The source(s) of truth?

Ah, when I reflect on who, in our world, amid the currents of contemporary politics and societal events, speaks truth and who disseminates falsehoods, I soon arrive at the conclusion that the matter is less about truth or lies in any absolute sense, and far more about narratives and perspectives. Few stories or viewpoints are wholly truthful; equally few are entirely fabricated. In other words, something of value resides in nearly all of them for those who are genuinely seeking understanding of today’s political and social realities. Though I seldom grant myself the time to engage deeply with such matters—for an excess of information from these spheres is neither necessary nor, in truth, desirable for a happy and fulfilled life—when I do carve out that rare interval, I have, over many years, developed a particular modus operandi for informing myself. I cherish this approach, for it not only enriches me but also equips me to contribute meaningfully to politics and society. We humans must, after all, contribute to the collective; only together can we survive and assert ourselves in this perilous and often inhospitable reality. When the hunger for such knowledge arises, I take the world in my sights and view it through a kaleidoscope of voices. Concretely, I turn to the websites of the Serbian dailies Politika and Danas, the German Der Spiegel and Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, the British Guardian and BBC, the American CNN and Fox News, and finally the Russian Moskovskaya Gazeta, the Chinese People’s Daily, and the Indian Times of India—to name but a few. Without the diligent practice of the honourable profession of journalism, both in power and in opposition, such international peregrinations would be impossible for me. Naturally, journalists are as varied in character as practitioners of any other calling, and their profession today labours under immense pressure to transform itself. I speak several languages, yet I note that these sites are now swiftly and automatically translated into the reader’s language of choice; thus, this kind of intellectual migration in search of understanding is accessible to all. This, indeed, is the paramount task of the good journalist: to furnish readers cleanly with facts and with the authentic sentiments of those affected, so that understanding may emerge as a consequence of reading. The journalist’s role is to remain invisible—like an exemplary referee in a football match, indispensable yet ideally unnoticed. Politics and society are no mere game but real life; still, they possess a structure and a distribution of roles, enacted between the loud and the quiet members of the polity. The journalist’s labour consists in presenting the loud while keeping watch over them, and in periodically amplifying the voices of the quiet. It also entails bringing into the light those who operate in the shadows—a vitally important and often perilous undertaking, yet one that must be performed, for without it much in our politics and societies stands in jeopardy. We humans, after all, are not butterflies. I occasionally visit sites from other countries as well, especially when events unfold there, striving in most cases to hear both establishment and oppositional voices. In matters of philosophy and religion, however, I do precisely the opposite—as Seneca and many others advised, and as I would counsel all future thinkers—one ought not to revel in a multitude of authors but to dwell in the depths of a select few. With respect to politics and societal affairs, by contrast, I pursue breadth rather than depth. What are politics and society if not a continual probing, a groping toward truth amid the shadows of opinions? We read about politics not to know what is, but to sense whether what appears to be is also true—and in contemplating the manifold appearances, the outline of the real occasionally reveals itself. In the quiet of my study, I summon these pages, survey diverse perspectives across nations, and the world unfolds before me like a garden of many flowers, though only two scents truly matter: one sweet with love and freedom, the other bitter with fear and power. Once, such access to information was reserved for the few—princes with their couriers, scholars with their libraries. Today, through the sorcery of machines, it lies open to anyone willing to reach out. And yet, how curious that so few do. Or is it curious at all? Consider the human soul, that fickle creature. We might speak of acedia, the sloth that cradles us in comfort. The mind seeks the path of least resistance, as water flows downhill. To read contradictory accounts—the Ukraine conflict framed as triumph in Russian letters, as tragedy in Western ones, and as increasingly irrelevant elsewhere, where people are understandably preoccupied with their own troubles—produces that inner discord the ancients termed dissonantia, a splinter in the flesh. Humanity, indolent as it is, shuns such labour; it prefers the gentle lie of confirmation, the route that merely burnishes one’s existing image. Modern apparatuses—the algorithms that labour as invisible servants—only intensify this: they feed us what we already crave until our world shrinks into a hall of mirrors echoing only ourselves. Yet is indolence the sole culprit? No; pride, that ancient adversary of wisdom, also plays its part. We cling to our narratives as to relics, for they constitute our identity: “I am the liberal, the conservative, the patriot…” To adopt an alien viewpoint feels like betrayal—of self, of tribe. The ancients knew this: Socrates drank the hemlock because he challenged the city to pierce its illusions. Today, certain self-styled journalists—and, regrettably, political actors themselves—feed this bubble-like tribalism by branding the Other as liar. Mistrust flourishes where trust and genuine contestation should bloom. Linguistic and national boundaries do the rest; many, imprisoned in their tongue, hear only the echo of their own chamber. But let us turn now to the fruits harvested by those who persevere and dare diversity. What riches! Not in gold or fame, but in the expansion of the soul. Recognising that narratives are not chains but threads in a larger tapestry, one learns to weave alongside them without tearing any apart. One need not choose between opposing gazes; rather, one carries them within, like a traveller bearing maps from many lands. This integration—into the conscious and even the unconscious mind—is no burden but a liberation. The mind, mercurial and elastic, expands; cognitive dissonance becomes teacher rather than tormentor. I think of Epictetus, the slave-philosopher: “It is not things that disturb us, but our opinions about things.” By gathering many opinions, we soften the sting of any single one, until we feel no sting at all—open to every view, yet swiftly able to detect and expose the dangerous and the false. What, then, does one gain? First, a deeper empathy: one comes to see the Other not as enemy but as a refraction of a different light. Next, a keener judgement: truth arises not from monologue but from dialogue among minds. And finally, freedom—true inner freedom that tolerates no bubble and rapidly unmasks those fearful or malicious souls who forge and fortify them. I have examined myself, doubted, and changed in relation to myself; so I do with world politics. It is the way of the sceptics and the Stoics: accept multiplicity, integrate it, and only then become whole. Our outer world is loud and crowded with voices; we must find a way to hear them, to admit them, and to do so in a manner that enriches us. In conclusion: in this fractured era, when the political world resembles a shattered mirror, the path of diversity appears the only sane and healthy one. It heals the soul of narrowness, fortifies it against deception, and everywhere lays bare the fearful and the wicked—and alas, there are many such, on all sides. The ancients taught: Nosce te ipsum—know thyself. To their injunction I would add, for our time: Know the world in its multiplicity, and you shall truly know yourself. May this text inspire you; take it, learn from it, criticize it, extend it, make it your own.