The End of Truth — Could It Be What We Need?
The digital revolution writing the third chapter of humanity’s information history — standing at the brink of an era more associated with destruction than creation. Truth? It has become a chameleon, adapting to the colors of our “tribe.”
Welcome to the age of the information apocalypse. Truth is no longer what is factually verifiable. Truth is what my team says. The era of “opinion patriotism” has begun. And the worst part? It may be exactly what we need.
Sure, this sounds contradictory. But truth — or rather, its death — is a prerequisite for its rebirth. Like a wildfire preparing the ground for new growth, the third information crisis clears the way for a better, clearer reality. A final hope, though history provides evidence of its justification.
Let’s rewind:
The First Information Crisis
Between 8000 and 2000 BCE, writing emerged — an invention that would radically alter the course of human history. But what did it bring us at first? A new level of expression? Poetry, philosophy, visionary ideas? No. It brought lists. Administrative bureaucracy. Tax records. Writing did not mark the beginning of freedom or inspiration but rather the establishment of control.
The earliest use of writing was a technological solution to a fundamental problem: managing surpluses in an increasingly complex agrarian society. As cities and trade emerged, it became impossible to organize a community’s wealth solely through oral traditions or simple counting methods. Writing created a new order, but it also established an exclusive class: the scribes.
These scribes held unparalleled power. They were the guardians of knowledge, the creators of rules, and the intermediaries between the rulers and the rest of society. The written word became an instrument of authority. In a world where only a few had access to this tool, information turned into a currency — hoarded, protected, and wielded as a weapon of power.
Knowledge as a Resource — and a Weapon
Writing opened up new possibilities, but it also created new divides. In a society where information was not accessible to everyone but instead kept in secrecy, knowledge became a resource — and a weapon. The rules that affected the majority were defined and interpreted by a minority. The ignorance of the masses was the key to the power of the few.
This monopoly on knowledge was humanity’s first information crisis. It teaches us a fundamental lesson: knowledge is not a gift. It is a tool that, in the wrong hands, can easily be used for oppression and manipulation.
The Second Information Crisis: The Printing Press and the Chaos of the Masses
1450 marks the invention of the printing press — an event often romanticized as the dawn of enlightenment. In truth, however, the first act of this technological revolution was far less illuminating: the printing press initially served as a catalyst for division, violence, and chaos. Its first bestsellers? Propaganda pamphlets. Flyers calling for witch burnings. Printed works that fueled the conflicts of the Thirty Years’ War — a war that claimed the lives of one-third of Central Europe’s population.
The power of the printing press lay in its ability to disseminate ideas quickly and widely. Yet these new channels of information also became conduits for hatred and fear. At a time when society was deeply fractured — religiously, politically, and culturally — this groundbreaking technology was used less for education or enlightenment and more for amplifying conflict. The simple mechanisms that revolutionized printing suddenly made it possible to spread scapegoating and hostility in ways previously unimaginable.
A Lesson in Ambivalence
It took centuries for the printing press to fully realize its potential for education and democratization. While the technology democratized the spread of knowledge, it also highlighted a fundamental truth: technology is neither inherently good nor bad. It is a neutral lever, and its impact depends on how we choose to wield it.
The early users of the printing press understood this in their own way. For the powerful elites of the time, it was a means of extending control and influence. For religious and political movements, it was a tool for mobilization. But for the general population, it was initially a generator of uncertainty and fear — an amplifier of voices that stoked division rather than resolving it.
The Chaotic Beginnings of Progress
Every revolution begins chaotically, and the printing press was no exception. Its introduction teaches us that progress is not a linear journey. It is a process marked by conflicts, mistakes, and lessons learned. Technology does not automatically solve problems — it brings with it new challenges.
The printing press was a tool that fundamentally reshaped society, but it took time and collective effort to tame its destructive side and unlock its potential for the common good. Only with the spread of education and the gradual civilizing of public discourse could the printing press fully realize its transformative power — from disseminating scientific discoveries to fostering individual rights and political participation.
The Third Information Crisis: Real-Time Worlds and Fragmented Realities
Now — The digital revolution: Welcome to the chaos of the present. Everything happens in real time. Our feed, our minds: overwhelmed by stimuli. Knowledge disintegrates. Context? No longer exists. Our perception splinters into fragments. Connections dissolve, and reality becomes a sea of impulses.
Artificial intelligence accelerates this process further. What does truth mean when a machine can invent or construct facts in milliseconds? What remains when every piece of information passes through an algorithm that optimizes it — not for reality, but for attention?
And this is where you might think: “Wait a minute, this can’t be good news.” But it is. Or rather, it could be.
Why the Death of Truth Is an Opportunity
Social media has perfected the decay of truth. Its business model? Anger, division, tribalism. Your “truth” is only interesting as long as it exposes the “falsehood” of others. But what happens when these filter bubbles become so perfect that there’s no friction left? When everyone only speaks in their own echo chamber? Boredom. And where boredom arises, influence ends. The complete collapse of shared truth is necessary to rebuild it. Because only in loss do we realize its value.
Yes, the death of truth is painful. But like a broken bone that grows back stronger, growth is impossible without crisis.
The third information crisis is not an end, but a transition.
Our Task? Design the Future
Nostalgia? A cotton candy of memories that looks sweet but gives you nothing.
A cheap comfort for those unwilling to shoulder the present or shape the future. Sure, the past is convenient. But while you stare at old photos, convincing yourself everything was better back then, the challenges of the future are speeding past you like a high-speed train.
Here’s the harsh truth: The rearview mirror might look nice, but it doesn’t point you forward. If you want to move ahead, you’ve got to cut the anchors of the past — yes, even the so-called “good old days” — and step into the unknown. No guarantees, no safety net, no going back. Uncomfortable? Welcome to real life.
Clarity: Not an Option, but a Duty
It’s your job — no, your damn responsibility — to create clarity where chaos once reigned. But clarity isn’t just cleaning out an old closet. It’s inventing an entirely new system. Building a framework that doesn’t crumble the moment the next storm hits.
And here’s a reality check: Order isn’t a straight line. It’s a balancing act. A damn tightrope walk where you’d better be flexible if you don’t want to fall. Anything else is wishful thinking.
A New Reality Needs Courage, Not Applause
It’s time to stop patching up the old and start building something new. A reality that’s less noisy — sorry, no room for the loudmouths in the dark corners of the internet. A world that’s less tribal — yes, that means not framing everything as “my team vs. your team.” Less hate, less division. And more… humanity? Sounds utopian? Maybe. But the alternative is a backyard full of mistrust and bickering.
And maybe, just maybe, in this new world, we can reclaim truth.
Not the old, monolithic truth carved in stone. But a truth that is shared, fragile, yet real. A truth born from listening, learning, and genuine connection.
