When Fake News Strikes

By Herman M. Lagon

It was a typical morning, scrolling through updates, easing into the day, when a post stopped me cold. The announcement seemed official, bearing the name of a page titled “Jesuits (Society of Jesus),” and it broke the kind of news that strikes deep for someone who holds faith close: “With profound sorrow, we announce the passing of our beloved Holy Father, Jorge Mario Bergoglio…” According to the post, Pope Francis had taken his last breath at the Agostino Gemelli University Hospital in Rome.

The details were convincing—exact time of death, the usual solemn phrasing, and even gratitude for his life’s service. Like many who deeply admire the first and only Jesuit Pope, I felt an overwhelming wave of grief and respect. Before sharing it, I did what any responsible educator and journalist would do: I checked two other posts from similarly reputable-looking accounts to confirm the news. Both echoed the same somber announcement. Three sources seemed enough to verify what appeared to be an unavoidable truth.

And yet, it was a lie.

The Pontiff was still alive, albeit in critical condition. Despite seeming official, the posts were a calculated hoax that preyed on our emotional vulnerability. What followed was deep regret—not just for falling for the lie but for unintentionally spreading it to those who trusted my judgment.

It is humbling, even humiliating, for someone like me—an educator of 23 years and an active journalist—to fall into the trap of fake news. According to a Social Weather Stations (SWS) survey from 2021, 51% of Filipinos admit finding it difficult to detect fake news, especially on social media platforms. I had always prided myself on being part of the other 49%. Apparently, even skepticism can slip when emotions and intuitions run high.

I remember messaging a friend, a former co-teacher from Ateneo de Iloilo, now studying law at UP Diliman, for clarity. His reaction mirrored my own shock: “Why would anyone spread fake news about something this sacred?” The answer was unsettlingly simple—attention. Shares, comments, and reactions drive engagement, and engagement, in turn, can be monetized. There is money to be made in manipulating people’s emotions, even if it means falsely announcing the death of one of the most beloved spiritual leaders in the world.

The most painful realization was that the pages and accounts I cross-checked were all victims, too, caught in the same web of misinformation. This was not a case of lazy verification but rather a coordinated effort designed to make even the most cautious readers believe. The reference page’s use of familiar branding, its formal tone, and the emotionally charged language made the deception even more effective. It was a lesson in how easily even critical thinking can be clouded by personal reverence and emotional vulnerability.

What followed was a scramble to undo the damage. I deleted my post, reached out to friends and colleagues who had shared it further, and issued personal apologies—especially to a nun who had reposted it in good faith.

The worst part? I had already submitted an article to media outlets, asking for prayers and honoring Pope Francis’ legacy. The moment I saw the supposed news of his passing, I rushed to rework the piece, thinking I was making it more timely and respectful. Imagine the embarrassment of sending that heartfelt tribute from a Ceres bus to Barotac Nuevo—only to realize hours later that I had fallen for fake news. I had to retract it with a red-faced apology, feeling the sting of spreading misinformation despite my best intentions.

This self-disappointing experience showed me how easily fake news spreads—and how emotional ties, like my admiration for Pope Francis, can make us vulnerable. He represents hope, compassion, and humility for many, especially Filipinos. To exploit that devotion for clicks is a violation of something deeply human. And yet, that is the reality of the digital world we live in—truth can be twisted, monetized, and weaponized against the very values we hold dear.

The SWS survey also highlights how 69% of Filipinos consider fake news to be a serious problem, a sentiment that now resonates with me more than ever. Even more alarming is the rise of AI-driven disinformation, as documented by Rappler’s fact-checks in 2024. When fake news is paired with technology capable of mimicking real voices, faces, graphics, and official communication styles, the challenge of discerning truth becomes exponentially harder.

Still, I have learned a hard but necessary lesson. Sharing information, especially sensitive news, carries responsibility. Verification now requires more than just checking multiple sources—it demands going back to primary, official announcements, especially for something as significant as the pope’s health. The heartbreak would have been genuine if the post had truly come from the Vatican’s verified channels. But this was a hoax engineered to manipulate, and I fell for it.

This experience goes beyond embarrassment—it highlights how fragile trust is in today’s digital world. A single falsehood can shake our faith in religion, politics, education, or media, and rebuilding that trust is no easy task. That is why it is important to keep trying: own up to mistakes, fix them fast, and move forward with greater care.

Pope Francis’ lessons on humility and forgiveness remind me that being fooled once is not the end—it is a chance to reflect, learn, and grow. Now, I am more committed than ever to media literacy—not just for myself, but for my students and readers who deserve better than blind belief in viral posts.

What I have learned is simple: fake news feeds on urgency, emotion, and our instinct to believe. Next time, I will pause, dig deeper, and ensure I share facts—not fuel misinformation. In the end, fake news’ true damage lies in its erosion of trust between people, platforms, and institutions. The only real defense is patience, discernment, and an unrelenting commitment to the truth.

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Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.