It’s a phrase that’s become almost a punchline, hasn’t it? "Alternative facts." It sounds like something out of a surrealist play, a world where up can be down and black can be white, depending on who’s doing the talking. But behind the absurdity, there’s a deeper, more unsettling reality at play.
Think back to 2016. That year, the word "post-truth" was crowned Oxford Dictionaries' word of the year. Its definition? That objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief. As someone who values clear thinking, this idea always felt a bit… off. How can we possibly make sense of anything if we can’t even agree on what’s real? If we can’t distinguish between what we feel and what actually is, how can we ever arrive at objective conclusions?
But then, watching events unfold in the US and UK, it became starkly clear: people’s definitions of "fact" were diverging wildly. And more worryingly, the importance placed on facts themselves seemed to be up for debate. The ability of many to separate what’s real from what’s merely felt was, frankly, concerning.
Take a seemingly simple question: has the US crime rate been going up or down in recent years? It’s not exactly rocket science, and the data is readily available. Yet, what people felt about crime rates often stood in stark contrast to the actual statistics. While the numbers showed a steady decline over two decades, many people’s perception, particularly from around 2001 onwards, was that crime was on the rise. In a world of "post-truth," even when the data pointed one way, people were happy to follow their gut and conclude the opposite.
And then came "alternative facts." This term really hit the spotlight in January 2017. Following President Trump’s inauguration, there was a media buzz about the crowd size. Some reports suggested Obama’s 2009 inauguration had a larger attendance than Trump’s. Now, this isn't exactly a world-shattering revelation. Trump’s approval ratings were lower, so a smaller crowd wasn't a huge surprise. But the White House press secretary held a press conference, stating that while exact numbers were unknown, Trump’s inauguration had the largest audience in history. This, of course, led to a rather memorable interview where a presidential advisor, when pressed on why the White House would present demonstrably false information on such a minor issue, responded by saying they were presenting "alternative facts."
This phrase, "alternative facts," is where things get truly fascinating, and frankly, a bit alarming. Does such a thing even exist? For something as concrete as crowd numbers at an inauguration, there should only be one answer: either 2017 had more people, or 2009 did. But under the umbrella of "alternative facts," it seemed possible for different groups to genuinely believe different, contradictory realities. The actual truth of the matter became secondary, if it mattered at all, because everyone could construct their own "truth" based on their feelings.
We saw this play out in other areas too. Claims were made about millions losing their health insurance under the Affordable Care Act. While the ACA certainly had its critics and led to rising premiums for some, its primary impact was actually increasing the number of insured Americans. Yet, the narrative of "millions losing coverage" took hold, becoming an "alternative fact" for many.
It’s a disorienting time when the lines between truth and falsehood blur so easily. On one hand, the internet and social media have given us unprecedented freedom to choose our information sources. We’re no longer solely reliant on traditional media to shape our views. This allows us to explore different perspectives and reinforce our existing beliefs. But this freedom comes with a significant caveat: it can lead us into echo chambers, where we only encounter information that confirms what we already think. This creates a situation where different factions have their own distinct "truths," making it incredibly difficult to bridge divides because each side feels they are operating on solid ground.
As someone who believes in the power of evidence, the concepts of "post-truth" and "alternative facts" are deeply troubling. A horse, no matter how beautifully adorned, doesn't magically become a deer. The Earth can't be both flat and round. History is littered with examples, like the geocentric model of the universe, where popular belief didn't align with reality. When faced with solid data, there should only be one truth. Anything else is a distortion.
Distinguishing between right and wrong, fact and fiction, is the fundamental first step towards rational and ethical decision-making. There shouldn't be a grey area between data and feeling; it's either one or the other.
It’s easy to anticipate that presenting these ideas might ruffle some feathers. Some might argue that claims about "millions losing insurance" are valid because premiums went up. But this is precisely the kind of "alternative truth" thinking that muddies the waters. It’s like trying to argue with a brick wall – a frustrating exercise in futility.
The more interesting question, perhaps, is whether those who promote these "alternative facts" genuinely believe them, or if they're deliberately sowing confusion. Given the strategic successes of figures like Trump and his advisors, it’s unlikely they lack a basic understanding of facts. The more plausible explanation is that they intentionally create controversy, using these debatable statements to distract from more significant issues.
Consider the timing. When a major news outlet published an in-depth report on potential conflicts of interest regarding a president’s global business dealings, a tweet immediately followed, claiming a higher vote count due to illegal voters. This tweet, lacking any evidence, instantly captured public attention, dominating headlines and discussions. The more critical issue of business entanglements? It faded into the background.
Similarly, the "alternative facts" surrounding inauguration crowds served to overshadow a more crucial announcement made just days earlier: the president would not release his tax returns, breaking a long-standing tradition. The ensuing media frenzy over crowd sizes diverted attention from this significant decision, allowing it to pass with less scrutiny.
In this era of choice, we have the freedom to select our information and decide what to believe. But this freedom isn't without consequence. It can lead us to inhabit our own realities, reinforcing our pre-existing views. The real tragedy is when we become so engrossed in debates over manufactured controversies and "alternative truths" that we lose sight of what truly matters.
My hope, through writing like this, is to encourage independent thought and calm observation. Let’s resist the urge to blindly follow the crowd or be swayed by misleading narratives. Ultimately, even the most skillfully crafted lie is still just a lie. Let's anchor ourselves in fundamental facts and firmly reject the allure of "post-truth" and "alternative facts."
