Any time Pakistan finds itself in the throes of a crisis, I find myself, as a professional communicator and a citizen, rather irate over the rapid and incessant spread of unverified information which, oftentimes, is pure disinformation.

Equally frustrating, if not more so, is the silence or complete lack of timely, clear decision making and information from authorities and organisations. Whether during the Covid-19 pandemic or now amidst the devastating floods engulfing parts of the country, a dangerous combination of rumour and silence has fuelled confusion, panic and mistrust.

Take Karachi’s recent torrential rains and the resulting flooding as a case in point. Despite weather warnings from the Pakistan Meteorological Department, companies and universities still expected employees and students to physically report, often without alternative arrangements or timely advisories. Roads were submerged, public transport was crippled and the city brought to a standstill.

Frantic calls poured in from people stranded or hours on roads that had turned into rivers. Others waded through knee-deep water to find their way home. In the absence of clear directives from institutions, WhatsApp groups became the default communication channel: parents warning each other, employees circulating screenshots of whatever news alerts popped up and communities desperately trying to piece together which routes were open or safe.

Forcing, or neglecting to inform employees and students to brave such conditions jeopardises lives and breaks the trust that underlies relationships. Internal communication must go beyond mere instructions. It requires empathy, clarity and responsiveness. When stakeholders know their safety matters, when leaders communicate openly about challenges, contingency plans and support options, organisations cultivate resilience.

Beyond internal dynamics, the external communication ecosystem has a way to go. Social media platforms have become fertile ground for speculation, unverified reports and sensationalism, often outpacing or beating in visibility, official or authentic communications. Case in point: the Covid-19 pandemic that taught us many a hard lesson about crisis management and communication. Among the most glaring was how quickly misinformation could metastasise into mass hysteria, especially through platforms like WhatsApp.

Unlike official press briefings or credible media outlets, WhatsApp has no gatekeeping, no editorial oversight and no clear source attribution. This created an environment where voice notes of ‘doctors,’ chain messages claiming miracle cures and dire warnings circulated endlessly, forwarded from friend to friend, group to group, until they seemed irrefutably true — simply because they were repeated so often.

What troubles me most is how this particularly impacts older and more vulnerable people. Parents, grandparents, those less educated, many of whom are not as digitally literate or discerning, often take such messages at face value. During the pandemic, I remember how an old relative of mine received alarming notes about “drinking hot water every 15 minutes to kill the virus” or “stock months of food before an imminent military lockdown.” The anxiety these falsehoods created was real. Some households rushed to hoard supplies they didn’t need, creating artificial shortages. Others delayed seeking proper medical care because they believed unverified home remedies shared on WhatsApp would suffice. One electrician I had known since childhood lost his life this way, relying on desi totkas to treat coronavirus and delaying the urgent hospital care he so desperately needed, until it was too late.

We are seeing a similar pattern resurface now as floods devastate the north of Pakistan. Entire communities have been washed away; yet, again, WhatsApp is flooded with confusing and conflicting messages: warnings of dams about to burst, rants about government inaction, dramatic images circulating without context.

For communities already fearful, such rumours only deepen panic. For the elderly or less digitally aware, it is particularly cruel to expect them to separate fact from fiction on an almost hourly basis. In the absence of authoritative, consistent updates, misinformation fills the gap breeding anxiety at a time when calm, clarity and trust are most needed.

Further, misinformation hinders relief efforts. When communication between affected communities and those trying to help is weak, resources are often mismatched to needs. The Zaman Foundation, for instance, visited multiple devastated areas including Gadazi, Bayshunai, Qadarnagar, Gokan and Pir Baba. What they heard from residents was sobering: food was arriving, much of it going waste; people desperately needed basic household items, clothing, bedding and shelter.

Crises expose systemic vulnerabilities and the gaps in our collective communication infrastructure. We must move towards verified, authentic and responsible communication.

In moments of crisis, speed should not be the only measure of value — unverified updates may travel faster, but they also add unnecessary panic to an already stressful situation. The lesson from Covid-19, the 2022 floods and the recent floods is clear: responsible communication builds trust, calms fears and ensures that the right help reaches the right people at the right time.

In a country like Pakistan, where natural disasters are alarmingly frequent due to climate change and where crises of various kinds have become a near-constant reality, effective communication may well be the difference between resilience and ruin. It’s time we took this lesson seriously, not just as a matter of corporate policy but as a societal imperative. Learning from past failures, citizens, organisations and governments today have both an opportunity and an obligation to reimagine communication as a humanitarian tool.

Selina Rashid Khan is the founder and CEO of Lotus Client Management & Public Relations