Truth: “You can’t handle the truth.” – A Few Good Men

People say they want the truth. Is that true?

Truth, as it is normally used, implies fact. That may be a mathematical fact, such as a truth found via data. It can also be a truth about someone’s state of mind, such as their heartfelt opinion on a topic.

In other words, a truth is not a fabrication.

Truth is culturally important. Truth is the foundation of trust. Trust is critical to our relationships, professional lives, and legal standing. It is woven into many of our central tenants about being a good person: “tell the truth,” “be yourself,” “I will not lie cheat or steal.”

On the other hand, being caught in a lie can bring heavy consequence. Lying under oath can result in jail time. Cheating in a relationship can end in divorce.

The truth is valued above all else it seems.

However, things are mirkier than they appear. Take for instance women’s beauty standards.

Women are pushed towards the use of makeup to increase their beauty. And makeup is a fabrication. In this case, pure truth is disincentivized.

Maybe that’s just an aspect of our cultural concept around beauty?

Corporate exit interviews are a notoriously dangerous places for critical honesty. Even factual, carefully worded truth has harmed careers. In this case, the truth is punished. This runs counter to the idea that people want truth.

What’s causing this?

Let’s strip back the scenarios and look at how truth works as a function.

What happens when we learn the truth? We have a ground to reality. We now know, for better or for worse, the facts of a situation.

However, “for worse” can be quite unpleasant. Dreams die. Hopes fade. Trust breaks. And even in lessor cases, it’s still a bit of a bummer.

The truth can have a cost. But doesn’t the benefit outweigh the cost?

Sometimes, but not always.

For instance, makeup is so commonplace that there is relatively little risk in it being treated as falseness. Not wearing makeup, although a more objective version of reality, may impact a person’s visual attractiveness (within the current standards set by culture).

Another example is white lies. We all know we can’t put full faith in our friend’s remarks when it comes to our idea for a novel (there are exceptions). These little lies are usually harmless acts. No one is likely to get in trouble for being nice and being direct may cause friction.

Maybe we do want the truth, but only on more consequential matters? Though even considering higher consequence, we still face a problem.

For our current selves, truth can be painful even if it provides us with better information going forward. Truth may be an investment in the future, though the deficit between fact and fantasy comes due today.

So, the truth is often painful, inconvenient, and has an upfront cost with a hopeful payoff later. Do we actually want the truth?

For me, the word “want” is the problem. When I think of wanting something I think of two things: 1) desire, and 2) enjoyment. I can’t say I desire or enjoy anything that is painful, inconvenient, and costs me something upfront.

What I want is for the things I see in my peripheries and dreams to be real. Yet what I need is to stay on course so that I don’t get distracted by things that I want, but that are not real.

This distinction matters because it shows how difficult the truth really is. Each truth is a choice between the pleasantness of fantasy and the often less pleasant reality. It’s a practice., an act of bravery, and something often taken for granted.

In conclusion I suggest a change to the way we talk about truth: we don’t want the truth, but we can choose to seek it.