Why This Misinformation Researcher Doesn't Use the Word “Misinformation” in Everyday Conversations

The word we often use to fight falsehoods might be the very thing keeping us from connecting.

“What do you do for work?” is one of the most common small-talk questions in American life.

As someone who studied misinformation for a living, and even wrote a book about it, I’ve had a lot of practice answering over the years. When people understand the academic background of the term, they tend to react with curiosity or at least stay neutral. Outside those circles, though, I’ve seen reactions shift from polite confusion to visible discomfort or even hostility.

Over time, I experienced how the word misinformation carries a lot of baggage in everyday conversations. Sometimes, it even gets in the way of the meaningful dialogue I’m trying to have.

I still use the term constantly in my research, writing, and teaching. It’s a precise term that connects to research in psychology, communication, and information science. But when I’m talking with friends, family, or general audiences, I’ve stopped leading with it.

Here’s why.

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1. The Academic vs. Everyday Meaning Gap

In academic research, misinformation has a specific meaning: false or misleading information, regardless of intent. It’s a useful umbrella term that covers rumors, hoaxes, scams, propaganda, and deepfakes.

When I talk with fellow researchers, it’s efficient shorthand. It connects to decades of work, from studies on the misinformation effect in false memory research to network analyses of rumor spread to the psychological biases within information processing.

But outside academia, it doesn’t always land the same way. If you’re not steeped in that literature, or haven’t already read about what a misinformation researcher actually does, then the term can sound less like a neutral description and more like an accusation: you’re wrong or you’ve been duped. And that’s when the conversation can start to shut down.

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2. It Can Close the Door to Productive Dialogue

Kristen Panthagani captured this eloquently in her essay Why I Stopped Using the Word “Misinformation.” Early in the COVID-19 pandemic, she, like many science communicators, used the term constantly. But someone close to her offered a simple, game-changing piece of feedback:

“Your content is great. People need it. But it would help if you stopped using the word ‘misinformation.’ That turns a lot of people off, and they’ll stop listening to you.”

That comment changed how she approached her audience. For some, misinformation feels like a verbal slap, a signal that their ideas, and by extension, they themselves, are being dismissed.

Jacqueline Capriotti and Panthagani both appeared on an episode of the Why Should I Trust You podcast, and Capriotti made a similar point: labels like misinformation, anti-vaxxer, or conspiracy theorist don’t just challenge ideas, they “other” entire groups.

“It tells readers: these people are not worth listening to. And in that moment, you’ve lost both the person who might have asked an honest question and the readers who may identify with them.”

Once someone feels labeled or shamed, the door to genuine dialogue usually closes. Respect and curiosity can open it. The goal should be to lower people’s defenses, not raise them. That doesn’t mean avoiding disagreement; it just means approaching it in a way that keeps both sides engaged in the conversation.

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3. Focus on the Conversation, Not the Claim

Another challenge with the word misinformation is that it narrows the focus to a specific claim. That might seem like the right approach, after all, the claim may indeed be false or misleading, but it can also pull the conversation into the weeds and away from the bigger picture.

When someone shares a questionable claim, it’s tempting to immediately fact-check the details, and sometimes that’s necessary. But if your goal is to have a productive conversation, focusing too much on the claim itself can mean missing the deeper issues driving the concern.

Often, people’s beliefs stem from broader fears, uncertainty, or a lack of trust. So, for example, it can be more effective to shift the discussion from “That claim isn’t true” to “What makes you skeptical of doctors or the healthcare system?”

Zooming out from the claim and addressing the underlying trust issues doesn’t mean conceding accuracy; it means creating space for empathy and understanding. That’s what keeps people engaged long enough to make progress, and increases the odds that your perspective will actually be heard.

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4. Ask Better Questions

Good questions encourage reflection rather than defensiveness. I’ve previously discussed how thoughtful group discussions can reduce polarization, and revising our language can encourage reflection.

One simple strategy: use how questions instead of why questions.

• “How do you know this is true?”

• “How confident are you in this claim?”

• “How would this work in practice?”

These invite people to think through their reasoning without feeling attacked. Why questions, on the other hand, can sound accusatory and make people dig in deeper.

The goal isn’t to trap anyone; it’s to encourage curiosity, both theirs and yours, as you work together to learn from each other.

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Final Thoughts

Words shape conversations. Misinformation is a useful academic concept, but it isn’t always the most productive conversational one.

By focusing less on correcting and more on connecting, I’ve found people become far more open to reflecting. This can happen when we focus on shared experiences, use non-accusatory language, and foster genuine curiosity.

Sometimes, avoiding the word misinformation altogether helps create the kind of dialogue that actually reduces it.