With increased accessibility to extremist ideologies, millennials lack the critical thinking skills to discern fake news

According to extensive polling and surveys, millennials possess great confidence in their ability to think critically. Recent research, however, undermines this millennial way of thinking, and recent events have exemplified the underlying danger of this deluded sense of confidence.

The internet has afforded us instant and unprecedented access to information. With the rise of social media, users are presented with information that has been filtered through an algorithm providing each individual with information consistent with their personal (and preconceived) beliefs and interests. These algorithms supply people with information affirming these preexisting beliefs, rather than challenging them. In this way, an individual with anti-immigrant viewpoints, for example, is given information that confirms their sentiments, even if that information is false, misleading or skewed.

Even more problematic is the rate at which fake news is able to spread through social media, spanning countries and continents. By preying on misled fears and beliefs, fake news and skewed news have successfully sown discord and violence in society.

The consequences range from spreading silly conspiracy theories to skewing an election and stoking ethnic violence. Facebook, a well-known platform for fake news, was used by Myanmar’s military personnel to incite fear and hatred of the country’s Rohingya Muslim population, culminating in genocide and mass migration. By the time Facebook had acknowledged its failure to act, 700,000 Rohingya had already fled the country.  

Fake news would be benign if not for the lack of critical thinking skills present among millennials — and their dependence on social media as a news source exacerbates the problem. A study conducted by MindEdge testing critical thinking skills found that, of young professionals aged 19 to 30, only 24 percent of participants were able to answer eight of nine questions correctly — even after expressing confidence in their critical thinking skills — and 44 percent could not correctly answer more than five of these questions.

This is dangerous because 67 percent of Americans get “at least some of their news” from social media. When presented with fake news, those users likely accept it as fact, proceeding to share and spread that false information to friends and strangers.

Extremists have found a safe haven on the web to share and organize with like-minded people and prey on unfounded fears, allowing them to fester in the most egregious forms. The most recent example of this played out in the Christchurch mosque shootings in New Zealand. The terrorist responsible exchanged and shared his views on 8Chan, wrote a manifesto riddled with popular culture references and memes, and live-streamed the massacre, which was instantaneously shared and re-shared far faster than content moderators could take it down. His manifesto was rife with anti-Muslim writings and is available online, and even White House advisor Kellyanne Conway encouraged people to read it.

Every facet of the terrorist’s actions was intended to garner publicity and incite similar violence. On March 25, a California mosque was set on fire in what has been called a “clear homage” to the New Zealand terrorist attack, with graffiti sprayed on the walls citing the Christchurch shootings. Thankfully no one was injured, but the stream of violence leaves no group safe from a future attack.

Viewpoints that would normally be discarded as conspiracy theories are now afforded legitimacy with the rise of social media and the ability for those with similar grievances to connect, exchange and establish groups. The inherent problem within social media lies in the fact that uninformed and informed opinions are on the same plane. Unlike legitimate news sources, social media news goes unfiltered, unchecked, and ultimately becomes dangerous, and even lethal, when both informed and uninformed “news” are regarded as equally factual.

Beyond holding social media platforms accountable and ensuring content moderators fulfill their duties, the real long-term and effective solution is to foster critical thinking within the education system. Education must nurture young minds to analyze the information they’re given rather than accept it unquestioningly. Terrorism is a war of ideologies, and the best way to defeat an evil one is to expose it for what it is: false.

If platforms like Facebook continually fail to act, then it’s time they be regulated. Individuals can be sued for defamation, yet a platform with an international reach that knowingly allows non-curated and incendiary information to circulate globally is not held to the same standard. Facebook should not have more immunity than a guy who falsely screams “fire” in a theater.

Written by: Hanadi Jordan — hajordan@ucdavis.edu

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie.

Current cinematic trends reveal our own desires

Providing a true definition of art, particularly in the realm of cinema, is an impossible task. By the subjectivity inherent to the craft, forming strict standards for what constitutes legitimate artistic construction is best left to individual taste. However, that does not mean there is no room for opinion. A definition I have always considered fondly was one relayed to me by a fellow writer: art is a reflection of our modern moment.

By this standard, artistic expression can serve as a measure of the feelings defining our modern lives. The popularity of a bleeding-heart American film like “Top Gun” or “Miracle,” for example, would imply a societal lean toward patriotic ideals. From this assumption about art and cinema, a natural question emerges: what saturates the current cinematic market, and what does it say about our modern moment?

A statistical examination reveals a clear trend: sequels, prequels and adaptations. Since 2005, the percentage of such films within the top 100 grossing movies each year has risen from a bit over 65 percent to about 90 percent. Filmgoers are flocking to theatres to see movies that adopt something they know, something familiar, and either expand on the concept or rehash it in a different medium. As a result, studios spend exorbitant amounts on adapted or pre-existing material, budgeting for this at an average of $139 million dollars, while allotting only a third of that sum to original screenplays, at around $46 million.

Attacking this trend as an affront to art is a bit of a gray area. Film studios are businesses, not charities, and they will cater to consumer interests. So it falls to an analysis of us, the consumers, to understand why originality in cinema seems to be fading into obsolescence. It is much easier to derive the societal implications of high-grossing original movies. What does it mean when cinema finds a basis not in originality, but in familiarity?

Let us return to our earlier definition of art. Cinema seems to be establishing its foundation in familiarity, and in a similar sense, nostalgia. The industry is catering to a demand for a return to the well-tread — not an examination of final frontiers, but of known spaces. If art reflects our modern moment, this cinematic trend tells us that we are avoiding the reflection.

Studios are responding to consumer demands by creating products founded in nostalgia, products that let us forget through remembrance. Like other times in our nation’s history, people are turning to cinema as an escape to idealism. During the Great Depression, movie theaters acted as a source of respite to otherwise aggrieved Americans. The turmoil and quiet desperation of their daily lives could be lost, if only for a moment, in spectacle. Hollywood experienced an unprecedented boom then, as it is now. By serving this purpose, cinema was — and is — no longer a pristine reflection, but a portal to a better world.

Through screwball comedy and high-caliber action, Depression-era moviegoers sought an escape from day-to-day misery. By returning both to the familiar and to conceptualizations of nostalgia, we now seek to escape the advances of growing frustration with our system and society. This sense of unfocused tension is everywhere we look: in our politicians, in our news outlets, in our social media. We are surrounded every day by stories of the world on fire, of corruption, of exploitation, of violence and of anger. Few want any further reminders of the modern moment. So we avoid the reflection and instead seek a portal to somewhere better: to a  world that makes sense, a world that puts out the things that are burning. And we know the fire will be put out because someone always puts it out. Someone always does.

So perhaps a better definition of art is not as a reflection of our modern moment, but a reflection of what we want our modern moment to be. When the world seems predictable, we seek progress through certain ideals, and our films reflect those desires. And when everything unravels, we seek something predictable. As much as I wish I could criticize this trend of artistic complacency, to demand originality, meaningful and creative products, maybe a reflection is not what we need right now. Maybe a portal is okay.

Written by: Eli Elster — eselster@ucdavis.edu

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie.