Rumors arise inevitably because every person understands the surrounding world a little differently. In turbulent periods, rumors help restore a sense of certainty — but they are only labeled as "rumors" afterward, notes a doctoral thesis defended at the University of Tartu.

"People spread rumors partly because they may no longer trust authorities. On the other hand, they need to feel that they can make sense of the world around them," says Hongjin Song, who just defended her PhD in semiotics at the University of Tartu. Such stories often surface during crises, when people's ability to control their own lives may be limited.

For example, after the relocation of the Bronze Soldier in 2007, a rumor circulated in Estonia that Russia would now invade. "It was a major lesson for everyone. When the statue was removed, people wanted to understand why it happened and what the consequences would be," Song explains.

In her dissertation, she examined rumors from a semiotic perspective. In her view, a rumor is part of a process in which people try to understand the world around them. She studied why rumors emerge, how they circulate and fade, and why certain information becomes labeled as a rumor at all. "As we see in many cases, denying a rumor can make it even more believable — especially when central authority has lost credibility," she notes.

A sausage factory explained disappearances

According to Song, rumors are unavoidable because people constantly try to interpret the world. Information is never equally accessible to everyone. "We come from different cultures, we have different memories of the past and different understandings of the world," she says. These differences create conflicting interpretations.

Song treated rumors as cultural texts. They operate at a mesoscopic level — too narrow to be a grand cultural dynamic, but too broad to be just one person's viewpoint. Borrowing from Juri Lotman, she identifies three functions of rumors: creating something new, transmitting existing information, and evoking the past. "There is no rumor without roots in the past," she explains.

For example, after World War II, a legend spread in Tartu that a sausage factory in the city center was making sausage from human flesh. Elderly women sold sausage pastries on the street, many missing‑person notices appeared, and memories of wartime violence were still fresh. "People always need interpretation. In confusing times, they need a world that feels normal and understandable in order to continue living," Song says.

At the same time, communication requires shared beliefs and a common sense of reality. "For example, I am from China and you are local, but we both believe that the city of Tartu exists. With that shared assumption, we can talk about it," she explains. As a contrasting example, she points to a U.S. conspiracy theory claiming Finland does not exist — making meaningful discussion impossible.

A rumor is not called a rumor while it is actively circulating. The label is attached only later, usually by authorities who declare some circulating information false. People may then believe it even more strongly. "Considering the life cycle of rumors, when you go looking for them, you mostly find only ashes — the burned‑out remains," Song says.

The currents of rumor

When the circumstances that sparked a rumor change, and society becomes confused by a new issue, the old rumor fades. Song compares this to the sea: the surface looks calm, but hidden currents move underneath. "Rumors need pressure at a certain time and place to circulate. When that pressure shifts elsewhere, earlier rumors disappear — just like underwater currents moving away," she explains.

Song witnessed such shifts firsthand at the start of the COVID‑19 pandemic in Wuhan. "Since I was in Wuhan from the first day of lockdown, I saw how people believed many rumors that mutated very quickly," she recalls. Over time, the initial panic eased and new tensions emerged.

Today, Estonians encounter rumors not only in conversation but also in social and tabloid media. Song says exposure to new information is unavoidable, and people inevitably use their prior knowledge to evaluate it. "I recommend stepping back and thinking: first, why do I evaluate this information this way? Second, why do others evaluate it this way? Third, why do authorities evaluate it this way?" she says.

During the defense, opponent Professor Massimo Leone asked whether digital media has fundamentally changed communication. Song remains cautious: not yet. "Technology is just a catalyst. It speeds up the spread of rumors, but even in cyberspace there are no rumors that captivate absolutely everyone," she notes.

Hongjin Song defended her dissertation "Semiotic Anatomy of Rumour: Social Discourse, 'False Memory', and Infection" on August 18 at the University of Tartu. Her supervisor was lecturer Anti Randviir. The opponents were Professor Paul Cobley of Middlesex University and Professor Massimo Leone of the University of Turin.

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