Disinformation no longer tries only to lie to you. It wants to exhaust you until you no longer care what is true. In this exclusive first part, Nicolae Țibrigan explains how the modern war on reality is fought not just in our minds, but also in our bodies through anxiety, identity, and nervous fatigue — and why simply fact-checking is no longer enough.

In this first part of an exclusive interview for Andrei Eugen Drăguț, Nicolae Țibrigan explores disinformation as a psychological and somatic phenomenon: an attack not only on what we believe, but on how we process reality, regulate emotion, preserve trust, and remain capable of civic judgment.

Dr. Nicolae Țibrigan is a sociologist, researcher, and expert on disinformation and information warfare. As a researcher at the Romanian Academy and coordinator of the Digital Forensic Team, he studies how propaganda, digital influence operations, and emerging technologies reshape democratic societies, public trust, and civic resilience in Eastern Europe.

• From your perspective, what does it mean to “place truth above all else” in the field of information security? Is there an unavoidable personal cost for those who do this publicly?

In the field of information security, placing truth above all else means recognizing that facts are not merely academic concerns – they are strategic assets. Democratic societies, public institutions, and even national security depend on the existence of a shared reality. When citizens lose the ability to distinguish between what is true, false, or intentionally misleading, the foundations of trust that hold societies together begin to erode. For me, truth is not about claiming absolute certainty. Rather, it is a commitment to evidence, transparency, intellectual honesty, and the willingness to revise one’s conclusions when new facts emerge. In an age characterized by information overload, algorithmic amplification, and artificial intelligence, the pursuit of truth has become less about possessing all the answers and more about maintaining rigorous standards for how we arrive at them. One of the greatest misconceptions about disinformation is that it seeks only to make people believe lies. In reality, many modern influence operations pursue a more ambitious objective: to make people doubt the very possibility of objective truth. Once citizens begin to believe that every source is biased, every institution is corrupt, and every fact is merely a matter of opinion, manipulation becomes significantly easier. The goal is often not persuasion but confusion. Not conviction, but cynicism.

This is why defending truth today requires more than fact-checking individual claims. It requires defending the processes through which societies establish credibility, verify information, and build trust. It means protecting journalism, scientific inquiry, independent research, and democratic debate. Truth is not simply an endpoint; it is a social infrastructure. There is, however, an unavoidable personal cost for those who choose to defend truth publicly.

Visibility attracts attention, and attention attracts hostility. Researchers, journalists, investigators, and analysts who expose manipulation often become targets themselves. They may face harassment campaigns, coordinated trolling, online abuse, reputational attacks, or attempts to discredit their expertise. In some cases, the attacks are designed not necessarily to silence them, but to exhaust them emotionally and professionally.

I have observed that modern information warfare frequently targets individuals as much as institutions. Experts who challenge popular narratives may be accused of hidden agendas, political bias, foreign loyalties, or participation in imagined conspiracies. The objective is often to shift the discussion away from evidence and toward personal attacks. This tactic is effective because it exploits a basic psychological reality: attacking the messenger is often easier than disproving the message. There is also a psychological dimension to this cost. Continuous exposure to toxic information environments can produce fatigue, frustration, and even a sense of helplessness. Researchers who spend years studying manipulation, propaganda, extremism, or coordinated influence operations are constantly exposed to hostility, fear, anger, and distrust. Maintaining emotional balance under these conditions requires conscious effort.

At the same time, I would argue that remaining silent carries an even greater cost. If individuals with expertise withdraw entirely from public debate because the environment has become hostile, the information space becomes increasingly dominated by those who are least concerned with evidence and accountability. Vacuums of expertise are rarely left empty; they are usually filled by influencers, propagandists, conspiracy entrepreneurs, or political actors seeking to exploit uncertainty. For this reason, I believe that resilience is not about becoming immune to attacks. No one is immune. Rather, resilience means remaining committed to evidence-based reasoning despite pressure, criticism, or intimidation. It means understanding that public trust is built gradually through consistency, transparency, and integrity.

Ultimately, placing truth above all else is not an act of moral perfection. It is an act of civic responsibility. In a world where information itself has become a battlefield, defending truth means defending the conditions that allow free societies to function. The personal cost may be real, but the societal cost of abandoning that responsibility would be far greater.

• A disinformation expert needs visibility in order to have impact, yet visibility also makes him a target. How do you manage your own exposure and vulnerability to manipulation?

This is one of the central paradoxes of working in the field of disinformation research. If you remain invisible, your findings may have little impact beyond academic circles. If you become visible, however, you inevitably attract attention not only from audiences interested in your work, but also from those who feel threatened by it or seek to manipulate, intimidate, or discredit you.

I have come to view visibility as both a responsibility and a risk. Public engagement is necessary because disinformation does not remain confined to research papers or intelligence assessments – it affects elections, public health, social cohesion, and national security. Researchers have a duty to translate complex findings into language that ordinary citizens can understand. Otherwise, the information space is left to actors who are often more interested in influence than in accuracy. At the same time, visibility creates vulnerabilities. One of the first lessons I learned is that no expert is immune to manipulation simply because they study it. Understanding a tactic does not automatically protect you from its psychological effects. We are all human. We all experience emotions, cognitive biases, fatigue, and moments of uncertainty. Recognizing this fact is, paradoxically, one of the most effective forms of protection. To manage my own exposure, I rely on several principles.

First, I try to maintain a strict distinction between evidence and emotion. Many influence operations are designed to provoke immediate reactions—anger, outrage, fear, or indignation. When a piece of information generates a strong emotional response, I see that as a signal to slow down rather than speed up. Manipulation often succeeds because it exploits our instinct to react before we reflect.

Second, I prioritize transparency over certainty. In public debates, there is often pressure to provide quick and definitive answers. However, complex information environments rarely offer complete certainty. I believe it is more credible to acknowledge uncertainty where it exists than to pretend to possess absolute knowledge. Admitting what we do not know is not a weakness; it is an essential part of intellectual honesty.

Third, I maintain what I would call informational discipline. Just as cybersecurity professionals practice digital hygiene, researchers need epistemic hygiene. This includes verifying sources, cross-checking claims, consulting multiple perspectives, and being cautious about information that perfectly confirms one’s expectations. In my experience, information that feels most satisfying emotionally often deserves the most scrutiny.

Another important aspect is understanding how modern influence campaigns operate. Many attacks are not designed to persuade the target directly. Instead, they seek to shape perceptions among wider audiences. For example, disinformation actors may not expect an expert to change their views. Their objective is often to portray the expert as biased, unreliable, politically motivated, or untrustworthy in the eyes of others. Recognizing this dynamic helps avoid becoming trapped in endless defensive arguments. I also try to limit exposure to toxic information environments. There is a common misconception that researchers must constantly consume every piece of harmful content to understand it. In reality, excessive exposure can be counterproductive. Studies in psychology have shown that prolonged exposure to hostility, outrage, and negativity can affect attention, emotional regulation, and overall well-being. Effective monitoring requires discipline, not immersion.

One vulnerability that receives too little attention is ego. Visibility can create incentives that distort judgment. Social media rewards certainty, speed, and strong opinions. Research rewards caution, nuance, and evidence. These incentives often conflict. The desire for recognition, approval, or influence can subtly affect how experts communicate and even how they interpret information. Remaining aware of this risk is essential. I also rely heavily on professional networks. Independent verification from trusted colleagues is one of the strongest safeguards against error. Disinformation thrives in isolation. Critical thinking is strengthened through constructive disagreement and peer review. When dealing with complex influence operations, collaborative analysis is often more reliable than individual judgment.

Perhaps most importantly, I remind myself that the goal is not to win arguments. The goal is to help citizens make informed decisions. Public debates often encourage a confrontational mindset in which every discussion becomes a battle. However, information resilience is not built through humiliation or ideological victory. It is built through trust, credibility, and patience. Ultimately, managing vulnerability is not about becoming invulnerable. That is impossible. It is about developing habits that reduce the likelihood of manipulation while preserving the openness necessary for honest inquiry. The challenge is to remain visible enough to contribute to public understanding without becoming consumed by the dynamics of the attention economy. In a sense, the greatest form of resistance is maintaining intellectual integrity in an environment that constantly rewards the opposite.

• Is disinformation less an attack on content and more an attack on the human capacity to process reality? How do you distinguish disinformation that deceives from disinformation that exhausts?

I increasingly believe that modern disinformation is not primarily an attack on information itself, but on the human capacity to process reality. In the past, propaganda largely focused on replacing one set of facts with another. The objective was relatively straightforward: persuade people to believe a particular narrative. Today, however, the information environment is much more complex. Citizens are exposed to a constant flow of messages, notifications, videos, images, opinions, and emotionally charged content. Under these conditions, the battle is often no longer about what people think, but about whether they can think clearly at all. Human attention is a finite resource. Cognitive psychology tells us that our brains rely on shortcuts, heuristics, and emotional cues to navigate large volumes of information. When these mechanisms are deliberately exploited, people become more vulnerable to manipulation. The challenge is not simply distinguishing truth from falsehood. It is maintaining the mental energy necessary to evaluate competing claims in the first place.

This is why I often describe contemporary disinformation as operating on two different levels. The first type is disinformation that deceives. Its objective is relatively direct: to persuade people that something false is true or that something true is false. Examples include fabricated stories, manipulated images, false statistics, forged documents, conspiracy theories, or misleading narratives about political events. This form of disinformation seeks to alter beliefs. It aims to change an individual’s understanding of reality by introducing false or distorted information.

Historically, this is the type of disinformation that receives the most attention because it is easier to identify. A claim can often be fact-checked, verified, or disproven. Researchers can compare it against evidence and determine whether it is accurate.

The second type is disinformation that exhausts. This is often more subtle and, in my view, potentially more dangerous over the long term. Its objective is not necessarily to convince people of a specific lie. Instead, it seeks to overwhelm them with noise, contradictions, outrage, uncertainty, and emotional fatigue. In this model, success is achieved when citizens become confused, cynical, or disengaged. If people reach a point where they say, “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” or “everyone is lying anyway,” the operation has already achieved a significant part of its objective. The target is no longer belief; it is trust itself. This distinction is important because the two forms produce different outcomes.

A person who believes a false claim can potentially be persuaded by evidence. A person who has become emotionally exhausted may stop paying attention altogether. That is a much more difficult problem to address because it involves motivation rather than information. We can observe this dynamic in many contemporary information campaigns. Instead of promoting a single coherent narrative, malicious actors often circulate multiple contradictory narratives simultaneously. One message may claim that an event never happened. Other claims it happened but was justified. A third suggests that nobody can know what really happened. These narratives may contradict one another, but they share a common objective: generating confusion and uncertainty.

This strategy has been observed repeatedly in modern information warfare. The purpose is not always to establish an alternative reality but to destabilize the mechanisms through which societies establish reality. The emotional consequences are significant. Constant exposure to conflicting information increases cognitive load and contributes to what psychologists describe as information fatigue. Individuals become more likely to rely on intuition, group identity, or emotional reactions rather than analytical reasoning. Trust in institutions, media, experts, and even fellow citizens may decline.

Perhaps the most concerning consequence is that exhaustion can gradually transform into cynicism. Skepticism is healthy because it encourages verification. Cynicism is different. Cynicism assumes verification is pointless because truth is unattainable. Once a society reaches that stage, democratic deliberation becomes extremely difficult because public debate depends on the assumption that facts still matter.

This is why I believe resilience against disinformation requires more than fact-checking. Fact-checking is essential, but it addresses only part of the problem. We must also protect attention, trust, and the psychological capacity to engage with complex information. Citizens need not only accurate information but also the cognitive and emotional resources necessary to process it. Ultimately, modern disinformation targets a fundamental human function: our ability to construct a coherent understanding of reality. Some campaigns seek to deceive us. Others seek to exhaust us. Increasingly, the most sophisticated operations attempt to do both simultaneously. They first create confusion and then offer emotionally satisfying explanations. In that sense, the struggle against disinformation is not only about protecting facts. It is about protecting the human capacity to make sense of the world.

• Which is more dangerous in the long term: believing a false narrative, or becoming so exhausted that one no longer cares what is true?

In the long term, I believe becoming so exhausted that one no longer cares what is true is the greater danger. A false belief can eventually be corrected through evidence, education, and public debate. But when people lose interest in seeking the truth altogether, democratic societies face a much deeper problem. The issue is no longer misinformation – it is disengagement. Many modern disinformation campaigns are not designed to convince people of a single lie. Instead, they flood the information space with contradictions, outrage, and uncertainty until citizens become overwhelmed and conclude that “everyone is lying anyway.” At that point, skepticism turns into cynicism.

A skeptical citizen asks questions and looks for evidence. A cynical citizen stops looking because they believe truth no longer matters. This is particularly dangerous because democracy depends on informed and engaged citizens. When people withdraw from public life, stop following reliable information, or lose trust in every institution equally, they become more vulnerable to manipulation by those offering simple answers to complex problems.

Ultimately, false narratives threaten our understanding of reality. Exhaustion threatens our willingness to seek reality at all. And once a society stops caring about the truth, it becomes much easier for manipulation, extremism, and authoritarianism to fill the void.

• How does the combination of behavioral psychology, including anxiety, identity, and trauma, with technology, such as algorithms, micro-targeting, and generative AI, actually work?

The simplest way to understand it is this: modern influence operations combine what we know about human psychology with technologies that can deliver tailored messages at an unprecedented scale. Human beings are not purely rational. We are strongly influenced by emotions, identities, fears, and personal experiences. Anxiety makes us seek certainty. Identity makes us trust information coming from people we perceive as part of our group. Trauma – whether personal or collective – can make certain narratives particularly powerful because they resonate with existing fears and grievances. I strongly believe that technology amplifies these vulnerabilities.

Algorithms are designed to maximize engagement, not necessarily accuracy. Content that triggers strong emotions such as anger, fear, outrage, or pride tends to generate more clicks, shares, and comments. As a result, emotionally charged content often receives greater visibility than balanced or nuanced information. Micro-targeting takes this one step further. Instead of sending the same message to everyone, different audiences can receive different versions of the same narrative based on their interests, fears, demographics, or political preferences. One group may be targeted with messages about security, another with messages about corruption, and another with messages about cultural identity.

Generative AI has dramatically increased the scale and speed of these operations. Today, it is possible to produce thousands of customized texts, images, videos, or social media comments in a matter of minutes. What previously required large propaganda organizations can now be done with relatively limited resources. The most effective disinformation campaigns therefore do not create emotions from scratch. They identify existing anxieties, frustrations, and identity conflicts and then amplify them through technology. In this sense, technology is not replacing psychology – it is industrializing it.

We must know that the combination of psychology and technology creates a powerful feedback loop: emotions drive engagement, engagement drives algorithmic amplification, and amplification reinforces emotions. Understanding this cycle is essential if we want to build resilience against manipulation in the digital age.

• When someone accepts a narrative, they suspect is false because it validates their frustrations or identity, what happens emotionally and somatically?

This is one of the most important lessons from behavioral psychology: people do not always embrace narratives because they are convinced by the facts. Often, they embrace them because the narrative satisfies emotional, psychological, or social needs. When individuals feel frustrated, marginalized, anxious, or powerless, they naturally seek explanations for their situation. A narrative that identifies a clear cause, a villain, or a simple solution can provide a sense of relief and coherence. Even when a person suspects that the narrative may not be entirely true, it can still feel emotionally satisfying because it validates their experiences and confirms what they already feel.

Psychologists refer to this as motivated reasoning. Instead of asking, “Is this true?”, people sometimes unconsciously ask, “Does this fit with how I feel?” or “Does this support who I believe I am?” When emotions and identity are involved, factual accuracy can become secondary. Identity is particularly important. Human beings have a fundamental need for belonging. We define ourselves through families, communities, political movements, nations, religions, and social groups. If a narrative reinforces the values of a group we identify with, accepting that narrative can strengthen our sense of connection and purpose. In some cases, rejecting the narrative may feel like betraying the group itself.

This dynamic becomes even stronger during periods of social uncertainty. Economic crises, political instability, wars, pandemics, or rapid cultural changes often increase anxiety and insecurity. Under these conditions, people are more likely to seek narratives that offer certainty, even if those narratives oversimplify reality. The body also plays a role. Our brains and nervous systems are constantly evaluating whether we feel safe or threatened. Information that confirms our worldview can produce feelings of reassurance, certainty, and emotional comfort. Information that challenges deeply held beliefs can trigger stress responses, including tension, anxiety, irritability, elevated heart rate, or a sense of psychological discomfort.

This is why correcting false information is often more difficult than simply presenting evidence. Facts may challenge a belief, but they do not automatically address the emotional needs that made the belief attractive in the first place. If a narrative provides identity, belonging, certainty, or a sense of control, abandoning it may feel emotionally costly. In many successful disinformation campaigns, the objective is not merely to spread falsehoods. It is to create emotional attachment. Once people become emotionally invested in a narrative, defending that narrative can become part of defending their identity.

Ultimately, disinformation succeeds not only because it manipulates information, but because it exploits fundamental human needs: the need for certainty, belonging, recognition, and meaning. Understanding this helps explain why some individuals continue to support narratives they know may be questionable. They are often protecting not just a belief, but a sense of who they are and where they belong.

• How does chronic exposure to toxic online content affect the nervous system, attention, trust, and civic judgment?

Chronic exposure to toxic online content does not affect only our opinions – it affects the way our brains and body’s function. The human nervous system evolved to respond to occasional threats, not to a continuous stream of alarming headlines, outrage, conflict, and emotionally charged information delivered 24 hours a day. When people are constantly exposed to fear-inducing, anger-provoking, or highly polarizing content, the brain can enter a state of prolonged vigilance. The nervous system begins to treat the information environment as if it were a permanent threat. Over time, this can contribute to stress, anxiety, emotional fatigue, irritability, and difficulty concentrating. One of the first casualties is attention.

Digital platforms compete for attention, and the content that captures attention most effectively is often content that triggers strong emotions. As a result, users are repeatedly exposed to messages designed to provoke outrage, fear, or indignation. This encourages rapid reactions rather than careful reflection. People become accustomed to scanning, scrolling, and reacting instead of analyzing and evaluating. Over time, this can weaken what psychologists call cognitive patience – the ability to engage with complex information, tolerate uncertainty, and think critically before reaching conclusions. Individuals become more vulnerable to simplistic explanations, emotional narratives, and black-and-white thinking. Trust is also affected.

When citizens are continuously exposed to claims that institutions are corrupt, experts are lying, journalists are manipulating information, and political opponents are enemies, a gradual erosion of trust can occur. Healthy skepticism is important in a democracy, but chronic exposure to toxic information often pushes people beyond skepticism and into cynicism. The difference is crucial. Skepticism asks for evidence. Cynicism assumes evidence no longer matters.

When trust declines across the board, people often stop distinguishing between reliable and unreliable sources. A professional journalist, an academic researcher, an anonymous social media account, and a conspiracy influencer may all be perceived as equally credible – or equally untrustworthy. This creates an ideal environment for manipulation.

The effects on civic judgment can be profound. Democratic citizenship requires attention, trust, and the ability to evaluate competing claims. Exhausted citizens are less likely to participate in public life, follow policy debates, verify information, or engage constructively with those who hold different views. Instead, they may withdraw entirely or retreat into information bubbles that reinforce existing beliefs. Perhaps the greatest danger is that toxic information environments normalize emotional decision-making. Citizens increasingly judge information based on how it makes them feel rather than on whether it is supported by evidence. Anger becomes a substitute for analysis, and identity becomes a substitute for verification. In the long run, the result is not merely a misinformed society but a fatigued society – one that struggles to sustain attention, maintain trust, and engage in reasoned democratic debate. This is why resilience against disinformation is not only about media literacy. It is also about protecting our mental well-being, managing our information diets, and creating spaces where reflection can compete with constant stimulation.

Information security is not just about protecting networks and institutions. It is also about protecting the cognitive and emotional capacities that allow citizens to think clearly, trust wisely, and participate meaningfully in democratic life.

• Have you observed cases where exposing patterns of manipulation produces not clarity, but rumination, cynicism, or helplessness?

Yes, absolutely. This is one of the paradoxes of disinformation research that is often overlooked. We tend to assume that exposing manipulation automatically leads to greater awareness and resilience. In reality, the outcome is not always so straightforward. I have seen cases where individuals become so focused on identifying manipulation that they begin to see it everywhere. Instead of gaining clarity, they become trapped in a state of constant suspicion. Every news story, political decision, or public statement is interpreted as evidence of a hidden agenda. At that point, awareness can gradually transform into rumination – a repetitive cycle of questioning and doubt that produces anxiety rather than understanding.

I have also observed another reaction: cynicism. When people repeatedly learn about propaganda, disinformation campaigns, bot networks, covert influence operations, or political manipulation, some conclude that everything is manipulated and that no source can be trusted. The intention was to strengthen critical thinking, but the result becomes generalized distrust. This is dangerous because resilience is not the same as permanent suspicion. A resilient citizen evaluates evidence and distinguishes between reliable and unreliable sources. A cynical citizen assumes that everyone is equally dishonest. Once people reach that conclusion, they often stop verifying information altogether because they no longer believe verification is possible.

There is also a risk of helplessness. Many influence operations are large, sophisticated, and transnational. When citizens are repeatedly exposed to stories about information warfare, algorithmic manipulation, artificial intelligence, and coordinated propaganda campaigns, they may begin to feel powerless. They start asking themselves: “If all of this is happening, what can I realistically do about it?” This feeling of powerlessness can lead to disengagement from public life. People stop following the news, stop participating in civic discussions, or withdraw into private spaces because they feel their actions no longer matter.

For this reason, I believe that exposing manipulation must always be accompanied by empowerment. It is not enough to tell people how they are being manipulated. We must also show them how they can respond. Otherwise, awareness risks becoming another source of anxiety. The ultimate goal of disinformation research should not be to make citizens suspicious of everything. It should be to help them become more confident in their ability to evaluate information, make informed decisions, and participate in democratic life. In other words, the objective is not cynicism – it is informed resilience.

A healthy information environment is one in which people remain critical without becoming paranoid, vigilant without becoming fearful, and aware of manipulation without losing confidence in their own ability to navigate reality.

• Can “always demand evidence” itself become a vulnerability when malicious actors manufacture pseudo-evidence? What does solid epistemic hygiene mean in this context?

Yes, it can. In fact, one of the defining characteristics of the modern information environment is that malicious actors have become increasingly skilled at manufacturing what appears to be evidence. This means that simply telling people to “demand evidence” is no longer sufficient. The real challenge is learning how to evaluate the quality, credibility, and context of that evidence. Historically, many disinformation campaigns relied on the absence of evidence. Today, they often rely on the opposite. They present screenshots, videos, leaked documents, graphs, expert quotes, manipulated statistics, or AI-generated content that appears convincing at first glance. The objective is not to eliminate evidence but to flood the information space with pseudo-evidence – material that looks credible but is misleading, fabricated, taken out of context, or impossible for ordinary citizens to verify independently. This creates a new challenge. A citizen may believe they are thinking critically because they are asking for proof, yet still become vulnerable if they cannot distinguish between genuine evidence and manufactured evidence. This is where epistemic hygiene becomes essential.

I think of epistemic hygiene as the intellectual equivalent of public health. Just as we develop habits to protect our physical well-being, we need habits that protect the quality of our knowledge and judgments. First, we should evaluate the source, not just the claim. A document, image, or video does not become reliable simply because it exists. We need to ask: Who produced it? What is their track record? Can the information be independently verified? Second, we should seek corroboration. Reliable information rarely depends on a single source. When multiple independent sources reach similar conclusions using different methods, confidence increases. Third, we should pay attention to context. One of the most effective forms of manipulation is not outright fabrication but selective presentation. A genuine quote, image, or statistic can become misleading if stripped of the circumstances in which it originally appeared. Fourth, we should be especially cautious when information perfectly confirms our existing beliefs. Ironically, the content that feels most satisfying or emotionally validating is often the content that deserves the most scrutiny. The rise of generative AI makes these principles even more important. Today, it is possible to create realistic images, videos, audio recordings, and documents at a scale and quality that would have been unimaginable just a few years ago. As a result, verification increasingly depends on processes and trusted institutions rather than on our own immediate perception.

I think that healthy skepticism is not about doubting everything. It is about applying consistent standards of evaluation. Solid epistemic hygiene means resisting both blind trust and automatic distrust. It means asking not only, “Where is the evidence?” but also, “Why should I trust this evidence, and how can it be verified?” In the coming years, the most important skill may not be finding information. It may be learning how to judge the credibility of information in an environment where convincing false evidence is becoming easier and cheaper to produce. The goal is not certainty, but disciplined and informed judgment.

• What is the difference between healthy skepticism and conspiratorial paranoia? How do we recognize when we have crossed the line?

Healthy skepticism and conspiratorial paranoia may appear similar on the surface because both involve questioning official narratives and refusing to accept claims blindly. However, they are fundamentally different in how they approach evidence, uncertainty, and reality. Healthy skepticism is an essential democratic virtue. It encourages citizens to ask questions, verify information, and hold institutions accountable. A healthy skeptic is willing to challenge claims, but is equally willing to change their mind when credible evidence emerges. Skepticism is driven by curiosity and a desire to better understand reality. Conspiratorial paranoia operates differently. It begins with a conclusion and then selectively searches for evidence to support it. Instead of following evidence wherever it leads, it interprets almost every piece of information as confirmation of a pre-existing belief. Contradictory evidence is not seen as a reason to reconsider the theory but as proof that the conspiracy is even larger than previously imagined.

In simple terms, skepticism asks, “What is the evidence?” while conspiratorial thinking asks, “How does this fit my theory?” Another important difference concerns uncertainty. Healthy skeptics are comfortable saying, “I don’t know yet.” They recognize that complex events often have incomplete explanations and that uncertainty is a normal part of reality. Conspiratorial thinking tends to reject uncertainty. It often prefers a simple explanation involving hidden actors, secret plans, or coordinated manipulation rather than accepting that some events are chaotic, complex, or not fully understood. We can usually recognize that we have crossed the line when questioning stops being a method and becomes an identity. If a person automatically distrusts every institution, every expert, every journalist, and every source that challenges their worldview, they are no longer practicing skepticism. They are operating from a position of generalized distrust.

Another warning sign is the belief that the absence of evidence is itself evidence. In conspiracy narratives, a lack of proof is often interpreted as proof of a successful cover-up. This creates a self-sealing belief system that becomes almost impossible to falsify. A useful question to ask ourselves is: “What evidence would convince me that I am wrong?” If we cannot identify any evidence capable of changing our minds, then we are no longer investigating reality – we are defending a belief.

In today’s information environment, maintaining this distinction is more important than ever. Democracies need skeptical citizens because skepticism strengthens accountability and critical thinking. But they also need citizens who remain connected to evidence, reason, and reality. The goal is not to trust everything, nor to distrust everything. The goal is to evaluate claims with an open mind and consistent standards. Healthy skepticism keeps us anchored to reality. Conspiratorial paranoia gradually disconnects us from it. The line between the two is crossed when the search for truth is replaced by the need to confirm what we already believe.

• Can an individual develop real immunity to disinformation without becoming isolated or morally superior?

I would argue that no one can develop complete immunity to disinformation—not even experts who study it professionally. We are all human beings, and all human beings are susceptible to cognitive biases, emotional reactions, social pressures, and manipulation. The goal should not be immunity in the absolute sense, but resilience. The idea of becoming completely immune can actually be dangerous because it creates overconfidence. The moment we believe we cannot be manipulated; we often become more vulnerable to manipulation. Some of the most effective influence operations succeed precisely because they exploit people’s confidence in their own judgment.

Real resilience begins with intellectual humility. It means accepting that we can all make mistakes, misinterpret information, or fall victim to emotionally persuasive narratives. Resilient individuals do not assume they are always right; they develop habits that help them recognize when they might be wrong. At the same time, resilience should not require social isolation. There is a temptation to respond to disinformation by withdrawing from public debate, avoiding people with different views, or consuming information only from sources we already trust. While this may feel safer, it can create new vulnerabilities. Isolation often reinforces blind spots and limits our ability to understand how different communities perceive reality.

In my experience, one of the strongest protections against disinformation is maintaining diverse and constructive relationships. People who engage respectfully with individuals from different backgrounds, professions, and viewpoints are often better equipped to recognize manipulation because they are exposed to multiple perspectives rather than a single information bubble. Equally important is avoiding a sense of moral superiority. Knowledge about disinformation can sometimes create a temptation to divide society into “informed people” and “manipulated people.” This is a mistake. Disinformation succeeds because it exploits universal human characteristics – fear, identity, uncertainty, belonging, and emotion. These vulnerabilities are shared by all of us. In fact, approaching others with arrogance is often counterproductive. People rarely change their minds when they feel humiliated, dismissed, or judged. Resilience is strengthened through dialogue, empathy, and trust, not through intellectual superiority.

I believe the most resilient citizens are those who combine critical thinking with humility. They verify information without becoming cynical. They remain open to evidence without becoming gullible. They acknowledge uncertainty without becoming confused. Most importantly, they understand that being informed is not a permanent state but a continuous process. Also, resilience against disinformation is not about standing above society. It is about remaining engaged with society while maintaining the curiosity, self-awareness, and intellectual discipline necessary to navigate an increasingly complex information environment. The strongest defense is not believing that we are immune – it is remembering that we are human.

• How does chronic disinformation affect the structure of the modern self: does it produce fragmentation, rigidity, or something else?

I believe chronic exposure to disinformation can produce both fragmentation and rigidity, often at the same time. Although these outcomes may appear contradictory, they are actually complementary responses to living in an environment characterized by uncertainty, information overload, and constant psychological pressure. On one hand, disinformation can lead to fragmentation. Individuals are exposed to countless competing narratives, contradictory claims, and emotionally charged interpretations of reality. As a result, maintaining a coherent understanding of the world becomes increasingly difficult. People may struggle to distinguish facts from opinions, expertise from speculation, or reality from performance. This can create a sense of confusion, instability, and cognitive overload. In such environments, individuals often develop what sociologists might describe as a fragmented informational identity. Different parts of their worldview may be influenced by different sources that are not necessarily consistent with one another. Someone may trust science in one area, reject it in another, trust institutions selectively, and rely on social media personalities for issues that traditionally belonged to experts. The result is not necessarily a coherent ideology, but a patchwork of beliefs assembled from multiple information ecosystems. At the same time, chronic disinformation can also produce rigidity. When people feel overwhelmed by uncertainty, many seek psychological stability by adopting increasingly fixed identities and beliefs. Complexity becomes exhausting, while certainty becomes comforting. In these cases, individuals may become more attached to ideological tribes, political movements, or simplified narratives that provide a sense of order and belonging. Paradoxically, fragmentation often generates rigidity. The more chaotic the information environment becomes, the more attractive simple and absolute explanations can appear.

I believe there is also a third effect that receives less attention: emotional defensiveness. Many people develop protective psychological mechanisms to cope with constant exposure to conflict, manipulation, and uncertainty. They become less open to new information, not necessarily because they reject evidence, but because they are emotionally exhausted. In such cases, information is filtered less through critical analysis and more through emotional self-protection. This has important implications for democratic societies. Democracy depends on citizens who can tolerate complexity, uncertainty, and disagreement. Chronic disinformation tends to weaken these capacities. It encourages people to seek certainty where none exists, to distrust those outside their group, and to prioritize emotional comfort over intellectual curiosity.

I would describe the impact of chronic disinformation as a combination of fragmentation, rigidity, and fatigue. People become overwhelmed by complexity, seek refuge in certainty, and gradually lose confidence in their ability to navigate an increasingly confusing world. The challenge for democratic societies is therefore not only to protect citizens from false information, but also to preserve the psychological capacities – curiosity, trust, critical thinking, and tolerance for uncertainty – that allow individuals to maintain a coherent and resilient sense of self.

• What role do the body and the nervous system play in vulnerability or resilience to manipulation?

While I am not a neuroscientist, research in psychology and communication suggests that our ability to process information is closely connected to our emotional state. People who are stressed, anxious, angry, or overwhelmed are generally more likely to react emotionally and less likely to carefully evaluate information. This is one reason why many disinformation campaigns seek to provoke fear, outrage, or panic. Conversely, individuals who are emotionally balanced and able to pause before reacting tend to be more resilient to manipulation. In this sense, resilience against disinformation is not only about media literacy or fact-checking skills. It is also about maintaining the emotional conditions that allow critical thinking to function effectively. From my perspective, one of the most important lessons is that information resilience begins not only with what we know, but also with how we react.

The human body is not a passive spectator in this information war — it is the main battlefield. Understanding how our nervous system responds to manipulation is one of the key elements of both individual and collective resilience.

In Part II of this interview, Nicolae Țibrigan goes deeper: we will explore concrete solutions for personal and societal defense, the role of state institutions in countering hybrid disinformation, the impact of emerging technologies (including AI) on Romanian democracy, and what it truly means to build a culture of informational resilience in a fatigued society.