Can the “real world” please stand up? The struggle for normality as a claim to reality

Abstract

In this paper, I show that a phenomenological concept of normality can be helpful to understand the experiential side of post-truth phenomena. How is one’s longing for, or sense of, normality related to what we deem as real, true, or objective? And to what extent is the sense for “what (really) is” related to our beliefs of what should be? To investigate this, I combine a phenomenological approach to lived normality with a genealogical account of represented normality that sheds light on the social and historical contingency of definitions of normality and their intertwinement with structures of power. It is my contention that such an approach to normality is well-suited to investigate how is and ought are interrelated within subjective experience and practice. This might in turn help overcoming one-sided debates on post-truth, which rely on the strict opposition of objectivity versus subjectivity, universal truth versus subjective experience, facticity versus meaning, or reason versus stupidity. It also sheds light on the ambivalent or contested status of experience within debates of post-truth and feminist theory. I will conclude that post-truth is related to what Hannah Arendt has termed the lack of a common world (i.e., normality), arguing that a plurality of experiences is needed to let the “real world” stand its ground again.

Introduction

In these times of crisis, when public opinion tends to be polarized, the longing for normality is somewhat ubiquitous. If, in 2020, you had googled “will the world ever,” the top result would have been “go back to normal.” Indeed, with the Covid-19 pandemic, a common loss of normality involving a loss of one’s self-evident, familiar, and expected course of life, seemed to pervade human experience. However, reactions to this could not be more different: while some declared the (scope of) the Covid-19 pandemic to be overexaggerated or bogus, and sought to re-establish an (old) normality, others sought to cope with it and to establish a “new” normality. Both sides accused the other of disregarding reality as such, and both labeled the other naïve or uninformed.

In this paper, I want to show that a phenomenological concept of normality can be helpful to understand the experiential side of the phenomena of post-truth. How is one’s longing for, or sense of, normality related to what we deem as real or objective? And to what extent is the sense for “what (really) is” related to our beliefs of what should be? In relation to the case of Covid-19 described above, this paper starts by asking how something becomes (ab)normal and how this is related to our sense of what is objective or real. How does the experience of something as normal gives us a hint as to whether something really is (and not only for our own experience but for everyone’s)? This shall be investigated by applying a phenomenological (cf. Husserl, 1973, 2008, Merleau-Ponty, 2012) approach to lived normality.

Normality is not used here as a mere descriptive category, nor does it refer to an objectively measured average. Rather, it refers to modes of experience in which the world and others (stimuli, behavior, events, etc.) appear as self-evident, familiar, and expected. It thus seems that with the loss of normality and the uncertainty accompanying this loss, the self-evidence of reality itself is put under scrutiny. Old habits and beliefs are no longer self-evident, but new ones have yet to be established. In this in-between state not only what should be, but also what actually is (or was) turns into a subject for negotiation or struggle.

Phenomenologically, normality means experiencing in a concordant or optimal way, that is, either individually (regarding prior experience and actions) or intersubjectively (in comparison to the experience and actions of others). Our experience of normality is directly related to our sense of reality and objectivity, as I will show in part one of this paper. But how do we then come to such opposing claims to reality? I will use the Covid pandemic, more precisely the phenomenon of Covid-deniers (in opposite to Covid-adapters), to illustrate how a group actively engages in a struggle against a changing and contingent reality by trying to hold on to the old normality, that is, a world they are used to.

What happens to objectivity when a common world is lost, or some perspectives dominate, and others never get any attention? Here, dominant beliefs about what is and what should count as normal, might in turn determine how one perceives reality (actual stimuli, behavior, and events). Therefore, one must ask not only how (our access to) reality becomes (ab)normal, but also how established normality in turn shapes our perception of reality. In the second part of the paper, I therefore turn to the question of how attention to, or acceptance of, reality is related to an established framework of social norms. Here, I combine the phenomenological approach with a genealogical account of represented normality (via Foucault and Butler) to shed light on the social and historical contingency of definitions of normality and their intertwinement with structures of power. Contrary to Covid-deniers’ struggle against reality (holding on to an old sense of normality), here I focus on the struggle for reality by social movements like #MeToo and #Black Lives Matter, proposing that they aim to become part of a “new” normality allowing them a more carefree and unmarked life.

To relate the longing for normality back to post-truth, I will, in part three, link both phenomena to what Hannah Arendt has termed the lack of a common world. I conclude with Arendt that a plurality of experiences is needed to let the “real world” stand its ground again.

1. The loss of lived normality, and the (common) sense of reality

One reason given as to why we (implicitly and immediately) take an object or event to be “real” or “true” is that it unfolds itself concordantly over time in a regular and normal way. The first criterion for normality as defined by Husserl is thus the concordance of the contents of experience. ¹ As long as something unfolds in an expected and concordant way, we implicitly hold it to be existent or real, and no further evidence or inquiry is needed. However, if we suddenly experience a deviance from our formerly concordant experience, a specific awareness occurs in the form of irritation or surprise. An example Husserl himself uses is the occurrence of a temporal bodily anomaly, in his case, a burned finger (cf. Husserl 2008 (Hua XXXIX), 640). He describes how his beloved desk (be aware of armchair philosophy!) suddenly feels different, because of his burned finger. Such a deviant sensory experience stands out, contrasting with the overall normal experience of the rest of the sensory system. In comparison to earlier tactile perceptions, one experiences those sensations stemming from the burned finger as abnormal, discordant.

The experience of deviance, modification or discordance is in this regard an indicator for a sentient being that something might be “wrong.” It calls for our attention and further inquiry, it interrupts the immediate trust in what we experience (cf. Pugliese 2019). Deviations from our usual way of experience, or interruptions to the concordant course of perception, are thus important and necessary. The experienced “negation” of something we expected to happen helps to update our automatic anticipations (perceptional beliefs) and verifies them in the negative. However, if the current experience conflicts with the previous one, we must solve this conflict in favor of one normality (or reality) over the other, while the other will be declared an illusion, dream, or exception.

The possible strategies to react to experiences of interrupted normality thereby depend on how radical, sudden, or sustainable the respective change is. In the case of the burned finger, this situation can easily be experienced as an exception, since after the finger has healed, everything goes back to normal. But with lasting changes to one’s body due to injuries, aging, or extensive training, a new individual lived normality must slowly be established. Furthermore, what happens when our environment or world radically changes suddenly, due to a move to a different country, or due to a global crisis like the Corona pandemic? Here, different strategies are possible. One possibility is to stick to an old normality or concordance and ignore, deny, or explain deviances as mere exceptions to the rule; the other is to accept irritation and change and slowly try to establish a new lived normality including new habits and beliefs that “match” again with the changed environment. However, we see a tendency to resist changes and keep the old concordance (habits and beliefs) as long as possible.

But consistency with what we have seen or believed before, is not the only aspect that influences lived normality. Something also needs to be relevant for one’s current actions, interests, or aims. Husserl therefore defines a second criterion for lived normality: optimality, that is, the inherent relation of every ongoing experience to an absolute or relative optimum. ² Experiencing normality is not only defined by a mere implicit concordance (where what we experience aligns, resonates or is in accordance with what we experienced before) but also guided by whether what we are about to experience suits our interests, aims, and current practical goals, that is, is optimal regarding our projects. That concordance is not a sufficient criterion for experiences to be considered normal can also be seen in the fact that a sub-optimal condition, such as a crisis, a situation of war or of oppression, would never be deemed normal, even when it is a permanent situation one somehow got used to (and therefore fulfills the criteria of concordance).

If normality were characterized by concordance alone, it would be limited to the preservation of what has already been experienced, learned, and established: pure habit or tradition. However, normality must not only be established, constantly stabilized, or re-established, but also continuously improved as our perception and knowledge of the world is never complete. Lived normality is thus a dynamic and fragile process that mediates between the old and the new in terms of time and content; within daily activities and interactions lived normality is maintained, anticipated, interrupted, and renewed to maintain concordance and optimality during events. Breaks in concordance are necessary to make normality sustainable and future-proof: otherwise, it would not be possible to experience new things and adapt to changing circumstances.

Normality is therefore not just an indicator of usual or habitual behavior, but is, in its most general and formal sense, a necessary criterion for every possible experience, and the experienceable reality (or non-reality) of things. The question of lived normality thereby ties neatly into questions of objectivity and normativity. When, in the context of the recent pandemic, we hear calls to go back to normal or to establish a new normal, this is not by accident related to the rise of a missing trust in objectivity or the sciences. In such a situation, one must adapt one’s habits constantly (avoid shaking hands, get used to wearing a mask, etc.) and is confronted with the contingency of reality, where one can never fully anticipate what will happen next, or be sure if it is a temporary or lasting change of what we used to call “normality.” This is even more so given that the reason for this crisis, the virus, is something that cannot be experienced itself (as an object), but only be measured, tested, or made visible by science and statistics. Hence, on the one hand we are forced to trust in experts and science to link our experience to an objectively measured reality; on the other, we must get used to a constant “deviation” or “irritation” regarding the necessarily partial and changing predictions of the future development of the crisis. This makes us painfully aware of the temporality and contingency of every fact, and the always partial and limited access we have to reality.

Here, we arrive at the most crucial criteria for normality: an aspect we need if we want to justify the status of what we experience as objective or real: intersubjectivity. Lived normality can never be a purely individual matter. To call something normal or objective, my experience must correspond to that of other subjects, and must continue to correspond to the intersubjective (cultural and social) optima of a society. A proper and sustainable normality, defined as that which is accessible and valid to all, is only possible when the latter criterion of intersubjective normality is fulfilled. Although on an individual level normality enables a coherent and familiar experience, only intersubjective normality can establish a common ground or “world” as the basis for all social interaction and communication. When one’s perception of the world thus radically differs from everyone else’s, this can become problematic. As the meaning of the term objective already implies, what is called objective must be, at least potentially, perceivable, or measurable by others, that is, not merely by myself. Of course, subjective experiences differ in scope, attention, and quality; however, this already implies that we are potentially able to refer to the same object or world (which we perceive in a qualitatively different way).

In the face of the Corona pandemic, dealing with a virus, one could thus say that we are all blind and must trust the reported evidence of scientists in the media. We cannot experience it directly, only mediated by predictions or through the consequences (an infection of the virus) that we experience ourselves or witness in others. In this sense, one could argue that already on the level of perception, “trust” (cf. Pugliese 2019) plays a crucial role. This is even more so when one considers the necessity of other subjects to validate and complement our experiences and limited knowledge about the world. In this regard, a general lack of trust in a “world” that is not self-evident anymore due to situations of crisis or change, might lead some people to search for something that can explain the contingent and unpredictable present: a narrative that helps to make sense of what happens, or someone to hold accountable for what happens. Often, this goes along with the belief in specific persons or leaders embodying the respective narrative. Consequently, the line between right and wrong, and even fact and fiction, is established not by what is said but by whom (i.e., people of the right or wrong camp).

In this case, the need to retain a sense of (past) concordance turns into an explicit interest or aim, which leads one to actively search for answers and evidence confirming a specific narrative or explanation. Paradoxically, the contingency of the situation (a crisis with no definite cause and no foreseeable end) leads one to deny or resist facts altogether, and instead to decide whom to (people, media, or groups) trust and whom not to trust. This in turn is done with the aim to find a narrative that maintains the “old normal”—although only as a myth or lost utopia—within an alternatively created “reality.” Social media facilitates the creation of these alternative reality bubbles and stabilizes them via an algorithmic logic that is adjusted to the interests of the users, that is, their past user behavior, and furthermore intensifies their emotional engagement with it. (Negative emotions are known to keep users especially engaged on a site). This in turn leads to a continuous confirmation of one’s doubts and feeds people with supposed evidence for their narrative in the form of experiential testimonials or experts that argue against the intersubjective scientific mainstream.

“I don’t believe in facts,” says a friendly woman in a Dutch documentary on conspiracy theories. “For me, there is no virus,” claims a man in a German documentary on the so-called lateral thinker (Querdenker) movement. In such an alternative reality, everything that is mainstream (intersubjectively recognized as normal or objective) is seen as a sign not for—but against—a “real” truth. At the same time, one actively expresses a resistance to scientific facts and a preference for subjective impressions (but only those of the “right” group of people). This is a phenomenon of post-truth in the sense that people do not refer to a common truth anymore, but instead create their own truth, a truth that is guided not so much by what is, but by what should be (or should not be)—that is, what is in line with their old normality. In this sense, Hannah Arendt is right when she states that it is not enough that there are facts, one also needs to be responsive or open to them and recognize them as relevant (cf. Arendt 1993, 237). However, as I will now discuss, one needs to be in a position of privilege to be able to ignore facts, a privilege not everyone has.

2. Represented normality and the framing of reality

While it seems that Covid-deniers actively engage in a struggle against a changing and contingent reality by trying to hold on to an old normality and even mystifying this normality (which was actually never present) as a stable or universal state; in the case of marginalized or oppressed groups, one can identify instead a struggle for reality. That is, they struggle for their existence and experience to count equally as evidence of a shared world, equally to those of the dominant group of subjects who represent the “normal” or standard. Here, it becomes obvious that not everyone has the privilege of lived normality in the same way. Some groups instead fall outside what is represented as normal within a specific time, history, culture, or social community (cf. Ahmed 2014, 152).

The scope and concrete possibility of lived normality is thus in a concrete way dependent on a represented normality. When one investigates represented normality, the focus lies not on the (general) way or manner of experiencing, but on the (specific) represented content of experience that is evaluated and accepted as “normal.” Here, one needs to change perspectives and no longer approach lived normality from within, but investigate normality from without, that is, considering what and who is judged to be “normal” or “abnormal” according to preexistent, dominant societal norms (cf. Foucault, 1990 [1976]; 1995 [1975]; Butler 1993). Such norms include heterosexuality, binary gender norms, or the norm of being white, male, healthy, thin, young, sexy, and/or able-bodied, and deeply influence concrete forms of lived normality. For some, they enable smooth interactions with the world. However, for others, the world thus-shaped is less of a comfort-zone and needs their constant attention. Represented normality thereby influences both a) the implicit way of our daily doings, that is, how we sit, move, behave, and b) how we explicitly perceive and judge ourselves (our bodies) according to the respective norms.

In this sense, every concrete lived normality is already situated, which is to say that the respective subjects are embedded in an already established normative framework (and thus confronted with a represented normality). This does not mean, however, that experiences are totally determined by discourses or social norms, as we have seen in the last section. Normality is never complete, fixed or finally established: we change it as we experience, describe, and criticize it. Nonetheless, the facts we experience and encounter are not neutral, but always organized or ordered in some way, either by individual interests and goals or by discursive and social frameworks. Although these frames cannot invent reality or the world, they do select what affects us, what appears in the fore- or background. They thereby determine what facts, persons, or experiences matter at a given time and, in each context, (Goffman 1974, Gitlin 1980, 6; cf. also Butler 1993, 2009). This in turn is related to what one deems to be true, what is accepted as evidence or who is accepted as a proper witness.

An example for this is the awareness of the needs and voices of marginalized or oppressed groups in the last years and decennia that (despite plenty of backlash and resistance from right-wing movements) fundamentally changed and complemented the mainstream perspective. While in the 1990s, for most people, sexist and racist expression and behavior was still normal, that is, did not raise overall awareness or stick out as an effect to be explained, this has now arguably changed (see #MeToo and #BlackLivesMatter). In this process, notions of normality that operated as background for our interpretation of reality are now themselves marked as a framework to be explained and legitimated. Social norms in this way have an implicit impact on what and how much something is able to irritate or surprise, or how much it has the potential to interrupt the self-evidence of one’s experience. However, by being concretely confronted with other subjects who experience the world differently from me, I get the chance to become aware of the inherent norms or “rules” of my “normalized” experience. Here, we can ask: how was I not able to see that what people were saying was a legitimate contribution to the truth? Why did it, back then, not matter?

From such a situated perspective of normality (cf. Wehrle 2022b), it becomes obvious that not all experiences or individual evidence are taken as equally relevant for an intersubjective normality, or common objectivity: some testimonials, or pieces of evidence, are taken to be less rational or reliable, because they are uttered by a specific (marginalized) group. In labeling these perspectives instances of “cancel culture,” “hype,” or “hysteria,” one denies these perspectives their evidence and objectivity, that is, their claim to reality. If specific experiences are labeled as exceptions or exaggerations, or when the respective subjects are devalued, they cannot be included in a new normality. Such epistemic or testimonial injustice “occurs when prejudice causes a hearer to give a deflated level of credibility to a speaker’s word” (Fricker 2007, 1), and is “further exacerbated by axes of difference and forms of discrimination directed at women whose positioning within structures of race, ethnicity, and class renders some women’s voices less authoritative, less visible, or less consequential” (Budgeon, 2021, 253; cf. Palazzi, 2018; Onwuachi-Willig, 2018).

The #MeToo movement, for example, can be characterized as an expression of experiences that disrupts the “routine minimization of women’s account of harm into the ‘He said/She said’ pattern” (Gilmore, 2017, 1) that has for a long time framed the discourses of sexual violence. As Budgeon emphasizes, these old, gendered dynamics of the recognition and evaluation of experiential testimonials reveal an epistemic injustice denying individual women the status of a knowing subject and thus their claim to reality (Budgeon, 2021, 253; cf. McKinnon, 2016; Jackson, 2018). The growing awareness that #MeToo created, has in turn shown the force of collective testimonials of subjective experience; it succeeded in forcing the majority to confront and thus recognize the reality, and painful normality, of sexual violence.

However, we also see an emphasis on the evidence of subjective experience in the case of post-truth or Covid-denial, where these experiences are presented as counterevidence to mainstream media, democracy, or science. Should one therefore avoid reference to experience altogether when searching for truth? On the one hand this seems reasonable regarding the overemphasis on affection or “feeling culture” characteristic of post-truth, where expressions of pain or hate are deemed truer than measurable facts (Burgess 2018, 361). On the other hand, as in the above example, it is obvious that a collective, shared experience is needed within feminist theory and other emancipatory movements to make the existence, problems, and sufferings of marginalized and oppressed groups visible and thus real for everyone (Scott, 1991; Oksala, 2016; Budgeon, 2021, 12–15).

Such a claim for the evidence, reliability, and reality of one’s experience is in turn part of an overall struggle for normality. Such a struggle for normality also plays a major role in the case of post-truth (which often overlaps or goes along with populism and an outspoken anti-gender ideology), as we have seen in the previous paragraph. In opposition however to emancipatory movements, one can identify here an attempt to conserve traditional gender norms against liberal values including diversity and equality. In this sense, one defends or tries to get back an “old” (gender) normality at all costs. This is done despite—or even because—of the fact that there is no longer such a common normality. The status of such a framework “as normal,” here in the sense of natural or authentic, is thereby proclaimed passionately against the so-called “fake,” “artificial,” or even “perverse” new normality of elites. This “new normality” is in turn labeled in the negative as “mainstream,” taking over a critical position formerly held by the political Left. Here, we see a shift of norms and a growing tension between old and new represented forms of normality. This leads to the seemingly paradoxical situation in which right-wing groups call for “normality,” as for example, in the election slogan of the German AFD, “Germany, but normal” (orig. “Deutschland, aber normal!”), while at the same time attacking the supposed mainstream.

However, despite this supposed “mainstream” that is said to re-organize reality according to the self-interests of minorities and elites at the cost of “normal people” (cf. Budgeon, 2021, 254), marginalized groups are still fighting for their existence, their voices to be heard, and their problems to matter. Therefore, they are neither able to enjoy the privilege of a lived normality (that is to just blend in, and act and be accepted in a “natural” or self-evident way), nor are they fully included in what currently represents “the normal” in the Western world.

3. Post-truth and the lack of a common world

If the phenomenon of post-truth or alternative facts was just a matter of “false beliefs,” then we could indeed tackle it with thorough fact-checking, information, and education. However, the reasons, role, and function of such beliefs (or better, worldviews) for the subjects who hold them seem more complicated and fundamental than mere epistemological mistakes (cf. Farkas and Schou 2020). People hold on to those beliefs despite being confronted with opposing facts, and sometimes cling to them even more tenaciously when so confronted.

This has led some to argue, in the vein of Arendt, that what is lacking in cases of post-truth is not so much the correct information, belief or interpretation, but reference to a common world (cf. Zerilli 2020). What Arendt thereby shares with phenomenological approaches is the insight that facts, to be relevant or effective, first need to appear (be perceived or recognized). But in turn, what appears only gets the status of a fact when it appears not just to me, but to all possible perceivers. To form the basis for a stable objectivity (reality), facts—contrary to mere fiction—thus need the continuous testimony of other subjects. Phenomena such as post-truth and alternative facts refer in this regard to a “shift in the shared factual reality” (Zerilli 2020, 7). The blurred lines between facts and mere subjective opinion are expressed in the dominance of an “it seems to me” or “what is true for me,” which is indifferent to how it seems to others. In this sense, we could argue with Arendt that the problem of post-truth is not so much relativism, but indeed the absence of a common world (cf. Arendt 1976, 474; 1993, 231–242). Instead of having a plurality of perspectives or opinions on the same object, this very “shared object” or world is missing (cf. Zerilli 2020, 7).

Arendt emphasizes here (like Husserl) the transcendence and resistance of the external world (as well as other real subjects) that determines the limits of every subjective experience. However, every evaluation, reflection, verification, or critique of experience must begin within each subject’s own experience. Only through one’s own experience can we access the world and thus discover possible differences between fact and fiction, truth, or falsehood. Although, the “it seems to me” comes with the risk of mere subjectivism, for Arendt it is also the “irreducible basis of that which appears to us as objective” (Zerilli 2020, 8). An epistemological critique thus always must begin with a proper self-critique of one’s experience and underlying assumptions and self-evident beliefs about it.

We have seen how a phenomenological account helps to understand how the experience of reality is related to a lived and represented (historical) normality, and how important intersubjectivity is for both our sense of reality and normality. The “real world” cannot stand up on its own, nor can it be found behind the curtain of mere subjective experiences. The (real) “world” can only be a world that is common (in the sense of valid and accessible) to all. The lived normality of individuals as well as intersubjective communities thereby depends on the fact that what we experience is concordant (with what we experienced before, how others experience the same object or event) and optimal (regarding individual or intersubjective future interests, practices, or projects).

Normality is thereby not to be considered merely as a represented norm that represents dominant power structures and excludes everything that does not conform to it; as lived normality, it is also a necessary aspect of a meaningful, shared, and objective experience, and moreover, an existential need for most subjects. However, a normality that tries to conserve or mystify an old or universal status of concordance is not sustainable. Even worse, such a normality is not a proper intersubjective normality at all, since it is preserved at the cost of other (groups of) subjects. In demarcating and excluding subjects from the represented version of normality, one takes away their possibility of a lived normality. Here, a critique of normality is needed that thematizes the self-evidence of our normality, not merely in an epistemological sense, but also in an ethical sense. In this regard, a rupture with one’s familiarity is needed, even if the result is simply that “the normals” come to experience the world from alternative perspectives and therefore begin to understand how their normality comes about and, ideally, at what and whose cost.

What Arendt critically adds to a phenomenological approach is the emphasis on the necessity of affirmation, acceptance, or recognition of something as “common,” “real,” “public,” or “normal.” In this sense, the context, that is, the represented normality as a background frame, determines which facts or social groups can claim normality or even reality for themselves. Although factual truth lies at the heart of politics and a common world, the mere existence and availability of facts (i.e., that something happened at a certain time, that something exists or “is there”) is, for Arendt, not enough to speak of a common world: one also needs the aspect of doxa.

Facts do not speak for themselves; they need to be relevant to the people in question, that is, they need to be affirmed and accepted as such (cf. Arendt 1993, 237). What one considers or accepts as fact is not only concerned with epistemological or rational aspects, but also with the respective context, projects, or interests, that is, what is relevant currently for specific groups of people. Moreover, a fact does not seem a relevant truth to us if we have already gotten used to it, that is, if these kinds of lies have already become normal to us and are thus merely “old news,” not worthy of our attention. Facts need our attention to be effective and to be accepted as part of our world and reality. This was made painfully clear after 30 years of climate change ignorance or even denial from most of the public and from the institutions most responsible for it.

Regarding the phenomenon of post-truth or alternative facts, more seems at hand than just “weird” or “false” beliefs. Rather, the ignorance or negation of facts can be read as a sign of a lack of orientation and trust that leads to the willful resistance against a changing and contingent world, to regain a supposed order and control. In this context, only the facts or experiences that are in line with this desire for normality are taken seriously—the ones that do not help to save one’s normality are addressed as “fake” or “inauthentic.” This in turn leads not only to the blurring of facts and opinion, but to a situation where facticity and reality as such are approached as mere conflicts of interest. This again is evident in the case of the Corona crisis, where Covid-deniers and protesters (such as the so-called “unconventional or lateral thinkers” [Querdenker] in Germany) put not only the “mainstream” media, science, and politics, but also the reality of the virus itself, under scrutiny.

However, I share with Arendt the optimistic view that in the long run, the real world will strike back, as it represents the horizon but also the ultimate material and physical limit to all experiences and beliefs. Struggles against reality are not, in the end, sustainable. The external world or reality necessarily transcends each individual or group’s perspective of it. The world or reality is thus not a fixed thing that can be defined a priori, but an open experiential horizon. A plurality of perspectives is in this sense necessary to guard the truth: to prove the evidence of our appearances, we need constant processes of confirmation. We can only “trust” our experience with the help of others. Therefore, for the “real world” to stand up, we need perspectives that confirm, complement, and question our subjective take on the world.