Democracy in the age of personalized truth

As political tensions intensify across the country, the divide between Americans feels deeper than ever. Impassioned arguments fill our newsfeeds, and it often seems like half the country has “lost their minds.” People want to stay informed, but many no longer know which sources to trust — or whether any can be trusted at all.

Trust is the foundation of a healthy democracy, and that trust has eroded sharply. A Pew Research Center survey in October 2025 found that only 56% of American adults trust the information they get from national news organizations — a drop of 11 points since March and 20 points since 2016. As confidence declines, so does the public’s engagement with traditional reporting.

It wasn’t always this way. In the 1950s and ’60s, news came from a handful of outlets, and most Americans consumed the same information. By the 1960s, 85% of households turned to CBS, NBC or ABC for the nightly news. Today, more than 3,000 outlets call themselves “newsrooms,” according to USA Today — not including podcasts, blogs, talk radio and millions of users generating content online. As the number of sources exploded, accountability did not expand with it.

These aren’t just abstract changes in the media landscape. They shape how Americans understand real, emotionally charged issues — and why people standing side by side can have completely different versions of what’s happening around them.

With so many competing sources, confusion over what’s real has deepened. And as trust splinters, fewer people are keeping up with current events. Only 45% of adults ages 30–49 say they follow the news closely. Among those 18–29, that number drops to 15%. Younger adults still consume information, but 76% of them do so primarily through social media — a space driven by clicks, not clarity.

That shift is significant because social media isn’t designed to inform. It’s designed to engage, and engagement is fueled by emotion. The average American now spends more than two hours a day on these platforms. Every click, like, and comment trains the algorithm to feed users more of what keeps them scrolling. Over time, each person’s feed becomes a tailored universe of affirmation.

This is the heart of the modern echo chamber. A single “like” on a political video — whether about immigration, policing, or public health — can tilt a user’s entire information experience. Supportive posts pile up; opposing views quietly disappear. Before long, people are surrounded only by voices that mirror their own, and nuance is replaced by certainty.

The split realities become especially stark on issues like immigration enforcement. Political analyst Van Jones describes the divide this way: “We’re reaching conclusions inside completely different algorithmic universes and data silos. Different videos, different headlines, different ‘facts,’ different emotional cues.” In one universe, enforcement is necessary to maintain order; in another, it represents unchecked governmental power. Both sides are responding to real fears — but neither sees the full picture.

Complicating matters further, the content that spreads fastest online is rarely measured or accurate. It’s whatever sparks outrage, fear or indignation. Misinformation — often crafted for emotional impact — travels farther and faster than factual reporting ever could. As people consume more emotionally charged content, their positions harden, and those who disagree begin to feel not just wrong, but dangerous.

The result is a country pulled toward its extremes. Studies published by Cambridge University Press note that rising partisan polarization is a worldwide trend — and algorithm‑driven echo chambers only intensify it. Democracies rely on informed citizens, but that becomes nearly impossible when people are living in parallel realities that seldom overlap.

Yet the solution isn’t to disengage. It’s to recalibrate.

Traditional news outlets may still lean left or right, but their commitment to factual reporting remains far stronger than that of social platforms. Across political lines, Americans consistently say that accurate information is the most essential ingredient in solving public problems. And many journalists are working to rebuild trust. In “Restoring Trust in the Media,” author William McKenzie notes that news organizations are increasingly collaborating rather than competing, recognizing that the public’s need for reliable reporting outweighs commercial rivalries.

Journalists must continue reporting on hard issues; a community can’t solve problems it doesn’t know exist. But we also need to step out of our algorithmic comfort zones. A healthier, more respectful civic life is impossible when every disagreement is framed as a battle between good and evil, or when half the country can’t even glimpse the other half’s perspective.

Healing the divide will take time, but there are practical steps each of us can take: return to established news outlets, tune in to local reporting, compare coverage across sources, fact‑check before sharing, and, perhaps most importantly, talk to neighbors face‑to‑face again.

If we want a shared future, we have to start with shared facts.