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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.)

Iran and Iraq: From Battlefield to Backroom

Writer: Shoumojit Banerjee
Shoumojit Banerjee
Sep 13, 2024
3 min read

Updated: Oct 21, 2024

Iran and Iraq

In describing the potential dangers of the rivalry between the US and China, American political scientist Graham Allison, in his book ‘The Thucydides Trap,’ uses the title term to describe the inevitable conflict between a rising power and an established one. The term alludes to the destructive conflict in the ancient world that raged for 27 years between Athens and Sparta (431 B.C. - 404 B.C.) which was chronicled by the Athenian historian Thucydides in his classic ‘History of the Peloponnesian War’ – a book considered the first ‘objective’ work of history.

Like Athens and Sparta of yore, Iran and Iraq – two Middle Eastern powers who were bitter foes - seem to have undergone a remarkable transformation in their relationship as exemplified by the recent visit of Iran’s president, Masoud Pezeshkian to Iraq.

Pezeshkian’s discussions with Prime Minister Muhammad Shia’ Al-Sudani revolved around bolstering economic cooperation and deepening political ties — a stark contrast to the adversarial relations that has defined the two nations for much of the past. Talks focused on expanding trade, with ambitions to increase bilateral trade to $20 billion in the coming years. Energy cooperation was also on the agenda, reflecting Iraq’s ongoing need for Iranian electricity supplies amid its own chronic shortages. This partnership is emblematic of Iraq’s broader strategy to diversify its international alliances and reduce dependence on the United States.

The Iran-Iraq War (1980-88) remains one of the longest and bloodiest conflicts (and least documented) of the 20th century, casting a shadow over both nations that lingered well into the 21st century. The war, sparked by territorial disputes and ideological differences left scars so deep that any thought of reconciliation seemed impossible.

Yet, in light of their altered relations today, it appears that Iran and Iraq are navigating a path that defies Allison’s ‘Thucydidean Trap.’

Strategically, both nations are keen to stabilize their borders and counter shared threats, particularly from extremist groups. The rise of the Islamic State in 2014 galvanized a tacit military partnership, as Iranian-backed militias played a crucial role in the fight against the jihadists in Iraq.

Iran’s influence in Iraq has grown significantly since the 2003 U.S.-led invasion that toppled Saddam Hussein. Yet, the path to rapprochement since 1980 has been rocky and chaotic, chequered by violent sectarian conflict and buffeted by the headwinds of the Iraqi civil war that followed the fall of Saddam Hussein.

Describing the pervasive hatred between Ayatollah Khomeini’s Iran and Saddam Hussein’s Iraq, Williamson Murray and Kevin M. Woods, in their authoritative history of the conflict, observe how Iraq made the battlefield even more gruesome by introducing poison gas – not used extensively in a major war since Mussolini’s invasion of Ethiopia in 1935.

Both emerged from the war weakened and wary, their economies shattered and their militaries exhausted. The conflict was a pyrrhic victory for Iraq and a grievous loss for Iran, leaving both nations “more vulnerable than they had been before the first shot was fired,” say Williamson and Woods in their book.

Both Hussein and Khomeini, the war’s chief architects, were gone by the mid-2000s, but the animosity and distrust remained.

The toppling of Hussein’s regime in 2003 dismantled the fragile power structure of a deeply sectarian country, setting off a brutal cycle of insurgency and sectarian violence. Amidst this geopolitical chaos, Iran seized the opportunity to expand its influence in Iraq, sponsoring militant groups.

One of the most notable figures to emerge was Muqtada al-Sadr, a fiery cleric who galvanized Shiite resentment and nationalist sentiment against the U.S. occupation. Sadr’s Mahdi Army, a militia formed in 2003, became a formidable force, clashing with American troops and other rival factions.

As the U.S. struggled to establish order, Iran played a calculated game of fostering Shiite militias and political factions to create a network of influence in a rapidly fragmenting Iraq. Tehran’s backing of groups like the Badr Organization and the Mahdi Army was part of a broader strategy to counter American presence and ensure that post-Saddam Iraq would be an ally rather than a rival. Iran’s Quds Force, led by the now-deceased General Qassem Soleimani, became instrumental in this effort, coordinating with Iraqi militias and providing funding, weapons, and training.

The rise of ISIS in 2014 marked another turning point in the relations between the two countries. As the extremist group seized large swathes of Iraqi territory, including Mosul, Iran quickly mobilized to support the Iraqi government and Shiite militias in the fight against ISIS. This intervention was not merely a defensive manoeuvre; it solidified Iran’s role as a critical security partner, further entrenching its influence in Iraq’s military and political spheres.

Pezeshkian called his visit “a new starting point for cooperation” with Iraq. The shift from outright hostility to strategic partnership, albeit with its complexities and contradictions, illustrates a nuanced escape from the destructive cycles of the past.

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