For years, the United Kingdom’s response to disinformation has felt less like a coordinated defence and more like a game of whack-a-mole. Every few months, another malicious narrative would surface, often traced back to hostile state actors, and yet there was no central, strategic way to counter it. That is why Dame Emily Thornberry, Chair of the Foreign Affairs Committee, reacted with such unmistakable relief to the Prime Minister’s announcement of a new National Centre for Information Defence. In her characteristically blunt style, she said the approach of successive governments had been “disjointed and without organisation.” That might sound like typical political criticism, but Thornberry was making a deeper point: this lack of organisation has consequences. It has allowed states like Russia to amplify lies about the United Kingdom, to sow division between communities, and to stoke tensions that go far beyond online arguments. Disinformation is not a niche issue or a technical problem; it is a direct assault on the way democratic societies think, debate, and decide. When hostile actors can manipulate what people believe, they can undermine elections, weaken public trust, and turn neighbours against each other. Thornberry’s language — “this very serious threat” — was not exaggeration. It was a warning. Her tremendous sense of relief, though, came from seeing her committee’s own recommendations finally being taken seriously. She admitted that she and her colleagues had been worried about complacency in the British establishment, and they had thought Whitehall was effectively saying “talk to the hand because the face ain’t listening.” But with the new centre, she said, she was “absolutely delighted” to have been proved wrong. It is rare for a senior politician to openly admit a miscalculation, but Thornberry’s delight was genuine because the stakes are too high for pride.
The story behind this announcement begins months earlier, when the Foreign Affairs Committee published its report on disinformation diplomacy. That report, released in March, was stark. The Committee had spent months gathering evidence, speaking to experts, and examining how hostile states operate. What they found was deeply worrying. Russian disinformation, in particular, was not just a background hum; it was a systematic campaign targeting both the UK and its allies, with one clear goal: to influence the outcome of democratic elections. The Committee saw this as an urgent threat, not a distant possibility. They were especially concerned that the British establishment seemed too relaxed about the problem. In their view, the Government was not treating disinformation with the seriousness it deserved. There was a feeling that officials in Whitehall simply did not understand the scale of what was happening, or perhaps they did not want to understand. The Committee’s report therefore made a clear recommendation: the UK should establish a national centre to detect, attribute, and disrupt information warfare. It was not an original idea in the sense that other countries had already moved ahead. France had its own agency. Sweden had built a national structure to deal with information influence. The Committee studied these examples and argued, with a sense of urgency, that Britain was falling behind. This was not about copying others; it was about learning from success and avoiding predictable failures. When the Government first responded to the report, however, it only partially agreed. Officials said they would consider the recommendation alongside the Rycroft Review, a separate government-commissioned review of national security communications. For the Committee, that felt like another way of kicking the can down the road. They had done the hard work, presented the evidence, and made a practical proposal — but the response was cautious, hedged, and slow. It was precisely that kind of bureaucratic hesitation that had allowed the problem to grow in the first place.
Now, with the Prime Minister’s announcement, Sir John Whittingdale, a Conservative member of the Foreign Affairs Committee, feels a sense of vindication. He welcomed the news, especially because the new centre will be tasked with detecting, attributing, and disrupting hostile state information warfare. In his own words, this was “a key recommendation” in the Committee’s report. Whittingdale, who has long been interested in national security and communications, knows the evidence well. During the inquiry, the Committee received extensive testimony about Russian efforts to manipulate public opinion. It was not abstract intelligence talk; it was a concrete pattern of behaviour. Russia, in particular, had targeted the UK and its allies, looking for opportunities to interfere in elections and amplify divisions. Whittingdale was impressed by how countries like France and Sweden had organised their defences. They did not treat disinformation as something that could be handled by a single ministry. Instead, they created national centres that brought together multiple parts of government, civil society, and sometimes the private sector. This was a serious, coordinated, and visible response. The Committee argued that the UK needed to follow suit “as a matter of urgency.” But the Government’s initial response was disappointing. It said it would consider the recommendation alongside the Rycroft Review, a phrase that Whittingdale and his colleagues had heard all too often. It sounded like a delay dressed up as prudence. That is why the Prime Minister’s change of position matters so much. The Government now shares the Committee’s assessment that Russia is conducting information warfare against the West. That is not a small concession; it is a fundamental shift in official acknowledgment. It means the problem is being taken seriously at the highest level. Whittingdale’s next step is clear: he and the Committee will track the progress of the new centre, scrutinising its work, asking hard questions, and making sure it does not become another toothless bureaucracy. They want to see real capability, not just a new nameplate on a department door.
Richard Foord, the Liberal Democrat member of the Committee, added another crucial dimension to the conversation. He welcomed the Government’s decision to take up the recommendation, but he also set out clear conditions for success. The new centre, he said, should be a “public-facing body, placed on a statutory footing, and accountable to Parliament.” This matters more than it might seem. Disinformation is not a challenge that can be defeated entirely in secret. Of course, some intelligence operations need to remain hidden. But information defence is fundamentally different from information offence. It is about protecting the public, and that means the public has to be able to see what is being done, to understand it, and to trust it. Foord’s call for a statutory footing is also important. If the centre is simply another temporary taskforce, it could be cut or ignored when the political mood changes. Placing it on a legal foundation gives it permanence, authority, and a clear mandate. Accountability to Parliament ensures that ministers and officials cannot hide behind vague national security excuses. The Committee will be able to question them, demand evidence, and hold the centre to account. Foord also emphasised the need for a cross-departmental approach. Disinformation does not respect the boundaries between foreign affairs, home affairs, defence, digital policy, or education. It affects all of them. A successful centre will therefore need to break down silos and create a culture of collaboration. Foord’s tone was hopeful but not naive. He wants the new centre to succeed, and he and his colleagues are prepared to help make sure it does. But there is also a warning buried in his words: a new institution is not an end in itself. It must demonstrate a “new and robust response” to hostile state information warfare. If it does not, the Committee will say so.
Beyond the political details, there is a deeper human story here. For most people, disinformation is something they experience indirectly — a suspicious headline, a manipulated video, a social media post that seems to be trying to make them angry. They may not know who is behind it, or why it exists. But hostile states are actively working to exploit human psychology. They know that fear, anxiety, and anger are powerful tools. They use fake accounts to amplify one side against another, to exaggerate tensions, to make people feel that their institutions are corrupt and their neighbours are enemies. The goal is not necessarily to make people believe a particular lie. Sometimes it is enough to make them stop believing anything at all. This is what information warfare looks like in the twenty-first century. It is not a bomb or a missile; it is a targeted message, repeated and amplified until it feels like common sense. The National Centre for Information Defence cannot magically undo all of that. But it can give the UK a coherent way to fight back. It can detect hostile narratives early, attribute them to their source, and disrupt their spread. It can also help the public understand what is happening. In that sense, the phrase “information defence” is particularly powerful. It suggests that this is not about censorship or propaganda; it is about strengthening the civic immune system. The public is not a passive victim. With better awareness, better tools, and better coordination, people can learn to spot manipulation and refuse to pass it on. That is why Foord’s demand for a public-facing centre is so crucial. If the centre works only in secret, it may catch a few bad actors, but it will not build the kind of lasting resilience that democracy needs. Information defence has to involve ordinary citizens, not just security officials in windowless rooms.
In the end, this announcement represents a rare moment of cross-party unity. Emily Thornberry, a Labour MP; John Whittingdale, a Conservative MP; and Richard Foord, a Liberal Democrat MP, all came together to welcome the new centre. That is not something that happens every day. It shows that the threat of disinformation is not a partisan issue. It is a national issue. The Committee’s report, the evidence it gathered, and the pressure it applied have now produced a tangible result. The Government has listened, changed its position, and committed to action. But the hard work is just beginning. A national centre cannot succeed on reputation alone. It will need resources, expertise, and strong leadership. It will need to work closely with allies, with tech companies, and with civil society. It will need to be transparent enough to be trusted, but discreet enough to protect sensitive sources and methods. And it will need to adapt, because hostile states are constantly changing their tactics. The Foreign Affairs Committee has made clear that it intends to track the centre’s progress, scrutinise its work, and hold it to account. That is exactly the right approach. After too many years of disjointed and disorganised responses, there is now an opportunity to build something genuinely effective. The Prime Minister’s announcement is a step forward, but it is not the finish line. It is a foundation. Whether the National Centre for Information Defence becomes a true defender of British democracy will depend on what happens next. For the first time in a long while, those who have been urging action feel hopeful. They have been heard, and now they are watching.