Let’s start with a simple question that is often overlooked in discussions about disinformation: who is actually meant to see these posts? In the Indonesian case, a network of TikTok accounts was found to be spreading false claims about a meeting with Singapore’s ambassador. But here is the striking part: those posts made up only about 2 percent of what the accounts published. The rest of the time, the same accounts posted about Indonesian domestic programmes and politics. This pattern fits what experts have long suspected. The campaign was not really aimed at Singapore at all. It was aimed at Indonesians. The false ambassador story was a small but deliberate piece of a larger strategy to discredit critics at home and to energise supporters. By mixing a little foreign-related falsehood with a steady stream of familiar domestic content, the accounts could look like ordinary political pages rather than instruments of manipulation. The goal was not necessarily to convince Singaporeans of anything. It was to use Singapore as a symbol or a target in a domestic political fight. This is a reminder that disinformation is often less about foreign audiences than about shaping politics at home. It is tempting to imagine foreign interference as a straightforward attack from outside, but the reality is messier. Sometimes the foreign element is just a hook, while the real audience is the domestic public, and the real battleground is local trust.
Disinformation campaigns are rarely one-dimensional. They often try to do several things at once. In this case, the dual purpose was to silence critics and rally supporters. How does a false story about a foreign ambassador achieve that? It can be used to paint opposition figures as unpatriotic, or to suggest that foreign powers are interfering in Indonesian affairs. At the same time, the accounts’ steady focus on domestic programmes and politics helped them build an audience and appear authentic. This is a common tactic. The false or misleading content is woven into a larger pattern of posts that seem normal, even patriotic. The operator of such a network wants to be seen as a source of information, not as a propagandist. Over time, the audience may begin to trust the account, and when a false story appears, it is more likely to be accepted. The experts’ view is that these campaigns are designed to have a chilling effect on critics, making them think twice before speaking out, while also giving supporters something to rally around. It is a way of shaping the political conversation without ever having to debate the facts. The domestic content is not just camouflage; it is the main battlefield. By building a following around popular programmes and political issues, the accounts create a reservoir of trust. When they occasionally inject a false claim, it lands in fertile soil. That is what makes the strategy so effective: the lie is not the whole story, but it is a weapon that can be fired at the right moment.
Not every investigation is so clear. In other cases examined by CNA’s fact-checking unit, CNA Verify, it was much harder to say exactly who the posts were meant for. Researchers could only make educated guesses. For example, campaigns conducted in Mandarin may have been aimed at Chinese speakers in Singapore or abroad. The language itself is a clue, but it does not tell you whether the intended audience was a foreign government’s supporters, a local community, or someone else entirely. Where such content attacked Singapore, the objective may have been to cause domestic uncertainty or to shake confidence in how the country is run. This kind of disinformation does not need to be believed by everyone. It only needs to create doubt. If enough people begin to wonder whether their institutions are trustworthy, or whether the news they see is real, the damage is done. The ambiguity is part of the problem. Because the targets are not obvious, it is harder to defend against the attack. A campaign can be aimed at several audiences at once, with different messages for different groups, and the same post may be read in completely different ways by different people. This is why attribution is so difficult. Even when researchers can identify the language, the platform, and the likely origin of a campaign, they still cannot be certain what the operators hoped to achieve. The uncertainty itself is a weapon, because it makes it harder for the public to know what to believe.
Then there is the even harder question: did anyone actually believe it? The evidence is mixed. Indonesian news outlet Tempo examined what is believed to be the first post that spread the false meeting claim, and found that most comments under it were sceptical. That is encouraging. It suggests that many people saw through the lie immediately. But online comments do not tell the whole story. Sceptical users may be more likely to leave a comment than someone who quietly accepts the claim. And a person who is sceptical at first may still be influenced by seeing the same story repeated many times. The question of whether real people changed their views because of disinformation remains open. Researchers cannot easily measure belief or attitude change from a single post. They can only look at patterns of engagement, repetition, and reach. The lack of clear evidence does not mean there is no effect. It just means the effect is hard to trace. Disinformation often works slowly, shaping the way people think about a topic over weeks and months, rather than causing an immediate, obvious change in opinion. A single false post may not convince anyone, but when it is repeated across many accounts, in many different forms, it can begin to feel like a fact. The first post might be met with ridicule, but the twentieth version might be met with a shrug, and the fiftieth might be accepted as common knowledge.
Still, there is empirical evidence that some people are affected. Associate Professor Saifuddin, a political communication researcher, pointed to a recent study showing that some respondents in both Singapore and Indonesia had fallen for haze-related deepfakes. These were fake images or videos about air pollution, a topic that affects both countries. The fact that people were fooled by these deepfakes is significant. It shows that even in societies with high levels of internet access and education, false content can break through. The reason, according to Saifuddin, is repetition. When disinformation is repeated on social media, it makes false claims appear more familiar and credible over time. This is sometimes called the illusory truth effect. The more often you hear a lie, the less strange it sounds. Eventually, for some audiences, it becomes true. Saifuddin put it simply: “If you repeat a lie enough times, it becomes true for some audiences.” This does not mean everyone will be fooled. It means that some people, especially those who are already inclined to believe the message, will be swayed. It also means that fact-checking alone is not enough. By the time a fact-check appears, the false claim has already been seen many times, and the correction may not be seen by the same people who saw the lie.
The real worry, Saifuddin said, is not that entire populations will be brainwashed overnight. It is that some vulnerable groups will be affected, and that trust will slowly be eroded. This is perhaps the most insidious effect of disinformation. Even if most people do not believe the lie, the constant repetition of false claims creates confusion. People begin to wonder what is real and what is not. They may stop trusting the media, the government, or even their own judgment. In that kind of environment, facts become less important than feelings. A lie does not have to win a majority to do damage. It only has to create enough doubt to make people give up on the truth. That is why the small percentage of false posts in the Indonesian TikTok network matters. It is not about the volume of lies. It is about the cumulative effect of those lies on public trust. The goal of disinformation is often not to convince everyone, but to make it impossible for people to agree on what is true. And once that happens, the ground is ready for more confusion, more division, and more manipulation. In the end, the most dangerous outcome may be not that we believe the lie, but that we stop believing anything at all.