Avoiding, Rather Than Accepting the Truth

PEOPLE ON FACEBOOK, I am finding, are more prone to utter platitudes and superficial sentiments than truth. That is most likely for the best, since the truth is often unpalatable, and is but a reflection of normal personal human interaction. Most deep thinkers seem to agree that it is difficult to the point of being nearly impossible to think or speak the truth, and that on those rare occasions when we do, we, as the famous movie line goes, "can't handle the truth". Or, as Goethe put it: "we resist the truth only because we fear we would perish if we accepted it." In place of truth we invent fiction, we fabricate intricate systems of thought with which to give ourselves comfort and inspiration, and with which to hide from reality. Hence, the world is full of primitive, misleading religions, religions which enable us to avoid the apparent fact that we live in a universe indifferent to our very existence. The universe is sufficiently interested in our existence to create us, but not to nurture our well being. Thus, we suffer, nearly constantly. Optimism is the insanity, said Voltaire's famous character Candide, of believing that all is well with the world, when in fact we are miserable. And with regard to the Christian religion, specifically the Catholic church, Voltaire, without creating a character for saying so, said, "crush the infamous thing". Voltaire would rather have suffered the truth than invented fiction for the purpose of avoiding it. Arguably, had Voltaire's personal life been less pleasant than it was, he would have felt impelled, like most of the rest of us, to hide behind superstition and religion. When my cousin posted a picture of herself and her deceased brother, taken shortly before his death, I, in a fit of truth telling, pointed out that it was unfortunate that they had never gotten along, because of his affliction with a personality disorder, hyper emotional sensitivity syndrome. I pu tit this way: "He offered hugs and kisses, and when he received smiles and handshakes in return, he responded with resentment, somewhat regrettably." I thought this was a charming if not adequately delicate way of doing a bit of truth telling. She responded that nobody is perfect, a point with which I chose not to disagree. To a picture of uniformed military personnel taken in Afghanistan, I reacted as follows: "it could be argued that Afghanistan is an unlikely, ill advised, and indefensible place for American military personnel to congregate and linger." Even at Christmas time, I don't regret my remark, my breaking of a comforting bubble during a rain soaked parade, if for no other reason than it comforts me to agree, at long last, with someone to whom the truth seems not only unacceptable but virtually poisonous, Donald Trump.