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"If the philosopher must choose between a truth and a happiness, he is a philosopher—or worthy of being one—only if he chooses the truth. A true sadness is better than a false joy." — André Comte-Sponville, French philosopher (in Le bonheur, désespérément, 2023)

We are living through a subtle but profound transformation. Not a loud collapse of values, but a quiet reconfiguration of how we experience two of the most fundamental dimensions of human life: truth and trust.

For centuries, truth was something we pursued, often at a cost. As French philosopher André Comte-Sponville stated, the philosophical commitment to truth meant accepting that reality may not always comfort us. A “true sadness” could be more valuable than a “false joy.” That hierarchy is now being inverted in many contexts.

Today, technology does not simply provide us with access to information. It reshapes the very conditions under which truth appears, disappears, or becomes irrelevant. The issue is no longer whether information is available, but whether it still functions as a shared reference point. When reality can be filtered, curated, or even simulated, truth begins to lose its practical urgency. It becomes one option among many.

This is not merely a cultural shift. It is a structural one. As the research on technological moral change shows, digital systems alter the “cost” of engaging with truth and trust, making some values easier to bypass and others more attractive . In practical terms, this means that seeking truth can feel increasingly demanding, while accepting simplified or emotionally satisfying narratives becomes frictionless.

At the same time, trust is undergoing a parallel transformation.

Traditionally, trust was relational. It required vulnerability, time, and a willingness to accept uncertainty. We trusted people not because they were infallible, but because we recognized their intentions, their limitations, and their humanity. Now, trust is being partially displaced by something else: reliance.

We no longer need to trust a person to find our way in a new city. We rely on systems. Likewise, we do not necessarily trust institutions; we verify through platforms. In some cases, we even outsource judgment to algorithms that promise efficiency, neutrality, or precision.  This shift may seem like progress. And in many ways, it is. But it comes with a subtle trade-off.

When trust is replaced by reliability, something is lost. Trust is not only functional; it is expressive. It signals respect, recognition, and shared belonging. When we remove that dimension, relationships risk becoming transactional. Efficient, but thinner. There is also a deeper tension emerging between truth and trust themselves.

If truth becomes harder to verify, trust becomes more necessary. But if trust is increasingly redirected toward systems that themselves shape or filter reality, then both values begin to destabilize each other. We may end up trusting what we cannot fully understand, while losing confidence in what we can directly experience.

This creates a new kind of paradox: we are more informed than ever, yet less certain; more connected, yet more cautious; more capable of verification, yet more exposed to doubt.
And yet, this is not simply a story of decline.

There are counter-movements already forming. In a world where truth feels scarce, some individuals and communities begin to value it more intensely. Not as an abstract ideal, but as a disciplined practice. Similarly, when trust becomes fragile, its presence becomes more meaningful, more intentional.

Perhaps this is where the real transformation lies. Not in choosing between truth and trust, but in learning how to inhabit both differently. With greater awareness of their fragility, their interdependence, and their changing conditions. Because the question is no longer whether truth matters, or whether trust is necessary. The question is: under what conditions do they still become possible? And perhaps more importantly, how are we, often without noticing, redefining those conditions every day?

It seems to me that the valorization of truth, even in its most somber manifestations, emerges in the 21st century as a vital ethical imperative for navigating the complexities of modern subjective experience. Perhaps the deliberate cultivation of a quasi-melancholic realism that prioritizes accurate appraisals of reality, even if unsettling, is preferable to the fleeting comfort of manufactured happiness.


 
 
 

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