Democracy only works if it can still surprise us, and journalism has to rediscover its capacity for surprise too. In 2026, my prediction (and hope) is that the outlets that matter most to democracy move away from reflexive “gotcha” coverage of politicians and toward a practice that centers voters’ lived experience, allows idealism back into the frame, and treats accountability as something deeper than a takedown.

Learning to see through voters’ eyes

At least twice in my career, I have had to cover the unexpected rise of an Indian male politician.

First was Narendra Modi. The most recent was Zohran Mamdani. Both are polarizing figures, and in both cases, I had to unlearn old lessons of journalism to do justice to the story. That meant slowing down enough to understand the appeal of the politician and putting myself in voters’ shoes, instead of assuming I knew better.

In the case of Modi, I interrogated my own family to explain how and why the people might change before their governments do. As for Mamdani, coverage focused on first-time voters, immigrants, and young people (and admitting when we were wrong). Like the medium that propelled his appeal, we relied on social video to tell these stories.

Accountability journalism need not be dismissive journalism. Traditional models of coverage can feel satisfying, but often flatten everyone involved: Politicians become villains or heroes, anecdotal examples are victims or saviors, and there’s no room left for the messy reality of why people make the choices they do. What we’ve discovered in the community-based reporting we do at Epicenter NYC is that usually the people being screwed already know they are being screwed. And so if someone calls us to report that the heat isn’t working in public housing, for example, we strive to connect them to a solution — and then use that experience to zoom out and inform a broader community of their rights and remedies.

Everyday issues are worth paying attention to — housing, health, food insecurity, small business survival, schools, arts and culture — and audiences often need help navigating systems versus “discovering” wrongdoings within that they already know are unfair or stacked against them.

Covering communities, not just campaigns

At Epicenter, and much of the broader URL Media network, we have earned a place as trusted messengers in our communities. We don’t cover buildings or institutions — we cover the communities they serve. We don’t define our neighbors by who they vote for or their political affiliations, but by what they need and how we can connect them to news, information, resources, or each other. That’s a different starting point than “who’s up, who’s down” in the race to election night.

In 2026, the political journalism that matters most will be built from the ground up. It will look like answering questions about ballot measures when everyone else is obsessed with the big-name race; publishing a watch party roundup because people actually asked for it; assigning prewrites that assume the real headline is about what an election means for immigrants, renters, parents, or workers. It will treat politics as one piece of a larger “civics” beat, focused on news that inspires some type of action or behavior shift, because democracy is a lot more than voting. It might mean not dismissing someone polling at 1% out of the gate. Remember: surprise.

Moving past false equivalence

Still, our industry remains stuck in a warped idea of horse races and “both sides,” even as the news playing out in front of our faces proves that something else is needed. The danger of such a shorthand is that it can put someone like Donald Trump on one side and everybody else on the other, as if they are equivalent. It shows up in smaller ways too: You write about homelessness and a well-meaning editor asks, “What’s the other side?” And suddenly you’ve backed into a story that has no compassion and, worse, misses the truth of what’s happening. It becomes a narrative in which your side and my side and his side and their side all cancel each other out — and nobody actually wins.

In 2026, more journalists must name this for what it is. The job is not to manufacture balance where it doesn’t exist; it’s to be honest about the stakes for real people. If journalists are not to be advocates for policy proposals, we can at least be advocates for our communities. That means asking: Who is this story for, and does it help those people? It might mean assessing impact by looking at who we helped versus who we brought down.

Letting idealism back in

Some are not thrilled with any given election outcome; we capture this reality in our coverage and offline. Communities are complex, nuanced, and interdependent. Sometimes people just want to be seen and heard — and know you have their back. Reaching out is a sign of trust, and we should hold that sacred. In the coming year, I hope newsrooms embrace that kind of relationship, instead of pretending that distance and detachment are the only ways to be “objective.”

Idealism doesn’t mean cheerleading for politicians. It means believing democracy is still worth the work — and covering it that way. It means acknowledging when journalists and politicians might briefly be on the same side, connecting communities to housing, healthcare, functioning schools, childcare, or safe streets. It means being skeptical without being jaded, curious instead of cynical, and staying close to our audiences to make sure we’re covering them through the lens of what they need, all the while infusing our journalism with the conviction that change and better paths are possible.