The War of words

Why nuance is the first casualty of performance politics

There is a war taking place.

And like every war, there is blood. But there is also something else: performance.

In living rooms and on timelines, in DMs and debates, in story reshares and silent swipes, we are not only watching the conflict unfold. We are narrating it. We are reacting to it. We are, whether we mean to or not, participating in it.

Some with grief. Some with fire. Some with detachment dressed up as objectivity. Some with the aching need to be right because being right now feels safer than being unsure.

The body count is rising. But so is the volume, and the polarisation.

The right is louder than ever. The left is so far left that it’s looped back on itself, alienating those it once called allies. And those in the middle, the ones still trying to read, listen, learn are being drowned out by algorithms that don’t reward nuance.

This isn’t just a geopolitical crisis. It’s a psychological one.

We’re not only at war with each other. We’re at war with how we process information, with how we assign truth, with the very idea of what it means to care.

In high-stakes, high-emotion environments, we seek belonging over accuracy. We share not what we know but what signals who we are.

Right now, that couldn’t be more true.

The Propaganda Model
(And Why It Works So Well)

Propaganda isn’t gone. It’s just rebranded.

It doesn’t look like wartime posters anymore. It looks like content.

It’s a carousel with facts that feel like feelings.

It’s a reel with swelling music and an edited quote.

It’s a headline that confirms your fear… before you even finish reading.

Propaganda today doesn’t ask you to think. It asks you to feel fast and to share faster.

And that’s where marketing comes in.

Because in the end, propaganda is a product.

And we - the public - are the market.

News channels are no longer public service institutions. They are narrative distribution platforms, competing for attention just like any brand. But with one devastating advantage: they still wear the costume of truth.

We’ve been taught to trust “news” by generations before us, when it was scarce, serious, and slow. But today’s news is built for emotional arousal over factual depth.

And that arousal? It’s addictive.

If you’ve ever clicked something because it made you mad, or shared something because it confirmed your instincts, you’ve already been part of the pipeline.

It’s not shameful. It’s human.

But in moments like these, in wars that affect millions…

that pipeline becomes dangerous.

Because once information becomes product, truth becomes branding.

And like all good branding, it’s designed to manipulate memory, mood, and meaning, not to represent complexity, but to collapse it.

Behavioural Biases at Play

We like to think we’re rational beings. But behavioural science tells us otherwise.

In moments of uncertainty, our brains don’t reach for truth.

They reach for comfort.

Confirmation Bias

We consume what confirms what we already believe. Anything else feels like betrayal.

Tribal Signalling

We perform morality for social approval. Sometimes what we post isn’t about the truth, it’s about being seen.

Outrage Bias

Our brains are wired to respond to threats. So outrage, betrayal, and moral panic go viral. Calm, careful thought does not.

Loss Aversion

We fear being wrong, but we fear social alienation more. So we double down on bad takes to avoid public course correction.

These biases mean that even well-meaning people can become complicit in misinformation and escalation without realising it.

The enemy of nuance isn’t ignorance. It’s speed. And everything about this moment — the media, the platforms, the pressure — demands speed over reflection.

Why Both Sides Are Losing the Plot

The right has become so tight-fisted with nationalism that any dissent is seen as disloyalty. Solidarity is painted as softness. Restraint is framed as betrayal.

The left has spiralled into theory and shame. Everything must be reframed, deconstructed, intellectualised, until the actual stakes are lost in the rhetoric.

If you speak from the middle, they say you’re complicit.

If you speak with caution, they say you’re silent.

If you hold both grief and logic, they say you’re fence-sitting.

Somewhere along the way, empathy became weakness. And moral absolutism became performance currency.

No single ideology can hold the complexity of what’s unfolding. And yet, social media demands that we pick a side, not with our hearts, but with our hashtags.

Because polarisation performs better.

It drives engagement.

It rewards tribalism.

It sells the illusion of clarity in a world that is profoundly, painfully grey.

This isn’t a battle of good vs evil. It’s a tragedy unfolding in high resolution and no pause button.

What This Means for Us

It’s easy to feel helpless right now.

To scroll endlessly. Repost reflexively. Argue pointlessly.

To mistake motion for meaning.

Noise for knowing.

But what if our role isn’t to go louder?

What if it’s to go slower?

What if the most radical thing we can do as citizens, creators, thinkers, humans is to pause before we perform?

To ask:

• Where did this information come from?

• Am I sharing this to inform, or to belong?

• Does this amplify the affected, or centre me?

Freedom of speech doesn’t mean freedom from consequence — but it also doesn’t mean silence by force.

Solidarity isn’t fear-mongering.

It’s often the only thing civilians have.

And no, nuance doesn’t absolve accountability.

But neither does extremism.

We’re not just information consumers. We’re emotional ecosystems. What we share, how we show up, it shapes the climate of this moment.

With Humanity, Against Extremism

I am not a policymaker.

I am not in the line of fire.

But I stand —

Against terrorism.

With humanity.

That is not a contradiction.

It is a refusal to flatten the world into binaries.

It’s probably easier for me to say this than for those who are grieving, those who are serving, those who are deciding policy in real time. I know that.

But I also know that the work starts before the policies are made or the triggers are pulled.

It starts with how we think.

What we amplify.

What we allow ourselves to feel — and still hold with clarity.

Extremism isn’t ideology. It’s the inability to sit with complexity. And complexity is where most truth lives.

So no, the answer isn’t censorship.

It’s not shaming.

It’s not silence.

It’s discernment.

We must think. We must read. We must learn.

And in the fog of war, we must remember:

Clarity isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s just careful.