Journalism Was Supposed to Be a Check on Power. Now It’s a Tool for It.

You ever hear someone say something and instantly think, “Wait… that doesn’t sound right?” Like, something in your brain just goes off—an alarm, a gut check, a tiny voice saying, “Yeah, something’s up with that.” And the deeper you dig, the more you realize your instinct was dead on.

Well, that moment hit me recently. Except this wasn’t some random comment from a stranger. It was live on national television. A U.S. senator said it. And not only did one of the best journalists in the business let it slide—he let it pass without question.

This is about to be painful—not because I enjoy calling people out, but because I don’t. Especially when it involves people I deeply admire and respect. But some things need to be said, no matter how uncomfortable.

With that in mind, it went a little something like this…

Jeanne Shaheen—Democratic Senator from New Hampshire, senior member of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, fresh off a trip to Ukraine—sat down with Wolf Blitzer on The Situation Room. The kind of interview you’ve seen a thousand times before: a Democrat explaining why their position is right, the other side is wrong, and why this particular issue—negotiations between Russia and Ukraine—was yet another example of that.

Nothing groundbreaking. Nothing unusual. Until it was.

Blitzer, at one point, noted that Donald Trump had referred to Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy as a dictator. And then came the moment—the one that made my head snap up so fast I’m surprised I didn’t give myself whiplash.

Shaheen, without hesitation, responded: "He's wrong about that because President Zelenskyy was duly elected by the people of Ukraine."

That’s when the alarm bells went off.

Elections don’t define dictatorships. Power does. Plenty of dictators—from Hitler to Chávez to Erdoğan—were elected before rewriting the rules to stay there indefinitely. The issue isn’t how they got in. It’s how they refuse to leave.

Now, to be clear, I’m not saying Zelenskyy is a dictator, nor has he shown any signs that he is at present. But the idea that democratic elections automatically rule out authoritarianism? That’s an oversimplification at best, and misleading at worst.

And Blitzer? No challenge. No pushback. No request for clarification.

Just a nod. "Yes, that's an important point, indeed. Yes, he was."

That’s when it hit me: Not just that Shaheen got it so wrong, but that Blitzer—who absolutely knew better—let it pass unchallenged.

The frustrating part is that Blitzer is one of the best legacy journalists still working. He’s sharp. He’s bipartisan. He knows history.

Blitzer has a long track record of covering both parties and pressing politicians from both sides. In 2011, he infamously grilled Democratic Congresswoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz over the Affordable Care Act’s rollout failures, refusing to let her spin the disastrous launch as anything but a setback. In 2016, he forcefully challenged then-candidate Donald Trump on his claim that he opposed the Iraq War from the beginning, playing direct audio that contradicted Trump’s narrative.

And if it had been anyone—Republican, Democrat, Independent, doesn’t matter—he would’ve called it out. But he didn’t.

Maybe it was a time restriction. Maybe it was some CNN policy about going soft on sitting Democratic senators. Who knows? What I do know is that I wish this was an isolated incident.

It wasn’t.

A few days later, another great journalist, Jake Tapper, did the exact same thing with House Leader Hakeem Jeffries.

This time, the setting was “State of the Union,” and the topic was the Democratic Party’s struggles under the second Trump administration.

Tapper, to his credit, started strong. He laid out the facts: a new Quinnipiac poll had congressional Democrats at an all-time low—just 21% approval. Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro, a fellow Democrat, had publicly blasted the party, saying they were ‘asleep at the wheel’ and failing to act as a check on Trump.

Then came the moment.

Tapper, doing exactly what a good journalist should do, put the question directly to Jeffries: “That’s a pretty harsh assessment of Democrats' first month in the second Trump administration. What’s your response?”

And Jeffries?

With a straight face, he said: “I have no idea what the governor was talking about.”

Let’s be real—since Trump took office, Jeffries has been confronted with this exact criticism multiple times. By his colleagues, by reporters, by citizens. He knows exactly what Shapiro meant.

There is no universe where the House Minority Leader of the United States Congress had “no idea” what one of the most prominent governors in his own party was saying about him. That’s not just unlikely—it’s impossible.

And even if it somehow were true, it would mean one of two things: either he’s so disconnected from reality that he shouldn’t be anywhere near leadership, or he’s choosing not to answer honestly, knowing he won’t get called out for it. Neither of those options is exactly reassuring.

And Tapper? Instead of calling him out, instead of doing what any sharp journalist should do—which is press, dig, challenge, and force an answer—he just…moved on.

Let it slide. Let Jeffries pivot to a rant about Trump’s poll numbers.

We’ve seen this pattern before.

Spin exists across the spectrum, though in different forms. Even when mainstream outlets fail in their consistency, they still operate within the realm of journalism. The same cannot be said for right-wing propaganda networks that have outright abandoned journalistic ethics in favor of political loyalty. There’s a difference between flawed reporting and outright disinformation. That difference matters.

Take Fox News, for example. Flip to their coverage, and you’ll see one host spend an entire segment defending a Republican governor’s culture war battle—while another completely pivots past the GOP’s actual struggles on things like healthcare and affordability. Because focusing on outrage is often easier—and more profitable—than diving into policy details.

It’s not just selective bias. It’s manufactured distraction.

When the Trump administration was separating families at the border, Fox hosts weren’t asking how ethical it was—they were busy parroting the White House talking points, pretending these kids were part of some elaborate human trafficking scheme. When Biden took office and used the exact same border facilities, suddenly Fox rediscovered its moral compass. Now it was a humanitarian crisis. Now it was unconscionable. Same policy. Same reality. Two completely different narratives.

Or let’s talk election denial. Fox News knowingly aired Trump’s election fraud lies for months—even after their own internal emails revealed that top executives, producers, and anchors knew it was all nonsense. Tucker Carlson, Laura Ingraham, and Sean Hannity, the Big Three primetime anchors and commentators at the time, mocked the very conspiracy theories they were pushing behind closed doors. But on air, they sold the lie. They knowingly and deliberately misled millions of Americans, fueling distrust in the democratic process—not because they believed it, but because it kept viewers glued to the screen.

And we all saw what happened next.

After pushing the Big Lie to the breaking point, Fox turned around and threw its own audience under the bus. When Dominion Voting Systems sued for defamation, Rupert Murdoch himself admitted under oath that Fox News lied. And they still settled for $787 million—one of the largest defamation payouts in history.

And yet, the machine rolls on.

Because in right-wing media, accountability isn’t a thing. Nobody at Fox got fired for their role in spreading election lies. The network still dominates conservative viewership. And their formula hasn’t changed: outrage, deflection, fear. Rinse, repeat.

And it’s not just Fox. OANN and Newsmax make Fox look tame in comparison. At least when Fox settled with Dominion, they stopped pushing election fraud claims (mostly). Newsmax? They’re still at it. Lying to their audience every single day.

Unlike Fox and many other right-wing sources, CNN and other sources on the left still have legitimate claims to be news organizations, so that’s exactly why they need to be held to a higher standard.

Because bias isn’t just about how stories are framed—it’s about which stories get told, who gets scrutiny, and who gets a free pass.

Once upon a time, the press built its reputation on holding the powerful accountable. The New York Times exposed the Pentagon Papers. The Washington Post took down Nixon. The Guardian helped Snowden reveal mass surveillance. These weren’t perfect institutions, but they tried. They still operated under the pretense of objectivity.

Now? They don’t even bother pretending.

And when journalism stops challenging power equally—when it starts picking and choosing who gets held accountable—it loses the very trust it was built on.

That’s why trust in the media is at an all-time low. Gallup’s numbers say it all. In 2022, only 34% of Americans said they had even a fair amount of trust in mass media. Among Republicans, that number plummeted to 11%—the worst ever recorded. And here’s the kicker: even among Democrats, trust in the media has fallen from 76% in 2016 to just 58% in 2023.

That’s not a partisan problem. That’s a journalism problem.

And just so we’re clear: this is not the same thing as reckless attacks from those who call the press “the enemy of the people.” It’s not “fake news” to report facts, even inconvenient ones. The problem isn’t that the media is lying—it’s that scrutiny is being applied selectively, and narratives are being shaped instead of uncovered.

That’s not corruption. That’s institutional failure. And it’s something that can and should be fixed.

People aren’t rejecting facts because they suddenly hate reality. They’re rejecting what feels like an editorial process designed to guide them toward predetermined conclusions. They see that certain figures are interrogated aggressively while others are let off the hook. They notice when scandals are blown up or downplayed depending on the political alignment of the person at the center of them. They see how the same policy can be painted as necessary one year and villainous the next, depending on who is in power. And they don’t trust it.

This isn’t just bias. This is selection. This is curation. This is the industry deciding—not based on truth, not based on fairness, but based on what their audience wants to hear—who gets scrutinized and who gets protected.

And if that’s the case, if journalism prioritizes narrative-building over fact-finding, then what happens when we actually need it? When the next major political scandal unfolds? When the next war erupts? When the next authoritarian figure begins consolidating power? Will the press rise to the moment, or will they decide, once again, that right now is not the time?

Journalists—real journalists, not the talking heads, not the outrage grifters, but the ones who claim they are committed to truth—need to start actually doing their jobs again. That means accountability across the board, no matter the party. That means misinformation gets challenged, no matter who says it. That means real follow-up questions—not just letting politicians dodge and pivot. That means calling out misleading narratives, even when they come from people they personally admire. That means treating access as a privilege, not as a reason to pull punches.

And no, not all journalism is dead. There are still many reporters out there doing real, investigative work. Even those I mentioned, like Wolf Blitzer, Jake Tapper, Anderson Cooper, Lesley Stahl, Mo Rocca, Fareed Zakaria, Christiane Amanpour, Lester Holt, Bob Woodward, among so many others, continue to uphold the best traditions of journalism. They push for truth. They hold people accountable. They do not back down from the hard questions.

There are also people like Kate Raphael, whose reporting on Do Not Resuscitate (DNR) orders in The New York Times actually dug into the ethical and logistical complexities of end-of-life decisions. While most of the media is out there chasing viral outrage, Raphael is out here tackling issues that actually matter—issues that affect real people, not just whatever talking points are trending.

Or Eric Garcia, the Washington bureau chief for The Independent, who has consistently done what most journalists won’t—critically examine both parties. His reporting doesn’t just reinforce whatever narrative his audience wants to hear. It challenges them. It forces people to think. To engage with reality, not just retreat into ideological comfort zones.

What they do well—what journalism must remember as the industry evolves—is that its first obligation is to the truth. Not to access. Not to ideology. Not to party loyalty. The truth.

Its role is not to comfort the powerful or shield its audience from inconvenient realities. Its role is to hold up a mirror to society, no matter how uncomfortable the reflection may be. Journalism is not activism. It is not public relations. It is not entertainment disguised as reporting.

It is a public trust. A responsibility. A profession built on skepticism, on rigor, on an unwavering commitment to facts—especially when they contradict our own biases. The moment journalism becomes more about shaping narratives than uncovering them, it ceases to be journalism at all.

And if we lose that? If we let standards slide in favor of clicks, outrage, and tribal loyalty? Then we’re failing in the very mission we claim to uphold. And the public will see us for exactly what we’ve become.

The media landscape isn’t just broken because of bias—it’s broken because the public no longer knows what they’re consuming. The line between journalists and commentators has become so blurred that, for many people, it doesn’t even exist anymore. And that’s not an accident. Networks have spent years erasing that distinction because it benefits them. It keeps audiences engaged, keeps emotions high, and keeps people locked in an endless cycle of outrage. When news and opinion become indistinguishable, fact and spin become interchangeable. And that’s where trust dies.

So let’s set the record straight.

A journalist’s job is to report the facts. To gather information, verify it, present it in context, and—most importantly—hold the powerful accountable, regardless of political affiliation. A journalist is supposed to be skeptical of everyone, not just the people their audience already dislikes. They aren’t supposed to tell you what to think. They’re supposed to give you the truth and let you decide for yourself.

A commentator, on the other hand, is paid to have an opinion. Their job isn’t necessarily to report the news—it’s to analyze it, interpret it, and, in many cases, spin it to fit their worldview. That’s why there’s a massive difference between someone like Anderson Cooper and someone like Rachel Maddow. Cooper is a journalist. Maddow is a commentator. That’s not a knock against her—she’s a brilliant political analyst. But her job is to offer a perspective, not to neutrally present the news.

Same goes for Charles Krauthammer and Sean Hannity. Krauthammer was a journalist and a thinker—a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist who, while deeply conservative, built his career on reasoned arguments, not blind loyalty. He challenged both parties, wrote with depth and nuance, and prioritized intellectual honesty over partisan cheerleading. Hannity, meanwhile, is an opinion host, not a journalist. He doesn’t investigate, he doesn’t challenge, and he certainly doesn’t hold his own side accountable. His role is to reinforce talking points, keep his audience engaged, and serve as a megaphone for Republican narratives.

And that’s fine—as long as the audience understands the difference. But most people don’t. They see a network logo—CNN, Fox, MSNBC—and assume that everything under that umbrella is news. They don’t distinguish between fact and opinion, between reporting and commentary. And networks, instead of making it clear, intentionally blur the lines because it serves their bottom line.

That’s why you see Tucker Carlson get taken to court for spreading misinformation, and Fox’s legal defense is, “No reasonable person would take him literally.” That’s why MSNBC will dedicate an hour to a Maddow monologue filled with speculation, but never explicitly label it as opinion. The business model of modern media depends on people not knowing the difference.

And it’s not just the networks. The rise of social media has made things even worse. Now, anyone with a camera and a microphone can sound like a journalist without actually being one. YouTube pundits, Twitter influencers, TikTok political personalities—many of them have zero journalistic background, no ethical training, no fact-checking process. But because they wear a suit, sit at a desk, and talk into a camera, people assume they’re delivering news.

So how do we fix this?

First, networks need to be more transparent. News segments should be clearly labeled as reporting, and opinion segments should be explicitly labeled as commentary. If you’re watching a Sean Hannity rant, it should say in big, bold letters: Opinion. If you’re watching Rachel Maddow speculate about a political scandal, the same thing applies. No more pretending that all programming is equal.

Second, the audience has to wise up. Before you trust a source, ask yourself: “Are they presenting verified facts? Are they citing sources? Are they challenging both sides, or only going after one?” If they’re just telling you what you already believe, they’re not a journalist—they’re a commentator. And if they’re not upfront about that, they’re part of the problem.

Journalism isn’t dead, but it’s in critical condition. The only way to revive it is through accountability—on all sides. We’re not accepting selective bias or spin. We’re not accepting the slow erosion of truth in favor of tribalism.

We deserve better. And it’s time we start demanding it.