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When the World Gets Loud, Stillness Becomes a Form of Truth




Lately, it’s been hard to open the news without feeling the weight of noise. From the steady erosion of democracy and press freedom to the wildfire of misinformation spreading across every platform, the global conversation feels louder than ever — and yet, somehow, emptier.


The latest reports show that more than half of the world’s countries have slipped backward in democratic standards. Press freedom has fallen to its lowest point in fifty years. At the same time, studies show that over sixty percent of online content may be unreliable. Lies are multiplying faster than facts.


But beyond the statistics, there’s a subtler question many of us feel without quite naming it: What happens to us — as individuals — when truth itself becomes unstable?



The World’s Noise and the Individual’s Mind


When institutions lose balance, it often mirrors something deeply human. A society that can’t sit with silence is not so different from a person who can’t pause before reacting. When everything becomes performance, reflection turns into luxury.


It’s not that democracy dies overnight or that truth vanishes in a single headline. It’s the slow, almost invisible tanning. One unchecked distortion at a time, one half-truth shared because it “felt right,” one distraction accepted because focus seemed too costly.


The same thing happens in our minds. We scroll, we compare, we consume, and before long, we confuse information with insight, and our thinking becomes reactionary instead of reflective. In photography, I’ve learned that too much light can destroy an image just as surely as too little. The art lies in balance — in knowing when to expose and when to hold still. The world, too, seems to have forgotten the art of exposure: how much truth we can handle, how much noise we can absorb before clarity fades.



Stillness as an Act of Resistance


It’s tempting to believe that fighting misinformation means simply shouting louder. But noise doesn’t heal noise.


What if the true counter to deception is discernment — and discernment begins in stillness? Not in silence that withdraws, but in stillness that observes. Stillness isn’t passive. It’s a form of precision. It’s the mind saying, “I will not be rushed into outrage before I understand.” It’s the modern equivalent of a darkroom — where light is filtered, not ignored, so that truth can slowly take shape.


In that way, choosing to be still in a noisy world becomes a small, personal dissent. It’s how we reclaim power over what we think, feel, and believe. It’s how we refuse to be manipulated by volume.



The Balance Between Clarity and Compassion


Of course, clarity alone isn’t enough. The more truth we uncover, the more compassion we’ll need to hold it. Misinformation thrives not just because people believe lies, but because many are simply tired — exhausted by uncertainty, distrust, and the feeling that nothing can be known for sure.

Maybe what we need most isn’t to “win” the information war but to restore trust — not the blind kind, but the grounded kind that grows from presence, listening, and humility.

When we learn to pause, we notice the humanity in others again. We see how fear feeds the algorithm and how patience disarms it. We remember that technology doesn’t create division; it amplifies what’s already divided within us.



A Closing Reflection


Perhaps the real danger isn’t that democracy or truth are dying — it’s that we might stop caring enough to notice. But here’s the quiet hope: awareness itself is a form of healing. The moment we choose to see clearly, we create a new possibility for alignment — between what’s happening out there and what’s steady in here.


Maybe the antidote to the world’s noise isn’t louder truth, but deeper presence — the kind that doesn’t panic when the scroll speeds up, that doesn’t mistake urgency for importance, that listens before it speaks.

And maybe that’s where renewal begins and not in a system, but in the still moment of awareness, where each of us decides to be a little more deliberate about what we see, share, and believe.


Olugbenga “Benga” Akhuemonkhan is an author and multiple award-winning photographer and artist. His work explores how faith, stillness, and science reconnect us to purpose — in words, in light, and in life.

 
 
 

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