My best friend George and I attended the same high school in Montreal, Canada. Same year, same history class, same curriculum. There was just one difference. I studied in French, while George studied in English.
Apparently, that distinction mattered. In George’s history books, the English won battles that my French textbooks confidently declared French victories. Same wars. Same history. Different winners. It was an early lesson in something I’ve never forgotten: The truth doesn’t necessarily change, but the person telling the story certainly can.
Today, that lesson seems more relevant than ever. From Washington to City Hall, from television networks to social media, and occasionally across the Thanksgiving dinner table, everyone seems to have their own version of reality.
Political ideology, religion, science, education and even history have become battlegrounds over who controls the narrative. Somewhere along the way, we’ve blurred the distinction between facts and opinions, disagreement and dishonesty. And perhaps most troubling, we’ve begun confusing trust with agreement. If you don’t agree with me, I can’t trust you.
Our elections are next week. By the time this Gazette reaches your mailbox, the results will be known. Unless Amazon delivers a time machine, I’ll have to leave the election analysis to next month’s edition. I’m an Election Day voter. Deliberately. I prefer to listen, question and consider until the very last moment.
And I still have questions. Take Wheat Ridge’s Measure 2A. I’ve been following the discussions, yet I wish the public forums had included meaningful representation from both sides. A healthy democracy deserves more than one perspective.
I’ve watched politicians in our own community, embrace individuals and positions they fiercely opposed just a few years earlier. I’ve questioned school funding requests when previous allocations haven’t produced the promised results. And I’ve seen neighborhood projects advance with limited public awareness, sometimes justified by procedural technicalities.
Each situation may have a perfectly reasonable explanation. But when explanations are absent, suspicion fills the vacuum. That’s how mistrust takes root. Not necessarily through wrongdoing, but through the perception that something is being withheld.
Technology has only complicated matters. With artificial intelligence, manipulated images and fabricated social media identities, determining what’s authentic has become an exercise in detective work. Years ago, I remember tensions at Everitt Middle School escalating into fights because of inflammatory Facebook posts targeting students. Eventually, it emerged that the person behind the account wasn’t even real. Imagine that. Real consequences created by a fictional person.
Which brings me to something I’ve increasingly come to value: HI. Human Interaction. Not artificial intelligence. Not algorithms. Actual conversations between actual people. Community isn’t built by surrounding ourselves exclusively with those who agree with us. It’s built through relationships strong enough to survive disagreement. Yet we’ve reached a point where people publicly announce that anyone holding certain political beliefs should remove themselves from their social media connections. Really? An entire friendship erased over a political opinion?
I see plenty of spirited debate among Wheat Ridge residents online. Some exchanges are insightful, others entertaining, and a few downright unpleasant. But these are our neighbors. People we’ll encounter at the grocery store, restaurants and community events. We don’t have to agree to remain neighbors.
Government and corporate institutions present a different challenge. Their communications are often carefully managed, their messages shaped to secure votes, influence public opinion or protect financial interests. That doesn’t make the people working within those institutions dishonest. Most are dedicated, decent individuals. But institutions have agendas. Communities have relationships. And those aren’t always the same thing.
Perhaps the question isn’t whether we should trust government, but what government must do to earn that trust. Transparency shouldn’t be a political favor. Accountability shouldn’t depend on who’s in office. And asking difficult questions shouldn’t automatically make someone an opponent.
Roger Waters posed the question in Pink Floyd’s Mother: “Mother, should I trust the government?” Decades later, Waters proved to be just a hugely hateful person but the question is still worth asking.….But perhaps there’s an even more important question. Have we become so determined to prove ourselves right that we’ve forgotten how to listen to one another?
As always, thanks for reading.
