The Illusion of Objectivity
You see what you want to see (and so do I)
We like to think we form opinions based on facts, evidence, and careful reasoning.
In reality, we start with a belief, a preference, or an identity—and then we look for reasons to support it. Evidence that aligns feels obvious. Evidence that doesn’t feels suspicious, incomplete, or wrong.
Confirmation bias is real. It is persistent. And it is persuasive. And the longer I sit with it, the more it forces an uncomfortable question:
Is anyone truly capable of an honest, objective opinion about anything?
Traders deal with this constantly. You and I could look at the same chart, the same data, the same context, and walk away with opposite conclusions. I might see accumulation with further upside potential while you see distribution and risk of decline.
Both can sound intelligent. Both can be convincing.
The chart didn’t change.
The observer did.
A Current Example Hiding in Plain Sight
Politics exposes the same phenomenon, just louder and faster. A single event hits the news cycle and instantly fractures into competing interpretations. Not competing facts—competing frames. The data is often secondary. What matters is whether the story aligns with what someone already believes.
Once an opinion becomes part of identity, objectivity is over.
Data no longer informs—it recruits.
Evidence is not weighed—it is screened.
Supporting facts are welcomed like old friends. Contradictory facts are treated like trespassers.
This became especially obvious again recently following news out of Venezuela and the reported detainment of Nicolás Maduro and his wife.
Supporters of the current administration praised the move as long overdue—framing it as decisive action against corruption, drug trafficking, and human smuggling. Critics immediately raised concerns about legality, precedent, and the absence of congressional or international authorization.
The striking (but not surprising) factor wasn’t who was right.
It was how fast the conclusions arrived.
It’s a predictable sequence observed repeatedly.
Reactions were immediate, confident, and emotionally charged—often before any meaningful details were even available. And perhaps most telling, many people (especially on social media platforms) seemed utterly uninterested in the historical context showing that similar actions have occurred under multiple administrations from both political parties.
The same event.
Radically different conclusions.
Near-zero curiosity about contrary evidence.
Facts weren’t being evaluated. They were being sorted.
Facts don’t inform once identity is involved.
They recruit.
And the kicker?
The smarter someone is, the better they tend to be at rationalizing their bias. Intelligence doesn’t cure confirmation bias—it often armors it.
A Funny Story
Last year, I decided to add a little purpose to my daily walks in the woods by looking for shed deer antlers. If you’ve ever found one, you know how oddly satisfying it is—or at least how satisfying it sounds.
So I committed. I walked more, focusing on paths, trails, and areas where deer were likely to have traveled. I talked with friends and neighbors about what I was doing. I invested time, effort, and expectation.
And then one day, after a long walk, I came home and found half of a beautiful eight-point rack of antlers lying in my own backyard, right near a maple tree. I almost couldn’t believe it.
After all that searching — all that effort — the thing I was looking for had been sitting mere yards from my back patio.
A skeptic might have paused. Too easy. Too convenient. Too perfect.
I did not.
I was convinced. Seek and you shall find.
The story made sense. It felt earned.
Motivated and reinvigorated, I went out again the next day.
And the day after that, I found the other half of the pair — still in my backyard, just a bit farther away.
I was ecstatic. I took pictures. I shared them. I told everyone what had transpired. The antlers still hang on a bookshelf in my office.
The Catch
Months later, on my birthday, my friend and neighbor came by and handed me a gift bag. As I pulled out the contents he told me to dig a little deeper, there was something else.
At the bottom … another antler.
He laughed, then confessed.
He, with an accomplice (his son), had planted the antlers.
It was a prank. A high-quality one, I’ll admit. We all laughed hard. I wasn’t angry or upset. Honestly, I was kind of flattered they went to the effort.
But I was also struck by something else.
I hadn’t just been fooled by my neighbor.
I had been fooled by my own certainty.
I wanted the story to be true. I wanted the reward to be real. I wanted meaning attached to my effort — and so my brain happily filled in the gaps.
And once that meaning snapped into place, my mind did what minds do best:
It stopped asking questions.
In this case I didn’t ignore evidence—I never even went looking for disconfirming evidence because the emotional ledger was already balanced.
Case closed. Hang the rack. Post the photos. Move on.
Which is why the reveal didn’t make me angry. It made me laugh.
Because deep down, I had recognized the trick—not just prank, but the trick of my own brain.
They planted the antlers. I planted the certainty.
That’s the quiet brilliance of the prank. It didn’t just fool me—it exposed a universal truth:
We don’t believe things because they’re true.
We believe them because they fit.
Once the narrative locked in, I stopped asking questions. Not because I was careless — but because I was satisfied. I saw only what I wanted to see.
The Illusion of Objectivity
Here’s the part we resist:
Humans do not observe reality—we interpret it.
Instantly. Automatically. Through filters shaped by incentives, experience, emotion, and identity. Confirmation bias isn’t a flaw bolted onto human reasoning. It is human reasoning.
Worse still, intelligence doesn’t protect you from it. Often, it does the opposite. Smart people are simply better at rationalizing their conclusions. They don’t seek truth more honestly—they defend belief more eloquently.
Once belief becomes identity, data stops being information and starts feeling like a threat.
True objectivity—pure neutrality—is probably not humanly possible.
But something else is: intellectual honesty. And that distinction matters.
Trading Knows This (Or It Should)
Objectivity says: “I have no bias.”
Honesty says: “I know where my bias probably lives, so I compensate for it.”
The best traders don’t pretend to be objective. They assume bias.
They assume their eyes will lie to them once money, ego, or hope enter the picture. And so they build process—not to be right, but to keep bias from doing irreversible damage.
Rules.
Risk limits.
Predefined exits.
Checks for disconfirming evidence.
That isn’t objectivity. That’s humility with guardrails.
In trading, the edge doesn’t come from superior prediction. It comes from recognizing how easily you can fool yourself—and designing systems that fire before emotion takes the wheel.
Life is no different.
Intellectual Honesty vs. Objectivity
Objectivity says, “I have no bias.”
Intellectual honesty says, “I know exactly where my bias probably lives.”
The people worth listening to aren’t the ones shouting certainty. They’re the ones who can say, calmly and without theatrics:
Here’s what I believe.
Here’s why I might be wrong.
And here’s what would force me to change my mind.
That’s about as close to “objective” as humans get.
That posture is uncomfortable. It requires humility. It also requires letting go of the idea that certainty equals strength.
Certainty doesn’t.
Adaptability does.
Anything beyond that?
Just another chart pattern… drawn after the fact.
The Real Lesson
Most people never get the moment where the prank is revealed. They mount the antlers on the wall and carry the certainty forever.
Every once in a while, if you’re lucky, life lets you see the trick—not to embarrass you, but to teach you something essential:
You are not objective.
Neither is anyone else.
The edge—in trading, in politics, and in life—doesn’t come from eliminating bias.
It comes from recognizing it early enough that it doesn’t own you.
The Disclosures
***This is NOT financial advice. This is NOT a recommendation to buy, sell, or trade any security. The content presented here is intended for educational purposes only.
Excellent post, thank you.
"Once an opinion becomes part of identity, objectivity is over. "
LOUDER FOR THE FOLKS IN THE BACK!
In Prometheus Rising, Robert Anton Wilson uses an analogy of The Thinker and The Prover. In his model, we consider the human brain as two independent (codependent) entities. Whatever The Thinker thinks, The Prover will prove.