As Nepalis struggle to come to terms with the enormity of the catastrophic flood in the Trisuli Valley on 26 August, a parallel flood has been surging across social media platforms.
It has been 11 days of a digital deluge of opinions, accusations, false claims, and some attention-seeking performative outrage. Scientists have yet to piece together the exact sequence of what caused the devastating debris flow, yet many ‘experts’ have already delivered their verdicts via social media.
There is also hostility toward scientists, trolling by climate deniers, partisan insults and geopolitical abuse. ‘Academics are useless’, ‘We need action, not ideas’, ‘Experts only talk’, ‘Scientists create a climate of fear’ are some of the more polite comments.
Such statements generate ‘likes’ because they channel public frustration amidst a tragic and chaotic situation where some need someone to blame.
Social media itself is not at fault. In fact, given Nepal’s terrain where geography often limits communication and state institutions cannot be everywhere at once, social media has become an essential disaster-response tool.
It helps families locate loved ones, communities share warnings, volunteers mobilise relief, and citizens document unfolding events. During emergencies, information can save lives.
But algorithm-driven outrage also shows a misunderstanding of how societies confront risk and scientists communicate their findings and ideas in public. While these trends are not unique to Nepal or any other disaster hit areas, it also raises a fundamental question of how researchers should engage in scientific communication.
The Himalaya is a young, geologically active mountain system where ecological, geological, climatic, and social processes interact in ways that are extraordinarily difficult to predict. It is almost impossible to assess and monitor all possible hazards and disasters. What happens in the mountains can trigger consequences downstream with little warning.
DARK SIDE
But this disaster also revealed social media's darker side. The Nepal-China should remind us that nature is often more complex than our explanations. Early evidence suggests a complex, cascading chain of events involving slope failure and a detached glacier.
This rock-ice mass slid down the steep slope collecting debris and sediments along the way and then gaining even more energy and creating a fast-moving tsunami-like catastrophic flood. Scientists are still reconstructing exactly what happened, and there is still considerable uncertainty about the details. Solid explanations that take time.
But the cybersphere does not like uncertainty. Social media platforms reward people who sound sure of themselves, not people who admit what they do not know. The person declaring they already know the cause of the disaster will often attract more attention than the scientist carefully evaluating competing explanations.
Nuance is mistaken for weakness. Doubt is interpreted as incompetence. A complex socio-ecological crisis is then reduced to a slogan.
The most disturbing feature of social media engagement is the transformation of tragedy into entertainment even more than earlier legacy tabloid press.
A catastrophe is turned into ‘content’. An ice-rock avalanche becomes content. Human suffering becomes content. Comment sections fill with mockery, outrage, conspiracy theories, and political point-scoring -- all while families mourn their losses.
Videos of destruction are consumed with the same casual detachment as any other viral post. The algorithm favours emotional reaction, not ethical reflection. The result is a public sphere that is often disconnected from empathy.