As a follow-on from Desperate for Change, this is one of those articles I wish I didn't have to write.
Politics in 2026 feels increasingly disconnected from the people it's supposed to serve. When I was growing up, public service seemed to be the driving force behind political life. Today, it can feel more about influence, visibility, and career progression.
Whether that perception is right or wrong, it raises an important question: who do we trust, and how do we decide? The answer extends far beyond politics itself.
There has been a noticeable shift in the way we decide who to trust.
For generations, people looked to scientists, historians, economists, and journalists to help make sense of the world. Their work was never flawless, but it was grounded in evidence, scrutiny, and accountability. Ideas could be challenged, tested, corrected, and improved.
Today, trust feels far more fragmented.
Public confidence in institutions has declined, shaped by political division, public disappointment, and the overwhelming volume of information people encounter online. At the same time, social media has transformed how information spreads. News now competes with algorithms that reward speed, emotion, simplicity, and engagement.
In that environment, misinformation can spread faster than verified facts. Public opinion is increasingly shaped by viral content, online personalities, and emotionally driven narratives. Visibility and influence can quickly become more powerful than credibility.
None of this means experts should be trusted blindly. Healthy scepticism matters, and institutions should always remain open to accountability. But there is a difference between questioning evidence and rejecting it altogether.
A functioning society depends on systems that test knowledge carefully: science, peer review, investigative journalism, and historical analysis. These processes are not perfect, but they help separate evidence from opinion and allow mistakes to be corrected.
Protecting informed choice requires more than simply avoiding misinformation. It means slowing down long enough to ask better questions like:
In an online culture where outrage and visibility are often rewarded more than honesty or nuance, critical thinking matters more than ever. Repetition can make misinformation feel believable, while careful analysis is often overlooked.
We are not expected to know everything. But we are responsible for thinking carefully about who we trust, why we trust them, and whether what we are hearing is grounded in evidence – rather than influence alone.
But I believe trust starts closer to home more than we think.
Politics matters, but so does our relationship with ourselves. The more confidence we have in ourselves and in our ability to think critically, to make informed decisions, the less likely we are to rely on others to do our thinking for us.
Healthy democracies very much depend on an electorate who are willing to think for themselves.
