See, preachers—like everyone else—filter their teachings through layers of personal experience. Some are gentle guides, others take a hard line, but most fall somewhere in the middle. That’s not surprising. We all lean on what we know: our stories, our histories, our mistakes. It’s just that, for religious teachers, this bias carries extra weight. Sometimes their perspective anchors a community, offering stability and belonging. Other times, accumulated bias can make a religion feel rigid or exclusionary—raising walls instead of building bridges.
There’s an intricate relationship between philosophy and religion—one that’s often faded from daily life, maybe because it’s just hard for most people to grasp or use in a practical sense. That’s where the main character enters: PREACHERS. They’re the interpreters, translating religion into rituals and everyday guidelines. On the surface, that all seems calm, maybe even comforting. But it isn’t always so simple.
But bias, on its own, isn’t always bad. It gives people a sense of identity and keeps tradition alive. Still, complications arise when personal bias edges out openness or drowns out plural voices. Suddenly, religion’s hopeful message gets tangled with narrow views. Yet, even then, radical views rarely bloom from bias alone. Social pressures, political strife, or feelings of displacement all add fuel—so let’s not pretend it’s all about the preachers.
Where does philosophy fit in? It doesn’t just ask us to question; it invites us to wrestle with paradoxes, to sit with uncertainties, to explore meaning where answers might never be clear. Philosophy doesn’t compete with faith—it walks alongside it, a companion or sometimes a gentle challenger.
Truth isn’t always a bright, singular light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes it’s a mosaic—multi-colored, shifting as we move, built from different lives and beliefs. Maybe the truth will always be just out of reach, but our search for it—our willingness to ask, listen, reflect—defines who we are.
There are obvious downsides to democracy. When we look at the distribution of opinion on a particular issue, it generally follows a normal distribution. This implies that to achieve the majority, it's theoretically advised to stick to the centre. And this love for mediocrity makes democracy allergic to politically solid decisions. Along with it, democracies tend to be the rooster for sweet talkers. And that is an outcome rather than a voluntary trait. Primarily because most voters need to be equipped to deal with the complexities of the field. For example, it could be more practical for an electrical engineer to comprehend medical patterns and the pandemic's effect on production. Thus, democratic institutions need people managers who have two keywords to watch out for - sweet talking and status quo. However, democracies have been hugely popular. And people have reported being happier. Whether this is induced, indoctrinated or influenced is another question. But history has cho...