Chapter 1: The Subjectivity of Truth

There’s a delightful community garden close to my daughter’s home, developed with the help of her best friend’s mother. During a festive gathering at the garden, the girls eagerly rushed to share their excitement about a charming cat they had spotted.

Curious about the cat's color, I inquired further. My daughter insisted it was black, while her friend was certain it was white. Upon seeing the cat, I realized both were partially correct—it sported a mix of black and white fur.

My parents' recollections often differ significantly from those of my siblings and me, suggesting a disconnect between the childhoods we experienced and their memories of raising us. They seem unaware of our mischievous antics and how they occasionally made our lives challenging—a fair trade-off, perhaps.

Getting five people to agree on any subject can be quite a challenge. Even if they receive the same information, each person can interpret it differently. The words may remain unchanged, but the contexts through which they are understood vary widely. Each individual's interpretation is filtered through their own unique experiences and perspectives.

Given the vast array of backgrounds, beliefs, and traumas people carry, reaching a shared understanding of external events can be daunting. Achieving consensus on matters within a small community is already complex, let alone reconciling differing national views on issues like identity and history.

When we observe from our distinct vantage points, the messages we receive are inherently unique. No one processes information in exactly the same way because everyone interprets it through their own emotional and experiential lenses. Each person's narrative is true for them, yet no single account encompasses the entirety of the truth.

"Do not bear false witness against your neighbor." — Exodus 20:16

Any event experienced by multiple individuals will inevitably be remembered with slight variations. Differences may emerge in timelines, colors, names, and details. While the general structure of the story may be consistent, the specifics often diverge. Consensus is achieved not by perfect alignment of every detail, but through a shared understanding of the broader narrative.

Communicating in broad strokes can obscure essential nuances. Just like in text messages, subtleties of tone and inflection can be lost. A more intricate story can emerge with additional detail, but are these specifics merely products of the storyteller's imagination? Is truth solely a matter of generalization?

How can we trust the accuracy of what others share with us? How can we confirm our personal experiences? Memories are never recalled in their purest form; we perceive the world through a filter that alters our perceptions.

A study conducted by researchers at Lehigh University highlights that memories become more malleable and open to modification upon being recalled. The more frequently a memory is accessed, the softer it becomes, akin to clay being reshaped.

"Results indicated that reactivation makes episodic memories susceptible to physiological and behavioral interference. When applied shortly after reactivation, interference manipulations altered the amount of information that could be retrieved from the original learning event." — Scully, Naper, Hupbach, Neurobiology of Learning and Memory Volume 142, Part A, July 2017, Pages 99–107

For those of us who have clung to certain painful memories, repeatedly revisiting them may have led to alterations in their content. We might have embellished or omitted certain aspects of our past experiences, and others do the same. The truth of our memories is never entirely complete, and our re-experienced events are rarely wholly accurate.

In a sense, we all engage in a form of self-deception.

Perhaps that seems too severe. Neither you nor I believe we are dishonest; nonetheless, we all engage in this practice to some degree.

Individuals often notice elements that align with their current thoughts, entering group situations with varying focuses. In these settings, we are encouraged to shift our attention from our prior thoughts to whatever the group is experiencing. While trying to absorb this collective experience, we inevitably filter it through our personal mental states.

Once we observe a shared event, we interpret it based on our unique perceptions. Different elements will resonate with different individuals, influenced by their interests and histories. Disagreements may arise over who did what or even the color of someone's attire.

My siblings and I have grappled with significant childhood events that our parents insist never occurred. I often wonder if this is due to a desire to protect their self-image or if genuine memory gaps exist on either side.

Parents may truly forget events that didn’t leave an emotional mark on them, or they might revise history to uphold their reputations. Conversely, a child who has revisited and transformed a traumatic memory countless times may inadvertently amplify the pain with each new retelling.

When both perspectives converge in search of resolution, it becomes challenging for anyone to feel satisfied. Each party has lived through vastly different narratives, which exist in entirely separate realities. Ultimately, it is up to each individual to reconcile their own experiences.

In the end, we often agree to disagree on the specifics while tenaciously clinging to our own versions of the past, sometimes enhancing our stories for dramatic effect.

In my narrative, I emerge as the hero, while the antagonist is always clad in black. Our fateful duel unfolds at dawn.