American culture, if there is such a thing, is weak and pitiful from decades (or more) of telling lies. And from glossing over lies that are told. Lies always cause weakness.
But the lies are understandable in a way.
Lies feel safe and cozy. Especially when they are told and retold. When the lies bring you together and make you feel a part of a community you have a special place to fit in.
Truth is often lonely and painful. I know.
I wish I could tell the lies and feel accepted and warm. But it wouldn’t change the truth. I wish I could say that cops are good guys, that taxation is the price of a civilized society, and that it’s good to support government because God tells me to in Romans 13. I wish I could believe in “authority” and that it is for my own good and the good of the children. I wish I could believe government schools are “public” centers of education. That citizenship is a wonderful thing. Those are comforting lies because of the beliefs of those around me. Telling those lies to myself and others would help me fit in and feel welcomed. But they are still lies.
