The Death of Curiosity— Do “Truth” and “Science” Even Exist?

For years, I trusted what seemed like solid wisdom about nutrition. Like many, I avoided fat, followed a plant-based diet, and ate foods marketed as “healthy,” like margarine on light toast or oatmeal. It felt safe. Virtuous even. But now, looking back, I have to wonder: how much of what I believed was actually true?

Take the Food Pyramid, for instance. Why did it encourage 6–11 servings of grains a day and warn against fat? Were these guidelines really rooted in unshakable science? Or were they shaped by government subsidies tied to crops like wheat and corn? What happens when economic incentives influence public health recommendations?

By the 1980s, fat was labeled the villain—blamed for heart disease, obesity, and more. But as low-fat products flooded the market, loaded with sugar and additives to replace flavor, public health only worsened. Heart disease, diabetes, and obesity rates all skyrocketed. If fat was the problem, why didn’t removing it from our diets fix anything?

It’s uncomfortable to confront these questions. Admitting we’ve been misled—by industries, institutions, or even our own assumptions—requires humility. But here’s the thing: if we don’t question what we’ve been told, how do we know we’re not just believing a convenient narrative?

Consider this: processed plant-based alternatives, convenience foods, and pharmaceuticals yield far higher profit margins than single-ingredient or animal-based foods. While meat producers operate on razor-thin margins of 1–5%, plant-based substitutes can bring in 20–40%, with convenience foods climbing as high as 60%. Is it any wonder we’re told these products are healthier, more ethical, and more sustainable?

Even medicine isn’t immune. Why do medical students spend fewer than five hours studying nutrition but hundreds of hours on pharmaceuticals? Why are so many courses funded by pharmaceutical companies? If we never ask these questions, are we really informed—or just guided toward what’s profitable?

Our susceptibility to persuasion doesn’t stop at food. It extends to how we vote, what we buy, and even how we see the world. It’s also about us. We carry our own biases—shaped by what feels familiar, safe, or virtuous. How often do we ask ourselves: Why do I believe this? Who taught me to think this way? Who benefits when I staunchly support these beliefs?

There’s an old saying: never ask a barber if you need a haircut. The point is simple—those with something to gain will rarely give you impartial advice. So why do we blindly trust industries, governments, or even ourselves without questioning the motivations behind the narratives we accept as truth?

Socrates had a point when he questioned virtue itself. What is “good”? What is “bad”? Who gets to decide? Are “truth” and “science” even real—or are they just constructs shaped by power, profit, or convenience?

Curiosity, though uncomfortable, is our greatest tool against manipulation. It’s not just about seeking answers but about asking the right questions:

• Who benefits from this narrative?

• What’s being left out of the story?

• Are there perspectives I haven’t considered?

• What if the “truth” I believe is just another convenient narrative?

• How am I manipulating myself?

We live in a time when narratives are crafted with increasing sophistication. Social media algorithms know our fears and desires better than we do. AI tools refine messaging to nudge us toward preordained choices. If we don’t reclaim our curiosity, how much of our thinking will even be our own?

So how do we resist? By making curiosity a daily practice.

• Seek diverse perspectives: Read books, watch documentaries, and engage with ideas that challenge your own. Look for books written decades ago, or by foreign authors, to ensure that you are not clinging to your own bubble.

• Follow the money: Look into who funds the studies, campaigns, or ads shaping your beliefs. Don´t stop at the first answer, keep digging. Do as children do—keep asking "Why?"

• Disconnect: Spend time offline to clear the noise and reconnect with your own thoughts.

• Question everything—even this article.

When we stop questioning, we stop growing. And that’s when we truly lose our way.

So start small. Ask yourself: What have I been taught to believe? And what if it’s not true?

The answers might surprise you—or leave you with even more questions. But isn’t that the point?