Introducing the Problem
“The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.”
– William Butler Yeats
I became aware of the problem when I was first asked “Is there such a thing as love?” It never occurred to me that others might not know, feel, or sense it. “Of course there is,” I would say. “If you believe in it then that means it can exist for someone else.”
Recently, my uncle confided in me that he is no longer certain that truth exists. It is often said that hope is a fruit born of youth, but my uncle’s cynicism surprised me. He is a thoughtful, intelligent, and well-travelled man. What could cause this crisis of faith? In a word: humanity.
Never before has mankind known so much and so little about the world in which it loves. Global communication and awareness has shaken the foundation of our trust, forcing new responsibilities and consideration upon those who were all too ready to accept their limitations. Now we fight and struggle for the familiar, desperately trying to slow the change that we know must come.
Throughout the fear and uncertainty, we are all trying to cling to something that we can be sure of: a job, a loved one, a country, an exercise, an excuse.
We live without a unifying theory for all that we now find around us.
My uncle shared his concerns with me. We talked about Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Palestine, and Israel. We talked about the media, the American presidential race, Hannah Montana, Benazhir Bhutto, the surge, the internet, and marketing trends. We talked about whether or not the internet is safe for my thirteen year-old cousin and about why we have mass executions in our schools. We talked about the psychology of our country and the common American individual. We talked about immigration, the marketplace, mass media, and guerrilla advertising. We talked about art, terrorism, religion, and liberty. We talked about all of these things and more. Throughout it all I conceded his every concern and fear, but on the subject and nature of truth, I would not move. I could not. If I waiver on truth our world will crumble.
And yet, so the world crumbles around me. Our country was born from the people, by the people, and for the people – yet we continue to suffer as people always have. The exploiter has become the exploit. The abuser is now the abused. The revolution has become the institution and we are all to blame.
I talked to my uncle about truth and how I believed it to be a permanent and constant thing. He mentioned history and political spin while I chipped in preferential viewpoints and still, I maintained the position for the immutability of truth. This only aggravated his concern for the attainment of truth.
Before the discussion could spin any further, something in my uncle clicked without any justification. Maybe it was stubborn optimism, or the response on the tip of my tongue “the truth is not for us to have, but to participate into being.” Maybe it was the scotch.
The debate over the existence of truth ended there, but my thoughts turned to Yeats and the myth of reluctant leadership. What good do our thoughts or considerations do if they are not shared? How many eternal truths of life and the universe have drifted through our fingers as others fervently pursued mortal gains?
I am probably wrong about a great many things, but I realized that I needed to share my thoughts about these great mysteries, if only to brighten the path as it was brightened for me.
• Mac Love •
January 14, 2008
