The Canadian news and information ecosystem is more fragmented than ever.
And what it means for communicators, leaders, and our ability to create a common purpose.
I remember the exact moment I first heard that Prime Minister Justin Trudeau was going to resign. It was early in the morning—and X (formerly Twitter) was a flutter with news that the PM was going to announce he’s stepping down.
At first, I thought it might be another satirical bit or one some type of misinformation campaigns. But within minutes, I saw more sources chiming in—credible journalists on X, a breaking news push alert from CBC, and then a flurry of texts from friends and colleagues.
By noon that day, it felt like the entire country was talking about Trudeau’s resignation. In fact, a quick poll of my friends, colleagues, and neighbours suggested that 89% of Canadians had at least heard the news within 12 hours of it breaking. But the conversations that followed highlighted one critical observation: we all got to the same headline, but we took different paths to get there.
For my parents, who are in their late sixties and early seventies, it was the morning TV news that did the trick. They wake up, usually around 6 am, and within minutes the TV is on with CBC News on the screen. Within a few hours of their normal morning routine, Trudeau’s face appeared, followed by the anchor’s announcement—classic, dependable mainstream coverage.
My younger cousin, on the other hand—barely into her twenties—never saw a scrap of traditional news. She found out when a friend texted her a viral TikTok, which had the text “Trudeau’s out?!?” set to a popular dance track. Another friend of mine in his early forties learned about it through a notification on a news app. And so on.
This kaleidoscopic approach to news consumption and information flow—TV for some, social for others, friend-to-friend texts, push alerts—is a perfect microcosm of our fragmented information ecosystem. It’s not just that we’re spoiled for choice; it’s that each generational cohort seems to prefer a different path entirely.
As we’ll see, these generational habits have enormous implications for communicators, leaders, and indeed for Canadian society. I’m constantly thinking about what this means and a question keeps coming up in my mind: Are we losing our ability to share a collective experience—and by extension, a collective understanding—when major events unfold?
Below, I’ll share some new data on how Canadians first heard about Trudeau’s resignation, along with broader findings on how different age groups discover and engage with news and information. I’ll also draw on a recent study my team at Abacus Data conducted for the Canadian Medical Association (CMA) exploring our health information ecosystem—because this isn’t just about politics. Fragmentation affects everything, from public health advisories, to marketing, to corporate announcements, advocacy, and campaign. Finally, I’ll share what I think are some practical steps leaders can take in this “choose-your-own-news-adventure” world, and the big-picture societal questions that remain unresolved.
The Trudeau Resignation: One Story, Many Channels
When the Trudeau resignation announcement went live, it spread like wildfire. Within half a day, practically 9 out of 10 Canadians had at least a passing awareness of the news. But how they stumbled across that awareness is where things get interesting. Take a look at the table below (figures are approximate, drawn from the same dataset you see attached):
We see an immediate generational gap.
For Canadians under 30, nearly half learned about Trudeau’s resignation through social media. By contrast, the older group (60 and over) primarily found out via television (46%). Those in the middle—ages 30 to 59—are more spread out between TV, social media, and online news sites. But one thing is clear: there is no single “universal” media source that cuts across age groups. Instead, each demographic cluster has its preferred channel.
This generational divide can’t be explained away simply by “young people like to be on their phones” or “older adults prefer trusted broadcast outlets.” The data suggests a deeper transformation: many Canadians—especially those under 45—don’t see TV as their “first stop” for anything. Television might still be on in the background, or it might be something they watch occasionally, but it’s not their immediate source of breaking news. Meanwhile, for older Canadians, social media remains comparatively minor as a first point of contact.
Why does this matter? Because from a communicator’s perspective—whether you’re a government official, a health leader, or a corporate spokesperson—you can no longer bank on the idea that “Everyone hears big news if it makes the 6 o’clock broadcast.” That era is gone.
The Rise (and Rise) of Fragmented Habits
Let’s step back for a moment. Trudeau’s resignation was an earth-shaking political story, so it naturally garnered a massive wave of coverage in every medium. But what about day-to-day news consumption? How do people get their information? Where are they regularly and where are they not? Do people routinely check the same platforms, or do they dabble all over the map?
Recent data from my study for the Canadian Medical Association provides a vivid snapshot. We asked Canadians, “How often do you do the following?” with a list of possible activities like checking Facebook, visiting news websites, watching TV news, and so on. Here’s a summary of overall daily usage across the population (again, approximate percentages from the attached table):