Every country has an information environment, a kind of shared immune system for public conversation. When it is healthy, citizens can tell the difference between a reliable news report and a rumour, between an expert’s opinion and a partisan guess, and between a genuine debate and a coordinated attack. For a long time, Denmark has been one of the places where that immune system works unusually well. People trust one another, institutions are open, and the press is strong. But according to a new comprehensive threat assessment published by TjekDet, the Danish member of the NORDIS network, that strength cannot be taken for granted. The assessment, part of the work of one of fifteen EDMO Hubs across Europe, looks at misinformation, disinformation, and other developments that are shaping Denmark’s information landscape. Its overall conclusion is both reassuring and unsettling: Denmark still has a fundamentally robust information environment, but the threat landscape has become far more complicated than it was just five or six years ago. This is not a story of sudden collapse, but rather of quiet, rapid change. It is a warning that the ways in which false or misleading content emerges, spreads, and affects people are not standing still, and neither can the people and institutions responsible for countering them.
What makes this threat assessment different from a typical news report or academic study is that it comes from people who do fact-checking every day. TjekDet, whose name means “Check It”, is part of a European collaboration that monitors how narratives move across borders and how falsehoods find fertile ground in local communities. NORDIS is one of fifteen independent hubs coordinated by EDMO, the European Digital Media Observatory, and its job is to connect researchers, journalists, and media literacy experts across the Nordic region. The assessment is not written in an ivory tower. It is informed by the daily experience of chasing down claims, verifying images, tracing bot networks, and watching how a small piece of out-of-context video can turn into a nationwide controversy within hours. Because this is an editorial and analytical team working together, the report is able to combine the instincts of journalism with the rigor of research. It looks at current threats, but it also tries to anticipate what might come next. It asks difficult questions: How do foreign actors use local media ecosystems to exploit existing tensions? What role do new technologies play in making lies more convincing? And most importantly, how can Danish society maintain its resilience in a moment when the tools for generating and spreading misleading content are becoming cheaper, faster, and more sophisticated?
The most important shift described in the assessment is not simply that there is more misinformation than before, but that the way misinformation works has changed. Five or six years ago, the classic example of fake news was often a clumsy fabricated headline or a poorly photoshopped image. It was relatively easy to spot if you looked carefully. Today, the threat landscape is more layered. Social media platforms have become faster and more visual, and a huge amount of communication flows through private messaging apps, where falsehoods can travel without any public oversight. At the same time, generative artificial intelligence has made it possible to create realistic images, audio, and video that are almost impossible to distinguish from real recordings. A fabricated statement by a politician, a fake screenshot of a newspaper article, or a synthetic voice imitating a public figure can be produced in seconds and shared with millions of people before anyone has a chance to check it. The report notes that these developments do not affect everyone equally. Some groups are more exposed to harmful content, and some communities are more vulnerable to manipulation because they already feel disconnected or distrustful. The complexity comes from the way different threats overlap. A viral lie might use a real photograph, combine it with an AI-generated voice, and then be spread by a network of coordinated accounts that look like ordinary people. It is no longer enough to ask whether something is true or false. You have to ask why it was made, who benefits from it, and why it is spreading so easily.
Underneath the technical language and threat analysis, the report is really about people. Denmark may have a strong information environment, but every environment is made up of human beings who are tired, busy, and sometimes angry. A well-designed piece of misinformation does not usually attack logic directly. It targets emotion. It feeds on existing fears about immigration, taxes, health care, technology, or the changing role of Denmark in the world. Disinformation works by making people feel that the system is rigged, that the media cannot be trusted, and that the only way to get the truth is to go to alternative sources. This is not a new idea, but the report argues that it has become more sophisticated. Foreign actors and domestic extremists no longer need to build their own media platforms to reach an audience. They can use the same tools that ordinary people use, and they can hide in the same spaces where ordinary people talk to their friends and family. The result is not necessarily that people believe every lie they see, but rather that they become more confused, more cynical, and less likely to trust any information at all. This erosion of shared understanding is maybe the deepest threat. It does not announce itself with dramatic headlines. It simply makes it harder for citizens to agree on basic facts, which makes it harder for democracy to function. The report does not blame Danish citizens for being naive. Instead, it points out that the information environment has become genuinely difficult to navigate, and it places a responsibility on platforms, media outlets, and public authorities to help people make sense of it.
So what can be done? The threat assessment does not offer a simple list of solutions, but it makes clear that the response has to be as complex and dynamic as the threat itself. Fact-checking remains important, but fact-checking alone is like trying to empty the ocean with a bucket. The report emphasizes the need for media literacy, not as a school subject taught once a year, but as an ongoing part of public life. People need to learn how to look at an image and ask whether it could have been created by AI. They need to learn how to check the source of a viral story before sharing it. They need to feel that their own critical thinking matters, and that they are not powerless in the face of large platforms. But the responsibility cannot fall only on ordinary citizens. Technology companies need to make their algorithms more transparent and more careful about what they amplify. News organizations need to do a better job of explaining how they report and why they make the choices they do. Public authorities need to protect democratic institutions from digital attacks and foreign interference while respecting freedom of expression. None of this is easy, and there is no single policy that will fix everything. The assessment also highlights the importance of collaboration. Misinformation does not respect national borders, and neither should the response to it. NORDIS and the EDMO Hubs exist precisely to share knowledge across countries, to track coordinated campaigns, and to warn each other when a new exploit or tactic appears. Denmark can learn from its Nordic neighbours, just as they can learn from Denmark. In a rapidly changing information environment, isolation is a vulnerability and cooperation is a strength.
In the end, the Threat Assessment 2026 is a wake-up call, but not a doomsday prophecy. It begins with a recognition that Denmark continues to have a strong and resilient information environment. People still trust public institutions to a remarkable degree. Journalists still hold power to account. Citizens still have the capacity to engage in calm, rational debate. All of that is real and worth protecting. But the report asks a harder question: for how long? Public trust is not a permanent resource. It has to be maintained, and it can be lost much faster than it is built. The report does not predict that Denmark will become a country full of conspiracy theorists, and it does not claim that every false story represents a deliberate attack by a foreign power. Instead, it paints a picture of a country that is facing a more demanding information landscape, one where the tools and tactics have changed, where the pace is faster, and where the old habits of checking and trusting may not be enough. The strengths that Denmark has built are not irrelevant, but they have to be adapted. The people behind this assessment are not alarmists; they are partners in a European network of fact-checkers and researchers who see the best and worst of the digital world every day. Their message is simple: the information environment is worth fighting for, and the fight has become more complicated. Denmark is not starting from zero, and that is good. But the report is a reminder that resilience is not something you have forever. It is something you have to keep building, every day, in every conversation, in every click and share. The future is not written, and the information environment can still be shaped by people who care about truth. But only if they are willing to change the way they think about it.