"Jesus said, “I am the Way and the Truth and the Life. No one can go to the Father except by Me."
-John 14:6 (NIV)
"Never give your hearts to this world or to any of the things in it. A man cannot love the Father and love the world at the same time. For the whole world-system, based as it is on men’s primitive desires, their greedy ambitions and the glamour of all that they think splendid, is not derived from the Father at all, but from the world itself. The world and all its passionate desires will one day disappear. But the man who is following God’s will is part of the permanent and cannot die."
-1 John 2:15-17 (PHILIPS)
Behold! I teach you the Postmodern Veritas! She is an obscene mockery of the classical Pax Romana Veritas, whose children are naturally beautiful and winsome. Po'mo'Veri and her bastard children of error are forever busy obscuring Truth yet cannot kill it. They are desperate to obfuscate Beauty yet they cannot steal it. They sneer at Goodness, yet they cannot destroy it. Post-Modern Veritas is clearly not the transcendental virtue we used to know. This impostor denies that there ever was a thing so lovely or so bright. This impostor deconstructs rational thought, pulls it apart and reassembles the pieces in grotesque whorls of Anti-Logos. And since perception and reality are joined in a virtual embrace, the impostor deconstructs reality. Again and again comes the mocking question, "Quid est veritas?" ("What is truth?") As the contempt for anything resembling a unifying master-narrative grows, postmodernites are retreating further and further into their individual solipsistic bubbles. It is as much a war on transcendent Truth as it is one over whose solipsism can overpower the others. The ultimate "safe space" is an inverted mind, doomed to endlessly devour itself without ever taking the sustenance it needs. A proud, selfish, and vindictive spirit makes the "safe spaces" too small to share with others in the end.
In his Meditations on First Philosophy, Rene Descartes threw down the gauntlet to the reader with this: "If you would be a real seeker after truth, it is necessary that at least once in your life you doubt, as far as possible, all things." Does he mean that literally? Okay, just assume everything you know is lie. Everything. For the sake of argument, let's say you are a disembodied brain in a vat wired up to a dream-machine that continuously feeds you false ideas and sensory impressions about your own existence. In essence, you are in a dream from which you cannot wake. You dream on the cusp of lucidity, in the twilight between sleep and wakefulness. The evil daemon has given you a near-perfect simulation of whatever your life circumstances were prior to your existence as a stolen brain. You, like Descartes himself in his First Meditations, have at your disposal all the necessary tool-sets of logic, physics, mathematics and philosophy which with to analyze your world. The "near-perfection" of the dream is a result of you, like Descartes in his famous monologue, experiencing a sort of generalized existential dread the cause of which eludes you. It has no name, no form. But it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad! If anything can be doubted, what can be known? The only possible certainty, Descartes said, is the knowledge of self (Cogito Ergo Sum) and the fact of your own perceptions. Even if that means you might be the only real person in existence.
The last known literary work posthumously attributed to Samuel Longhorne Clemens (better known to the world as Mark Twain) It is called No. 44, The Mysterious Stranger. I include it here to illustrate what I mean by solipsism, radical Cartesian doubt, confusion, and existential dread. Link to the very spooky e-book here here but only if you can handle it! There is a strange tale of editorial fraud surrounding this work in real life, which ratchets up the creep-factor even more. What follows is a fragment from the final chapter of the authoritative 1969 version. The title character is giving a long parting speech to Theodor, the narrator:
He vanished, and left me appalled; for I knew, and realized, that all he had said was true.