Separating fact from fiction

This is an edited version of an article that appeared in The Yorkshire Post on 21 April 2026 in which Matt Bromley argues that it’s getting harder to separate fact from fiction…

There’s a famous actor who lives near me. You’ll have seen him on TV. He usually plays villains – gangsters, bent coppers, murderers. I once watched him throw a woman off a Glasgow tower block then, later that same evening, stood next to him at the self-service tills in M&S whilst he bought humous. It felt incongruous. But then it’s hard separating fact from fiction. George Orwell understood this only too well. In Nineteen Eighty-Four, the government, in an attempt to control reality, insists that 2+2=5. 

There was a time – not so long ago – when the notion of truth felt broadly settled but that consensus has fractured, and in its place, we find a world increasingly defined by distortion, half-truths, and outright fabrication. The rise of so-called “fake news” is not an abstract concern, but a daily, corrosive force shaping public discourse.

At the centre of this shift are political figures who’ve not merely tolerated falsehoods but weaponised them. Donald Trump, for example, has demonstrated a willingness to deploy demonstrably untrue claims as a political tactic. From repeated assertions about electoral fraud – dismissed by courts, officials, and independent observers alike – to misleading claims about crowd sizes and public support, the pattern is not accidental, it’s strategic: repeat something often enough, loudly enough, and it begins to take root.

Across Europe and beyond, populist politicians like Nigel Farage have embraced similar tactics. Whether it’s exaggerating crime statistics, misrepresenting economic data, or promoting conspiracy-laden narratives about elites and institutions, their playbook is remarkably consistent. The aim is to erode trust – not just in opponents, but in the very idea of an objective truth.

When falsehoods circulate unchecked – particularly on social media where speed beats scrutiny – they acquire a dangerous legitimacy. A misleading post shared thousands of times begins to feel authoritative. In such an ecosystem, the line between fact and fiction becomes first blurred, then invisible. 

This is where the role of the media becomes critical, and where it has, at times, faltered. Too often, false equivalence creeps in. The idea that ‘both sides’ must be given equal weight, even when one side is demonstrably wrong. Or the reluctance to call out untruths for fear of appearing partisan. But neutrality should never mean passivity in the face of falsehood.

Allowing lies to go unchallenged is not a neutral act; it’s an enabling one. It creates space for misinformation to flourish and for public trust to erode further. If we cannot agree on the basic facts, how can we hope to have meaningful democratic debate? This is why institutions committed to rigorous, evidence-based reporting, such as the BBC, matter more than ever. For all their imperfections, they represent a bulwark against the march of misinformation. 

But the responsibility does not lie solely with journalists; it rests with all of us. We must be willing to question what we see, to seek out credible sources, and to resist the easy pull of narratives that confirm our biases without challenge. Truth is not always comfortable, nor is it always convenient, but it is always essential. 

In Nineteen Eighty-Four, Winston Smith writes: “Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four. If that is granted, all else follows.” Once we lose our grip on truth and accept that 2+2 might sometimes equal 5, then we surrender far more than facts. We surrender the very foundation on which a free society depends. 

Read more of Matt’s columns for The Yorkshire Post…