Essay by Fergus McIntosh: “…For journalists, as for anyone, there are certain shortcuts to trustworthiness, including reputation, expertise, and transparency—the sharing of sources, for example, or the prompt correction of errors. Some of these shortcuts are more perilous than others. Various outfits, positioning themselves as neutral guides to the marketplace of ideas, now tout evaluations of news organizations’ trustworthiness, but relying on these requires trusting in the quality and objectivity of the evaluation. Official data is often taken at face value, but numbers can conceal motives: think of the dispute over how to count casualties in recent conflicts. Governments, meanwhile, may use their powers over information to suppress unfavorable narratives: laws originally aimed at misinformation, many enacted during the COVID-19 pandemic, can hinder free expression. The spectre of this phenomenon is fuelling a growing backlash in America and elsewhere.
Although some categories of information may come to be considered inherently trustworthy, these, too, are in flux. For decades, the technical difficulty of editing photographs and videos allowed them to be treated, by most people, as essentially incontrovertible. With the advent of A.I.-based editing software, footage and imagery have swiftly become much harder to credit. Similar tools are already used to spoof voices based on only seconds of recorded audio. For anyone, this might manifest in scams (your grandmother calls, but it’s not Grandma on the other end), but for a journalist it also puts source calls into question. Technologies of deception tend to be accompanied by ones of detection or verification—a battery of companies, for example, already promise that they can spot A.I.-manipulated imagery—but they’re often locked in an arms race, and they never achieve total accuracy. Though chatbots and A.I.-enabled search engines promise to help us with research (when a colleague “interviewed” ChatGPT, it told him, “I aim to provide information that is as neutral and unbiased as possible”), their inability to provide sourcing, and their tendency to hallucinate, looks more like a shortcut to nowhere, at least for now. The resulting problems extend far beyond media: election campaigns, in which subtle impressions can lead to big differences in voting behavior, feel increasingly vulnerable to deepfakes and other manipulations by inscrutable algorithms. Like everyone else, journalists have only just begun to grapple with the implications.
In such circumstances, it becomes difficult to know what is true, and, consequently, to make decisions. Good journalism offers a way through, but only if readers are willing to follow: trust and naïveté can feel uncomfortably close. Gaining and holding that trust is hard. But failure—the end point of the story of generational decay, of gold exchanged for dross—is not inevitable. Fact checking of the sort practiced at The New Yorker is highly specific and resource-intensive, and it’s only one potential solution. But any solution must acknowledge the messiness of truth, the requirements of attention, the way we squint to see more clearly. It must tell you to say what you mean, and know that you mean it…(More)”.
