The British public has lost faith in the news. A new survey from the Reuters Institute for the Study of Journalism reveals that trust in news in the UK has plummeted to just 29%, down from 34% last year and the lowest since records began. The figures, released this morning, show that the crisis is not just a cultural aftershock but a systemic threat to the industry’s survival. For the millions of families in the North and across the country, this collapse in trust reflects a deeper disconnect between the stories told by the press and the realities of everyday life.
For years, the news industry has been hollowed out by cuts, closures, and a shift to clickbait. The result is a media landscape that feels increasingly remote from the kitchen tables of working Britain. When a factory closes in Barnsley, local papers often lack the reporters to cover it. When energy bills hit a record high, the headlines focus on Westminster infighting. The public has noticed. Only 13% of people in the UK now say they trust news organisations to tell the truth, according to the survey. Among the under-35s, the figure is even lower: 10%.
The consequences are stark. Without trust, advertising revenue dries up. Without revenue, journalism becomes more precarious. The cycle feeds itself. Regional newspapers, which once anchored communities, have been hit hardest. Since 2005, over 300 local titles have closed in the UK, and those that remain operate on shoestring budgets. The result is a loss of accountability. Who is watching the local council? Who is asking why a hospital is closing a ward? The answer, more often than not, is no one.
Yet the crisis is not just about economics. It is about credibility. The survey finds that 41% of people in the UK say they actively avoid the news because it makes them feel angry, sad, or anxious. This is not a trivial matter. When people tune out, they become disenfranchised. They lose their voice in democratic debate. And when they do seek information, they turn to social media, where algorithm-driven misinformation thrives. Only 6% of UK adults still trust news found on platforms like Facebook or TikTok.
The industry must face hard truths. First, it must reconnect with the public's concerns. That means reporting on wages, not just Westminster scandals. It means covering the cost of living crisis with empathy, not jargon. It means being transparent about how stories are chosen and funded. The BBC, which remains the most trusted news brand in the UK at 60%, has a particular responsibility to serve the regions, yet its local news cuts have been met with anger.
Second, the business model must change. The dominance of a few digital giants has squeezed the life out of traditional advertising. The Digital Markets Act in Europe offers some hope, but the UK’s equivalent legislation is still pending. Meanwhile, initiatives like reader support and membership models are growing, but they cannot replace the lost revenue quickly enough. The government must act to level the playing field.
Finally, journalists themselves must reflect the communities they serve. The industry remains overwhelmingly London-centric, middle-class, and white. When the newsroom does not look like the readers, the coverage can feel alien. A report from the National Council for the Training of Journalists found that 94% of journalists are white, and 80% come from middle-class backgrounds. This is not sustainable.
Tonight, in newsrooms across the country, editors are staring at these figures with alarm. But the alarm must turn to action. Trust is not a given. It is earned. And if British journalism cannot earn it back, it will cease to matter. That is not just a crisis for the industry. It is a crisis for democracy itself.
