David Harsanyi‘s “Happy Warrior” column at the end of the latest print edition of National Review takes on a chronic problem within mainstream media outlets.

For a number of years I worked as a metro columnist at a bustling city newspaper. For a time, my cubicle was located next to the investigation desk of the paper, where, unlike those assigned to more modest beats, reporters were allowed to take deep dives into weighty issues — often for months, even years.

This was the prestige position. The spot where reputations were made. The place where Pulitzers could be won (and almost were). More than any of those piddling advantages, though, it was the place where journalists could mete out some much-needed “justice.” And I soon noticed that nearly every angle this crack team chased down was propelled by . . . let’s call them poetic truths. Things that liberals know are true even if they can’t necessarily prove them.

In one case, the team set out to detail the existence of widespread corruption within the state’s judicial system, even though that’s not what the dearth of evidence suggested. Naturally, my neighbors turned to a time-honored tradition among journalists: They found a zealous advocacy group to do the work for them. And as my colleagues turned into stenographers, the phone conversations wafting toward my workspace began to lack any skepticism and increasingly featured pronouns journalists should never use, such as “we” and “us.” They had big plans. Once all leads had been exhausted, the story was whittled down to a single case of false identity that had been reported earlier in another paper. Still, their gut told them the system was rotten. They intimated as much in the piece. It’s what the kids call “truthiness.”

Alas, today’s journalism sounds a lot like my old cubicle.

Reporters as stenographers for left-of-center interest groups? Yes, that about nails it.