News

As editor of The Times, one of the most influential newspapers in the United Kingdom, Tony Gallagher has witnessed one of the most radical transformations in the history of journalism in recent years.
From traditional print media to an ecosystem dominated by digital platforms, the change has been not only technological but also structural.

At the World Meeting on Human Fraternity, he drew a historical parallel: the impact of artificial intelligence today is comparable to that of the printing press in Aldo Manuzio’s time. It is a revolution that is redefining access to, production of, and dissemination of knowledge.
But there is one crucial difference. While traditional publishing has always had clear responsibilities, today much of the news circulates on platforms that do not identify themselves as publishers.
The question then becomes inevitable: who is responsible for the truth?

Gallagher openly criticized the major players in the digital sector for their reluctance to assume this role. Without shared responsibility, the risk is that information will be governed solely by considerations of traffic and visibility.

The work of the World Meeting on Human Fraternity points in a different direction: putting quality, responsibility, and human dignity back at the center as criteria for information as well.

Excerpt from the speech by Tony Gallagher, Editor of The Times

Aldo Manuzio made the great texts of antiquity widely accessible throughout Europe, thereby helping to shape the intellectual culture of the Renaissance.
Today we find ourselves in the early stages of another communications revolution, driven by powerful new technologies at the intersection of artificial intelligence, social media, and the Internet. Early signs indicate that the impact on society could be just as significant as that of the Renaissance—but so are the risks.
While words can disarm, creating a common ground of knowledge, they can also be turned into weapons through the spread of fake news designed to destabilize society.
Print technology was, in its time, also an asset to the creators of fake news: consider the 17th-century English Levellers, radical polemicists who spread unverified claims to undermine the legitimacy of Parliament, or the 18th-century French libelists, clandestine authors of scandal sheets who spread false accusations—such as those regarding Marie Antoinette’s alleged immorality.
Over time, however, the spread of the press was followed by regulation: laws were introduced to limit excesses, such as defamation laws. After World War II, it was precisely those publications that built their reputation on the accuracy of their information that came to dominate the media landscape.

In the United Kingdom, The Times is often referred to as the “newspaper of record.” Our team of editors and legal counsel works diligently every day to live up to this description, verifying the accuracy of every news story we publish.
When announcing the end of fact-checking, Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg spoke of a cultural turning point in favor of greater freedom of expression. But he also admitted that this decision would result in “more negative content” across the platform.

“More negative content” is not what we need.
Conspiracy theories and fake news thrive in environments where there are no limits on what we call freedom of speech.
Words that disarm, on the other hand, are words grounded in facts.
When a society can agree on fundamental facts, the chances of moving in a common direction—and, with it, peace—increase. But when facts are called into question by professional polemicists, politicians, or people who have something to hide, the result is social fragmentation: the exact opposite of disarmament.

Artificial intelligence adds a new dimension to this information revolution. Generative AI is still in its infancy, but it is already clear that, despite the billions of dollars invested in systems like ChatGPT and Gemini, it still has serious limitations when it comes to fact-checking.
In fact, recent research shows that instances of “hallucinations”—that is, fabricated information—have increased as the models have become more powerful.
Of course, this new information revolution—like that of the printing press in Manuzio’s time—has the potential to usher in an era of extraordinary opportunities, bringing about changes in nearly every sector.
We must embrace change and seize its possibilities, but we must also learn from history.
This means holding the new “superpowers” of information—the social media and artificial intelligence giants—accountable and imposing rules on them that benefit society as a whole, not just a narrow elite of shareholders.

We need figures like Mark Zuckerberg, Elon Musk, and TikTok founder Zhang Yiming to embrace Pope Francis’s vision: a world where words matter and societies thrive through reflection, calm, and an awareness of complexity.
I suspect that, in the decades to come, readers will rely more than ever on news organizations like The Times—and many others represented in this room—that are built on the work of human beings, not bots, and driven by a deep commitment to telling the truth to the world.