Ruminations on Truth, Reality and Other Carefully Managed Illusions

Aweh, My Dearly Beloved Fellow Ruminants & Groupies

What Even Is the Truth?

I’ve been ruminating about the truth again. Ok, ok I know that might not be the most productive use of my time but that’s the price you pay if you have a deranged mind.

Not “your truth” or “my truth” or even “the truth” like it’s waiting patiently hidden in Cyril Ramaphosa’s sofa with a whistleblower and a resignation letter. I mean truth as a concept, the slippery kind that philosophers chase, politicians’ dodge and corporate spin doctors create. The kind that shows up when you can’t sleep at 2 a.m. and asks: Are you being honest with yourself? Let’s just say it’s not a question that leads to a good night’s sleep.

Objective Reality and the Lie Your Bank Balance Tells

Because I’m an objective reality fan, I think truth is what corresponds to reality. But is reality itself a slippery concept. Ask yourself: What’s more real, your bank balance or your anxiety about your bank balance?

Because here’s the thing: your banking app might tell you that you have -R50 253.67. That’s a fact, technically. It’s an exact figure, made of code and servers and trust in a financial system. But you can’t see it, smell it, or put it in your hand. And even though it looks solid, you might still feel broke.

So, which one is “real”?

• The number?
• The feeling?
• The late-night doom scroll where you convince yourself that your recent purchase of a R30 000 65 inch 4K TV is the first step to financial ruin and a life spent at the traffic lights begging for spare change?

Objective reality tells us we have something. But our brain tells us what it means to have (or not have) it.

This is the problem: we don’t interact with raw reality. We interact with a version of it that’s filtered through millions of years of evolution, compressed by perception, and coloured by memory, fear, and dopamine.

In short: your bank balance is real. But so is your panic. And neither quite tell the whole truth.

Pragmatism: Truth That Works (Until It Doesn’t)

Pragmatism has a seductive pitch: If it works, it’s true.

William James, one of its loudest advocates, said truth is what’s expedient to believe. In other words, if a belief helps you survive, solve a problem, or get through your day without screaming into a pillow, it earns the label “true.” Neat, right?

When “it works” becomes a proxy for “it’s true,” we stop asking better questions. We settle. We reinforce what’s already easy to believe. We ignore the stuff that’s inconvenient, complicated, or demands change.

Enron “worked.” The numbers dazzled, the stock climbed, the analysts cheered. On the surface, it was a pragmatic success story, until it collapsed under the weight of its own fiction. And when reality caught up? $74 billion disappeared, and the truth kicked in the door like a debt collector.

Pragmatism is great until you realize it’s just bullshit that pays dividends until it doesn’t.

Truth, and the Courage to Not Flinch

Søren Kierkegaard the 19th-century Danish philosopher and patron saint of existential dread didn’t think truth was something you could measure. For him, truth isn’t just factual; it’s personal, and it demands courage.

Real truth is what happens when your life and your values collide, and you have to choose. Think of the whistleblower who knows speaking out will cost them their job, their friends, maybe even their safety, but does it anyway. That’s not just honesty. That’s truth as existential commitment.

Kierkegaard believed morality without that kind of courage is just social conformity dressed up as virtue. The truth that matters isn’t safe. It isolates you. It exposes you. But it also makes you whole. Because to live truthfully, in Kierkegaard’s world, is to stop performing and start choosing, even when it hurts.

Foucault, Truth, and the Men Who Say It Louder

For Michel Foucault, truth isn’t some noble universal you stumble into it’s what power constructs, funds, and enforces. Truth lives where power lives. It wears a suit, has a media strategy, and often an elite education and if you object, it’ll gaslight you with a press release. And if you’re not paying attention, you’ll confuse volume for validity.

Need proof? Cyril Ramaphosa can stare directly into a camera, smile like a statesman, and say “we are addressing corruption,” while the Bentley dealership is declaring record profits. Truth, here, is curated wrapped in institutional language, dipped in bureaucracy, and declared “official.” And the sheep will nod along, because what’s the alternative? Admit the state is lying or delusional?

Then there’s Trump a walking Foucault case study with a spray tan. He doesn’t bother bending reality. He has replaced it. Trump doesn’t need facts. Fake news” isn’t a rebuttal it’s a rebranding.

Truth isn’t what happened, it’s what powerful people say happened.

The Truth (Obviously)

So, what’s the truth? Depends on who’s talking a scientist, a philosopher, a president, or your bank app at 2 a.m.

Maybe it’s courage. Maybe it’s control. Maybe it’s just whatever keeps the lights on.

And yes, obviously, this blog post is the truth. At least until someone louder says otherwise.

Because if you’re still reading, clearly it worked.

Thanks for all the comments and input.

Bruce