Neutrality suggests detachment, it feels cold: it is the refusal to take a stance or acknowledge any nuance. Objectivity, on the other hand, demands fairness, accuracy, and accountability. The difference is not just semantic—it’s fundamental. At its best, journalism is a pursuit of truth, not an exercise in sitting on the fence. The terms “neutrality” and “objectivity” are often used interchangeably in discussions about journalism, but they couldn’t be more different.
Neutrality demands detachment, a refusal to take sides, and a clinical approach that often gives each side fair treatment—regardless of evidence or morality. Objectivity, however, is about fairness and accuracy. It asks journalists to pursue the truth rigorously, presenting it in its full complexity without fear or favour. While neutrality strives to avoid bias at all costs, objectivity accepts that perfect impartiality is unattainable, focusing instead on transparency, accountability, and a commitment to facts.
In short, neutrality says “stand back,” while objectivity says: “dig deeper.”
Take a moment to consider whether neutrality is even possible. Every editorial decision made in a newsroom—what stories to cover, how to write them, which angle to take and what voices to include—is inherently shaped by human judgement. Even the seemingly innocuous act of prioritising one headline over another reflects a form of bias. And then there’s the question of false balance. Reporting “both sides” of an issue without interrogating their validity does not equal neutrality—it’s misleading. A report on climate change that gives equal weight to the scientific consensus and climate sceptics isn’t neutral; it’s distorting reality.
Objectivity, in contrast, involves examining evidence, presenting the truth, and rejecting misinformation. In truth, striving for neutrality can often mean stripping stories of their depth and meaning. Let’s revisit the Southport stabbings in 2024 as an example. A neutral report might say, “Two people were stabbed in Southport last night.” Technically accurate, sure. But lacking in any humanity. Can we expect our (human) journalists to write in an unfeeling way about such an abhorrent crime?
Journalists around the UK were praised for their reporting on the Southport killings and the subsequent thuggery that followed, taking form in riots around the country. Jabed Ahmed, writing for The Independent about misinformation around the time of the attack, spotlighted police error as a fault in the attack – “the police statement did little to quell the misinformation spreading online.” This isn’t neutral, but it’s truthful. And it tells an important story – it calls into doubt one of the forces in our country that we are supposed to unquestionably trust.
Reporting that focuses solely on the clinical facts leaves the fear, grief, and community impact untouched. This is why journalism’s purpose can never be about neutrality. In western democracies, journalism is a cornerstone of accountability. As the so-called “fourth estate,” it serves to challenge power and inform the public. But neutrality can undermine that mission, it risks complicity.
Journalism is, at its heart, a human pursuit. It’s written by people, for people. And as humans, we bring emotions, instincts, and perspectives to everything. To demand neutrality is to ask journalists to detach themselves from the very stories they’re telling. But storytelling stripped of humanity isn’t journalism—it’s stenography. This human element is especially crucial in an age of technological advancement.
Artificial intelligence can churn out articles based on data, but it lacks empathy, intuition, and the ability to connect on an emotional level. As automation increasingly shapes our lives, surely journalism must hold on to what makes it uniquely human: the ability to tell stories that provoke, inspire, and move us to act – stories told by people. The emotional power of storytelling has long been a driver of change. Think of the way searing photojournalism during the Vietnam War shifted public opinion or how coverage of Grenfell Tower exposed systemic failures. These stories weren’t neutral—they were deeply human. But they were also rooted in truth and accountability, exemplifying the best of objective reporting.
If neutrality isn’t the answer, what is? Objectivity. It’s a higher, more meaningful standard that acknowledges the impossibility of perfect impartiality while striving for fairness and accuracy. Objectivity asks journalists to verify facts, consider multiple perspectives, and hold themselves accountable. Take coverage of conflict as an example. Objectivity doesn’t mean treating all perspectives as equally valid. It means scrutinising claims, challenging propaganda, and providing the public with the tools to make informed decisions. During the Iraq War, for instance, some journalists questioned the official narrative around weapons of mass destruction, exposing inconsistencies and misinformation. This wasn’t neutrality—it was courage in pursuit of the truth.
The truth is, journalism is not an act of detachment—it’s a public service. Its role is not to passively report but to actively inform. By rejecting the false ideal of neutrality and embracing the principles of objectivity, journalism can continue to fulfil its vital role in democracy and human connection. The next time you hear someone advocate for “neutral” journalism, ask yourself: would you rather read something neutral, or something true?
