Truth, far from being a mirror of reality, is often a mythology—a story we tell ourselves to make sense of the universe and our place within it. Sometimes, this story happens to align with external reality; often, it does not. Yet we cling to it, not because it is objectively verifiable, but because it satisfies something deeper: our need for coherence, for meaning, for identity.
The human mind, constrained by its sensory apparatus and shaped by its historical and cultural context, has no definitive means of knowing whether what it accepts as truth corresponds to reality itself. What we call truth is rarely an unmediated reflection of the world as it is; it is, more often, a projection of the world as we are.
Truth, then, is not discovered—it is constructed. It is fashioned in the crucible of culture, emotion, imagination, and power. Our understanding of what is true emerges not merely from empirical observation or rational deliberation, but from the complex interplay of upbringing, myth, ideology, prejudice, and fear. The beliefs we inherit, the ideologies we are exposed to, the language we speak, and even the mathematics we are taught—all act as filters that mediate what we are capable of accepting as "truth."
In this sense, truth is introspective. It is inward-facing. It arises less from the impartial examination of the world and more from the subjective necessity to believe in a certain order of things. We seek truths that confirm our sense of self, that bind us to our communities, and that give narrative structure to an otherwise chaotic existence. Truth is less an epistemic certainty and more an existential comfort.
Moreover, the truths that prevail in human societies are seldom those which have passed the rigorous tests of logic or science. The most universally accepted truths are typically those endorsed, repeated, and enforced by powerful institutions—governments, religious authorities, media conglomerates, academic systems. What is taught as truth is often less a conclusion and more a consensus—a manufactured harmony designed to stabilize society and legitimize authority.
Propaganda, not philosophy, moves masses. Indoctrination, not investigation, shapes the worldviews of billions. Scientific revolutions and philosophical breakthroughs remain marginal until they are absorbed, appropriated, and disseminated by institutional power. Galileo could not make the heliocentric model a "truth" by argument alone; it required the eventual capitulation of authority to redefine what was acceptable knowledge.
Thus, the mythology of truth persists—not because it is universally valid, but because it is institutionally useful. In this light, it becomes necessary to ask not merely What is truth?, but Whose truth? and To what end?
To live wisely, then, is not to seek absolute truths, but to remain aware of the myths we mistake for reality, and the powers that sustain them. The pursuit of truth is noble only when it is coupled with the humility to recognize our limits and the courage to question the consensus.
