Carpe Momentum: Information Armageddon - Why Maria Ressa’s Warning Matters Now

How a Nobel laureate’s lived lessons from the Philippines map to America’s slide, and why JD Vance’s rhetoric turns that lesson into a plan.

Maria Ressa stepped up to the UN microphone in a moment that felt equal parts obituary and call to arms. She did not read a manifesto; she read the weather: the world sits “on the rubble of the world that was,” she said, institutions buckling under engineered untruths, democracies hollowing out at the seams. This is not drama; it is a diagnosis with a bone-deep pedigree. Ressa is a 2021 Nobel Peace Prize laureate who spent a decade building Rappler, documenting extrajudicial killings, surviving arrests and smear campaigns, and refusing to let a state erase the record.

“Without facts, you can’t have truth. Without truth, you can’t have trust.” - Maria Ressa, UNGA

That sentence is the spine of her case: when facts disappear, so does shared reality; when shared reality disappears, so does the practical possibility of democracy. She calls the era we live in “an information Armageddon”, not an inevitable apocalypse but a battle to be fought and won, or lost depending on what we do next.

Ressa didn’t become an icon by accident. She cut her teeth at CNN, returned to the Philippines, co-founded Rappler in 2012, and set out deliberately to pair investigative rigor with the new tools of the internet. That put her in direct conflict with Rodrigo Duterte, whose so-called “war on drugs” produced thousands of extrajudicial deaths. Rappler cataloged names, traces, witness accounts, and police records, documenting how state power was turned into a machine of terror. The regime struck back by weaponizing the law: eleven arrest warrants, cyber-libel prosecutions, tax investigations, nonstop online harassment, and court rulings designed to intimidate. A court convicted her in one cyber-libel case, repeatedly summoned her to appear, and forced her to request permission from the Supreme Court whenever she needed to travel.

The parallels to Trump’s America are chilling. Duterte justified street executions by branding them part of a righteous campaign against narcotics; Trump deploys the same drug-war rhetoric to rationalize extraordinary measures. From the mass arrest and relocation of immigrants under the banner of fighting “cartels,” to the sinking of fishing boats off the coast of Venezuela, the pattern is unmistakable. Both men invoke drugs and crime as a permanent emergency, a blank check to erode the law, militarize civil life, and frame brutality as protection. What Rappler exposed in Manila is the very script now unfolding in Washington: the war on drugs as pretext, the strongman as savior, and democracy as collateral damage.

She survived not because the law was kind, but because she built an evidence trail that could not be wished away. That record, reporting, documentation, witnesses, is part of the corpus now feeding the International Criminal Court’s case. The irony is profound: the leader who sought to destroy the press and rewrite reality is now facing trial in The Hague; the press that refused to stop may be one of the reasons that accountability is possible.

“We kept saying this… By design these platforms spread lies. Lace them with fear, anger, hate, and they go viral.” - Ressa to Jon Stewart

When Ressa talks about a “dictator’s playbook,” she isn’t doing rhetorical flourish, she’s describing a pattern so familiar it reads like an operations manual. First, you drown the public square in a deluge of lies and static until shared facts are impossible to find; truth becomes one voice among a thousand shouts. Then you go after the referees, courts, prosecutors, legislatures, independent regulators and the press, chipping away at the institutions that can check power until they’re too weakened or compromised to act. At the same time you celebrate and aggrandize security forces, pull the levers that centralize control of that force, and habituate the public to exceptions that once would have seemed intolerable. You codify repression through law and regulation while running smear campaigns to discredit critics and intimidate journalists. Finally, you fuse political authority with the platforms and money that amplify your message, so profit and power reinforce one another and the entire system becomes self-sustaining.

On The Daily Show she described the effect like a dietary innovation: social platforms are not merely adding flavor; they’re producing ultra-processed speech engineered to override our stop signals and hijack our emotions.

“Nobody talks about ultra-processed speech… It’s about designing a machine.” - Jon Stewart (paraphrasing the exchange)

If Ressa’s testimony is forensic, Jason Stanley’s warning is historical. A scholar of fascism who recently left the U.S. in part because of the political climate, Stanley connects the dots between rhetoric, institutional capture, and mass mobilization. He warns that fascism often hides in democratic clothes: it claims to be the “will of the people” while systematically targeting minorities and political opponents. His recent piece, addressed to Australia but aimed at the world, argues that the American slide gives permission and a template to movements globally.

“Fascism conceals its anti-democratic nature by representing itself as the general will of the people. … You’re going to see more of that dynamic.” - Jason Stanley

Stanley’s point bolsters Ressa’s global framing: this isn’t an exotic problem quarantined to Manila or Budapest; it’s a transnational phenomenon. If the U.S. normalizes the tactics, doxxing, economic punishment, public delegitimization of political enemies, militarized responses to domestic order, other states and movements learn, scale, and adapt.

Which brings us to the hangar in Concord, North Carolina. JD Vance stands surrounded by uniformed officers, thanks them, and then builds policy out of spectacle.

“We surged the National Guard into Washington, D.C… We just surged the National Guard to Memphis. If the local government wants our help … we are going to help them.” - JD Vance, Concord

He frames federal muscularity as charity: “we help where we can.” He promises to punish jurisdictions that “restrict” police and vows to defeat efforts to strip qualified immunity. The rhetoric is tender; the policies centralize force.

Why this matters: Ressa’s playbook predicts exactly this move. Centralize force; reframe dissent as danger; normalize military solutions to social problems. They now present the constitutional constraints that once made domestic troop deployments exceptional as mere operational details. The exception becomes the template.

“It means punishing state and local jurisdictions that restrict your ability to do police work.” - Vance

Across these voices the pattern repeats. Ressa points to the MIT study (falsehoods spread much faster than truths) and the new multiplier of generative AI. Stanley maps the historical parallels and warns that the U.S. slide legitimizes similar moves abroad. Vance’s speech demonstrates how fear is monetized into policy. The product is a feedback loop:

• Algorithms reward outrage → audiences get angrier → politicians respond with force → institutions are pressured or co-opted → the “help” becomes habit.

Ressa’s answer is not sentimental: it’s structural.

“Regulating technology isn’t a free-speech issue. It’s public safety. Because online violence is real-world violence.” - Maria Ressa, UNGA

One of the most striking turns in Ressa’s story is that the man who tried so relentlessly to silence her now sits in The Hague awaiting trial. Duterte’s transfer to an international court is proof that even the most entrenched impunity can eventually be challenged. But the lesson is sobering: legal reckoning arrives late, if it arrives at all. It is remedial rather than preventative, and by the time it comes, the damage has already been done. Ressa insists that survival in such moments requires relentless documentation and early mobilization.

For the United States, the translation of that lesson is plain. Every scrap of evidence matters, investigative reporting, FOIA requests, audits of platform behavior, whistleblower testimony, because the record is the raw material of accountability. Institutions must be defended in the present tense, not mourned after they are gutted; courts, state legislatures, civil-service norms, and independent media are the scaffolding that keeps collapse at bay. And the incentives that drive the tech platforms cannot be left to self-correction, because they will never correct themselves. They must be treated like any other systemic risk, nuclear, environmental, financial, and regulated with binding standards for amplification, transparency in algorithmic ranking, and investment in interoperable alternatives that privilege trust over attention capture.

This is the hard clarity of Ressa’s example: accountability is possible, but only if societies build the record, protect the scaffolding, and alter the incentives before the slide becomes irreversible.The global angle matters

Jason Stanley’s warning to Australia is not alarmism; it’s caution about imitation and normalization. Democracies will not fall because of a single policy misstep. They fall when multiple small compromises accrete into a new normal: surveillance in the name of safety, prosecution in the name of order, and censorship in the name of “countering hate.” The U.S. is uniquely consequential: its signals reverberate. If federal troops become routine in cities, if citizens are publicly tossed off platforms for heterodoxy, if doxxing and economic retaliation become accepted tactics other states will copy.

“Information integrity is the mother of all battles. Win this and we can win the rest. Lose this and we lose everything.” - Maria Ressa, UNGA

Ressa refuses despair. She calls the moment Armageddon because it is a battle, not a verdict. That matters: it returns agency to citizens, journalists, judges, and legislators. It says the future is not fate; it is choice.

When the next politician promises “help,” it’s worth pausing to interrogate what that word conceals. Ask first who actually requested such intervention — whether it comes at the invitation of local leaders or whether it is imposed from above. Consider whether the measure is framed as a fleeting emergency or quietly positioned as a new norm, the difference between an exception and a precedent. Look closely at who stands to benefit, not only in terms of security but also in political capital or financial gain. Scrutinize the evidence offered for the threat itself: is it verifiable, transparent, rooted in fact, or little more than theater meant to stir fear? And finally, weigh whether the action strengthens the checks and balances that keep power accountable, or whether it hollows them out. When the answers tilt toward normalization of centralized force, erosion of factual ground, and the tight fusion of political power with private platforms, then the playbook is not hypothetical. It is unfolding right in front of you.

“Please choose courage over comfort, facts over fiction, hope over fear… Act now before it’s too late.” - Maria Ressa, UNGA

This is not a partisan plea. It is a civic one. Ressa’s life and Rappler’s reporting show that even the most determined campaign of intimidation can be resisted by rigorous, persistent truth-telling, and that accountability, when it comes, matters. Jason Stanley shows that the danger is structural and contagious. JD Vance’s rhetoric shows the mechanism by which the danger is operationalized.

Trump’s “strongman” posture has backfired abroad. He once relied on spectacle and swagger to command attention; now it earns ridicule and, increasingly, contempt. His pseudoscientific riffs about vaccines and Tylenol, his stubborn denial of climate change, his erratic trade and tariff policies, and his willingness to turn foreign policy into a stage for self-dramatization have made him an object of international scorn rather than deference.

When Times Radio bluntly described him as having “limited intelligence,” it was not the insult of a partisan opponent but the assessment of foreign analysts watching the world’s most powerful office misused. Michael Wolff’s caustic remark in the Daily Beast, that Trump is simply “an idiot”, carried the same recognition: the emperor has no clothes, and the world is no longer pretending otherwise.

Where once allies might have smiled politely at his bluster, now they recoil. What once looked like eccentricity is increasingly read as danger. The collapse of credibility is global, and it leaves America’s partners less inclined to indulge, more willing to distance, and far more alarmed at the real-world consequences of his behavior.

Maria Ressa’s warning is the counterpoint we can’t afford to ignore. Autocrats fall, but not on their own. The record must be made, institutions must be defended, and the incentives that poison our information ecosystem must be rewritten. The Philippines learned the cost of waiting too long; Duterte fell only after years of terror and impunity. If the United States is to avoid the same fate, it must act in the present tense, not in hindsight.

Ressa closing UN statement cuts through the noise: “Act now before it’s too late.” That is not advice for diplomats in New York alone. It is a warning for every citizen still living in a democracy that is slipping, step by step, toward something else.