By DJuna Watts, Keith Washburn and Derrick Hudgins
Washington, D.C., January 6, 2021.
Inside the Capitol, lawmakers gather to certify the results of the presidential election. Across America, people watch their televisions, scroll through their phones, and follow the unfolding events.
Outside, a crowd grows. Many believe the election has been stolen. They have come to Washington convinced that something has been taken from them. Then the barriers give way. The Capitol is breached. Lawmakers are evacuated, and the certification of a presidential election is interrupted.
Millions of Americans are watching the same events. Yet they do not necessarily see them through the same eyes.
How can people witness the same images and come away with such different understandings of what happened? How can one person see an attack on democracy while another believes the election itself was an attack on democracy?
The answer reaches beyond that day. It raises a question about the information we receive, the people we trust to interpret it, and the role that information plays in shaping our understanding of the world.
What happens to democracy when Americans no longer share a common foundation of facts?
Political disagreements are nothing new. Americans have argued about civil rights, wars, taxes, healthcare, and the role of government for generations. That is part of democracy. We can agree on what happened and still disagree about what it means, what caused it, and what should be done.
But disagreement over solutions is different from disagreement over the basic facts themselves.
For generations, Americans relied heavily on newspapers, radio, and television to understand events beyond their own communities. Broadcast media operated under rules that included the Fairness Doctrine, which required broadcasters to give reasonable attention to controversial public issues and opportunities for contrasting viewpoints. In 1987, the Federal Communications Commission abandoned the doctrine.[1]
Its repeal did not, by itself, cause the spread of misinformation, and the doctrine was never a guarantee that everything reported would be true. But its disappearance came during a broader transformation in how Americans received political information.
Talk radio expanded. Political personalities such as Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity built audiences through outspoken commentary, while Alex Jones became known for conspiracy-driven claims. Cable news grew, the internet opened the door to countless sources, and social media allowed information—and misinformation—to spread at extraordinary speed.
More voices meant more opportunities to hear different perspectives. That was a genuine benefit. But it also became easier to find sources that reinforced what we already believed, and harder to distinguish careful reporting from speculation, opinion, or claims presented without adequate evidence.
Over time, Americans encountered competing claims about the people and institutions shaping their country. Rumors spread that Barack Obama was Muslim, alongside false claims about his birthplace. The rumors about Obama’s religion circulated through online forums, email, blogs, and cable news, and polling found that the misperception persisted during the 2008 campaign.[2] Years later, allegations that Dominion Voting Systems had manipulated the 2020 presidential election became part of a broader narrative that the election had been stolen.
These examples differed in their origins, reach, and consequences. But they illustrate a growing challenge: people could encounter the same subject through very different sources and come away with very different understandings of what was true.
One person might hear a claim repeated by a trusted commentator and accept it as fact. Another might encounter reporting that examines the evidence and challenges that claim. Each may feel informed. Each may be confident in what they believe. And each may struggle to understand how the other could possibly see things differently.
The problem is no longer simply that Americans disagree. It is that we can begin forming our opinions from entirely different foundations of fact.
Consider the months leading up to January 6. Donald Trump and his allies repeatedly claimed that widespread fraud had cost him the 2020 election. The House January 6 Committee’s investigation documented how those claims continued despite findings from election officials, court proceedings, and advisers within Trump’s own administration that no fraud had been established on a scale sufficient to change the outcome.[3] Yet the allegations continued to circulate.
The claims about Dominion were not confined to obscure corners of the internet. They reached audiences through prominent media outlets. In April 2023, Fox News settled Dominion’s defamation lawsuit for $787.5 million. Fox acknowledged the court’s rulings finding certain claims about Dominion to be false.[4]
A lawsuit cannot measure the full consequences of misinformation. Neither can a single day in Washington. But January 6 demonstrated the stakes when false election claims contribute to a climate in which people lose faith in the legitimacy of an election.
Media alone does not explain America’s divisions. Political identity, personal experience, institutions, and many other forces influence what people believe. Nor should responsible journalism mean that everyone must reach the same political conclusions. Its responsibility is to examine evidence, correct errors, and distinguish verified facts from speculation and opinion.
That distinction matters because democracy requires more than the ability to cast a ballot. Citizens must be able to evaluate the information presented to them, question those in power, and make informed choices about their country’s future.
So, what if Americans received the same factual information?
It would not mean we would all vote alike, share the same values, or agree on the best direction for our country. Our experiences and priorities would still differ. But imagine if our disagreements began with a common understanding of the facts, allowing us to debate solutions instead of fighting over whether the underlying events happened at all.
Would we evaluate our leaders differently? Would our political conversations change? Would we be better equipped to recognize when someone was trying to mislead us?
Perhaps the goal is not to make Americans think alike. It is to ensure that each of us has a fair opportunity to think for ourselves, guided by reliable information rather than competing claims masquerading as truth.
Because a democracy depends not only on the choices its citizens make, but also on the information that helps them make those choices.
What if the first step toward a more informed democracy was not convincing our fellow Americans to agree with us, but making sure we were all starting with the same facts?
Sources
[1] Federal Communications Commission (FCC). FCC 87-266: Syracuse Peace Council decision (1987). The FCC decision addressed the Fairness Doctrine and its enforcement.
https://docs.fcc.gov/public/attachments/FCC-87-266A1.pdf
[2] Pew Research Center. False Rumors that Obama is a Muslim (November 20, 2008). Documents the circulation of the rumor and its persistence during the presidential campaign.
[3] U.S. House Select Committee to Investigate the January 6th Attack. Final Report (2022). Documents the investigation into false election-fraud claims and evidence concerning whether fraud could have changed the election outcome.
https://www.govinfo.gov/content/pkg/GPO-J6-REPORT/html-submitted/index.html
[4] Fox News Media. Fox News and Dominion Voting Systems Reach Settlement (April 18, 2023). Fox’s announcement of the settlement and acknowledgment of the court’s rulings concerning false claims about Dominion.
https://press.foxnews.com/2023/04/18/fox-news-and-dominion-voting-systems-reach-settlement
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