For decades, the great media institutions saw themselves as guides, providing orientation. They were both transmitters and receivers, a resonance chamber in which news was produced, mediated, and reflected upon. Yet this era is drawing to a close. What lies ahead is not merely another media shift but a structural rupture: we are moving towards a world in which news, in the classical sense, will cease to exist. Each individual will inhabit their own virtual reality—and the information delivered by machines will be propaganda above all else.
From McLuhan to the Metaverse
In the 1960s Marshall McLuhan coined the phrase: ‘The medium is the message.’ What was then a provocation is now becoming brutally clear. Media do not simply convey content; they shape consciousness. But if the media of the future are no longer newspapers, radio channels, or television stations, but personalised, immersive simulations, then reality itself will fragment. There will no longer be a shared resonance chamber, only individualised worlds.
Today’s social networks have already prepared the ground. Algorithms filter, personalise, amplify—each person receives a different stream of information. Yet with the spread of VR, AR, and immersive platforms such as the Metaverse, this process will accelerate. People will no longer discuss the same news, but inhabit wholly divergent spheres of information. ‘News’ will disappear as the connective tissue of society.
Virilio’s Dromology
Paul Virilio, philosopher of speed, warned early on: the faster information circulates, the closer the ‘accident’ moves to the core of communication. For him, every technological invention was at once the invention of its accident. The car brought the car crash, the aeroplane the air crash. With the total acceleration of digital media comes the media accident: total disorientation.
That accident is already looming. We speak of ‘fake news’, ‘deepfakes’, AI-generated images, voices, and texts. But these are only precursors. When, in the near future, all content is produced by machines and tailored for dissemination, we shall lose the last anchor of verifiability. News as a common framework of facts will collapse. The accident is the fragmentation of truth.
Orwell and Huxley
George Orwell feared the danger of total control through language and censorship. In 1984 words were erased, meanings redefined, history rewritten. Yet Orwell’s world still had a central authority, a single transmitter. Today a subtler form emerges.
Aldous Huxley, in Brave New World, described a society lost in the pleasures of distraction. The problem is not repression but overindulgence. In this sense we already live in Huxley’s world. The flood of images, clips, voices, and simulations produces not enlightenment but anaesthesia. Orwell feared the control of language; Huxley foresaw a world in which no one cared for truth. Both converge.
What use is censorship when people willingly retreat into self-chosen realms of illusion? The classic distinction between propaganda and news dissolves. Everything becomes entertainment, simulation, and manipulation at once.
The End of News
The consequences for politics and society are profound. News was not only information; it was a ritual. Germany’s Tagesschau, the morning newspaper, the discussion of headlines—these created a public sphere.This, in turn, was a condition of democracy to exist and thrive.
But if each individual lives within an algorithmically generated and monitored sphere, there is no longer a public. Only atomised realities remain. News in the traditional sense—verifiable, generally accessible information about the world—disappears. What is left are artificial narratives, tailored to the psychology of the user. The ‘window on reality’ shatters into a thousand pixels.
Machine Propaganda
These narratives will not be neutral. They will be controlled, whether by states, corporations or political and economic interests. Propaganda will no longer arrive as crude slogans but as personalised stories, crafted to speak to the longings, fears, and desires of each individual.
This is the new quality: propaganda that is not recognised as such but felt as ‘my truth.’ A Huxleyan pleasure that simultaneously enables Orwellian control. Machines as narrators—not informing, but shaping.
Is there a way out? Perhaps only in remembering what the public sphere once was: a common space for exchange, critique, and debate. Perhaps in curating media archives that preserve documents before they are swallowed up by the tides of simulation.
But realistically we are heading towards a world in which news no longer exists, as it is replaced by fragmentary algorithmic realities. The final step in the history of media is not total information, but total simulation.
McLuhan was right: the medium itself is the message. Virilio foresaw catastrophe in acceleration. Huxley warned of self-forgetting, Orwell of linguistic control. Together they sketch the contours of the near future: a world without news, without transmitter and receiver, only virtual islands. Each person lives in their own reality, steered by machines which, in the name of information, disseminate propaganda.
The age of news is ending. The age of virtual realities has begun.
Statement
The future of media is not an evolution but a rupture. News in the classical sense is vanishing. Instead of shared information, each individual will inhabit a virtual reality curated by algorithms and generated by machines. Marshall McLuhan was right: the medium is the message—and the message is fragmentation. Paul Virilio foresaw catastrophe in acceleration; Orwell warned of linguistic control; Huxley of soporific pleasure. All are true. In the future there will be no news, only bespoke propaganda. The public square vanishes, and democracy loses its foundation. What remains are islands of illusion.