The nature of Truth and Reality
Plato was the first to separate the “world of things” from the “world of ideas.” According to Plato, the idea (eidos) is the source of a thing, its prototype, the underlying reality of any particular object. For example, the “idea of a table” can either coincide with a particular table in reality or not match. But the “idea of the table” and the “concrete table” will continue to exist separately.
A vivid illustration of the division of the world into the world of ideas and the world of objects is the famous Platonic myth of the cave, in which people see not objects and other people but only the shadows of objects and people on the wall of the cave. In this metaphor, the shadows projected on the wall of the cave correspond to the individual objects in the world, while the objects whose shadows are on the wall correspond to the ideas – which are more fundamental and real, in Plato’s view.
The cave for Plato is an allegory of our world, where people live, believing that the shadows on the walls of the caves are the only way to know reality. However, in reality, the shadows are just an illusion. Still, because of this illusion, it is difficult for people to pose critical questions about the existence of reality and overcome their “false consciousness.”
Plato’s Allegory of the cave
Rejecting a painful truth
In Plato’s allegory, we see that liberation ultimately positively affects the man who’s freed. But what if someone knows the truth, but hates it so much, that he chooses a false reality?
When the veil of ignorance has been lifted, there’s no going back. The truth lies naked in front of us. For example, we cannot unsee the betrayal of a partner we previously believed to be a trustworthy person. A relationship between people changes when its fundamental story turns out to be a lie and reality is not as beautiful as it seemed. The relationship seems more enjoyable before the truth comes out. Sure, it probably is based on illusion. But in exchange for not knowing, we feel a connection, love, intimacy, pleasure, and (ironically) trust. Truth destroys all that.
Suspension of disbelief
Finding out how a magic trick works makes it a lot less appealing. Truth, therefore, often goes at the expense of enjoyment.
After we know the truth, we see everything in a different light. The same must have happened to Plato’s enlightened man going back into the cave for the first time after his ascension regarding the shadows on the wall. It probably leaves one disillusioned, perhaps disappointed with the lack of mystique these appearances once had.
When parents tell the truth about Santa Claus to kids, many kids react emotionally and in disbelief. A once so much enjoyed illusion is crushed and loses its magical appeal. Hence, it’s not uncommon to experience nostalgia for the good old time when we were ignorant of the truth and when a “surrogate truth” was more appealing.
“Suspension of disbelief” is the intentional avoidance of skepticism, critical thinking, and logic when facing something unreal. For ages, humans have eagerly consumed illusions as entertainment, from cinemas and theatre performances to the puppet shows of the past. Likewise, Plato’s character can still choose to act as if the silhouettes in the cave are real entities, temporarily suspending his disbelief in exchange for enjoyment and having a good time with his old, unenlightened friends.
Humans seem to be able to temporarily accept and appreciate the lie when it suits them.
Do we actually want the truth?
Do we actually want the truth? If asked, most people will probably answer “yes” to this question. But when exploring Plato’s Allegory (and The Matrix), we discover that the human relationship with truth is not that simple. In some cases, we welcome the truth. In other cases, we hide from it, temporarily suspend it, reject it, and even wish to forget the truth if we had that option.
Both Plato’s work and The Matrix show people’s disdain for a truth that threatens their reality. We tend to attach to the familiar, the comfortable, the meaningful, and are sometimes willing to defend it with our lives. When it comes to the latter, we just have to look at how people are ready to die for their religions and political ideologies.
So, again, do we want the truth? The answer seems to be: “It depends.” We tend to handle the facts selectively, as the truth appears in many different forms, with different magnitudes. Truth can uplift us; it can leave us indifferent but can also make us depressed and miserable. For example, in Plato’s allegory, learning the truth has virtually no downsides. The only downside is the hostility by those in the cave. But aside from that, it’s pretty evident that Plato’s truth leads to something better and would uplift almost anyone.
People tend to adopt surrogate truths to cover up a painful reality. By contrast, others love painful realities, but these are often instrumental to their already dark worldview. People from both camps also tend to ignore facts that oppose how they want to see the world. In many if not most cases, they share their worldviews with like-minded people. Sharing a certain truth, regardless of whether it’s true, has benefits. Again, look at religious groups, political movements, and even the flat-earth society. Being part of such groups can provide people with purpose and social connections. The downside is that adopting opposing views as a member (even if they were true) could lead to other members ostracizing you. And here’s where the dark side of suspension of disbelief comes in. Some, if not many, are willing to turn a blind eye to the truth not just for innocent enjoyment but also out of convenience. For example, someone keeps subscribing to a false belief against one’s better judgment, just to belong or out of fear of being ostracized.
All in all, people seem pretty opportunistic when it comes to the truth. We want ‘a’ truth, not necessarily ‘the’ truth. We want ‘a’ reality, not necessarily ‘the’ reality. But the truth and the lie often have something in common: they both appear as stories. So, could it be that we fundamentally don’t want the truth, but a story: a story to believe in, identify with, share with others, dwell on, and (perhaps most importantly) provide us with a sense of meaning and belonging?