The debate trick that became a political weapon
Duane Gish was a creationist debater in the 1970s and 80s with a very specific technique. He’d take the stage and unleash a torrent — falsehoods, half-truths, cherry-picked statistics, non sequiturs — delivered fast, delivered confidently, one after another without pause.
His opponents would quickly realise the problem: it takes about ten seconds to make a false claim. It takes several minutes to properly refute one.
In a timed debate, you simply cannot keep up. By the time you’ve carefully dismantled argument three, Gish has already rattled off fifteen more. The audience sees someone who looks like they’re losing — even if every word out of their mouth is accurate.
The tactic was so consistent and so cynical that a critic coined a name for it in 1994: the Gish Gallop.
Then someone took it to an entire country
Fast forward to 2014. Russia annexes Crimea, and researcher Christopher Paul starts noticing something unusual about how the Russian state is communicating.
It’s not traditional propaganda — one clear message, repeated consistently. This is something different.
It’s a flood. Contradictory stories. Wild theories. Outright lies sitting right next to things that are true. A relentless volume of content with no commitment to consistency — and that incoherence is the point. Paul called it fire hosing.
The goal isn’t to convince people of any particular thing. The goal is to make people feel like nothing can be known. To exhaust them. To create so much noise that the signal disappears entirely.
The Gish Gallop, scaled up to an entire population.
The law that explains why it works
Both tactics exploit the same principle, sometimes called Brandolini’s Law:
“The amount of energy needed to refute a false claim is an order of magnitude larger than the energy needed to produce one.”
Creating misinformation is cheap and fast. Correcting it is slow, expensive, and a lot less interesting to read. The debunking rarely travels as far as the original claim. Most people never see it.
This was already a problem before social media. Now, with AI-generated content, algorithmic feeds optimised for engagement over accuracy, and a 24/7 news cycle that never stops — the volume of incoming information is essentially infinite and our capacity to process it is not.
We are being deliberately outgunned. And most of us don’t realise it.
The part that concerns me most
RAND researchers studying fire hosing found something that should give everyone pause. Prolonged exposure doesn’t just confuse people — it makes them cynical.
And cynicism, it turns out, is exactly what you want if you’re trying to keep a population passive.
When people believe nothing can be trusted, they stop engaging. They retreat. They become apathetic. And an apathetic population is paradoxically more susceptible to further manipulation — not less. Because they’ve stopped fighting it.
You don’t need to convince people your lie is true. You just need them to stop believing anything at all.
That’s not a side effect of fire hosing. That’s the goal.
This isn’t just a Russia problem
The video I watched attributed fire hosing to Putin. I’d push back on that — look at what’s coming out of the US right now and you’ll see this strategy running at full speed.
The speed at which claims are made, walked back, contradicted, and replaced with new ones. The volume. The confidence. The complete absence of any concern for consistency.
That’s not incompetence. That’s the strategy.
When every day brings a new outrage, a new reversal, a new thing to react to — and the people trying to fact-check can barely keep pace — the Gish Gallop is working exactly as intended.
"Censorship no longer works by hiding information from you; censorship works by flooding you with immense amounts of misinformation until you're just unable to focus."
— Yuval Noah Harari
Trump of course is the undisputed master
What you can actually do about it
I don’t have a clean solution. But naming the mechanic is the first step.
When you feel overwhelmed by the volume of information — that feeling is the intended outcome. When you find yourself thinking “I can’t keep track of all this” — that’s Brandolini’s Law working against you. When you catch yourself sliding toward “who knows what’s true anymore” — that’s the cynicism RAND was warning about, arriving on schedule.
The antidote is selectivity. You can’t refute everything. You’re not supposed to be able to. Pick a small number of sources you actually trust, go deep on those, and be ruthlessly honest about the difference between things you’ve genuinely thought through and things you’ve just absorbed.
The Gish Gallop works in a debate because the format forces you to respond to everything. Real life doesn’t have that constraint.
You can choose not to play.