Enlightenment-Era Hoaxes Offer Insight on Modern Misinformation

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In the late 18th century, as tensions between Britain and its American colonies reached a breaking point, a remarkable hoax swept through London society. A peddler named John the Painter had allegedly confessed to setting fire to Royal Navy dockyards in Bristol and Portsmouth. His dramatic confession, printed on an official-looking broadsheet, described his motivations in vivid detail—he had been recruited by American diplomat Silas Deane to sabotage Britain’s maritime capabilities.

There was just one problem: the confession was entirely fabricated, crafted by government officials to manipulate public opinion against the rebellious colonies.

This historical episode, highlighted in historian Kate Loveman’s new book “The Age of the Hoax,” illustrates how disinformation campaigns are far from a modern phenomenon. While today’s landscape of fake news, deepfakes, and AI-generated content seems uniquely challenging, Loveman’s research reveals striking parallels between contemporary information manipulation and tactics employed during the Enlightenment era.

“What’s particularly fascinating is how consistent the mechanics of effective hoaxes have remained across centuries,” explains Loveman, who teaches at the University of Leicester. “The most successful deceptions have always exploited existing fears, biases, and divisions within society.”

The 18th century witnessed an explosion of print media, with newspapers, pamphlets, and broadsides becoming increasingly accessible to a broader public. This democratization of information created fertile ground for misinformation to flourish—much as social media platforms have done in our era.

Government officials were quick to recognize the power of fabricated news. The British administration systematically planted false stories in newspapers to shape public perception during the American Revolution. Meanwhile, Benjamin Franklin countered with his own disinformation campaign, famously fabricating a shocking account of scalps supposedly sent to the governor of Canada by indigenous allies of the British.

What distinguishes the historical approach from today’s concerns, Loveman argues, is how 18th-century society viewed such deceptions. Rather than seeing all hoaxes as inherently dangerous, many Enlightenment thinkers considered them valuable tools for sharpening critical thinking. The period’s philosophers believed that encountering falsehoods could train citizens to become more discerning consumers of information.

“There was a certain playfulness and intellectual sport in exposing hoaxes,” notes Loveman. “For writers like Jonathan Swift, creating elaborate fictions was seen as a way to expose gullibility and encourage readers to question authority.”

This educational dimension manifested in popular scientific hoaxes as well. When a London newspaper reported that a farmer had discovered a method to grow geese on trees, the story wasn’t merely meant to deceive. It was designed to challenge readers’ scientific understanding at a time when botanical knowledge was rapidly evolving.

The commercial incentives driving misinformation also show remarkable continuity. Eighteenth-century publishers discovered that sensational, fabricated stories sold papers—a direct precursor to today’s click-driven media economy. Fictitious accounts of monsters, miraculous healings, and impending disasters proved irresistible to readers then, just as viral falsehoods capture attention today.

Market analysts have increasingly noted how misinformation creates significant economic impacts across industries. A 2022 report from the World Economic Forum estimated that false information costs the global economy approximately $78 billion annually, affecting sectors from healthcare to financial markets.

Loveman’s research offers potential insights for modern approaches to combating misinformation. Rather than focusing exclusively on fact-checking or platform regulation, she suggests examining how 18th-century society built resilience through education and critical reading practices.

“The Enlightenment approach wasn’t to shield people from falsehoods but to equip them with tools to identify deception,” Loveman says. “Perhaps there’s something valuable in that perspective as we consider how to navigate today’s information landscape.”

As artificial intelligence makes distinguishing fact from fiction increasingly difficult, these historical lessons take on new relevance. The challenges we face may employ new technologies, but the fundamental dynamics of how misinformation spreads—and how societies can respond—have remarkable historical precedents.

Understanding this longer history of hoaxes might offer valuable perspective at a time when many perceive information manipulation as an unprecedented crisis.