Opinion

The Truth Is Out There

Aquarter of a million years ago –anthropologists generally agree it was a Thursday – a human-like figure of dubious personal hygiene shuffled about in the African gloom, gathering branches for a shelter whose design he hadn’t quite determined. With a hideous belch he gazed at the canopy of stars studding the night sky and wondered to himself, “What’s that all about?” Some considerable time later, a good friend tried to persuade me of the merits of astrology. Dismissing the newspapers’ daily horoscopes, she studied instead what she referred to as its ‘serious’ side. Laying out a series of celestial charts that would baffle NASA, my friend declared that the alignment of various stars and whatnot at the moment of my birth had pre-determined certain facets of my character. Or my destiny. Or something. My face probably gave me away. She was supremely undeterred, “Of course you’re sceptical”, she beamed, “You’re Sagittarius. That’s exactly what you would say.” Ah, I see. By rejecting astrology as baseless, I merely proved its authenticity. Genius. (Similarly, a neighbour of ours in the UK once had a home ‘reading’ by a visiting clairvoyant and booked the lady again the following year. An hour after the scheduled appointment, the mystic rang from her car to say she couldn’t find the house. I will always find that hilarious.) Although the pertinent question regarding the universe is not ‘why’ it’s there, but ‘how’, our quest to find meaning is hardwired. In the gooey bit of our brain lies a network of interconnected neurons called the ‘Reticular Formation’ which oversees lots of what neurologists term ‘cool stuff’. For example, it helps us to spot patterns in nature, which reduces fear. It’s why newly pregnant women suddenly notice other expectant mothers everywhere; our sense of vulnerability recedes when we see we’re not alone in our situation. It’s a primeval survival tool, although it’s not infallible. We can also delude ourselves because an explanation, no matter how implausible, is soothing. For instance, in 1997 the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, triggered dark rumours about the involvement of the Secret Service or even the royal family themselves. Believing her demise was ordered – i.e., someone in control had made it happen – was, for many, preferable to acknowledging the universe’s scary randomness. Twenty years earlier it was Elvis who, distraught fans were convinced, must have faked his death to escape fame and was actually living anonymously on a tropical island or in the Swindon branch of Lidl, (I forget the precise details). Again, it was the allure of a self-created mirage. Often, we simply throw doubt on things beyond our understanding. A work colleague once confided his belief that the 1969 moon landing was probably faked. Wow. I knew such folk existed but had never imagined encountering one, especially in the banal surroundings of the staff restaurant. It was like glimpsing a snow leopard in Carrefour. Intrigued, I noted the thousands of people necessary to pull off such a gargantuan hoax - studio designers, the astronauts and their families, the entire Mission Control team, the US Navy, tracking stations around the world etc. He didn’t waver. “Exactly”, he responded, “they were all in on it”. It was a dispiriting conversation; by the end of it I couldn’t feel my toes. Much of the above could be filed away under “eccentric but harmless”. Today, however, the online world turbocharges the spread of unhinged conspiracy theories and fake history; the fanatical, the gullible and the plain loopy in a call-andresponse where everyone has a megaphone. One example: there are quite genuinely - people out there who question the existence of Finland. The agitators and the charlatans now raise the stakes again, scaring others into eschewing a life-saving vaccine. I’m not talking here about the extremely small number of real and distressing problems associated with certain vaccinations. I mean the propagating of groundless paranoia – unencumbered by evidence involving plots by the CIA/China/Microsoft (insert the villain of your choice). It’s a theatre of the absurd in which the world’s most respected scientists and researchers compete for the public’s attention against Some Bloke on YouTube. Because history turns on what we are persuaded to believe, objective truth is under constant attack. There’s a reason why billionaires take ownership of newspapers. Our ancestors may have searched for meaning in the night sky but Shakespeare grasped it: “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves . . .” It’s both a rebuke and a lesson that, in 2021, we still struggle to absorb. There again, I’m Sagittarius. I would say that.

I knew such folk existed but had never imagined encountering one, especially in the banal surroundings of the staff restaurant

Brian White lives in south Indre with his wife, too many moles and not enough guitars