Think of the last time you saw a headline that made you angry or afraid, and then discovered it was false. The feeling of betrayal, the nagging question of what else might be untrue, the awkwardness of talking to a relative who still believes it—misinformation is not an abstract problem. It affects everyday life: the vaccine decision made in fear, the vote cast in confusion, the scam accepted as official correspondence, the friendship fractured by a conspiracy theory. In the UK and around the world, this pollution of the information environment has become so pervasive that it threatens democracy, public health, and social trust. Misinformation—inaccurate or incomplete information shared without intention to deceive—and disinformation—content deliberately created or shared to mislead—are two sides of the same toxic coin. They thrive in moments of anxiety and uncertainty, and they leave ordinary people unsure whom to believe. But where do people turn when they are unsure what is real? For many, the answer is the public library. It is one of the few remaining institutions that feels neutral, safe, and genuinely helpful, a place where questions are welcomed rather than judged. That is why a new study led by the University of Stirling and commissioned by Arts Council England asked a crucial question: can public libraries help the UK fight misinformation and disinformation? The report, the first of its kind in the country, was written by Professor Steven Buchanan and Professor David McMenemy. Its answer is hopeful but uncomfortable: libraries are perfectly placed to help, but they cannot do it alone—not yet. Across the country, there are thousands of librarians who already see the damage that lies and confusion cause, yet they are being asked to solve a problem without the tools they need. This research is the first step towards changing that.
The study surveyed 372 public library staff across England and organised its findings into ten key themes. The picture is a mixture of strength and strain. Library workers are, by and large, experienced, well educated, and deeply committed to their communities. They already spend their days helping people access digital services, decode official forms, learn new skills, and find trustworthy sources. But when it comes to misinformation and disinformation, the survey reveals a serious gap. Most staff reported that they had never received any proper training on how to identify, respond to, or explain false information. Most also said their libraries did not provide dedicated guidance or educational resources—no handouts on spotting fake news, no workshops on media literacy, no curated lists of reliable sources. Turning to the wider world for support, most respondents said their libraries had no partnerships with external organisations working in this area, or, just as importantly, staff had no idea such partnerships existed. The research paints a picture of a workforce isolated inside its own buildings, trying to solve a global problem with local goodwill. Few librarians were consistently involved in activities aimed at reducing misinformation. They were more likely to respond reactively—helping someone verify a suspicious email or dispelling a myth after it had already taken hold—than to run proactive programmes. Many could remember troubling encounters: a patron convinced that 5G masts cause illness, a teenager repeating a harmful conspiracy theory, an older person clinging to an online scam. And most felt their libraries were not succeeding in the wider fight. They did not believe their institution was addressing the issue effectively, and they did not believe it was doing all it could. That feeling of inadequacy is not a reflection of effort; it is a consequence of systemic gaps in training, resources, partnerships, and national support.
The study also uncovered a subtler but equally important challenge: the intellectual and ethical complexity of the task. Some library staff had only a limited understanding of why misinformation spreads so easily. They were not necessarily aware of how algorithms amplify outrage, how social media monetises distrust, how cognitive biases make a comforting lie more persuasive than a complicated truth, or how foreign actors deliberately exploit existing social divisions to weaken public confidence. Without this deeper analytical toolbox, librarians found it difficult to explain to patrons why a claim was false—and not just to say that it was. Another layer of difficulty came from the industry’s long-standing commitment to neutrality. Libraries are havens of intellectual freedom, open to all viewpoints, and many staff worried that correcting a patron’s beliefs might feel judgmental or invasive. It is a genuine dilemma: if someone trusts the library precisely because it never tells people what to think, how can the same institution begin to tell them that something they believe is wrong? Yet the researchers found that this tension was not a reason to retreat. Most participants believed that neutrality should not mean passivity, and that libraries have a responsibility to provide people with the critical thinking skills necessary to judge information for themselves. In fact, despite the gaps in training, resources, and confidence, the overwhelming majority of library staff believed that public libraries should play an active role in addressing misinformation and disinformation. They wanted to do more. They just did not have the means. As one respondent put it, in a phrase that stuck with the research team: “We are seeing the effects of this in our libraries, we care about this, we just don’t have what we need.”
Those words became a kind of refrain for the research team. Professor Steven Buchanan, who led the study, said that public libraries are among the UK’s most trusted public institutions and are well positioned to help people navigate today’s increasingly complex information environment. He described a knowledgeable and committed workforce that recognises the important civic role libraries can play. But he was also candid about the obstacles: staff often lack the training, resources, partnerships and operational support needed to respond effectively. With the right national investment and coordination, he argued, public libraries can become a much stronger part of the UK’s response to misinformation and disinformation, helping people develop the confidence and skills to critically evaluate information and make informed decisions. Professor David McMenemy of the University of Glasgow was even more direct. He called for investment in public libraries and warned that failing to act would squander one of society’s most valuable defences. His central observation was sharp: public libraries could be one of our strongest defences against misinformation, but only if we invest in them as one. He repeated the message he had heard from staff again and again—they see the effects of misinformation every day, they care about it, and they lack the tools to address it. That, he insisted, is a failing of policy, not of library staff. The distinction is crucial. When a librarian cannot recognise a sophisticated disinformation network, the problem is not her intelligence or dedication; it is the absence of a system that gives her the professional education and support she deserves. The research is not an indictment of library workers. It is an indictment of collective priorities, and a warning that society is making its own problems worse by ignoring a readily available solution.
To close the gap between aspiration and reality, the report proposes a four-point action plan. First, a national programme of library staff education and training on misinformation and disinformation. This would go far beyond a single webinar or a downloadable guide. It would create a recognised professional pathway, covering everything from cognitive bias and the economics of attention to practical skills like source verification and trauma-informed communication with people who have fallen down a rabbit hole of false beliefs. Second, the researchers recommend a national open-access repository of library resources. Imagine a shared digital library, regularly updated, where every public library in the UK can find ready-made materials: plain-language leaflets about spotting scams, lesson plans for media literacy workshops, conversation starters for talking to children or older people about suspicious claims, lists of reliable fact-checking websites. Third, they call for a national partnership agreement. Libraries are already embedded in their communities, but they are not yet embedded in the wider information ecosystem. Formal agreements with fact-checking organisations, academic researchers, health agencies, journalism schools, and even technology platforms would give librarians access to expertise, evidence, and specialist support. Fourth, they propose new national policy and operational guidance. This would settle the neutrality question once and for all, giving libraries a clear mandate to act and telling managers how to allocate time and money. It would also provide a consistent framework so that a library in a small Scottish town and one in a busy London borough know exactly what is expected of them. Luke Burton, Director of Libraries at Arts Council England, welcomed the research and its implications. Libraries and library workers, he said, are ideally positioned to support society in addressing challenges like climate change, censorship, and misinformation. But he acknowledged that the sector needs a clearer understanding of the required skills, better partnerships, and properly directed resources. The research, he added, provides a robust evidence base for exactly that.
The report, The Role of the Public Library in Combating Misinformation and Disinformation: A Review and Action Plan, was commissioned and funded by Arts Council England, but its findings matter far beyond the library sector. They speak to a fundamental question about how democratic societies respond to a crisis of truth. The battle against misinformation is not a technical problem that can be solved by better algorithms alone, nor is it a purely individual responsibility that can be outsourced to tired readers. It requires institutions—public, trusted, and human—to help people make sense of a confusing world. Public libraries, the research shows, are the obvious candidates. They are already there, on the high street, in every community, with open doors and staff who know their local population. They already hold the trust of millions of people. What they lack is the support to convert that trust into action. Imagine what would be possible if every librarian in the UK was confident in explaining how algorithmic bias works, if every library had materials to help a worried parent talk to their teenager about deepfakes, if every community had a schedule of media literacy workshops warmly presented by a familiar face. That is the future the action plan envisions. It is not out of reach. But it depends on a choice: whether politicians, funders, and the public will take libraries seriously as a national infrastructure for truth. The evidence is now on the table. The staff are waiting. The need is urgent. The only missing ingredient is the will to invest. If that will is found, public libraries can become one of the strongest defences the UK has against the rising tide of misinformation and disinformation—and a quiet, powerful reminder that in a free society, the open exchange of informed ideas is still the best answer to lies.