Norway offers an important lesson about public trust.
Norwegians do not trust their government because journalists avoid uncomfortable stories. They trust their democratic system, in part, because journalists investigate people in power, expose misconduct and give public institutions the opportunity, and the obligation, to respond.
That final step makes all the difference.
Journalists uncover the truth. Democratic institutions are supposed to do something about it.
Compare that with the United States, where declining trust in journalism is often discussed as if it were entirely a problem of journalism’s own making.
News organizations make mistakes. Some outlets have allowed commentary to crowd out reporting. Cable television too often rewards conflict, certainty and outrage over careful, fact-based examination of the issues shaping our lives.
Social media has made matters worse. Algorithms elevate whatever provokes the strongest emotional reaction, regardless of whether it is accurate. Rumor travels faster than verification. Propaganda arrives disguised as news. Opinion masquerades as fact.
Journalism deserves criticism for its failures.
But that is only part of the story.
Quality journalists and responsible news organizations, at this moment, continue to expose dishonesty, conflicts of interest, abuses of power and failures of government. They examine public records, cultivate sources, challenge official accounts and place uncomfortable facts before the public.
The reporting is being done.
What is increasingly missing is the institutional response to that reporting, particularly from Congress.
When journalists uncover credible evidence of misconduct by a president, Cabinet official or federal agency, Congress has the constitutional authority to investigate. It can conduct hearings, subpoena witnesses, demand documents, expose conflicts of interest, restrict funding, rewrite laws and, in extreme circumstances, pursue impeachment.
But Congress cannot fulfill that responsibility when its members see themselves first as defenders of a political party and only second as guardians of a democratic institution.
Too often, serious reporting now produces a familiar cycle.
Journalists reveal the facts. The politician denies them. Allies attack the news organization. Partisans dismiss the story as politically motivated. Congress declines to investigate, or stages a hearing designed more for television clips than for discovering the truth.
Then everyone moves on.
The failure is not that journalism did not perform its duty. The failure is that government did not respond to the information journalism uncovered.
Norway demonstrates how differently that relationship can work.
Norwegian journalists have exposed lawmakers who improperly benefited from government-provided housing and other financial privileges. The revelations did not simply produce angry commentary and a few days of public attention. They prompted investigations, repayment demands, police involvement and political resignations.
Norway is not free of corruption, scandal or dishonest politicians. No nation is. Its advantage is not moral perfection. Its advantage is that misconduct is more likely to trigger consequences.
Public officials in Norway demand accountability.
Public trust does not require citizens to believe their leaders are always honest. It requires them to believe that when leaders are dishonest, the system will identify the misconduct and respond.
Journalism begins that process. It cannot complete it alone.
A newspaper cannot issue a subpoena. A television network cannot compel sworn testimony. A reporter cannot remove an official from office, pass an ethics law or prosecute corruption.
Those responsibilities belong to public institutions.
When those institutions refuse to act, the public sees scandal after scandal without resolution. Facts emerge, but accountability does not follow. Over time, misconduct becomes ordinary. Citizens become exhausted, cynical and distrustful.
Eventually, some begin to question the reporting itself.
If the revelations were really that serious, they may wonder, why did nothing happen?
That is how institutional failure can become mistrust of journalism.
The reporter delivers the fire alarm. Congress removes the batteries. Then the public complains that the alarm accomplished nothing.
President Donald Trump has understood this vulnerability better than most American politicians. His attacks on journalism are not merely spontaneous expressions of anger about unfavorable coverage. They serve a political purpose.
If journalists can be portrayed as dishonest, corrupt or “enemies of the people,” then their reporting no longer must be answered on its merits. Evidence can be dismissed as bias. Documented falsehoods can be defended as differences of opinion. Scrutiny becomes persecution.
This strategy works particularly well when members of Congress refuse to challenge a president from their own party.
Their silence sends a powerful message: The facts do not matter enough to require action.
That silence does more than protect an individual politician. It weakens journalism’s ability to hold power accountable because reporting without institutional consequences can begin to look irrelevant.
Journalists should not exaggerate their own importance. They cannot force citizens to care. They cannot repair Congress, eliminate partisanship or make dishonest leaders tell the truth.
But neither should journalism accept responsibility for failures that belong elsewhere.
Americans often say they want a press they can trust. They should. Trustworthy journalism requires accuracy, transparency, independence, fairness and the willingness to correct mistakes.
But Americans should also demand a Congress worthy of trust, a Congress willing to follow evidence wherever it leads, including when that evidence threatens a political ally.
The health of a democracy does not depend only on whether journalists uncover wrongdoing. It depends on whether public officials respond after the wrongdoing is uncovered.
Norway consistently ranks among the world’s strongest countries for press freedom. It also regularly ranks among the happiest and most trusting societies. Those achievements are connected, but not because Norwegian journalists make their government look good.
They are connected because independent journalism helps the system correct itself.
Trust grows when citizens can see that facts still have consequences.
Distrust grows when political leaders lie, journalists document the lies and the institutions empowered to act simply shrug.
So perhaps the question is not merely: Why can’t American journalism be more trusted?
Perhaps the more important questions are these:
What happens after journalists reveal the truth?
Who investigates?
Who demands answers?
Who imposes consequences?
And where is Congress?
Until America can answer those questions, telling journalists to restore public trust asks them to solve only one part of a much larger democratic failure.
A free press can expose the truth.
But only a functioning democracy can act on it.