Truth, Story and Power

Part I: From Myth to Media

This series is based on a book chapter by Ida Manton, originally published in Macedonian in Mediumska pismenost.

With the author’s permission, the text has been edited for brevity and adapted into a three-part series for publication on Cardigan Collective. The structure and subheadings are editorial additions intended to guide readers through the themes of the original work.

Cardigan Collective examines how narratives shape power in the information environment. Ida Manton’s work offers a sweeping historical and philosophical reflection on storytelling, authority, myth, journalism, and disinformation. It reminds us that the struggle over truth began long before social media. 

Who Gets to Tell the Story?

We live in a world where news often feels unreliable, where outrage travels faster than verification, and where commentary frequently replaces reporting. Many people now turn to late-night comedy, podcasts, documentaries, and TED-style talks for explanation and meaning, seeking analysis outside traditional journalism.

This shift is not accidental. It reflects a deeper transformation in how stories are told, by whom, and by whom reality is interpreted.

The Messenger and the Sacred

The media of today resembles the medieval messenger who once announced royal decrees. That messenger had two faces. One was theatrical, designed to capture attention. The other was entrusted with knowledge and authority. Throughout history, these two natures competed with one another.

With the printing press came literacy and a new class of knowledge-bearers. With radio and television came centralised authority and regulatory frameworks that defined what could be shared publicly. Journalism developed professional standards. Editors acted as gatekeepers. Storytelling carried weight.

There was once a meaningful distinction among sacred texts, established newspapers, and folklore shared in families or in public squares. Over time, reformers sought to bring the sacred closer to the people. Yet the internet went further. It did not merely democratise distribution but removed the filter.

What has changed most sharply in recent decades is that the platform has become universal. Almost anyone can publish or broadcast content, at any time, without invitation, accreditation, or editorial filtering. The stage has been democratised, but it has also been desacralised, and authority has weakened accordingly.

Chaos Before Order

In mythological terms, order emerges from chaos. In the early years of the internet, the digital realm resembled infinity: dark, unstructured, boundless. There were no clear rules and little anticipation of scale. Human curiosity filled the space rapidly. The result was expansion before regulation.

Digital existence is now inevitable. The contours are clearer. The system is being filled, tested, expanded, and multiplied. Yet the question remains: what is the story's intention?

Is it to inform, to educate, to speculate, to persuade, or to mobilise?

Professional journalism once carried expectations. It required sources, verification, research, and accountability. In the contemporary digital environment, these professional parameters have weakened under the pressure of speed, monetisation, and minimal regulation, particularly on web portals where authorship is often absent and responsibility diffused. The logic of click-based revenue encourages spectacle and rapid circulation, while sensational content travels with few constraints. As a result, the traditional authority once associated with journalism has diminished, even though the influence of storytelling itself has not.

Myth, Power, and Authority

From ancient tribal leaders to kings believed to rule by divine right, storytelling has always served power. Those who controlled information controlled the hierarchy.

In many early societies, kings were both rulers and priests. As James Frazer observed in The Golden Bough, ancient rulers were often regarded as intermediaries between mortals and the divine. Authority was reinforced through ritual, myth, and narrative.

Storytelling did not merely describe reality; it sanctified it.

The mythical dimension emerged from the need to explain the incomprehensible. Imagination filled gaps in knowledge. Over time, science began to offer alternative explanations, yet myth persisted. Even today, scientific understanding coexists with inherited symbolic systems. The structure of the week still reflects Babylonian astronomy, despite modern planetary knowledge.

Narratives endure because they anchor identity.

When Literature Reveals What Power Conceals

In times of repression, literature and art often become vehicles for truth.

Shakespeare’s Hamlet illustrates this tension. Hamlet stages a play to reveal the crime of his father’s murder. He uses performance to expose hidden guilt. Yet uncertainty remains. Is his truth objective, or shaped by grief and imagination?

In societies where institutions fail, storytelling becomes investigative. Where law is weak, narrative attempts to restore moral order.

This tension persists today.

When does a journalist report, and when do they narrate?
When does interpretation become embellishment?
When does poetry cross into manipulation?

The line between truth-telling and storytelling is therefore never simple and requires discernment, especially when narrative becomes a tool of influence.

Truth, Perspective, and Responsibility

Truth is never experienced identically by all observers. Perspective matters. Interpretation adds nuance. Without plurality, we risk rigid dogma. Yet plurality does not erase the difference between truth and fabrication.

There are stories that selectively omit facts. There are stories that consciously distort reality to provoke emotion, mobilise anger, or shape belief. The intention behind storytelling matters.

As Havel warned, systems built on lies must suppress truth. But the search for truth also demands humility. As André Gide once wrote, “Believe those who are seeking the truth; doubt those who find it.”

In every age, storytelling shapes reality. In our own, the stakes are amplified by scale and speed. The question is no longer only what is true, but who has the authority to define it.

And that question did not begin with the internet.

It began with myth.

About the Author

Ida Manton is a writer and scholar whose work explores storytelling, myth, media, and political power. Her writing examines the thin line between truth-telling and narrative construction in both historical and contemporary contexts.