When facts no longer settle the argument
THOMAS NKHOMA | Tuesday January 20, 2026 10:25
There was a time in Botswana when public disagreements were largely about opinions. People argued passionately about policy, leadership or political direction, but they generally agreed on the basic facts.Today, that shared ground is shifting. We no longer only disagree about what should be done. Increasingly, we disagree about what is even true. When a society reaches that point, the problem is no longer just misinformation. It is a collapse of trust.
Trust, not technology, has quietly become the central story of our democracy. In recent years, public debate has been shaped by suspicion. Journalists accuse politicians of secrecy. Politicians accuse journalists of hostility or fabrication. Citizens accuse both of manipulation. On social media, almost every breaking story is greeted with doubt. Who sent you? Who paid you? What agenda are you pushing? Even verified information is often dismissed, not because it is wrong but because it comes from a source someone has already decided not to trust.
Such is the environment Botswana enters in 2026. Much attention has been placed on misinformation and fake news, and rightly so. Unfortunately, misinformation only thrives where trust has already weakened. Societies confident in their institutions can absorb falsehoods and correct them. Societies that distrust their institutions cannot. In such environments, rumours outrun facts and emotion overwhelms evidence.
Consider how major national issues now play out. A government announcement is released. Before it is fully read or understood, screenshots circulate on WhatsApp, stripped of context. Influencers interpret it within minutes, often confidently wrong. Journalists publish follow-up stories to clarify the matter, only to be accused of defending those on the firing line. By the time an official responds, if they respond at all, the public has already taken sides. Facts are no longer information. They are ammunition.
This is where the familiar debate about “bad journalism versus flawed journalism” begins to feel inadequate. That framing suggests the crisis lies mainly in newsroom competence or intent. Yet even accurate journalism struggles to land in an atmosphere of suspicion.
The deeper issue is not only how journalists work but whether the public still believes anyone is acting in good faith.
The same limitation applies to the long-running argument about watchdog journalism versus patriotic journalism. Framed this way, the debate suggests Botswana must choose between holding power accountable and loving the nation. Yet patriotism without credibility quickly becomes propaganda while watchdog journalism without discipline risks becoming activism. Neither restores trust. What citizens are looking for is not loyalty or hostility but credibility.
Consequently, trust in this sense is not a moral compliment. It is a democratic currency. It is earned, spent, depleted and replenished. When citizens trust journalists, they grant them attention and legitimacy. When journalists trust institutions, they extend fairness and context. When institutions trust the public, they communicate openly. Break any part of that chain, and the entire system weakens.
Perhaps, one of the most visible trust failures in Botswana today is the normalisation of silence from those with authority. Ministers declining interviews, officials avoiding difficult questions and institutions retreating behind press statements seem to have become routine. Yet silence in a digital democracy is never neutral. It creates information vacuums, and vacuums are always filled by speculation, half-truths and sometimes outright lies.
When leaders refuse to explain decisions, citizens do not assume complexity. They assume concealment. Journalists are then forced to rely on unofficial sources, but even careful reporting appears adversarial. Trust erodes not because journalists asked difficult questions but because answers were withheld.
Incidentally, journalists themselves are not exempt from scrutiny. The pressure to publish quickly, to trend, to compete with social media has weakened verification standards in some quarters. When errors occur, they are amplified online and used to discredit the profession as a whole. In a low-trust environment, one mistake outweighs 20 corrections.
That is why verification is no longer just a newsroom ritual. It has become a democratic act. In a society struggling to agree on reality, the discipline of checking, rechecking and contextualising information is a form of public protection. Without it, journalism loses the moral authority needed to demand accountability from others.
Social media, often blamed for everything, is better understood as an accelerant rather than the source of the fire. Platforms did not create mistrust. They exposed and accentuated it. They gave everyone a voice, but not everyone a responsibility. In this environment, trust is no longer inherited from institutions. It must be earned daily.
Ironically, Botswana’s real miscalculation was assuming its democratic reputation would automatically survive the digital age. We relied on goodwill without strengthening the systems that sustain trust.
While other societies openly confronted the truth question, Botswana largely slept through it, confident its foundations were solid.
They were, but foundations still require maintenance. So, who should Batswana believe in 2026? There is no simple answer. Trust can no longer be blind or automatic. It must be earned through transparency, consistency and accountability. Journalists must demonstrate rigour, not outrage. Leaders must communicate, not retreat. Citizens must demand evidence, not just affirmation.
In the end, when trust disappears, even truthful journalism sounds partisan. Restoring that trust will not be quick or comfortable, but it is the work that must define our media conversations this year. Everything else, such as misinformation, regulation, ethics or patriotism, flows from it. Trust is now the story.*Thomas Thos Nkhom is MISA Botswana) chairperson