The Trust Deficit

How 'Cool Media' Has Fragmented Our Unity

Trust is the hidden engine of dynamism. We often assume big things happen because of good ideas or great leaders, but the real secret ingredient is trust. The Apollo program succeeded not just because of technology, but because Americans trusted their institutions to deliver on a grand promise. Today, that trust is gone—and with it, our ability to move boldly.

The Apollo Era and Trusting in Big Things

I was recently reading about the Apollo era and the space race. It reminded me how, in the 1960s, America decided to put a man on the moon and, remarkably, did it. Sure, the journey was messy—full of setbacks, improvisation, and even tragedy—but there was something powerful about a nation believing big dreams were not only possible but achievable. Apollo wasn’t just a technological feat; it was a triumph of a high-trust society willing to tolerate risk because it trusted the shared narrative pushing it forward.

One of the most striking moments in this era was JFK’s 1962 “We choose to go to the Moon” speech. He framed the challenge as something we would do not because it was easy, but because it was hard. More importantly, he spoke as if success was inevitable—not because the technology was already there, but because the collective will existed to make it happen. Contrast that with today: is there a single national project we talk about with that kind of certainty? The very idea feels foreign.

The Trust Collapse in Modern Space Efforts

Today, it's striking how difficult big ambitions have become. Consider NASA's Space Launch System (SLS) or Boeing's Starliner spacecraft. Both projects are mired in delays, cost overruns, and endless complications. Every decision is scrutinized by multiple stakeholders, each amplified by today's fragmented media environment. The public sees every flaw in real-time, every mistake is amplified, and every setback becomes a case study in failure. The result? Paralysis.

SpaceX, by contrast, operates with a different model—faster iteration, tolerance for failure, and a greater degree of autonomy from public scrutiny. When SpaceX explodes a Starship prototype, it’s framed as part of the process. If Boeing or NASA suffers a setback, it’s framed as institutional incompetence. That’s not just a difference in corporate culture—it’s a difference in how much trust exists in the institutions themselves. SpaceX benefits from a narrative of forward motion, while NASA and Boeing get bogged down in layers of distrust and scrutiny.

How Media Fragmentation Killed Unified Action

This shift isn’t just about bureaucracy—it’s about media. Marshall McLuhan famously categorized media as "hot" or "cool." Hot media, like radio, provide clear, authoritative messages that require little audience interaction. They foster shared narratives, clarity, and coherence, building higher societal trust because the message feels settled and authoritative. Roosevelt’s Fireside Chats succeeded precisely because radio created a sense of intimacy and trust.

"Cool" media, like social media and television, are inherently participatory, fragmented, and ambiguous. They demand audience involvement to construct meaning and thrive on engagement, skepticism, and division. When every topic invites immediate public reaction and debate, trust erodes. It's harder to trust institutions when each decision is publicly dissected in real-time, splintered into competing narratives.

This played out during the COVID-19 pandemic. At the start, many expected a national sense of unity—something akin to wartime mobilization. Instead, media fragmentation quickly made collective action nearly impossible. Policies changed rapidly in response to new data, but in a low-trust environment, those shifts looked less like responsiveness and more like inconsistency. Every directive was met with counter-expertise, every mandate with debate. The message was never singular, never authoritative—because the media environment itself prevented that from being possible.

Why Media Matters to Abundance and Dynamism

Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson recently argued that we're living in a period of artificial scarcity—regulatory roadblocks preventing abundance. But maybe the deeper issue is that we live in a "low-trust" society shaped by cool media. Abundance and dynamism require shared narratives, common purpose, and trust that institutions can deliver. When our media constantly fragments attention, multiplies voices, and undermines authority, it’s no wonder bold, unified action feels nearly impossible.

Consider again the Apollo missions: They weren't uncontroversial, but disagreements didn't immediately spiral into endless public disputes amplified by fragmented media. Today, every NASA decision becomes a media event, subjected to relentless critique, conspiracy theories, and skepticism.

Reclaiming Dynamism Through Local Trust

If media environments profoundly shape trust—and thus, our capacity for dynamism—then addressing stagnation means rethinking how we communicate. We won’t go back to the simplicity of radio’s hot medium, nor should we idealize it. But recognizing that media shapes our societal trust can help us create clearer, more authoritative narratives amid the noise.

But at the personal level, the most actionable way to rebuild trust is not through grand national projects, but through small-scale, local action. When trust is low at the institutional level, it often remains strong within communities, churches, small businesses, and local initiatives.

If you’re frustrated with stagnation, start with what’s in front of you. Can you organize something tangible in your town? Can you invest in relationships that reinforce trust? Can you build something where success is visible and shared? That’s how trust grows—not through speeches or institutions alone, but through action that people can see, experience, and believe in.

The problem isn't a lack of bold thinking or abundance; it's that our current media environment, by design, undercuts the kind of trust needed for big action. Perhaps this means we must become more intentional storytellers, crafting messages that resonate clearly despite fragmentation. Maybe dynamism today requires not just new policies, but also new ways of communicating them—ones that can withstand the participatory churn without losing coherence.

Ultimately, if we want an era defined by abundance and innovation, we’ll first have to rebuild a foundation of trust—and to do that, we’ll have to master the very mediums currently eroding it.