Social media during crisis: A blessing or a curse?
By: Narayanan Kizhumundayur
The attack on our neighbouring country in recent days came like a sudden storm—unpredictable, intense, and deeply unsettling. Such events send tremors far beyond the borders where the actual conflict unfolds. They shake the conscience of nations, awaken the sleeping fears in citizens’ hearts, and stir up strong waves of patriotism, anger, anxiety, and empathy.
In this moment of intense uncertainty, when official channels move cautiously and traditional media grapples with limited reach and editorial delays, social media emerges as a roaring, uncontainable river of voices, emotions, and information.
And thus begins the debate: is social media a timely saviour and a window to truth, or is it a dangerously unguarded floodgate of misinformation and hysteria? The answer lies not in a simple “yes” or “no” but in the intricate dance between intention and impact, between fact and fiction, between hope and havoc.
There is no denying that social media today forms the heartbeat of modern communication. The days of waiting for the evening newspaper or the prime-time news bulletin are long gone. Now, news arrives with a buzz in our pocket, an alert on our wristwatch, or a blinking notification on our screens.
During the recent crisis, within minutes of the first explosion, videos began surfacing online. Civilians caught in the chaos uploaded raw, unfiltered visuals—some tragic, some terrifying, and all intensely real. These snippets of reality, shared in real time, allowed millions around the world to witness history as it unfolded. In such moments, social media becomes more than just a platform—it becomes a living, breathing archive of human experience.
In places far from the border, where official silence or caution often fuels speculation, these first-hand accounts became windows to understanding the unfolding situation. Government agencies and news outlets began quoting social media updates as sources.
People learned to track events by following verified handles of defence analysts, journalists, and government spokespersons. Citizens found themselves empowered by information. No longer passive recipients, they could question, discuss, interpret, and share. This democratization of information is, without doubt, a blessing in its purest form—a shining example of how technology can bridge distances and foster awareness.
Moreover, social media served as an emotional and moral canvas. At a time when anxiety filled the air like invisible smoke, people turned to these platforms to express solidarity, grief, concern, and hope. Hashtags became digital candles in a virtual vigil. Photographs of people standing in prayer, children holding peace posters, and messages calling for humanity over hatred were shared widely. Artists uploaded poems, musicians composed songs of unity, and citizens across nations—some even from the other side of the border—offered messages of peace and goodwill. In such moments, social media transformed into a vast ocean of collective emotion, a place where people came together in their shared pain and hopes. It allowed the world to weep together, to stand still in the chaos, and whisper to one another: “We are watching. We are listening. We care.”
But as with every force of nature, the same river that quenches thirst can also flood and destroy. While social media’s immediacy can be a blessing, its unfiltered and unverified nature often makes it a curse of a dangerous magnitude. During the tense hours of the recent conflict, there were countless instances of fake news and doctored content.
Videos from older wars were passed off as fresh footage. Audio clips, unverified and inflammatory, were circulated to stir emotions. Claims of retaliatory attacks, false casualty numbers, and outrageous conspiracies filled timelines. What is more dangerous is not the lie itself, but the speed at which it travels and the minds it infects. The digital world does not wait for verification—it runs on sensation, and in a tense atmosphere, the line between truth and fiction blurs easily.
This misinformation often leads to real-world consequences. A falsely attributed quote can spark communal tensions. An edited video can create diplomatic embarrassments. An emotional post, not based on facts, can lead to mass hysteria or even street violence.
In this context, social media ceases to be a mere tool of expression—it becomes a loaded weapon in the hands of anyone with an agenda. And unlike conventional media, it has no editor, no gatekeeper, no moral compass. It listens to algorithms, not ethics.
Equally worrying is how social media becomes an arena for toxic polarization during national crises. Instead of reflecting unity, it often reveals our divisions. People begin to take sides not based on informed opinions, but based on the digital bubbles they inhabit.
Troll armies and keyboard warriors rise, spitting venom in the name of nationalism or ideology. Rational voices are drowned in noise. Constructive dialogue is replaced by bitter argument. A national tragedy becomes a stage for political one-upmanship. Instead of mourning the loss of lives or seeking solutions, people engage in blaming governments, religions, or even entire communities—often without any factual basis.
In such an environment, empathy is replaced by ego, and reason by rage. The digital world, once a global village, begins to resemble a battlefield of words. Everyone is shouting; no one is listening. The tension outside is mirrored by a storm within screens and minds. And when hatred becomes a performance, when anger becomes entertainment, social media no longer serves truth—it distorts it.
Beyond misinformation and polarization lies another silent danger—the emotional and psychological toll of social media during crises. The human mind is not designed to process tragedy on a global scale, minute by minute. Continuous exposure to graphic images, alarmist headlines, aggressive posts, and endless speculation can create a state of digital trauma.
People begin to feel anxious, helpless, even paranoid. Sleep is disturbed, tempers flare, and a subtle sense of despair begins to settle in. Young minds, especially, find it hard to filter what is real and what is exaggerated. They internalize fear, anger, or hatred without understanding its roots. In this way, social media becomes a silent amplifier of inner unrest—polluting not the air we breathe, but the thoughts we think.
Despite all this, we cannot discard or demonize social media altogether. To do so would be like blaming a mirror for reflecting a storm. It is merely a platform—a neutral entity that mirrors the intentions of its users. What it becomes depends on who is holding the device and what they choose to type, share, or believe.
In the recent crisis, there were countless examples of responsible use as well. Brave journalists shared only verified information. Doctors and mental health experts offered advice. Diplomats and influencers appealed for calm. Many users actively reported fake news, asked for sources, and discouraged forwarding unverified posts. These acts, though less visible than sensational ones, reminded us that digital maturity is possible—and necessary.
The way forward is not in silencing social media, but in educating users. Digital literacy must go hand in hand with freedom of expression. Governments and platforms must invest in better fact-checking mechanisms. Schools must teach children how to differentiate between truth and manipulation.
Every citizen must understand that with the power to post comes the responsibility to protect. If used wisely, social media can be a beacon of light during the darkest of hours. If abused, it can plunge societies into confusion and chaos.
In conclusion, the role of social media during the recent attack on our neighbouring country was both a triumph and a tragedy. It showed us how technology can unite people, deliver truths, and create waves of compassion. But it also exposed the cracks in our digital culture—the impatience, the manipulation, the craving for virality over veracity.
Social media is neither a blessing nor a curse in itself—it is a mirror, a magnifier, and a megaphone. What it reflects, magnifies, or amplifies depends entirely on us. In the coming times, as the digital world continues to grow in power and influence, let us strive to be not just fast with our fingers, but wise with our words. Let us remember that even in times of war, truth and responsibility must never become casualties.
(The author is an Accountant and a Freelance writer)
