A celebrity is rumoured to have cheated. An influencer is accused of something serious. TikTok is buzzing, Instagram is filled with speculation — but the established media remain silent.
The reason why is often both simple and complicated. Either the information isn’t true, or the media haven’t been able to confirm it.
Or maybe it is true – but we can’t publish it for reasons of press ethics. Press ethics are open to interpretation, but some guidelines are quite clear:
￭ Double-check the facts as thoroughly as possible.
￭ Think carefully before you publish anything that might violate someone’s privacy.
￭ Do not publish unless it is clear that it is important for the public to know.
￭ Give all parties a chance to tell their side of the story.
The problem for the media is that we can rarely tell which of the two applies in specific cases. True but too sensitive? Or not true?
Even confirming that we know about the information can be a step too far in itself – especially if it concerns an accused person who denies it, or who has never been given the opportunity to defend themselves.
Instead, we keep quiet. And this is interpreted as not knowing, not caring or even taking a stand in favour of one party.
This creates a real gap between the social and editorial media. At a time when half of all young people aged 15-19 get their news via Tiktok, traditional media face a major challenge: how do we stay relevant?
It is something of an insoluble paradox. To reach a young audience, we have to be where they are.
We, the media, are also in young people’s feeds – and we cover those who have great influence: influencers, artists and sports stars. We report on everything, but suddenly it stops when things really heat up. Of course, it’s hard for the audience to understand.
So we either compromise our press ethics’ principles to keep up with the new flow of information, or we stick to the principles and appear to be outdated and uninteresting to a younger audience that is used to instant satisfaction of their information needs.
It will be like a new trust problem. Not for what we publish – but for what we do not.
The solution to this paradox could be to get better at explaining our processes and the importance of our professional ethics. This is something we have historically been quite poor at, but we are trying to get better. For example, at Aftonbladet we have started using fact boxes that explain our publishing decisions. Why we chose not to name suspected criminals – or why we did.
But more will probably be needed.
During a recent seminar, Swedish Television (SVT) director Anna Careborg said that media are very focussed on what we publish, but going forward, what we don’t publish will be important. I think there is a lot in that.
Instead of pretending that certain information doesn’t exist – maybe we have to say: “We are aware of this rumour, but we have chosen not to publish anything at this time. Here is why.” It’s a kind of meta-reporting, where we present our own considerations.
At the same time, there has been a shift in trust, from institutions to people. This could also be a way forward. That’s why the phenomenon of newsfluencers – journalists who build trust by being present, clear and human in their own channels – has grown significantly in recent years.
Perhaps it’s time for the media to embrace this even more: to give space to editors to front publicist decisions, reasoning and dilemmas.
This doesn’t mean that everything should be personalised – but it does mean that the audience gets to see real people wrestling with difficult decisions. Because when trust moves from institutions to individuals, journalism must follow.
If we want to remain relevant to a young audience, we need to be both clear and transparent. Because if we can’t explain why we sometimes choose to remain silent, we run the risk that fewer people will listen when we do speak.
Martin Schori is Head of AI and Innovation and Deputy Publisher at Aftonbladet, Sweden.
This comment was originally published in Swedish in Dagens Media and is republished with permission.
