Truth, belief and identity

By David Wonpu

As Rafael Palmeiro and Martha Stewart can both attest, truth is an unwieldy burden. Belief, on the other hand, is small and sleek. It can be slipped into the pockets of $100 jeans and messenger bags. In the age of hybrids and iPod Nanos, truth has become obsolete.

You can't do anything with truth. You can't shrink it, mold it, and it doesn't come in five stylish colors. Belief, however, is whatever you want it to be.

Even beliefs which claim to be "modern" are still obtained through traditional means. "Parents have a lot to do with it," says sophomore Sam Baker, "especially if you're from a strong family."

Others, like Sherrie Benjamin, develop beliefs from "life experiences and the people around me. I observe others and how they act." Still others, such as freshman Andrew Scanlan, attribute beliefs to multiple sources. "Family and friends are important," he says. "But I also get my beliefs just from reading The Santa Clara."

It seems all beliefs are shared by or inherited from other people. Many of our beliefs aren't shaped by our own design. As belief becomes habit, habit becomes tradition, and tradition becomes truth. Maybe not the particular brand of truth which can be classified as fact, but the kind all politicians covet: personal truth.

Personal truth transcends fact. Truth, founded on belief, is more than you think. It's how you grew up. It's about who and what you are. If someone holding a contrary opinion questions your beliefs, he or she is questioning your friends, your parents, your very being.

After all, our beliefs make us who we are. Or, rather, our beliefs are how others define us and how we define others. We are forced to take sides and to defend opinions we're not even completely sure about. We are pulled into a culture of pros and cons.

Assemblyman Leland Yee and Dick Cheney's former chief of staff, Lewis Libby, don't just want you to take their side on an issue; they want you to believe there are only two sides to every issue. You must make a decision or risk being relegated to the fringe. You don't have to understand your beliefs, but you do have to be able to identify them with a neat designation like "conservative" or "progressive."

But what is "conservative" about an $8 trillion national debt, or "progressive" about banning violent video games after authorizing the use of real military force in Iraq? Is a "Support Our Troops" car magnet manufactured in China really patriotic? Is it really democratic to have only two main political camps running for public office?

Thankfully, beliefs don't define us completely, even if we let them narrow our vision. Our beliefs tell us little about who we are but everything about what we are: biased and incomplete. By its nature, belief is an imprecise judge of character. Beliefs don't validate people; they are made valid by the people who hold them.

Perhaps this is why beliefs change. "Once you get to college, others start to influence you," Baker says. "If you're not open-minded, it won't matter. But if you are, you might start to see things from a different perspective."

The students who view their religious or ethnic studies courses as grades on the path to semi-satisfying, middle-class life may want to open their minds: "What, Christopher Columbus was a mass murderer?" "The founding fathers were deist?" "Wal-Mart owns 50 percent of the earth's mantle? You're kidding me!"

Beliefs shouldn't only be about how you vote. For every pro-choice or pro-lifer, there are others who are anti-life, anti pro-choice and just about any other combination of prefixes available. The beliefs which define us aren't about simple answers to burning questions. As Benjamin asserts, "I don't necessarily believe in the 'one true love' thing, but I do believe we're meant to help others."

David Wonpu is a junior accounting major.