There is nothing more contested than the debates surrounding ‘truth’. However, the relationship between truth and power is far from questionable.
Objective truth refers to facts that exist independently of belief, while subjective truth is rooted in personal perception and experience. Historical truth emerges from how the past has been documented and interpreted—thus, arriving at a final agreement on what truly happened is near impossible. Numerical or statistical truth is based on data related to a particular event or phenomenon; it may appear convincing on the surface, yet data always demands interpretation. Narrative or personal truth reflects how individuals experience history, which is emotionally resonant but not necessarily verifiable. Moral truth reflects shared principles or values, which vary across cultures, while mythological or symbolic truths operate through stories and beliefs that convey meaning beyond literal fact. Political or ideological truth is shaped and circulated directly through structures of power, often dictating which version of events becomes dominant. Finally, Emotional truth appeals to the sentiments of people, making it one of the most powerful—and potentially dangerous—forms, particularly in shaping political discourses.
However, all these forms of truth are highly contested domains, which are, ironically, mobilised to construct or reinforce a particular narrative. In other words, we might broadly agree that there are two types of truth: one with a lowercase ‘t’ – the constructed one – and the other, capital-T Truth – the ultimate, immutable Truth.
The fundamental problem in the political arena arises when one party attempts to impose its truth—or its version of the truth—upon others as capital-T Truth. Here, power enters the equation as the determinant of whose truth shall prevail. This establishes a clear and consequential link between truth and power. One may well argue that the most widely accepted truths are often manifestations of power, leaving us with profound scepticism regarding their authenticity. That is to say, if what we know as truth is constructed and disseminated through a system of power – such as media, books, or education – then it is, by nature, potentially exploitative, suppressive, and manipulative.
As political ideologies evolve, they tend to cannibalise their original principles, adapting to shifting narratives in order to maintain relevance and control
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty", wrote John Keats in Ode on a Grecian Urn.
Literary critics have debated this line for over two centuries—what, precisely, did Keats mean? Truth, in its barest form, is often far from beautiful, they have argued. For example, Norwegian playwright, Henrik Ibsen’s The Wild Duck presents a world in which the revelation of truth destroys peace and love. Gregers Werle, an idealist who insists life must be founded on truth, reveals the uncomfortable reality to his friend Hjalmar Ekdal about his wife Gina and her past with Gregers’ wealthy father. As Hjalmar grapples with this betrayal, his daughter Hedvig—devastated by the turmoil—makes the tragic decision to take her own life. Ibsen questions whether truth in all forms is necessarily good, or whether certain have the ability to human happiness. It is a powerful critique of idealism and moral absolutism—a life constructed entirely around truth.
Ibsen’s vision is rooted in the Greek tradition, over 2,500 years old, where myth interrogates the nature of truth.
In Greek mythology, the idea is famously examined in the story of Oedipus. His tale is most powerfully told in Sophocles’ play, Oedipus Rex. Oedipus is the son of King Laius and Queen Jocasta of Thebes. When an oracle prophesies that their son will kill his father and marry his mother, they abandon the infant. However, the child is rescued and raised by the royal family of Corinth. Unaware of his true lineage, Oedipus later hears the same prophecy and flees Corinth in an effort to defy fate. On his journey, he unknowingly kills Laius in an accidental encounter and later solves the riddle of the Sphinx, saving Thebes. As a reward, he is made king and marries the recently widowed queen—his own mother, Jocasta. When the truth finally emerges, Jocasta hangs herself and Oedipus blinds himself in horror. His story is a timeless meditation on the destructive potential of truth.
However, what Keats, Ibsen and Sophocles are referring to in their respective works, is the capital-T Truth, with a divine power. The variety of truths I have presented at the outset are essentially man-made, which come into being by employing the power of narrative.
Power and truth, thus, are inseparable.
It is emotional truth—arguably the most effective of all—that is most frequently deployed in the service of narrative-building. Consider, for instance, a photograph, news report, or documentary film depicting the victim of a crime, act of violence, or war. Such imagery can be highly effective in stirring sentiment against a particular country, group, or individual. This is owing to the indisputable power of the image of a wounded or traumatised person—whether physically or psychologically—to elicit sympathy from viewers. Crucially, this emotional response often persists regardless of whether that very individual may, in the past, have committed heinous atrocities or crimes themselves. In such cases, the narrative constructed through the image ultimately presents a partial truth—a falsehood—under the guise of a complete and objective truth.
Truth, in its lowercase form, may in fact be indistinguishable from falsehood.
We may conclude that political narratives—or ideological discourses originating from truth with a lowercase ‘t’ – particularly emotional truth—are fundamentally rooted in falsehood. Therefore, there is no absolute truth within the political domain. There exist only narratives that strategically employ emotion and selective data to construct ideas or ideologies that serve the interests of power. A system built upon such discourses can be nothing other than manipulative, exploitative, and oppressive. This is why no form of government—be it a democracy or any other—has truly withstood the test of time, whether over a decade or a century. Democracy, socialism, communism, or political systems grounded in religious ideology, as we have known them, are all ultimately defined by their own contradictions and inherent hypocrisies. Because they are constructed through narrative rather than grounded in enduring truth, they inevitably lead to disappointment and eventual collapse.
The instability of these systems reveals the fragility of belief when it is anchored in constructed truths, which naturally erode over time. As political ideologies evolve, they tend to cannibalise their original principles, adapting to shifting narratives in order to maintain relevance and control. This constant revisionism diminishes public trust, generating cycles of disillusionment and resistance. In such an environment, power is sustained not by moral legitimacy—through the application of moral truths—but by the effective manipulation of perception, enacted through media, education, and cultural production. Consequently, what is disseminated as 'truth' within these systems is often little more than a persuasive illusion, crafted to ensure compliance rather than to promote human welfare or justice.
It is nonetheless a human yearning to devise a system that is benevolent, and clean of exploitation and repression. In essence, this yearning is a quest for a system based on capital-T Truth.