The Battle for Reality: How Governments Are Rewriting the News
In an era saturated with information, two sharp observers, Martin Moore and Thomas Colley, have pulled back the curtain on a deeply unsettling phenomenon: how governments worldwide are actively shaping the news, twisting our perceptions, and fabricating their own versions of reality. Their upcoming book, Dictating Reality: The Global Battle to Control the News, delves into this alarming trend, and in a candid conversation with Shamsuddoza Sajen of The Daily Star, they unpacked the intricate layers of this global manipulation. What started as a research dive into how Russian and Chinese state media framed the 2020 US election, curious about their stance on Trump’s claims of fraud, quickly expanded into a much broader, more disturbing realization during the COVID-19 pandemic. As news headlines daily spun different tales about how governments were handling, or mishandling, the crisis, Moore and Colley began to see a pattern emerge: even established democracies were adopting tactics long associated with authoritarian regimes. They witnessed censorship, fierce attacks on journalists, the monopolization of state media, and the strategic redirection of funding and access to only those outlets singing the government’s tune.
This initial observation unmasked something even more troubling: an escalating divide where citizens, even within the same country, weren’t just disagreeing on facts, but appeared to be inhabiting entirely separate realities. The COVID-19 pandemic starkly illuminated this rift, as different communities formed drastically different understandings of the virus, its origins, and the appropriate responses. This wasn’t merely a byproduct of individual biases; it was, frighteningly, a direct result of governments actively engaged in shaping these alternative truths. In Russia, the brutal invasion of Ukraine was repackaged as a “liberation from fascism,” a narrative starkly at odds with global understanding. China, while demonstrably an authoritarian state, presented itself as the world’s leading democracy. And figures like Donald Trump in the US and Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil cultivated narratives of being the sole saviors of democracy, fighting against shadowy enemies, while their detractors viewed them as dangerous demagogues attempting to dismantle it. Dictating Reality, the authors explain, meticulously chronicles how these leaders and governments orchestrate media narratives to spread these competing, often contradictory, realities, leaving citizens bewildered and disoriented in a fog of manufactured information.
So, what undercurrents – both political and technological – have paved the way for this audacious authoritarian shift in news manipulation, affecting both autocracies and democracies alike? A significant driver, Moore and Colley highlight, is a fundamental erosion of established norms within democracies. They recall a time when a White House press briefing, for instance, would welcome both American and international news outlets, regardless of whether they were critical of the government. This was rooted in the accepted understanding that holding power accountable was a foundational role of the press in a healthy democracy. But that understanding, they lament, is rapidly disintegrating. Trump’s administration, for example, not only banned certain outlets but even sued others. In the UK, successive governments have chipped away at the BBC’s independence, questioning its impartiality and progressively slashing its funding. While technology didn’t cause these shifts, it has profoundly amplified them. Social media, in particular, has become a potent tool for governments to bypass traditional news outlets that might offer scrutiny or criticism. Leaders like Jair Bolsonaro thrived by ignoring mainstream media entirely, instead cultivating their own “disinformation ecosystem” on platforms like social media, proving that access to traditional news wasn’t a prerequisite for political success. Other leaders, like India’s Narendra Modi, cleverly blend old and new, eschewing traditional press conferences for social media engagement and favored news channels like Republic TV. Similarly, Trump leverages his own platform, Truth Social, alongside traditional rallies. These leaders, say the authors, strategically deploy these tools to convince their constituents that the only reliable source of truth is their leader’s voice, encouraging them to dismiss the broader news media landscape and, in doing so, sidestep accountability, scrutiny, and blame.
The concept of governments constructing “alternative realities” sounds like something out of a dystopian novel, but how is this different from traditional propaganda, and why do people fall for it even when facts stand in glaring contradiction? As Moore and Colley explain, there’s a substantial overlap, essentially marking the widespread adoption of authoritarian propaganda techniques within democracies, turbocharged by the digital age. They point to the classic playbook: leaders like Trump, Hungary’s Viktor Orbán, or India’s Narendra Modi conjure up shadowy enemies – a convenient blend of opposition politicians and ethnic minorities – presenting themselves as the sole bulwark against national ruin. This fear-mongering is a centuries-old propaganda tactic, but its reach has been exponentially amplified by modern tools. Social media algorithms, designed to maximize “engagement,” inadvertently prioritize content that is provocative, sensational, and emotionally charged over mere factual accuracy. Fear, in this environment, spreads like wildfire, often regardless of its truthfulness. As for why people embrace these concocted realities even when faced with contradictory evidence, the authors offer several compelling reasons. Firstly, individuals may simply be unaware of the evidence. Their personalized digital echo chambers and social groups might shield them from alternative perspectives. Secondly, even if exposed to differing information, they might not find the source credible. Trump himself, when asked why he attacked the press, candidly admitted it was to ensure that when they criticized him, no one would believe them. Finally, and perhaps most powerfully, these narratives are often appealing. They offer a comforting simplicity in a complex world, providing a clear “us vs. them” framework and a sense of belonging. It’s often easier to pin a country’s problems on a single ethnic minority than to grapple with multifaceted societal challenges. It’s more reassuring to believe in a charismatic leader who promises salvation than to trust in the slow, often messy, processes of democracy. And it’s far more palatable to believe one’s country is defending, rather than attacking, and that one’s nation is inherently right.
Social media platforms frequently bear the brunt of blame for amplifying misinformation, but how exactly do state strategies intertwine with these algorithmic systems? Are governments expertly manipulating them, or are the platforms themselves inadvertently complicit in fostering echo chambers? Moore and Colley contend that political actors who successfully dominate a particular version of reality are simply adept at exploiting the prevailing technologies of their time. Social media algorithms, in their relentless pursuit of engagement over accuracy, inherently favor content that grabs attention, is controversial, and provokes a reaction, often at the expense of nuanced truth. While the impact of echo chambers can be overstated, creating them has never been easier. They cite the 2022 Brazilian election, where both Lula da Silva and Jair Bolsonaro’s campaigns leveraged WhatsApp groups to disseminate messages to their followers, even listing thousands of groups citizens could join, where party administrators could instantly push out the latest talking points or memes. The platforms, the authors argue, are complicit not necessarily in intent, but in their very architecture. Their design, driven by the imperative to maximize profit through maximizing engagement, dictates how information flows and what content gains traction. Ultimately, however, the critical factor for political success lies in how governments strategically utilize the available media landscape. This principle, they emphasize, will hold true even for emerging technologies like generative AI, which explains why countries like China are already scrambling to control which AI tools their citizens can access. Controlling these tools, they assert, is tantamount to controlling the version of reality that citizens perceive and accept.
The book paints a stark picture: the media’s age-old role as a democratic “watchdog” is teetering on the brink. So, in this challenging environment, what does genuine resistance look like for journalists, especially those operating in countries where independent media face relentless financial and political pressure? Moore and Colley acknowledge the immense difficulty of offering advice from the safety of the sidelines when journalists are facing real dangers, from intimidation to harassment. Yet, they emphasize, resistance is more crucial than ever because the demand for high-quality, factual information persists. Moore, who lives in Latvia, points to the inspiring example of several news outlets expelled from Russia after the invasion of Ukraine, who continue to operate from Latvia, reaching Russian audiences with factual journalism. He stresses the vital role played by support from larger media networks and democratic governments committed to upholding media freedom. Fact-checking, another critical bulwark against misinformation, is also under severe financial threat, particularly since major platforms like Meta and X have deprioritized it. However, even if fact-checkers struggle to keep pace with the sheer volume of online disinformation, their efforts are not in vain, as political actors often cease spreading narratives once they’ve been comprehensively debunked. Supporting these efforts, even if removing disinformation feels like “trying to remove waste from the ocean with a teaspoon,” as they aptly put it, remains indispensable. Ultimately, they warn, the semi-constitutional role of journalists as the “Fourth Estate” will simply not survive unless actively defended. They express profound gratitude to the journalists worldwide, many of whom contributed to their book, who continue to produce informative, critically-engaged journalism in the face of immense coercion, while not underestimating the monumental challenges they face.
In tangible and actionable terms, what can media institutions, educators, and even ordinary readers do to rebuild trust in journalism and actively resist the insidious state manipulation of truth? Moore and Colley urge us to recognize that our fundamental institutions of knowledge are being profoundly reshaped in the digital age, presenting both immense opportunities for their destruction and for their reinvention. As a civil society, they argue, we must actively participate in this reinvention; otherwise, these institutions will inevitably lose their authority and credibility. They draw upon Jonathan Rauch’s concept of the “constitution of knowledge”—the enduring methods societies have developed over centuries to establish what is knowable, public, and verifiable, encompassing science, academia, the justice system, and journalism. Each of these pillars, they warn, is now under assault from powerful figures who mistakenly believe that by weakening them, they can consolidate their own power. Instead of shrinking from this threat or, worse, aligning with those who actively create alternative realities, our collective imperative is to figure out how to reconfigure these essential institutions, making them robust and fit for purpose in the complex digital age we now inhabit. The battle, they imply, is not just for the news, but for the very fabric of our shared understanding of reality.