Trust did not collapse. It migrated.

And the migration is not theoretical or gradual. It is happening in real time, right in front of anyone who communicates for a living. That includes journalists, executives, founders, educators, and creators. It includes anyone who speaks in public spaces where audiences choose what to believe and whom to believe.

For more than two decades, I lived inside newsrooms that believed their authority was self-evident.

We had the awards, the experience, the rigor, the resources. I believed it too.

But the last few years taught me something the industry should have acknowledged sooner.

Authority is no longer assigned.
Authority is chosen.

People choose who they trust now.
And they are choosing differently.

Here is the moment that still sits with me.

My daughter explained a breaking news story to me purely through TikTok videos. I had spent my entire adult life inside newsrooms that earned national awards.

She bypassed all of that to show me who she trusted: creators.

Not because she dismissed journalism.
But because journalism at times dismisses the audience.

We insisted on distance.
Audiences moved toward proximity.

We polished every sentence.
Creators showed their process.

We spoke as institutions.
They spoke as people.

Here is what kills me.
Audiences were never asking journalists to be perfect. They were asking us to be human.

But I want to be honest about something: proximity is not the same as accuracy. The person closest to a story may be the most authentic voice—but authenticity does not guarantee truth. Audiences now trust what feels closest to the truth. Whether that trust is warranted is a harder question, and one this newsletter will not shy away from.

Years ago, a young reporter returned from a breaking news scene shaken. She had done everything right. Clean writing. Verified details. Solid structure. A textbook package.

Then, during her live shot, a community member stepped beside her and calmly said, “That is not what happened.” He told the story himself, unscripted, with the authority of someone who lived it.

Viewers believed him.

The reporter was not wrong. She was not careless. She was competing against something she had never been trained to consider.

She was competing with lived experience.

I still do not know whether his version was more accurate than hers. What I know is that it did not matter to the audience. They believed the person who felt closer to the truth—whether or not he was.

That was the first time I understood the trust shift playing out in real time. The audience was no longer waiting for institutions to speak on their behalf. They were speaking for themselves.

And that is both a democratization and a danger.

Inside every newsroom I’ve worked in and every executive suite I have coached, the same belief shows up.

“Eventually, people will come back.”
“They will age into our platforms.”
“They just need better media literacy.”
“No one wants to get their information from social media.”

But the evidence is right in front of us.

Trust moved, and audiences moved with it.

Here is the truth we do not like to admit.
Audiences are not returning to the places that stopped listening to them.

And this does not apply only to journalism.
Executives feel this too. Leaders feel it. Public figures feel it. Anyone who speaks in front of an audience feels the ground shift beneath them.

People trust the voices that feel closest to the truth.
And proximity is now more powerful than legacy.

I say "right now" deliberately. I do not know if this shift is permanent. History suggests trust is cyclical, not linear. Institutions have collapsed and been rebuilt before. Crises sometimes restore institutional credibility—temporarily. But waiting for the pendulum to swing back is not a strategy. The shift is real, it is accelerating, and the only responsible move is to understand it.

Creators rely on journalism for facts, context, and verification. But they deliver those truths with humanity, transparency, and immediacy. They provide the connection that institutions spent decades avoiding.

Meanwhile, leaders across industries are discovering the same thing.
Corporate statements fall flat.
Press releases fail.
Institutional messaging does not travel.
But a single one-minute video from a human being inside the organization does.

We built fortresses.
Audiences walked around them.

But let me complicate this: those fortresses exist for reasons.

Legal liability requires careful, vetted language. Editorial standards require verification before publication. Scale requires standardization. Accountability requires process. The same institutional distance I criticize is also what makes corrections possible, what creates legal accountability, and what distinguishes journalism from rumor.

Creators can "admit what they don't know" precisely because they face fewer consequences for being wrong.

The task is not tearing down every wall. It is knowing which ones still protect you and which ones just isolate you

After countless hours studying platform behavior, creator ecosystems, research, and communication dynamics, here is what I see emerging.

These are not laws. They are patterns. And like all patterns, they have exceptions, limits, and contexts where they break down. Part of navigating the trust shift is knowing when to apply them—and when to hold back.

These patterns apply whether you are a journalist, an executive, a founder, or a creator.

The common denominator is trust. The differentiator is humanity. The medium is proximity. The shift is here—for now.

The common denominator is trust.
The differentiator is humanity.
The medium is proximity.
The shift is here.

I have said this newsletter serves journalists, executives, founders, and creators. That is true, but I want to be precise about what that means.

These audiences face the same shift from different positions:

The dynamics are shared. The tactics differ. I will address both.

If you feel the ground shifting beneath you—regardless of which category you occupy—this is for you.

I should be transparent about something.

My credibility comes from decades inside newsrooms—institutions that, by my own argument, failed to see this shift coming. I was inside the fortress. I believed in it.

That gives me insight into what went wrong. It does not automatically make me the right guide for what comes next.

What I offer is this: I have spent the last several years studying what is working now—not just what failed before. I have coached executives and teams navigating this shift. I have analyzed creator ecosystems, platform dynamics, and trust research. I have watched my own daughter teach me where trust actually lives.

I am not claiming to have all the answers. I am claiming to be paying closer attention than most—and willing to share what I see.

I created The Trust Shift because leaders in every industry I work with are asking the same question in different ways.

"How do I communicate in a world where institutions no longer guarantee credibility?"

The answer is not leaning harder on what used to work. It is recognizing where trust actually lives now.

The future is not legacy versus next-gen. It is the bridge between them.

My work is at that intersection. It is where your lived experience meets audience expectations. It is where clarity beats noise. It is where leadership becomes communication and communication becomes trust.

Trust did not vanish. It evolved.

And we must evolve with it.