Trust No One, Believe Everything: Does Common Sense Have a Future?

For as long as I can remember, espionage has fascinated me. Over the years, I’ve developed a certain expertise—at least in the pop culture sense—interviewing former spies for publications ranging from The Washington Post to, well, Playboy. I even once worked as a researcher at an international investigative firm, a job that, regrettably, involved fewer trench coats and shadowy rendezvous than one might hope. But I did walk away with a highly marketable skill: knowing how to conduct a proper background check (one never knows when that might prove useful).

Spies have long been the pillars of Hollywood storytelling, woven into thrilling tales of intrigue, and deception. But what is it about them that keeps us so enthralled? I’d argue that our obsession stems from an innate desire to know what is hidden from us. Secrets are power, and in a world increasingly shaped by information, nothing is more seductive than the idea of being the one in the know.

Secrets are power, and in a world increasingly shaped by information, nothing is more seductive than the idea of being the one in the know.

But while James Bond is synonymous with adrenaline filled action and shaken-but-not-stirred glamour, in real life, intelligence work is usually rather mundane and bureaucratic. More along the lines of painstaking, systematic data gathering and staring for hours at your screen, rather than the dramatic fight sequences we’ve been conditioned to associate with spycraft through the media. In other words, making sense of what’s going on is often hard, dull work.

Making sense of what’s going on is often hard, dull work.

We have never had more access to information, yet somehow, we understand less. The sheer volume of data is overwhelming—no single person can process even a fraction of it—so we outsource the task to algorithms, aggregators, and search engines with their own opaque filtration systems. In theory, social media should expose us to a diversity of perspectives, but in practice, its algorithms ensure we’re served more of what we already believe, cocooning us in ideological comfort.

We like to think of Google, X, Facebook, and even ChatGPT as neutral tools, but neutrality is an illusion. These platforms, intentionally or not, prioritize engagement over accuracy, outrage over nuance, and emotional provocation over intellectual depth. Further, the speed at which information spreads tends to outpace our ability to critically analyze it. Misinformation, half-truths, and emotionally charged narratives circulate rapidly, shaping perceptions before facts can be verified. In this landscape, false stories are 70 percent more likely to be shared than true ones and travel six times faster. Eager to engage in the conversation as it happens, we jump in before having even had sufficient time to process the “latest thing.” Our public discourse is shaped not by careful reasoning but by knee-jerk reactions.

Social media should expose us to a diversity of perspectives, but in practice, its algorithms ensure we’re served more of what we already believe.

Then there’s the growing crisis of trust in media. As per Gallup, Americans’ trust in mass media remains at a record low, with only 31% expressing confidence in its accuracy and fairness in 2024. Trust first dropped to 32% in 2016 and has remained low. For the third year in a row, more Americans (36%) have no trust at all in the media than those who trust it. Another 33% have little confidence. Contrast this with 72% of Americans trusting newspapers in 1976, after Watergate.

Trust in mass media remains at a record low. What is behind this erosion? A cocktail of inaccuracies, overt ideological bias, viewpoint discrimination, the weaponization of fact-checking, and outright censorship.

What is behind this erosion? A cocktail of inaccuracies, overt ideological bias, viewpoint discrimination, the weaponization of fact-checking, and outright censorship has pushed many toward alternatives: independent media, podcasters, influencers, social media, and, naturally, grifters. Yet rejecting legacy media in favor of these alternatives is often a case of leaping from the frying pan into the fire. There’s a common misconception that because something isn’t mainstream, it must be more truthful—but plenty of these new voices are just as ideologically captured, if not more so, with even fewer guardrails against deception and little investment in accuracy. Many embrace them because they mistake truthfulness for ideological alignment. Paradoxically, many have embraced the idea that “we are the media now,” a phrase frequently echoed by Elon Musk and his admirers on X—even as they repost news from the very mainstream outlets they claim are now irrelevant, and even, “dead.”

Rejecting legacy media in favor of these alternatives is often a case of leaping from the frying pan into the fire.

We are living in the middle of an information battlefield, where reality itself feels up for debate. What’s legitimate news, and what’s an AI-generated psyop? Who’s a real person, and who’s a bot designed to amplify division? How much of what we read is organic, and how much is algorithmically nudged into our feeds? And then there are also state-sponsored disinformation campaigns added to the mix—with countries like Russia, Iran, China, and yes, even the United States deploying fake news sites, deepfakes, and coordinated social media operations to manipulate global narratives.

Russia, Iran, China, and yes, even the United States deploy fake news sites and coordinated social media operations to manipulate global narratives.

In this environment, conspiracy theories thrive. People don’t fall down rabbit holes at random—there are certain preconditions that make them susceptible. Institutional distrust is a major factor, and right now, faith in institutions is in free fall, whether it’s the government, the courts, or the medical establishment. Many people feel betrayed. Add in alienation and social disconnection, and you have the perfect recipe for radicalization. The irony, of course, is that while conspiracy thinking is often framed as a form of skepticism about official narratives, it frequently results in an even greater willingness to believe in something—just not the official story.

Faith in institutions is in free fall, whether it’s the government, the courts, or the medical establishment. Many people feel betrayed.

Not all people become full blown conspiracy theorists, of course, but we can see how conspiratorial thinking has taken root. But then again, perhaps we are simply seeing this phenomenon because social media lets us see people we might have otherwise never come in contact with? What we do know is that people have a high need for certainty and control when times are uncertain, so they become more prone towards believing false things because they no longer trust institutions that they once might have.

The fragmentation of media consumption means that reaching people with authoritative information has never been more difficult. Everyone is living in a slightly different version of reality, dictated by the platforms they frequent and the sources they trust. And because attention spans have collapsed, many don’t even make it past the headlines before forming an opinion. When everything is engineered to make us feel angry, polarized, scared, and reactionary, how can we stay nuanced, critical, open-minded, and objective? How can we be more truth-seeking in a world where everyone seems to have their own version of the truth on tap?

Everyone is living in a slightly different version of reality, dictated by the platforms they frequent and the sources they trust.

A recent controversy over a certain billionaire’s hand gesture provided a perfect case study in perception bias. We all saw the same video. To some, Elon Musk’s movement was undeniably a Nazi salute. To others, it was merely an overzealous gesture made to express “my heart goes out to you.” Few people remained undecided. The fact that two groups could witness the exact same footage and walk away with diametrically opposed conclusions is a testament to how much our prior beliefs shape our perception of reality and speaks to the difficulty of uniting people behind a single understanding of reality. Psychologists call this phenomenon, “motivated perception.” We often see what we expect to see, rather than what’s actually there.

So in this landscape, what is it that grounds me? It all comes down to a simple question: How much of what I believe is based on evidence, and how much is just my own emotions, assumptions, and attempts to connect the dots? What is it that I really know? Very often in life, we imagine what something might be, rather than seeing it for what it is.

In a world where narratives compete for dominance, my goal is not to add another, but to cut to the core of what is verifiable and likely to be true.

With this new column at Skeptic, my aim is to strip away the noise in front of the headlines and get to the core of what is verifiable and true. I have no interest in reinforcing anyone’s preconceived notions—including my own. The only way to do that is through curiosity rather than confirmation. In a world where narratives compete for dominance, my goal is not to add another, but to cut to the core of what is verifiable and likely to be true. It’s easy to be swayed by emotion, to see what we expect rather than what’s in front of us. But the only way forward—the only way to make sense of this fractured information landscape—is to remain committed to facts, no matter where they lead.

I would like to keep my door open to topics you’d like to see me cover, or just feedback and thoughts. Comment below, and feel free to reach out anytime: mysteriouskat[at]protonmail.com