The truth is hard.

I’m not saying anything novel, and I have been reluctant to add to the wailing and gnashing of teeth we’ve all witnessed on social media for the past two weeks.

But this, my third semester concurrent with the election season, I have had the good fortune of taking DIA Methods I, one of two mandatory classes (DIA Methods II, unsurprisingly the second) needed to equip me with the methods to research and write my thesis, a piece of work meant to add to the body of international affairs scholarship and knowledge. This class has also brought into stark relief how complicated “truth” is to define, identify, observe, and test.

Too often, even with overeducated researchers, bias and misinformation taint the well of knowledge, and discernment and critical thinking are cast aside for the ease and comfort of partisan cheerleading and outright maliciousness. So, what to do?

The answer is neither simple nor absolute but begins with humility and discipline. It starts with acknowledging the limitations of our perspectives, the imperfection of our tools, and the complexity of the systems we seek to understand. In DIA Methods I, we are not just learning techniques to collect and analyze data; we are learning how to ask better questions—questions that challenge assumptions, clarify ambiguities, and cut through the noise to find signals of truth.

The class has reinforced a fundamental principle: truth-seeking is not about certainty; it’s about rigor. It’s about transparency in our methods, openness to alternative explanations, and a willingness to revise conclusions when confronted with better evidence. This approach doesn’t just apply to academic research; it’s vital in navigating our polarized landscape, where facts are weaponized and narratives wantonly distorted.

As a researcher, I am learning to embrace complexity rather than oversimplify. As a citizen, I strive to listen more than I speak, question more than I assert, and resist the urge to settle for easy answers in the face of difficult questions. As someone who will soon write a thesis that aims to contribute to international affairs scholarship, I am committed to using this training to produce work that prioritizes truth—not convenience, not ideology, not expediency.

The stakes couldn’t be higher. When we abandon the pursuit of truth, we erode trust in institutions, undermine democratic norms, and weaken the fabric of society. But when we treat truth as a discipline, a process rather than a destination, we strengthen the foundations upon which knowledge, policy, and progress are built.

So, what to do? We do the work. We learn the methods. We commit to the craft of critical inquiry. And we remind ourselves that while the truth may be hard, it is always worth pursuing.