Two bubbles turn their backs

The English language contains two words of the same Germanic root, fact And trust, Truth and trust. trust It is, indeed, a wonderful word, for it calls something beautiful, trust in truth and integrity. Together with other sister words, they form a virtuous universe of meanings: being solid, solid, immovable, like a tree that gives shade and fruit because it has roots, trunks and branches. What is real is seen and validated, it is trusted and, in the end, it provides a certain protection. All this, in short, to talk to you about these two bubbles that, in this campaign, constitute two self-referential spaces that accuse each other of the same things. Isn’t it great that both tribes We scold each other for being liars or mouthpieces? I’m not talking about who’s right, but about the impact of two pool balls colliding without interruption while sharing the same connotations they throw at each other on the “whole”. Little truth, no confidence.

We live without words. and other things. But let’s go back to the image of the tree. We all chase it with the same scissors, cut its trunk from opposite sides to strip it, pruning it and cutting back its roots so that it is no longer a tree. The common membrane of the trunk hollows out and the branches fall off and spread over the tribal ground. I’m sure you’re hearing more and more things like, “I don’t trust opinion polls.” or in the CIS, or in this way or that. When mistrust and lies take hold, we stop believing in many things: in election results, in the press and analysts, in the Electoral College. We are not far from the red lines and the values ​​that gave us a guide and a framework to move forward are also broken and can no longer be anchored in the institutions and permeate our democratic culture. It happens when we underestimate the use of expressions that only yesterday were impassable red lines: The tree is losing its branches.

There are realities that we only reach through discussion and conversation, and this is what disappears in our perpetual electoral time, in this terrible. deja vu. The possibility of reasoned confrontation gives way to a series of juxtaposed monologues that empty the general conversation of substance. We impose a model of trench warfare only when we are about to lose faith, our love for the truth: about to make a tree no longer a tree. Is Trump vs. truth and trust, An accusatory market where everything is part of the same noise, that undifferentiated fog that makes us indifferent to the truth and leaves us defenseless as citizens. We must be able to reset the conditions for citizen debate in both democratic, electoral and institutional periods. It may sound like a toast to the sun, but if this elective time is almost inevitably predetermined by tribal logic, what opens the day must be a time for collective discussion and evaluation, a time for puncturing these bubbles and returning to the common world.

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