We talk a lot about golden ages in media. The golden age of cinema. The golden age of television. Even, not so long ago, the golden age of the internet.
But what if we’re not in one anymore? What if, as Johan Norberg suggests in his book Peak Human, golden ages don’t end with a bang, but with a slow erosion of the values that made them possible; curiosity, openness, experimentation, and media is now their front line?
From the Renaissance to Silicon Valley, Norberg argues that creative explosions happened when cultures embraced outside ideas, protected freedom of expression, and gave individuals the space to think, speak, and challenge. The same conditions that once birthed flourishing, high-trust journalism ecosystems, independent storytelling and bold experimentation in digital media.
And yet today, much of the media landscape is marked by a different energy: risk aversion, polarization, and algorithmic conformity.
When media stops challenging and starts performing
Golden ages in the media were never about volume. They were about vision. They happened when newsrooms empowered reporting over reaction, when platforms prioritized storytelling over clicks, and when audiences rewarded depth, not speed.
But we’ve drifted. Much of today’s content is reactive, derivative, or designed primarily to engage algorithms, not minds. Churnalism replaces investigation. AI slop mimics human tone but lacks intention. And media companies, under pressure from ad markets and short-term metrics, increasingly optimize for survival rather than significance.
In Norberg’s framework, this is what decline looks like. Not the loss of technology, but the loss of permission to think freely. In our case, not because of authoritarian censorship, but through self-inflicted narrowing of creative ambition, reduced editorial risk, and monetization models that favor sameness.
The risk of post-journalism: no culture, no curiosity
The media isn’t just how we get information. It’s how societies reflect, argue, and imagine.
When the media stops being curious—when it retreats from nuance and avoids complexity—it loses its cultural function. And that, Norberg warns, is when creative societies start to decay.
Many once-vibrant media brands now trade in caution. Fear of losing revenue, relevance or reach leads to flatter storytelling. Audiences disengage, trust erodes, and a cycle of creative stagnation begins. Meanwhile, noise floods the vacuum left behind.
Just like in past civilizations, the pressure to protect existing power be it audience share or shareholder trust, leads institutions to kick away the ladder they once climbed. Innovation becomes suspect. New voices get sidelined. Orthodoxy replaces diversity of thought.
A media culture of optimism or fatalism?
Norberg emphasizes that golden ages didn’t flourish because people believed in perfection. They flourished because they believed in progress. In the media, this means trusting that audiences can handle nuance. That truth is worth chasing even when it’s inconvenient. And that platforms are responsible not only for what performs, but for what matters.
If today’s media wants to preserve its own golden age, it must resist the temptation to give in to fatigue, cynicism, or blind performance metrics. It must reclaim its identity not just as an industry, but as a civic force.
The choice ahead
Will journalism in 2025 be remembered as the start of a media renaissance—or the tipping point toward irrelevance?
The tools of a golden age are still here. The platforms, the distribution power, the creative talent, the global audience. What’s needed is cultural permission to use them for more than entertainment and outrage. To produce knowledge, context, and imagination—not just clicks.
As Norberg writes, “Golden ages are a choice.” In media, that choice begins with editorial courage, audience respect, and a renewed commitment to curiosity.
Because if the media loses that, the rest may soon follow.
