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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.)

The AI Mirage: The Limits of Technological Prophecy

Jun 8
5 min read

Artificial intelligence may change much, but perhaps not quite in the way its prophets and pessimists imagine.

AI generated image
AI generated image

Every discussion about artificial intelligence today seems destined to arrive at one of two destinations. The first is a gleaming utopia in which AI transforms every aspect of human existence, liberating people from drudgery and ushering in an era of unprecedented productivity. The second is a dystopia of mass unemployment, social unrest and economic dislocation, where machines render human labour largely redundant. The truth, as history repeatedly demonstrates, is likely to lie somewhere between these extremes.


Grand Predictions

Technological revolutions have always encouraged grand predictions. The Industrial Revolution, powered first by steam and later by electricity, fundamentally altered economies and societies. The computer revolution did the same. In both cases, jobs disappeared, industries were disrupted and familiar ways of working became obsolete. Yet the overall result was not economic collapse but the creation of new industries, new occupations and higher standards of living. Many observers, however, suspect that artificial intelligence is different. Unlike previous technologies, AI appears capable not merely of assisting human intelligence but of replicating some of it. Hence the widespread belief that humanity may not be lucky a third time.


Such confidence in forecasting the future is curious because history offers a humbling lesson that technological change rarely unfolds in the way experts expect. Some innovations completely replace what came before them. Others coexist with older technologies for far longer than anyone anticipates.


The story of Kodak has become a standard cautionary tale. Digital photography rendered photographic film largely obsolete. Audio and video cassettes disappeared when digital media arrived. Compact discs and DVDs soon followed them into decline. Analog telephones equipped with rotary dials vanished rapidly as digital networks and mobile phones spread across the world. In each of these cases, the new technology was demonstrably superior across almost every relevant dimension. Consumers had little reason to remain loyal to older alternatives.


Yet many other technological revolutions have proved considerably less decisive. Consider banking. When internet banking emerged in India during the late 1990s, many analysts confidently predicted the demise of traditional bank branches. Banking, they argued, would soon become entirely digital. Similar forecasts accompanied the rise of online retailing. Physical shops, it was said, would steadily disappear. The arrival of e-books and digital newspapers was expected to consign printed publications to history. The proliferation of cable television and, later, streaming platforms supposedly threatened the very existence of cinemas.


The automotive sector generated its own set of prophecies. A decade ago, industry observers predicted an imminent future dominated by self-driving, fully connected and entirely electric vehicles. Private car ownership was expected to give way to shared mobility services. The concept of Mobility-as-a-Service (MaaS) was heralded as the next great transformation in transportation.


The software industry was no less ambitious in its predictions. Commercial off-the-shelf software products, cloud computing and Software-as-a-Service models were expected to sweep away decades-old legacy systems. Mainframe computers running COBOL applications appeared destined for the museum.


Complex Reality

Reality, however, has been more complicated. Internet banking has undoubtedly transformed routine financial transactions. Millions of people transfer money, pay bills and manage accounts without visiting a branch. Yet bank branches continue to operate across cities and towns. Indeed, many banks continue to expand their physical presence. Online retail has flourished, but shopping districts remain crowded. Printed books and newspapers continue to attract readers. Theatres still draw audiences despite the abundance of entertainment available at home.


Likewise, the automotive revolution remains unfinished. Electric vehicles have gained ground but remain a small proportion of total vehicle sales in many markets. Hybrid vehicles have enjoyed greater success. Yet the industry has hardly transformed beyond recognition.


The software world offers perhaps the most striking example. Many of the world's largest corporations continue to rely heavily on mainframe systems and COBOL applications developed decades ago. Predictions of their imminent demise have been repeated for years, yet they remain indispensable.


Why do some technologies completely replace their predecessors while others merely coexist with them?


The answer lies in a simple but often overlooked fact: technology does not exist in isolation. Consumers evaluate products and services across multiple dimensions, not merely efficiency.


Internet banking, for instance, is extraordinarily convenient for routine tasks. Yet when dealing with complex financial matters, many customers still prefer speaking directly with a bank employee. Personal interaction inspires confidence in situations involving significant financial decisions.


Similarly, online shopping can replicate visual and auditory experiences, but it struggles to reproduce touch, smell and taste. For many purchases, these sensory dimensions matter.


Reading habits reveal a similar pattern. Many readers continue to find printed books and newspapers more conducive to concentration than digital screens. Physical pages offer an experience that many people perceive as calmer, more immersive and less distracting.


Entertainment follows the same logic. Watching a football match on television may provide convenience and superior camera angles. Yet it cannot replicate the collective excitement of being present among thousands of fellow spectators. Technology can often reproduce part of an experience, but not necessarily all of it.


Consumers rarely abandon established habits merely because a technically superior alternative exists. New technologies succeed when they deliver a substantially better overall experience, not simply a better technical solution.


Artificial intelligence is unlikely to be exempt from these realities.


Take autonomous vehicles, one of AI’s most celebrated promises. For years, enthusiasts predicted fleets of fully driverless cars navigating cities without human intervention. The reality has proved far more challenging. Today’s systems remain largely confined to Advanced Driver Assistance Systems (ADAS), which assist rather than replace human drivers.


Legal, ethical and regulatory questions complicate matters further. Who bears responsibility when an autonomous vehicle causes an accident? How should algorithms make decisions in ambiguous situations? These questions remain unresolved. Consequently, the human driver continues to occupy the seat behind the steering wheel, even if AI makes the journey easier.


Artificial intelligence faces another challenge that is frequently overlooked. Many of its supposedly revolutionary applications are less novel than they appear.


The Society for Worldwide Interbank Financial Telecommunication (SWIFT) enabled global financial communication decades before the internet became a household phenomenon. Retail payment systems integrated point-of-sale terminals long before anyone spoke about the Internet of Things. Warehouses, factories and supply chains relied on interconnected devices years before consumers imagined smart refrigerators ordering milk automatically.


The same pattern can be observed with artificial intelligence. Sophisticated predictive algorithms have long been embedded within inventory management systems, logistics networks and industrial planning tools. What has changed is not the existence of such capabilities but their accessibility to ordinary users.


The arrival of large language models has created the impression of a sudden technological rupture because millions of people can now interact directly with AI. Yet within industry, many organisations were already operating highly sophisticated systems that incorporated forms of machine intelligence.


Much attention has been paid to AI’s ability to generate software code from natural-language instructions. Yet programming languages have been moving steadily closer to human language for decades. Integrated Development Environments have long automated many routine coding tasks.


Similarly, AI-powered chatbots undoubtedly represent an advance in customer service. Yet they often perform functions that were already available through self-service portals, searchable knowledge bases and automated workflows. The improvement is real, but it is not always revolutionary.


The limitations become even more apparent in large enterprises. Many corporations operate mission-critical systems developed over decades. Replacing these systems entirely with AI-generated alternatives would involve enormous costs and risks. Industry experts remain cautious for good reason.


None of this diminishes AI’s extraordinary potential. But understanding AI requires distinguishing between its public spectacle and its industrial reality.


The future of AI, therefore, is unlikely to conform either to the utopian promises of its evangelists or the apocalyptic warnings of its critics. History suggests a more nuanced outcome. Technologies seldom transform society in exactly the manner predicted.


(The writer has worked in the Information Technology sector. Views personal.)

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