I've been thinking for a while that we need a new social contract, and that this time it should revolve around information.
Many are now beginning to learn of the profound damage that social networks have caused in our democratic societies, despite the fact that every day articles are published and documentaries are released about the excesses of Facebook and Twitter, about the disasters of Cambridge Analytica, about the indolence or complicity or connivance of the Zuckerbergs and the Musks: those curious individuals who navigate between autism, infantilism and sociopathy, and to whom we have given (voluntarily: that is part of the scandal) all the necessary tools to get rich at the cost of the very stability of our societies.
Yes: many citizens have learned that they have been manipulated for years, and their hatreds fueled and their insecurities exploited, by these opaque and incomprehensible mechanisms for the majority.
But social networks have not changed their business model.
Why would they do it, if the users are still there?
But this year there is a little panic growing in the corners, as elections are approaching in half the world: that is, half the world is going to sink during the coming months in a tidal wave of misinformation, lies and distortions.
There will be months of social tensions, of anger and hatred unleashed on the networks, of slander and manipulation, and it will not be surprising if the unpredictable possibilities of artificial intelligence come into action to confuse the confused voters even more.
(Today, as I write, I learn of a voice message from Joe Biden himself asking voters – eh – not to vote. The message was artificially generated, but it must have convinced some.) And the panic I speak of, which Not everyone feels it, it is due to something very simple: to vote you need reliable information, and our citizen relationship with information is, to put it kindly, going through a bad time: because our relationship with us is broken – or severely bruised – themselves.
That is to say: our trust.
I don't know if I have to put such a truism into words, but here it goes: without trust, societies fail.
To repair broken or bruised trust, it is necessary to become aware of what has happened to us in recent years, as consumers of information and also as propagators.
And what has happened to us, when we think about the crucial issue of information, is worrying.
The information we receive is the only tool to make political decisions, let alone reach a certain conclusion about what is true in our shared world.
Well, a long time ago our societies abandoned the very idea of common truth: that of alternative truths, a priceless creation of the Trump years, already sounds old because we have become so accustomed to its presence.
Since then, populist and illiberal movements have confirmed with enormous benefit – this is not new, but believing that it is business as usual is a mistake – that nothing is as profitable as confusion.
That is to say, it is not necessary to lie all the time, but it is enough to open a window of doubt in the citizen's mind to impose their version of the world, what we call “story” or “narrative” (two words that are also becoming worn out). by leaps and bounds).
Movements that say or believe themselves to be democratic soon understood this as well, and have not renounced the immense profitability of this way of doing politics.
Now: its success, the success of disinformation as a strategy, always requires the collaboration of the citizen.
Other factors of our all-too-human humanity come into play here.
The voluntary ignorance (and sometimes carefully cultivated) of those who refuse to know comes into play, lest finding out something puts their convictions at risk, all acquired with an enormous effort of superstition.
The thousand forms of irrationality come into play, which make us so vulnerable to direct deception or to more or less crude, more or less skillful distraction.
Among them are, for example, our biases: the tendency to believe in what confirms our vision of the world and reject what questions it;
the tendency to believe what an authority figure says, even if it is crazy, and to disbelieve what a figure we reject says, even if it is sensible and even verifiable.
I can think of many examples, but I prefer one: the implausible fact that the Republicans are about to make a presidential candidate a man who recommended they drink disinfectant to cure Covid.
There were several victims of his frivolous irresponsibility, of course, but no one remembers that anymore, or that is not enough to disqualify: Trump is still the one who best represents his prejudices or vindicates his identity.
If his voters believed him when he told them to drink a glass of Clorox to cure a respiratory virus, why won't they believe him now when he says that the proceedings against him are a witch hunt, or that immigrants poison the blood? of his country?
The tribal instinct is fascinating: it can even deactivate reason.
At best, it leads us to think what the group thinks or, if there is doubt, to accept the prevailing opinion.
Of course, there are enormous social gains in this, since for almost everyone it is more comfortable to be wrong in a group than to be right alone, and a certain courage is needed to take the not easy task of thinking for oneself to its ultimate consequences. .
This year we will encounter misinformation of various kinds all the time, and I believe a part of citizens has the right to demand a certain degree of responsibility.
I'm not referring to all of them, as I say: I consider a large part lost.
But there are still those who do not want to deceive if they can avoid it, who do not accept being deceived out of comfort, who still believe in the existence of common truth and in the seriousness of its deterioration.
These citizens have the right to demand that others take care of the information and have the obligation to take care of it themselves: is it too much to ask?
Be ashamed if they share, through negligence or credulity, news that slanders or lies;
be even more ashamed if they share it out of political interest, sectarianism or hypocrisy.
Now I have found a very useful concept in a book that is like a toolbox.
The book is
They are mills, not giants
, by Irene Lozano, and it bears this blunt title: “How social networks and misinformation threaten our democracy.”
The concept is “epistemic surveillance,” and it refers to those knowledge mechanisms that allow us human beings to know if the information we receive, whether from other human beings or institutions, is trustworthy.
In other words: the ability to know who to believe, and why.
And in others: the talent of reading reality well.
It is not something unattainable, but it does require certain attitudes that not everyone is willing to have: point out the lie, even if it suits us;
support the truth, even if it bothers us.
Let's see if this year doesn't end as bad as it could.
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