Today, on March 4th, the Media Commission of Iceland held a symposium on disinformation and digital threats, ahead of upcoming elections and a referendum. I had been invited by Executive Director Elfa Ýr Gylfadóttir and her colleague Þóra Jónsdóttir to contribute a short recorded reflection, five minutes on how democracies like Sweden and Iceland are navigating an information landscape that has changed faster than our institutions have managed to adapt. I said yes with a sense that these are precisely the conversations that need to happen, not only among specialists but in the public spaces where politicians, civil servants, journalists and citizens meet. What follows is my contribution to that gathering.
Iceland is often described as one of the world’s most stable democracies. High trust in institutions, a small and tightly connected society, strong media traditions. Sweden is similar. And yet both of our countries are navigating something genuinely new. Something that doesn’t respect stable institutions or tightly connected societies. Something that is, in fact, specifically designed to exploit them.
Last year, the Swedish Psychological Defence Agency published a report on an organisation called the Social Design Agency. It is linked to Russian state interests. The report is based on thousands of leaked internal documents, and what it describes is not propaganda in the old sense. Not crude state television telling people what to think. What it describes is something more like an industrial operation.
The Social Design Agency creates fake copies of established newspapers. Websites that look exactly like The Guardian, or Le Monde, or Der Spiegel. Same layout. Same typography. Same feel. But the content is manipulated. Russian narratives embedded in formats that look completely legitimate. This material is then distributed across social media platforms, adapted for different languages, different audiences, different political contexts, in dozens of parallel versions running simultaneously. It is scalable, systematic, and increasingly powered by AI, for content production, for translation, for audience targeting.
And the goal is not to make you believe any single false story. The goal is cumulative. Every individual piece of content may seem marginal. But together they erode something fundamental. They erode trust. Trust in media. Trust in institutions. Trust in the shared reality that democratic conversation depends on.
This sets the scene for where we are now. Sweden is heading into its first election in an era where artificial intelligence has become genuinely ordinary. And Iceland, like every democracy, is in the same situation. This is the first period where the same technology that allows anyone to write convincing text, generate realistic images, clone voices, and produce video, is also available to anyone who wants to mislead, manipulate, and interfere.
AI is not only a threat. We already see it used to make information more accessible, to translate across languages, to help people understand complex issues. It can strengthen journalism. It can support fact-checking. It can make knowledge more democratic. But the same technology that can explain and illuminate can also confuse and deceive. And it allows the production of convincing content at a scale and speed that was simply impossible before. Text that sounds human. Voices that sound familiar. Images and video that look authentic.
We do not yet know exactly how this will affect elections in our countries. But we know that other democracies have already experienced how AI-generated content has been used in election campaigns and in influence operations. And we know that those who want to undermine trust in democratic institutions now have tools available to them that simply did not exist a few years ago.
That raises questions I think all of us need to carry with us. How do we equip citizens to navigate an information environment where it becomes increasingly difficult to tell what is real and what is fabricated? How do we navigate when the platforms themselves, where information spreads, can deliberately decide what you and I see, and what we don’t? What is the role of public education when the basic capacity to evaluate information is being challenged in fundamentally new ways? And how do we collaborate across sectors to meet something that no single actor can handle alone?
I don’t think the answers are given. But I think we have a shared responsibility to ask the questions. To take them seriously. And to work together to find answers.
Because what is ultimately at stake is something we tend to take for granted. That we as citizens can trust the information that forms the basis of our decisions. That we can have a public conversation built on facts rather than fabrications. That our democracy rests on a foundation of shared reality.
That is what is at play now. Not the technology itself. But what it means for our collective ability to make informed decisions about our shared society. Together.
Lämna ett svar