Confronting My Own Bias: A Journalist's Honest Reflection on Cognitive Blind Spots

When My Own Perspective Failed Me

As a co-host on "The Five," I'm often in the spotlight, offering my views on political matters. But lately, I've realized that even those of us who pride ourselves on being thoughtful and fair can fall prey to our own biases — sometimes with serious consequences.

For years, I thought I was a reasonable person who sought truth and understood different viewpoints. I believed I was simply expressing my Democratic values without prejudice. Yet recent events have taught me that we all possess blind spots — and that accepting this is the first step toward meaningful debate and genuine understanding.

"If we're ever going to go forward, we do have to look at the facts and have an open heart. They are not mutually exclusive."

— Harris Faulkner, Fox News Anchor

The Mask That Changed Everything

One of the most defining moments in my journey toward self-awareness came during the height of the pandemic. I was initially supportive of mask mandates, seeing them as necessary for public health and safety. After all, my father was battling cancer, and I feared he might be among those most vulnerable to severe illness.

But then, my own conservative co-host Greg Gutfeld challenged that position on our podcast, "Raging Moderates." His perspective wasn't born out of ignorance or malice — it stemmed from a genuine belief in personal autonomy. He articulated how enforced masking felt like an intrusion into his freedom, akin to having his life dictated by others.

I was taken aback by the intensity of his argument and began to question my assumptions. In that moment, I realized how my own biases were clouding my judgment. The mandate didn't feel like a public health necessity to him; it felt like oppression. That's not a contradiction — it's a human experience shaped by individual circumstances and values.

This isn't just about masks or pandemics. It's about the way we process information that challenges our worldview. Neuroscientists have found that when people encounter beliefs they hold dear, their brains light up in the same regions associated with physical pain — making it emotionally difficult to shift perspectives even when presented with facts.

What Happened When I Was Wrong

The second moment of reckoning came in 2019 when actor Jussie Smollett claimed he was attacked by two masked men. The story, which involved racial slurs and a noose, sparked outrage — including my own. I defended him as a victim of a hate crime based on what seemed like a logical assumption: people of color are statistically more likely to face hate crimes.

But the truth emerged gradually, with reports that Smollett had orchestrated the entire event. He later faced criminal charges, though they were ultimately dropped. The Illinois Supreme Court reversed his conviction, citing double jeopardy violations — a legal ruling that many found surprising given the circumstances.

I'm not excusing my initial reaction, but I am acknowledging it. I was caught off guard by how my own liberal bias influenced how I interpreted the story. It wasn't until later that I recognized that my emotional response to Smollett's supposed victimhood had colored my analysis — a lesson I'll carry forward in my reporting and commentary.

The Science Behind Our Minds

What I've learned over time is that we're all prone to motivated reasoning. This psychological phenomenon causes us to selectively seek out evidence that supports our pre-existing beliefs while filtering out contradictory information — often without realizing it. It's an unconscious process, a mental defense mechanism designed to protect us from cognitive dissonance.

This isn't unique to politics or journalism; it affects everyone. We're hardwired to avoid discomfort, especially when confronted with ideas that threaten our identity or sense of right and wrong. And yet, if we want to make better decisions — whether personal or political — we must be willing to examine these mental filters and confront uncomfortable truths.

Building Bridges Across the Divide

My latest book, "I Disagree," is a direct result of this realization. I've spent considerable time studying how people communicate across ideological divides. What I discovered was that most of us believe we're capable of listening and engaging with opposing viewpoints — but in practice, many of us are not.

I've seen firsthand how conversations can devolve into personal attacks or moral judgments when people feel their beliefs are being challenged. It's easy to fall into the trap of viewing disagreement as a personal attack rather than an opportunity for growth.

That's why I'm passionate about helping others develop better communication skills — not just to win arguments, but to truly understand one another. When we're open-minded and empathetic, we create space for productive dialogue that can lead to progress.

A New Approach to Debate

I've come to understand that the key isn't to avoid disagreement entirely — it's to embrace disagreement as a path toward deeper understanding. As my co-host Greg Gutfeld once described our dynamic: "It's like going to the gym to lift weights. You need resistance. [...] You're kind of my muse."

He was right — and I've tried to adopt that mindset in my own life and work. When someone challenges my assumptions, it forces me to think harder and dig deeper. It makes me a stronger communicator and a more thoughtful human being.

We live in a time where trust is eroding, not just between political parties, but within families, communities, and even friendships. If we're going to heal these divisions, we must first acknowledge that we're all flawed — including ourselves.

That's what I've learned. That's what I continue to learn. And that's the foundation upon which I hope to build a more connected future — one conversation at a time.