Essemhoulna Lirana 3aychin


There’s a very Algerian disease nobody talks about enough: “ya kho, n7es rouhi ma نستاهلش.”

People with actual talent are busy doubting themselves in silence, while the loudest guy on the timeline explains geopolitics, religion, and football tactics in one Instagram story sequence.

In Algeria, humility is treated like a sacred virtue. Etawado3. Stay grounded. Don’t brag. Don’t speak too much about yourself. Don’t “show off.” On paper, that sounds laudable. In reality, many people grow up conflating humility with self-erasure. They become so terrified of looking arrogant that they end up apologizing for existing.

Meanwhile, confidence—even fake confidence—moves mountains.

You Snooze, You Lose

The student who raises his hand with half the answer is remembered more than the genius who stays quiet because their self-worth would be measured by how others would perceive them, whether they are right or wrong. The safest option becomes silence and a little inner voice reassurance: “Maybe I’m wrong. I shouldn’t embarrass myself.” The entrepreneur, who pitches his mediocre idea loudly, gets opportunities before the brilliant guy still perfecting his logo for the 17th month in a row. The creator, who posts imperfect videos consistently, builds an audience while talented people stay in their drafts folder waiting for cinematic perfection.

We don’t live in the age of truth anymore. We live in the age of visibility.

And visibility has never been fair.

The internet rewards certainty, not nuance. The algorithm doesn’t stop and say: “Wait, this person sounds very confident but has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.” No. It pushes engagement. It pushes reactions. It pushes noise.

Especially in Algeria, where everyone suddenly became an “expert” after watching three podcasts and one TikTok carousel with dramatic music in the background.

You’ve seen it. They’re flooding your FYP.

Fools Blabber, the Wise Quiet Down

A guy says something with enough conviction. He throws in two English words like “mindset and discipline,” and stares intensely at the camera. Adding in some dramatic or motivational music with a sprinkle of multidisciplinary expertise and wisdom, they somehow acquired in twenty years of existence. Suddenly, people treat him like Ibn Khaldun with Wi-Fi.

And the worst part? The truly competent people often hesitate the most.

Because real intelligence usually comes with awareness. Awareness of complexity. Awareness that things are rarely black and white. Awareness that there are details, contradictions, contexts. Smart people know how much they don’t know.

That’s why they speak carefully.

But careful speech loses against confident stupidity almost every time online.

There’s also something deeply social about this in Algeria. People are obsessed with “l’image”. The appearance of certainty. Looking established. Looking dominant. Looking like you “made it.” A lot of conversations aren’t even about exchanging ideas anymore. They’re performances. Tiny press conferences. Everybody wants to sound like the final boss of wisdom.

Ma3labalich: A Rare Confession

Nobody says “I don’t know” anymore.

And honestly? That sentence has become revolutionary.

Because saying “I don’t know” requires security. It requires ego discipline. It requires a kind of intellectual maturity that social media punishes daily.

Now, this doesn’t mean confidence is bad. Far from it.

Confidence changes lives. Confidence creates momentum. Confidence opens doors before competence even enters the room. Charisma matters. Presence matters. Believing in yourself matters.

But confidence without self-awareness becomes theater.

And Algeria already has enough actors.

The real balance is somewhere in between the silent impostor syndrome and the loud delusion syndrome. You need enough humility to keep learning, but enough confidence to stop hiding.

And doing that can be difficult.

Especially for a generation raised between contradiction and performance.

Humility/Authenticity in an Era of Visibility

We grew up hearing “matetkeberch” while simultaneously being judged if we weren’t exceptional enough. We were told to stay humble, but the world rewards self-promotion. We were taught discretion in an era built on visibility.

No wonder everyone is confused.

You can even see this shift culturally. The old Algerian model respected restraint. Today’s digital culture respects branding. The quiet intellectual archetype got replaced by the hyper-visible personality. Everybody is building a “personal brand,” even if the person underneath still has no idea who they are.

And maybe that’s why the loudest people online feel so exhausting lately. Not because they speak. Because they do so with the certainty of prophets about subjects they discovered yesterday afternoon.

The internet turned volume into authority.

But history rarely remembers the loudest people. It remembers the people who actually built something meaningful.

Writers who kept writing quietly.

Artists who kept refining their craft.

Entrepreneurs who built instead of performing success.

Thinkers who respected complexity instead of farming reactions.

So next time someone online speaks with absolute certainty, remember, confidence is not proof. Visibility is not wisdom, and a dramatically delivered opinion is still just an opinion.

Sometimes, the smartest person in the room is the one speaking the least.

And sometimes, the loudest one just bought a ring light.