Bias

The older I get, the more accusation of bias seems a hallmark of very small thinking. It’s like accusing someone of morning breath. There’s an implicit conceit that suggests whatever follows is unbiased. You can practically hear these people pull their pants up as they prepare to lay the truth on you.

That’s not to say use of the word makes you an idiot. (That would again be small thinking.) Rather, we’re all biased. We all occupy a point of view. As with the parable of the blind men and the elephant, if escape is possible, it seems to be through reconciliation.

I won’t go so far as to say ALL points of view contain an element of truth — at a minimum, some people deliberately obfuscate — but most of the honest ones, even if they’re wrongheaded, have grit enough to help scrub your own clean.

Crying bias is just tacky, like praising your own taste in film. If your argument is really that clear, you can just say it. We’ll all see. And if not, then you’re the one arguing with fools. Better to take your toys and go home.