becomes familiar. And slowly, aggression begins to feel normal.


If war drains, peace builds.  The global economy today is intricately interconnected. Disruptions in energy supply affect agriculture, medicine, and manufacturing. Fertiliser shortages can lead to food insecurity. Petrochemical disruptions raise the cost of essential drugs. The International Monetary Fund has repeatedly warned that geopolitical conflicts quickly spiral into humanitarian and economic crises, driving inflation and slowing global growth.


The early signs of stagflation are already visible. Low growth with rising prices is not just an economic condition. It is a social strain that widens inequality and tests stability.


History, however, offers a telling contrast. After the devastation of World War II, the Marshall Plan chose construction over confrontation. The United States provided $13.3 billion (equivalent to $137 billion in 2025) to rebuild Western Europe, replacing ruin with investment, and conflict with cooperation, leading to recovery and lasting prosperity.


A peaceful Gulf could achieve something similar. Stable energy markets, restored supply chains, and renewed confidence could uplift millions. Peace is not passive. It is productive.


Mr. President, leadership is rarely tested in calm moments. It is tested when the easier path is escalation, when pressure demands reaction, and when restraint appears costly.


There is an old wisdom that conquering anger is the greatest victory. In today’s world, that wisdom feels urgent. A step toward de-escalation can open dialogue. Dialogue can build trust. Trust can reduce hostility. This path is not dramatic, but it is enduring.


History has a way of simplifying complexity into judgment. Leaders are remembered not for the intensity of their actions, but for the wisdom of their choices.


Will this moment be remembered as another chapter of escalation? Or will it stand as a turning point where conflict was consciously softened?


The world is not asking for inaction. It is asking for thoughtful action. Not weakness, but wisdom.


Peace is often dismissed as idealistic. Yet it remains the most practical path to stability. It strengthens economies, heals societies, and restores faith in humanity.  In choosing peace, you do not step away from power. You redefine it. And in doing so, you offer the world something far more enduring than victory.  You offer it hope.


(The writer is a retired banker and author. Views personal.)

 


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