Goa, has once again delivered peak political theatre — complete with fasting, rumours, AI-generated wisdom, and a bonus episode titled “To Be Continued.”
St. Andre MLA Viresh Borkar and Tushar Gawas recently called off their hunger strike — but not without leaving us with a cliffhanger. The fast, staged against Section 39A of the Town and Country Planning Act, has been “temporarily suspended” with a dramatic addendum: it shall resume if the BJP government does not repeal the contentious provision. In other words, the protest is on standby mode.
Now, let’s address the real star of this saga: not the fast, not Section 39A, but the mighty and unstoppable WhatsApp University — now upgraded with Artificial Intelligence. Because why rely on boring facts when you can have cinematic conspiracy theories?
During and after the fast, the rumour mills spun faster than a casino roulette wheel in the Mandovi river. AI-crafted videos and fantastical narratives emerged with the precision of a well-funded content studio. One theory claimed that Viresh had some master chess game planned with Chief Minister Pramod Sawant. Another insisted that Manoj Parab, chief of the Revolutionary Goans Party, was allegedly monetizing the protest by extracting huge sums from the builder lobby. Not satisfied with that, yet another rumour suggested Manoj was panicking over Viresh’s rising popularity and therefore plotting to sabotage him.
Honestly, Netflix should consider outsourcing its political thrillers to Goa’s WhatsApp groups. The scripts are tighter. The twists are better. And the fact-checking? Completely optional.
What’s fascinating is not just the creativity of these theories, but their timing and coordination. They didn’t merely attack individuals; they attacked the spirit of the protest itself. Because if you can’t defeat a movement, you can always divide it. If you can’t discredit the issue, discredit the people. And if you can’t win the argument, just flood the timeline.
Whether the “alumni” of WhatsApp University succeeded is debatable. But what isn’t debatable is that someone, somewhere, has the machinery to churn out such content with alarming efficiency. The BJP’s well-oiled social media apparatus has long been known for its digital agility. When a protest gains traction, suddenly a parallel digital universe appears — complete with suspiciously polished AI videos and neatly packaged narratives designed to inject doubt like a political vaccine.
Of course, let’s not be unfair. It could also be “independent creators” who just happen to have professional-level editing skills, strategic messaging instincts, and perfect timing. Pure coincidence, I’m sure. Just passionate citizens with laptops and too much free time.
But here’s the real damage: it’s not about who created what. It’s about the slow erosion of trust. When every protester is suspected of a hidden agenda, when every leader is presumed to be playing a double game, and when every video could be AI-generated fiction, public discourse doesn’t just get polluted — it gets paralysed.
The purpose of such propaganda is simple: confuse, divide, exhaust. Make people so tired of sorting truth from trash that they give up altogether. Snatch the spirit of collective action and replace it with suspicion. Turn solidarity into side-eye.
And that is where the real battle lies.
Because Section 39A, builder lobbies, political rivalries — all of that is policy-level conflict. But the information war? That’s psychological. It’s about shaping perception so effectively that the protest collapses under the weight of its own doubts.
Goans, therefore, face a new civic responsibility. It’s no longer enough to show up at a protest or share a post. One must also become a fact-checker, a sceptic, and occasionally, a digital detective. The new literacy isn’t just reading and writing — it’s discerning and verifying.
Ignore malicious content. Question conveniently timed “leaks.” Ask who benefits from a narrative that divides protesters more than it challenges power. Separate the chaff from the grain, as the elders would say — except now the chaff is algorithmically optimized.
The hunger strike may have been paused. The rumours certainly won’t be. But if Goa has survived colonialism, mining scams, casino politics, and monsoon potholes, it can surely survive a few AI-generated conspiracy videos.
The real question is not whether the fast will resume.
The real question is whether Goans will stay hungry — not for drama, not for viral forwards — but for truth.
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