In every society, fake news thrives not because people are inherently gullible, but because misinformation fits neatly into the gaps of how humans think, feel, and make sense of a complicated world. The pandemic made this clearer than ever. A rumour spreads faster than a correction, a conspiracy feels more exciting than a fact, and a deepfake video appears more persuasive than a written explanation. When emotion outruns analysis, falsehood becomes convincingly real.

From a psychological perspective, decades of behavioural research show that humans rely heavily on mental shortcuts. These shortcuts make everyday decisions easier, but they also create blind spots. People tend to believe information that confirms what they already want to think. They trust sources that feel familiar, and they gravitate toward narratives that simplify their anxieties or frustrations. In moments of uncertainty, this makes unverified claims appear comforting and authoritative. Studies also show that exposure to repeated information, even if false, increases perceived truthfulness.

Technology amplifies this problem. Social media platforms are designed to reward emotional reactions, not accuracy. Algorithms push content that triggers anger or fear because these emotions generate more engagement. A carefully edited clip, an AI-generated image, or a persuasive voiceover can bypass critical thinking altogether. The result is an environment where misinformation travels with little friction, reaching people before fact-checkers even begin.

Influencers, activists, political personalities and even entertainers today sit at the centre of this networked ecosystem. Many speak confidently on topics far outside their expertise, while others selectively present facts to fit an existing narrative. Their reach is immense. They understand the formula: tap into identity, amplify cultural grievances, and speak to an audience already primed to distrust institutions. Once emotion enters the equation, accuracy becomes optional.

Malaysia’s political and media history adds another layer. Long before social media existed, the ownership of traditional press shaped perceptions of truth. When Utusan fell under Umno’s control in the 1960s, and The Star under MCA in the 1980s, editorial direction shifted accordingly. A credible brand can quickly transform into a messaging vehicle. Today, digital portals operate along similar incentives. Some specialise in sensational headlines; others adopt a clear ideological line. Without understanding this history of ownership and bias, audiences are easily influenced by narratives crafted to serve political agendas.

Certain newer portals have gained attention for aggressive editorial stances. Some frame issues through ethnic or religious anxieties; others position themselves as anti-establishment while selectively omitting context. Their narratives often travel faster than official explanations, giving the illusion of independent “truth-telling”. But speed and virality do not equal accuracy. This is where media literacy becomes essential.

Ultimately, fake news spreads because it aligns with how human cognition works, how technology distributes information, and how society negotiates trust. Combating it requires more than fact-checking. It requires understanding history, identifying bias, questioning sensational sources, and recognising emotional manipulation.

For readers seeking a deeper dive into the psychological mechanisms behind misinformation, I recommend the article The Psychology of Fake News by Gordon Pennycook and David G. Rand.
(https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1364661321000516)

By Prof Dr K. Sardagar
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Prof Dr K. Sardagar is an academic and media analyst specialising in information psychology, digital behaviour and the spread of misinformation.