Awareness, Not Provocation

Measles began spreading across the country in the middle of March. By May, the number of child deaths had surpassed 500, prompting the launch of an emergency mass vaccination campaign.

It was at precisely that time that a sentence began circulating on social media, falsely attributed to health officials: “There is no such thing as measles in the country.”

No one had said it. The statement was fabricated.

But the mother who believed that post may not have taken her child to a vaccination centre that day.

As a doctor, I know that the cost of a rumour cannot always be measured in likes and shares. Sometimes, the cost is measured in a child’s fever, a hospital ward, or the lifelong emptiness of a family.

That is why, to me, the discussion about rumours is not a political argument. It is a question of public health, a question of safety and, ultimately, a question of whether we will still be able to trust one another.

The numbers are not small.

In the first six months of this year, nine Bangladesh-related fact-checking organisations debunked more than 3,000 distinct claims—1,804 in the first quarter and 1,265 in the second. And this is not the total number of rumours circulating. It represents only those claims that came to someone’s attention and could be investigated with the available time and manpower.

Who are the people exposed to these rumours?

As of August, Bangladesh had more than 75 million Facebook users, accounting for around 42% of the population. The largest age group among them was 18 to 24, numbering around 30 million.

In other words, the largest population in the very space where rumours spread fastest is young people.

This information can be interpreted in two ways. First, young people are at the greatest risk. Second—and this is the more important point—they are also the strongest line of defence.

Because sometimes, stopping a false post requires less than any law: it requires just one decision—to pause for two seconds before placing your finger on the share button.

During the first quarter of the year, around three-quarters of the misinformation fact-checked in connection with the 13th National Parliamentary Election in February was political.

Among the most sophisticated tactics was the use of fake news cards.

Between September 2025 and February 2026, 690 fake news cards were identified. These cards copied the designs, logos and fonts of familiar news outlets and were used to circulate fabricated statements as if they were genuine news reports. Nearly half of the political misinformation during that period originated from these fake cards.

What is particularly significant is that the attack here is not directed only against a political leader. It is an attack on the credibility of the news media.

Once people learn that even a familiar newspaper’s logo cannot be trusted, genuine news also struggles to reach them. The greatest success of a lie is not making people believe something false—it is teaching people to believe nothing at all.

Now let me say the most uncomfortable thing, because without saying it, the rest of this article has little value.

Rumours do not travel in only one direction.

In the second quarter, at least 81 fact-checks dealt with allegations of crimes against BNP and Jamaat leaders and activists, including members of their student and youth organisations. Nearly half of those claims involved relabelling videos from India or other unrelated incidents and presenting them as something else.

In the final week of June alone, at least five fact-checks focused on a single claim—that the bodies of “slain” Bangladesh Chhatra League activists had allegedly been found floating in the Turag River. The claim was proven false.

The organisation I work with has also been targeted by such misinformation. That is true.

But there is another truth alongside it—and that is what makes me more uncomfortable.

After fuel loading began at the first unit of the Rooppur Nuclear Power Plant in late April, posts falsely attributing credit for constructing the plant began circulating. Some attributed the credit to Ziaur Rahman, some to Tarique Rahman, and others to Dr Muhammad Yunus or Jamaat leaders.

In other words, a lie that works in our favour is still a lie. And we are also responsible for spreading it.

As someone involved in politics, I know how strong the temptation can be to share allegations against political opponents without verifying them.

And the temptation to share praise for our own leaders without verification can be even stronger—because it feels good to hear.

But in the long run, credibility belongs to the political organisation that learns to stop even the lies that favour it. The others merely turn up the volume.

So when I say, “Verify before you share,” I say it first not to political opponents, but to my own colleagues and fellow activists.

Some rumours remain nothing more than misinformation.

Others reach a neighbour’s home as fire.

After the results of the West Bengal Assembly election were announced on 4 May, the rate of religious misinformation in Bangladesh suddenly increased—from 2.7% in the first quarter to 9% in the second.

Images and videos were circulated with claims that mosques were being demolished and Muslim homes were being destroyed. A large portion of the footage was actually old material from Nepal, Yemen, Indonesia or other parts of India.

Even a video of a demolition drive in Bangladesh’s Jashore district was circulated as footage of Muslim homes being demolished in India.

And this was not a one-way flow. Misinformation also came from the opposite direction. Claims of attacks on Hindus in Bangladesh were accompanied by footage of incidents that included an accidental fire in Patuakhali and another attack stemming from a drug-related dispute.

One point needs to be made clear here.

This article is not claiming that genuine attacks against minorities have not occurred in Bangladesh. Quite the opposite.

Every fabricated claim casts doubt on real incidents. And the next time genuine news emerges, people may learn to dismiss that as well.

Md Sayeed Al-Zaman, an assistant professor at the Department of Journalism and Media Studies at Jahangirnagar University, said, “Religious misinformation always poses a potential threat to the security of minority communities. Over the past decade, such misinformation has been found at the roots of major communal attacks in both India and Bangladesh.”

So before sharing a video circulated in the name of religion, we should at least ask ourselves: if this post is false, who will pay the price?

The price may be paid by a family in a neighbouring village—a family that is also our neighbour. And once their home has been burned down, deleting the post will not bring it back.

Sometimes, lies stand right beside genuine grief.

On 19 May, eight-year-old Ramisa Akter was raped and murdered in Dhaka’s Pallabi area. The case quickly went before the court, and on 7 June, the accused were sentenced to death—making it one of the fastest major trials in the country’s judicial history.

Yet even this tragedy became the subject of fabricated reactions, fake banners and AI-generated images.

After 19 May, the weekly rate of misinformation related to rape increased nearly fivefold. Almost all of it involved footage from other periods or other countries that was presented as if it were connected to the incident.

Using the death of a child in this way is not merely tasteless; it is harmful.

Every false claim diverts attention from the actual incident and obscures the achievements of the judicial process.

There is another point that must be made.

For years, we have said, “Look carefully at the picture.”

The usefulness of that advice is now coming to an end.

In the second quarter, around 8 percent of misinformation related to law and order was generated through AI-created videos or images.

In one AI-generated video, words that the prime minister had never spoken were placed in the prime minister’s mouth.

Our eyes are no longer sufficient evidence.

What still works is not eyesight—it is habit.

Who is the source?

When was it published?

What was the full statement, or has a portion been taken out of context?

Has the story appeared in recognised news media? If not, why not?

Four questions.

Two seconds.

Those two seconds are perhaps the cheapest and most effective form of civic resistance in Bangladesh today.

There is also a clear message here for the government—and it is not a message about imposing restrictions.

One of the most widely circulated types of false statements over the past six months is particularly revealing: fabricated quotes attributed to the energy minister about load-shedding in April; fabricated statements attributed to health officials about the measles outbreak; and fake news cards carrying fabricated statements attributed to the speaker, the home minister and the president about political decisions.

In every case, the falsehood occupied exactly the space where an official statement was expected to be—but was either absent, delayed or expressed in language that ordinary people could not easily understand.

The fastest weapon against rumours is not a lawsuit.

The fastest weapon is to publish accurate information more quickly.

If, within an hour of an incident, an official statement from the responsible authority is available in a specific, easily accessible location, there is far less room for a fake news card to fill the information vacuum.

Withholding information does not reduce rumours. It increases them.

Because a vacuum never remains empty—someone will eventually fill it.

There must also be a clear distinction between two things, because confusing them causes harm in both directions.

Criticising the government and creating false information are not the same thing.

Pointing out policy failures, asking questions and expressing disagreement are not ailments of democracy. They are signs that democracy is functioning.

Loving the country does not mean agreeing with everything. Likewise, criticising the government does not mean standing against the state.

But putting a statement into someone’s mouth that they never made is not freedom of expression. It is fabrication.

Freedom of opinion does not mean freedom to manufacture information.

If we can preserve this distinction, there will be no need to silence voices, nor will there be room for deliberate confusion.

All three sides therefore have responsibilities.

The state must be quick, transparent and understandable.

The media must be verification-driven and professional—and must actively work to prevent the misuse of its name and visual identity.

And young people must become a generation that verifies even the information they like.

The task may sound enormous, but in reality, it is small.

So small that it may seem unbelievable.

Do not share one post.

Check the date before forwarding a video.

When a claim appears in a family group, politely ask: “Where did you get this?”

One person doing these small things may change nothing.

But if 30 million young people do them, the country’s entire information environment can change.

Not provocation, but awareness.

Not rumours, but truth.

Not hatred, but empathy.

Not blind support, but informed support.

Not division, but solidarity.

Because, ultimately, no political party pays the price of a rumour.

No government pays it either.

The child who misses a vaccination pays the price.

The family whose home is burned down pays the price.

And the country whose people one day stop believing any news at all pays the price.

Let us make sure we never have to pay that price.

The writer is the health affairs secretary of Jatiyatabadi Chhatra Dal’s Bogura district unit and vice-president of JCD’s Dhaka metropolitan unit’s central committee