Don’t Trust A Con Man To Tell You What’s True Or Right

President Punk’s Easter greeting wasn’t exactly about bunnies and bonhomie. It was another volley in his long war against any information source that doesn’t parrot his narrative, specifically targeting the press and his political opponents over their portrayal of the Abrego Garcia case. Calling them “Radical Lunatic Democrats,” “Comrades in the Fake News Media,” liars, un-American, obsessed with protecting criminals, and demanding they be “held responsible by the Agencies and the Courts” – this is, undeniably, a direct and chilling assault on the First Amendment’s guarantee of a free press. It’s an attempt to intimidate, delegitimize, and ultimately silence critical voices through threats of state power. We see it, we recognize it, and its danger to a free society is self-evident.

But dwelling only on the First Amendment implications, crucial as they are, might miss the deeper, more insidious game being played. Punk’s constant railing against “Fake News,” his insistence on “alternative facts,” his demand that loyalty dictates reality – it forces a more fundamental, almost philosophical question onto the table: Who the hell gets to decide what is true?

And that is a terrifyingly close cousin to: Who decides what is real? The moment you assign the final authority on truth or reality to any single human being, or any single fallible human institution – be it a president, a political party, a news network, a government agency, even a scientific body – you’ve baked fallibility right into the definition. Power corrupts, bias clouds judgment, incompetence happens, and agendas shift. Handing over the keys to reality itself to anyone is an act of profound folly.

Truth and reality are constantly changing, perpetually fluid concepts. Reality isn’t a fixed photograph; it’s a moving river. Think about science and medicine. What was medical “truth” fifty years ago about cancer treatment, heart disease, or mental health? Compare it to today. Night and day. Every discovery, every refined understanding, changes reality and reveals previous truths as incomplete or even wrong. Or consider technology. AI that is capable of conversation, analysis, even creative generation, was pure science fiction to most people just a decade or two ago. Our very existence has altered the landscape of what is considered “real” and “true” about intelligence, consciousness, and creativity.

Truth isn’t a destination we arrive at; it’s a horizon we continually approach. Reality isn’t a static object we can finally pin down; it’s an unfolding process we participate in and shape. And crucially, the search for understanding this ever-shifting landscape – the grappling with incomplete knowledge, the drive to ask “why?” and “what if?”, the relentless exploration – that is arguably the core engine of human progress and meaning. It fuels science, art, philosophy, and personal growth. Trying to stop that search, to declare truth definitively “found” and impose it universally, isn’t just arrogant; it’s fundamentally anti-human.

This perspective directly challenges the kind of fatalism embedded in headlines like one we saw today, suggesting budget cuts at the CDC mean “we won’t know what’s killing us.” That’s bullshit. Yes, robust public health agencies like the CDC and NIH are incredibly valuable tools in our collective search for understanding disease and protecting populations. Their diminishment is a serious loss, no question. But to imply that truth only flows from these official channels, and that their struggles mean the search ends, is both defeatist and demonstrably false.

History is filled with groundbreaking discoveries made by individuals working outside, or even against, the established institutions of their time. That young doctoral candidate burning the midnight oil in a university lab, driven by curiosity; the clinician noticing an odd pattern in her patients; the independent researcher connecting dots others missed – they are just as capable of stumbling upon a vital piece of truth as any government agency. Truth doesn’t respect institutional boundaries or budget lines. It emerges where inquiry, observation, and critical thinking happen. To assume otherwise is to grant those official channels an infallibility they don’t possess and to discount the power of decentralized, individual curiosity – the very engine you identified. Over-reliance on any single source of truth makes us vulnerable, whether that source is a government agency facing cuts or a demagogue demanding unquestioning belief.

And this brings us back to the immediate danger Punk represents. His attacks on the press, his labeling of verifiable facts as “fake,” his demands for loyalty over evidence – it’s not just an assault on specific news outlets or inconvenient truths. It’s an assault on the very process of seeking truth. By attempting to discredit independent verification, sow chaos about what’s real, and establish himself as the sole arbiter of fact, he tries to shut down the ongoing, messy, essential human endeavor of figuring things out together. He wants to replace the flowing river of reality with a stagnant pond reflecting only his own image.

So, what do we do in this bewildering, often infuriating moment? We must fiercely defend the institutions and principles, like the First Amendment, that protect the process of truth-seeking. A free, independent press, however flawed, is essential. Academic freedom is essential. The right to peaceful dissent is essential. These are the tools, the public spaces, where different facets of truth can be debated, tested, and shared.

But critically, we must also embrace our own role, our own power, in that process. We cannot afford to be passive consumers waiting for truth to be delivered, whether from the White House press room or the CDC weekly report. We need to cultivate critical thinking. Seek out diverse sources of information, especially those that challenge our own biases. Question narratives, especially those that demand simple answers or absolute certainty. Value the search itself. Recognize that grappling with complexity, uncertainty, and evolving understanding isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s a sign of intellectual honesty and human vitality.

Punk and his ilk want to control the narrative, to define reality. Our most potent resistance is to refuse to let them. It’s to insist on our right, and our responsibility, to keep asking questions, keep exploring, keep learning, and keep participating in the messy, frustrating, but ultimately liberating project of understanding our ever-changing truth and reality for ourselves. Don’t let anyone, no matter how powerful, tell you the search is over or that you’re not qualified to participate. The search is the point.