Truth.

I recently started a commonplace book, as a way to record little quotes and passages that I find to be profound or insightful when I read them. I love the idea of looking back in a few years and seeing the evolution of my thought-processes laid out in handwritten ink.

I’ve recently touched on the issue of identity politics on this blog, and I have to say, it’s a bafflingly enticing topic – the gravity and complexity of the current political climates around the globe makes for what you could reasonably call a morbid fascination with the ideological chasms that seem to be spreading their black tendrils with ever-increasing speed and ferocity.

I haven’t written a great deal in my book yet, but I have written, in large shaded letters, ‘AIM FOR TRUTH’, in the centre of the second page.

I have taken to thinking of these three words as a motto, and not just because it’s short and easy to remember either, but because I’ve found a semblance of peace within myself after having externalised it.

You may ask what this actually means, and to be honest I’m not entirely sure yet, but I’ve found that the act of aiming for ‘truth’ has an interesting implication for my beliefs and value systems that I subscribe to.

I subscribe to them – and subscriptions can be cancelled (gym members may disagree).

In looking for the truth, I want to be able to consider my beliefs, preconceptions and values as extensions of my own psyche that I can alter, strengthen or abandon when reason and truth dictate that this should be the case.

I am sure that this is not currently the case; I’m sure that given the right opponent, I could quickly be trapped into defending something I believe or hold dear that is not rooted in truth, but I want to aim for this possibility.

Let’s talk about Milo Yiannopoulos, for instance. Milo is a controversial and, to me at least, somewhat interesting self-proclaimed internet troll and ex-Breitbart journalist.

I want to make it clear: Milo does not aim for truth. He often states that he will only claim that which he also believes, but this does not by any metric imply that what he believes is also the truth.

Milo provokes discussion, debate, empathy, outrage, and perhaps most fascinatingly of all, statements on truth itself.

I have seen many examples on social media of people defending Milo, arguing fervently that he speaks in pure truths. I have seen others argue that he speaks in half-truths, that is, with elements of truth combined with falsehoods. And I have seen yet others argue that he is bereft of truth, speaking entirely falsely.

Each who argues for all three is equally convinced of their own view. I should caveat this by pointing out that those who do not feel quite so certain of their own views may not choose to publicly express their opinions – I suppose I would fall into this category, as would presumably many others.

Regardless, the point stands – is it absolutely astonishing that there can be such a diverse and wide-ranging debate when such a large part of the debate hinges on whether or not this man is speaking the truth. I mean that in the most childlike of ways: I am genuinely and utterly nonplussed by this situation.

Clearly, this is a problem – and I’m sure there are those of you thinking about how truth is actually subjective – ‘it’s written by the victor, Tim,’ you might say. If so, I’d say you certainly have a point; getting to the truth can often be impossible due to insurmountable complexity of issues, and indeed what is accepted as truth may in fact be completely or partially false. But this doesn’t change the fact that, barring any notions of metaphysics and debates on what reality is, events do occur. This is known for all practical intents and purposes, and if events do indeed occur, then they must have occurred in a particular way, so it follows that there is a true version of an event.

I would suggest it is a truth that as events become more complicated – i.e. longer duration, increased numbers of different people, increased numbers of individual sub-events within the event – understanding the true version of this event becomes essentially impossible. Even if we presume, perhaps in error, that what we witness with our own senses is reality, it would be impossible for us to witness everything with perfect clarity simultaneously, so we would have to rely on the senses of others. This is a problem, and the empirical nature of science is one solution – but indeed, science can only explain those things which can be experimented on. We cannot retroactively explain past events with science where human nature is concerned, because we do not understand enough about human nature and the brain to do so.

Anyway, I digress. The bottom line (tl;dr) is that understanding the pure truth in all but the simplest events is not currently possible.

But there must have been a purely truthful version of everything, and so I aim for truth.

This means that when I think I have an answer, or an opinion, or a theory, my job is not done. I challenge myself – who can I show this to that will refute me? What can I read or see that will break my truth? Which angle will be valid and contradict me?

It’s sometimes tempting to think I’ve figured it out, to think that I’ve researched an issue enough to know the real truth. It’s tempting to find solace in certainty, and refuse to let anything come in and wreck all of my hard-earned beliefs. But as good as this can feel – and I’ve sure as hell let this dictate my rhetoric many times before – I try my best to take the hard road and accept that in many, many instances, I am wrong.

To deal with this, I aim for truth. I make the pursuit of truth part of my identity – not the values and beliefs that I may hold. I find one opinion from one school of thought, and I consider what an opposing view might look like. Because ultimately, even if a long-held belief is shattered by truth, if truth wins, everyone wins.

Even if I never find it, that’s at least why I aim for it.