Social Theory of Relativity

“There is no truth but your truth, no lie but theirs; humanity has finally agreed on the definition of Right and Wrong.” — Ertaan

Centuries have passed. Philosophies have risen and faded. Ideologies and -isms have been formulated and reformulated. Through it all, humanity has persistently sought to define truth—questioning, debating, refining—yet never arriving at a universally accepted answer.

Until now.

Today, it seems we have quietly settled on an answer—not by agreement, but by surrender. Truth and falsehood are no longer universal constants. They are now elastic, customized by the individual. In a world of shared events, we live in segregated realities, each governed by personal convictions, curated newsfeeds, and tailored interpretations.

This redefinition of truth, deceptively simple at first glance, carries profound societal implications. It changes the very prism through which we experience reality, creating what I term the Social Theory of Relativity—the idea that truth is no longer absolute, but socially relative, shaped by one’s identity, community, and subjective narrative.


The Moral Compass: Once a Universal, Now a Choice

Throughout history, human civilizations developed ethical systems to navigate the complex terrain of right and wrong. Despite vast cultural and religious differences, there was an underlying assumption that truth was discoverable, morality was teachable, and justice was universal.

Philosophers from Aristotle to Kant argued that morality was grounded in reason. Religions—from Christianity and Islam to Hinduism and Buddhism—believed it was grounded in divine command. And even skeptics like Nietzsche, who proclaimed the “death of God,” did so in acknowledgment that a vacuum of moral authority would unleash a crisis of meaning.

The great moral schools—Deontology, Utilitarianism, Virtue Ethics, Contractualism—each offered different frameworks, yet all assumed the existence of some form of objective truth.

  • Deontologists like Kant insisted that right and wrong were rooted in duty. One must act according to principles that could be universally applied. Lying, for example, was wrong not because of its consequences, but because it violated a moral law.
  • Utilitarians, notably Bentham and Mill, flipped the question: right and wrong were outcomes, not intentions. The greatest good for the greatest number was the ultimate test of morality.
  • Virtue ethicists, following Aristotle, argued that morality was not in rules or results but in character—a good person would naturally make good choices.
  • Social contract theorists like Hobbes, Rousseau, and Rawls focused on agreement. Morality was what rational individuals would consent to in a fair society.

These moral frameworks all offered common reference points. Disagreement did not imply fragmentation, because it was still tethered to a shared world where truth was a matter of discovery, not invention.


The Shifting Ground: From Consensus to Conviction

The Enlightenment, for all its flaws, was built on the premise that reason could unite humanity. Facts were to be discovered, tested, and collectively verified. Democracy depended on the shared legitimacy of knowledge, science, and civic debate.

But as philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre warned in After Virtue, once societies abandon a coherent moral tradition, moral debates become “interminable”—not because they are deep, but because they lack common ground. We’re left with emotivism: statements like “X is wrong” merely mean “I disapprove of X.”

In today’s digital democracies, this prediction has come to life.

People no longer argue over facts—they argue over realities. A video of police brutality, once a unifying call for justice, now leads to divergent interpretations: for some, a symbol of systemic oppression; for others, a case of justified enforcement. Same event. Different worlds.

Yuval Noah Harari, writing in 21 Lessons for the 21st Century, observed:

“In a world deluged by irrelevant information, clarity is power.”

But what if clarity itself becomes subjective?


Relativism Ascendant: The Rise of the Individual Reality

The transformation did not occur overnight. It was the product of several historical trends converging:

1. Postmodernism and the Critique of Objectivity

Postmodern thinkers such as Michel Foucault, Jacques Derrida, and Jean Baudrillard dismantled the Enlightenment’s faith in grand narratives. They argued that truth was not discovered, but constructed—by power, language, and culture.

Foucault, in particular, revealed how institutions define norms not out of rational necessity, but to sustain dominance. In this view, knowledge is never neutral.

While originally meant to challenge oppressive structures, postmodernism inadvertently opened the door for radical relativism. If all narratives are constructed, why should anyone’s version of truth reign supreme?

2. Digital Echo Chambers

The internet promised access to information. What it delivered was fragmentation of knowledge. Social media platforms, powered by algorithmic curation, ensure that individuals are constantly affirmed, never challenged.

As Cass Sunstein explains in #Republic, exposure to diverse views shrinks, and “information cocoons” reinforce pre-existing beliefs. We no longer consume facts; we consume confirmation.

3. The Democratization of Truth

In earlier centuries, truth was the domain of prophets, philosophers, scientists, or states. Now, everyone is their own broadcaster. With a smartphone and a social media account, each person becomes a curator of their reality.

This may feel empowering—but it’s also deeply destabilizing. If everyone has a truth, then no one needs to submit to the truth.


Disjointed Society: The Age of Competing Realities

Truth has not disappeared; it has been privatized.

This has profound effects on societal cohesion. Nations, communities, and even families are splitting not just along political lines, but ontological ones. They don’t just disagree on solutions—they disagree on what the problem is.

Political debates no longer function as contests of ideas—they are clashes of realities. A climate activist and a climate change skeptic aren’t two sides of the same debate—they are living in different mental universes.

We’re now witnessing:

  • Polarized media ecosystems: Right-wing and left-wing audiences watch different news, trust different sources, and describe different worlds.
  • Moral outsourcing: People increasingly defer to identity-based “influencers” for moral clarity, replacing deliberation with tribal loyalty.
  • Weaponized narratives: States and corporations have learned to exploit fragmented truths—spreading disinformation, deepfakes, and manipulated media to seed confusion.

As Hannah Arendt once warned:

“The ideal subject of totalitarian rule is not the convinced Nazi or the convinced Communist, but people for whom the distinction between fact and fiction, true and false, no longer exists.”


The Psychological Cost: Identity Over Integrity

Why has relativism become so seductive?

Because in a chaotic world, belief offers identity, not merely understanding. When truth becomes unstable, individuals cling to their version of truth not out of arrogance, but out of fear.

Beliefs become shields. Admitting error or entertaining counterevidence becomes a threat to self.

As Jonathan Haidt explains in The Righteous Mind, morality is not just about logic—it is about belonging. People don’t believe what is true; they believe what aligns them with their group.

Thus, society becomes a battleground of tribal epistemology—truth is no longer what is provable, but what is loyal.


Can We Reclaim a Shared Reality?

The Social Theory of Relativity does not call for a return to naïve universalism. Cultures differ. Context matters. Some truths are genuinely plural.

But pluralism is not the same as relativism. Pluralism respects diversity while seeking shared ground. Relativism denies shared ground altogether.

To move forward, we must recover the idea of good faith disagreement—where people can argue, learn, and revise their views without losing their identity.

This requires several institutional and cultural shifts:

1. Education for Intellectual Humility

Teach students to separate belief from identity. Make critical thinking more than a buzzword—make it a habit of mind.

2. Epistemic Integrity in Journalism

Rebuild trust in media by being transparent, self-correcting, and focused on verifiable information rather than ideological narratives.

3. A Philosophy of Responsible Speech

Free speech is vital—but in a fractured information age, it must be coupled with epistemic responsibility. Say what you believe, but test it, refine it, and be open to challenge.

4. Digital Platform Accountability

Algorithms should be designed not just to engage but to expose users to difference. Echo chambers must be broken by design, not chance.


Conclusion: Truth Is Fragile—But Not Dead

The Social Theory of Relativity names a crisis—but it is not an obituary. Truth has not died; it has been drowned in noise. Our challenge is not to impose a single reality, but to protect the space where multiple realities can meet, converse, and find resonance.

A new social contract is needed—not built on the denial of difference, but on the responsibility to engage across it.

Because even if every person has their truth, society only survives when we can still talk about the truth.


Ertaan Siddiqui

“The writer is a regular columnist on social issues and can be reached at seer42.blog or via email at furian240@gmail.com.”

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