Hundreds of protected areas are under pressure from Scotland’s massive deer herd. Most agree deer numbers must be controlled to protect the environment, but are split on what should be done.
Edinburgh University students were “interrogated” by police at their desks over posters featuring Palestinians killed by the Israeli military, prompting dozens to complain.
Unsafe levels of faecal bacteria were recorded at dozens of Scotland’s best beaches this summer. Swimmers and paddlers could be at risk, but officials insist water quality remains high.
Ten years after we first huddled around a kitchen table in Edinburgh, forming The Ferret while eating pizza,there is another table bringing us together. This one sits in the backroom of our bright yellow newsroom on Bowman Street in Govanhill, Glasgow.
Seven of us are gathered here: co-editors, reporters, our business manager, fact checking lead, and social media and production lead (that’s me, hi!), surrounded by half-finished coffee cups but, unfortunately, no pizza this time. The décor is different, with soundproof panels, coffee machines, posters and pictures by our photojournalist, Angela Catlin, and a kind of cheerful chaos.
But the feeling is strangely familiar. A decade on, we are still mulling over the same big question that brought us together in 2015. How can we do journalism that matters?
Back then, we were just a small collective of journalists with a hopeful plan. We wrote down that “without serious, fact-based journalism in pursuit of the public interest and beholden to no-one, Scotland would be a smaller place,” and we meant every word.
We promised not to be owned by distant shareholders, not to align with any party or lobby, and to be transparent and accountable in everything we did. So we set up as a co-op, owned by our members and stubbornly independent. That stubbornness got us through the early days: late nights on sweat equity, chasing grants, crowdfunders, community meet-ups, until, remarkably, The Ferret grew.
Today we have published over 2,600 stories, built a team of nine, gained 2,500 members and opened Scotland’s first community newsroom, where locals can meet us and pitch ideas. The Ferret started out to serve the public interest, and these days it is literally powered by the public.
Still, sitting here in Govanhill with the street outside bustling, it is clear the world around us has changed dramatically.
When we launched, Scotland was in the aftermath of the independence referendum and trust in journalism had frayed. Now trust appears to have tumbled.
Even the way people find news is almost unrecognisable. Fewer pick up a paper or click on a homepage. More scroll TikTok, where 33 per cent of young people now get their news.
Audiences are drifting away not because they do not care, but because traditional media often does not speak to them in ways that resonate.
On top of that swirl memes, misquotes and misinformation, which is everywhere, with over half of people globally saying they struggle to tell what is real online. The constant flood of negative headlines and breaking alerts can also trigger news fatigue, leaving many overwhelmed or tuning out, a growing concern in today’s media landscape.
It is a noisy, suspicious, fragmented landscape, and sometimes it feels like we are all stumbling through it together.
Which is exactly why we think independent, fearless journalism matters more than ever. Our first mission still stands: to dig deep, hold power to account and shine a light where others might not. But being an investigative newsroom in 2025 demands more.
The community newsroom in Govanhill, all dressed up to celebrate our 10th birthday
In a world flooded with information and misinformation, it is not enough just to break stories. We also have to support people to understand them. We have talked a lot around this table about how The Ferret’s next decade should be about not just digging up truths, but mapping them out.
We want to offer clarity, context and connection in a confusing time. We want to be more transparent about how we work, clearer about why a story matters, and open about the impact it has or could have.
We also want to keep inviting the public in, through our community newsroom doors and events, and online through interactive pieces and new formats. More explainers, more conversations, more chances for people to shape what we investigate next.
In short, we hope to be your guides through the maze, ferrets tunnelling persistently to drag out what is hidden, then laying it out plainly for all to see. As we clear away the empty coffee cups and flip open calendars to plan the next investigations, that stubborn optimism is still here too.
The world might be messier and trust shakier, but we are still committed to honesty, transparency, and to making facts meaningful for the people and communities we serve.
We would love to hear your ideas about what The Ferret should tackle next, and what kind of journalism Scotland needs in the years ahead. If you have thoughts, please share them with us via this short form. Here is to another decade of digging deep together.
The Ferret is an independent, investigative journalism cooperative dedicated to holding power to account. Since 2015, we have reported on corruption, environmental issues, human rights, and political influence in Scotland. Our work is supported by members who believe in journalism that challenges, exposes, and informs. If you value in-depth, fact-based reporting, you can support our work by becoming a member. Join us today: https://theferret.scot/subscribe
Iris leads our social media and production. She is a freelance journalist and certified sex educator with extensive experience in storytelling, editorial production, and community-centred media. She loves spending time in nature with her camera.
Hundreds of protected areas are under pressure from Scotland’s massive deer herd. Most agree deer numbers must be controlled to protect the environment, but are split on what should be done.
Edinburgh University students were “interrogated” by police at their desks over posters featuring Palestinians killed by the Israeli military, prompting dozens to complain.
Unsafe levels of faecal bacteria were recorded at dozens of Scotland’s best beaches this summer. Swimmers and paddlers could be at risk, but officials insist water quality remains high.
Footage of farmed trout suffocating, haemorrhaging, and being beaten with batons in a slaughterhouse has prompted an official complaint to a government regulator.