The government’s plan to fund Australian journalism through a levy on digital platforms rests on a sound premise: a healthy democracy depends on reliable information.

But this latest attempt — following the shortcomings of the News Media Bargaining Code — is a high-risk move.

We live in an era of polluted information with serious consequences for public debate and democratic health. In addition, professional journalism no longer holds the central role it once did in informing citizens or shaping political consensus.

Many Australians, particularly younger people, get their news and information from social media and increasingly from influencers and AI chatbots. ChatGPT alone has almost one billion weekly users globally.

Meanwhile, Australian influencers such as Konrad Benjamin, a former high school teacher breaking down politics for under-30s under the name Punter’s Politics, attract millions of likes, often surpassing mainstream outlets.

A complex, fragmented media environment

What is clear is that professional journalism is only one part of today’s fragmented information landscape. That landscape is increasingly polluted by misinformation and conspiracy theories that erode trust and weaken democracy. Globally, democracy is backsliding, with measurable decline for 20 consecutive years.

The United States offers a cautionary example of a deeply polarised information environment where falsehoods can spill into political violence. Properly supporting professional journalism is a means to filter extremism and help citizens distinguish fact from fiction.

Most Australians have little confidence in their own abilities to spot misinformation, with 74% reporting they find it difficult. This problem becomes urgent during election campaigns, when political falsehoods could potentially sway votes.

The Albanese government is responding to these threats in acknowledging the importance of journalism with draft legislation for a News Bargaining Incentive (NBI). It is a new scheme designed to fund Australian reporting by requiring digital platforms with revenues above $250 million (explicitly Google, Meta and TikTok) to contribute to a funding pool to be shared with public-interest news providers.

Why it’s a high-risk move

So why is this a high-risk endeavour that may meet the same fate as the NMBC, which saw Meta and, more recently, Google step back from paying for news content?

First, the positives. From the pooled funds it will generate stable funding for journalism even if platforms do not do deals, much needed for regional media and start-ups where funding is critical. In this way it also addresses a criticism of the NMBC, which was skewed to major media players such as News Corp and Nine.

It is also a stronger “stick” than the NMBC, imposing a 2.25% charge on high-revenue platforms unless they secure sufficient agreements with publishers, creating an incentive to negotiate.

But does it go far enough? Some independent media operators fear their outlets could still miss out on making deals under a 25% per-recipient cap that effectively means only four deals with big outlets need be done to be eligible for the offset.

The NBI has stronger leverage than the NMBC, which relied on ministerial designation that was never used. At first, the NMBC appeared successful without it, with Meta and Google signing more than 30 deals worth more than A$200 million. But Canada’s Online News Act shows the limits of this model when Canada sought to introduce a similar scheme: Meta removed news from its platforms entirely, avoiding the obligation and exposing its fragility.

The NMBC later weakened as Google became the only major platform doing deals in Australia. The company has recently signalled it will not renew some of these. This shift might help explain the timing of the NBI’s re-emergence and the structural shift from competition to tax law to compel platform compliance.

Now for the risks, of which timing is one. The NBI was drafted in 2024 but put on ice when US President Donald Trump voiced strong opposition to digital services taxes, calling them “discriminatory” measures targeting US companies. For some pundits, including Meta, the NBI is effectively a digital services tax.

Trump has previously threatened tariffs against countries pursuing such measures.

Against that backdrop, and given Australia’s recent exposure to trade tariffs and Trump’s criticisms of Australia over the Iran war, the timing of this renewed announcement is tricky. Meta chief executive Mark Zuckerberg has direct access to Trump, and both Meta and Google have already criticised the NBI.

While traditional media has welcomed the announcement through a signed joint statement, some platform criticisms warrant attention.

Why are multinational digital platforms that also distribute news and with more than $250 million in Australian revenue, such as Apple and LinkedIn, carved out of the scheme? And why is AI, with its rapidly growing user base and reliance on news content to train and refine systems, not included?

The explanations offered so far – that AI will be addressed separately and that Apple and LinkedIn employ editorial teams – are unconvincing.

Questions to answer

Then there are system design questions that the consultation period is sure to raise. For example:

• how do you define journalism in an age of influencers, social media and chatbots?
• who qualifies for funding?
• are the current eligibility criteria fit for purpose under the NBI to ensure the scheme supports continued investment in public-interest news, diversity of media voices, and quality journalism?
• will this include influencers such as Konrad Benjamin, who has large audiences for his explainer reporting?

This is a live debate that the short three-week consultation period is sure to raise before closing on May 18.

And perhaps the biggest risk of all: backfire. The NBI needs to avoid unintended consequences, such as when news was pulled from Meta’s platforms in Canada. The unintended outcome was long-term smaller audiences for professional journalism. Australia cannot risk backfire effects at a time when quality journalism has never been more critical for safeguarding democracy.

Andrea Carson receives funding from Australian Research Council examining media and political trust. She has previously received Meta funding to examine misinformation online.

Diana Bossio does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Last February the White House released photos styling President Donald Trump as a king on social media. This week he got to host a genuine king, for the state visit of Charles III and Queen Camilla.

During this week, the royals have been paraded around Washington and New York as symbols of the once “special relationship” the British like to claim exists across the Atlantic.

That relationship has been increasingly strained by Britain’s refusal to take part in the current Iran war, which has led to acerbic comments by Trump against UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer.

Using the royals to bolster ties with the United States has long been a British tradition, despite the reality that the US came into existence by rebelling against royal rule.

Trump is the only president to have been honoured with two state visits to Britain, and he speaks glowingly of his friendship with the king.

As a constitutional monarch, Charles cannot express views other than those of his government. Were Trump to attack Britain for its reluctance to join the attack on Iran, for example, or mention his threat to support Argentina’s claims to the Falkland Islands, the king cannot respond directly.

In his Oval Office meeting with the president, and again when he addressed Congress, the king emphasised that despite temporary disagreements the two countries were bound together in “one of the greatest alliances in human history”.

In a very carefully scripted speech, the king stressed several issues where there is disagreement between the two countries, as in his remarks that “the same unyielding resolve is needed for the defence of Ukraine”. His emphasis on environmentalism allowed for a reference to climate change, hardly a priority of the Trump administration.

The king also spoke of AUKUS, a reminder he is also head of state of Australia along with 14 other countries. The fact his visit is perceived entirely as one on behalf of the United Kingdom is a reminder of the peculiar anomaly of our continuing adherence to the monarchy.

Beyond the pomp and ceremony, will the visit actually affect Trump’s foreign policies? Trump regards himself as the ultimate deal-maker, and even he recognises the king does not make deals for any of his 15 realms and territories.

In private, the king may have softened some of Trump’s views. He may even have been able to explain that the inhabitants of the Falklands cling fiercely to their British citizenship, hoping Trump does not remind him that his disgraced brother, Andrew, fought in that war.

While the ongoing revelations about Jeffrey Epstein hang over both the president and the king, the subject was carefully avoided. Queen Camilla is due to meet several survivors of domestic abuse, and in an echo of her late mother-in-law, to visit a farm housing racing horses.

For both Trump and Charles, this visit comes at an opportune time to promote their brands. Trump’s support is declining as the war in Iran drags on inconclusively and forces up prices. The White House presumably believes images of him with the king might distract people from the growing chaos of his administration.

Equally, the royal visit reminds Britons the monarchy remains their most effective tool of soft power. As Australia’s former High Commissioner in London, George Brandis, reminds us, Charles has had a lifetime of training that allows him to charm foreign leaders even when they dislike his ministers.

The past few years have not been good for the monarchy. Two senior royals, Harry and Andrew, have now removed themselves from royal duties. Both Charles and the future queen, Kate, have had serious illnesses.

For both leaders, a successful visit enhances their standing, even though it is unlikely to change any political positions. The king will not soften Trump’s enthusiasm for fossil fuels, nor persuade reluctant Republicans to increase support for Ukraine.

But he will have demonstrated that monarchy still has its uses in international diplomacy. Possibly the Danish government will be considering whether its hold on Greenland might be strengthened by a visit from King Frederik and Queen Mary.

Dennis Altman does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.