“To say what is”, a phrase coined by influential German journalist Rudolf Augstein, defines the task of journalism. It makes the profession sound straightforward: journalists are expected to state facts and pursue the truth.
But reality is more complicated—especially in a world where a powerful nation like the United States is led by a president for whom every day feels like Opposite Day. A president who dismisses reports that ‘say what is’ as ‘fake,’ names his social media platform Truth Social while using it to spread misinformation, and issues executive orders as if he could redefine reality by decree.
The defining feature of our time is that Trump’s version of ‘what is’ fundamentally clashes with leading media institutions like the Associated Press (AP). Specifically, when the AP refused to comply with an executive order to rename the Gulf of Mexico the ‘Gulf of America,’ it was denied access to the Oval Office. For the AP, ‘Gulf of Mexico’ is the factually correct name—globally recognised and in use for over 400 years. The AP’s refusal was a clear stance against the idea that power can dictate truth—a sign of their independence from Donald Trump.
This standoff highlights a deeper tension at the heart of journalism: What do ‘facts’ mean anymore if one man in power can decide what they are? And what does it mean to report facts in a time when truth itself is politicised? Journalism aspires to neutrality and objectivity—two of its core ideals. But there’s a catch: journalism is a human endeavor. And can humans ever truly be neutral or objective?
Many journalists are drawn to the profession because they care deeply about the subjects they cover. A political journalist, for example, is unlikely to be indifferent to politics or devoid of opinion. As human journalists, we may not be entirely objective or neutral—but that doesn’t mean we’re incapable of producing journalism that strives for objectivity and neutrality.
But striving for objectivity and neutrality cannot be reduced to a binary. Reality is too complex and nuanced to claim that it can be described in a completely neutral and objective way. To borrow a keyword of our time: these ideals exist on a spectrum. They can be approached—though perhaps never fully achieved—in degrees.
Pursuing these ideals requires more than mere good intentions—rigorous self-reflection. Have I asked only the questions I already know I like the answers to? Have I sought out only those expert voices with which I already agree? Have I acknowledged differing perspectives—not just in opinion, but in terms of who is actually affected? In other words: have I taken a step back?
There are also moments when the relentless pursuit of neutrality leads to pitfalls. In some cases, neutrality does not do justice to the facts; it results in what is termed as false balance.
False balance refers to the journalistic habit of presenting opposing views as equally credible, even when one is overwhelmingly unsupported by evidence. This creates a misleading sense of equivalence and can legitimise misinformation—for instance, by providing climate change deniers or anti-vaxxers the same platform as the scientific consensus.
At the same time, one must not overlook the inherent uncertainty in science. While some things—like the reality of climate change—are true to the best of our current knowledge, science is never a source of absolute certainty. Just as it is journalism’s job to communicate what scientists do know, it is equally important to explain what they don’t.
Beyond neutrality—when appropriate—and objectivity, another core responsibility must not be underestimated: providing context. This includes being transparent about uncertainty. In political coverage, especially, context can often seem critical—because, quite simply, it often is.
Reporting that Trump wants to build a “Gaza Riviera” or annex Greenland or Canada must never be left unqualified. Such claims demand framing—at the very least—in the context of international law. ‘Say what is,’ yes—but facts without context are not sufficient enough in a reality where actors like Trump “flood the zone with shit.”
The sad truth about polarisation today is that ideas once widely accepted as neutral or objective are no longer perceived that way by everyone. A growing segment of the population in the U.S. and beyond clings to beliefs regardless of evidence. For them, ‘what is’ means what their own side says. Identification overrides verification.
This isn’t merely a journalistic issue—it also reflects how we, as consumers, engage with information more broadly, especially on social media. In an age of echo chambers and curated feeds, many of us gravitate towards platforms, outlets, and voices that reaffirm what we already believe.
While journalists have a responsibility to report facts with integrity, readers, too, must also take an active role: questioning their sources, seeking out differing perspectives, and resisting the comfort of ideological bubbles.
Of course, people who remain in their bubbles and reject opposing worldviews have likely always existed. What makes the situation more serious today is that they are more visible—and more powerfully represented. Journalism must reckon with the reality that it cannot reach everyone with facts. However, it must not abandon its core values in the pursuit of those who choose to live in an alternate reality.
Journalism should continue striving to rebuild trust in the media, but never forget the principle of reporting “without fear or favor,” as The New York Times declared in its 1896 motto. Perhaps one day, we will see a time when no one in power actively seeks to undermine that trust.
Arthur Gregg Sulzberger, publisher of The New York Times, underscores this in his essay “Journalism’s Essential Value,” where he writes: “We should remain skeptical, humble, searching, as we explore every story, no matter how well we think we know a topic. We should complicate seemingly tidy narratives, embrace nuance, and continually question what we find.”
Sulzberger makes a compelling case for independent journalism. Independence—another core value, and arguably the most essential—lies at the heart of what responsible journalism must uphold. It means independence from those in power, from those who seek to shape coverage to fit their agenda.
But it also means a deep dependence on facts—which often requires extensive research, because reality is far more complex than it may appear. Striving for neutrality and objectivity is not a shortcut to truth; it is a discipline—one that demands independence, integrity, and the courage to hold the line when truth is under siege.