Once upon a time there was truth. In this blissful era political agreement and collective consensus ruled in a public sphere that was neutral, pleasant even; a realm in which citizens and politicians exchanged pure clear facts, one reasoned being to another.

Once upon a time Northern Ireland was a place where people disagreed. It was a region known for its unique conflict, where people of different views had little grace for those whose perspectives they opposed and took extreme actions as a result.

That was then; this is now.

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Forgive me.

About neither the tectonic political shifts that have led some to proclaim a ‘post-truth’ era, nor the near miraculous progress ‘post-conflict’ Northern Ireland has made in the last 20 years do I mean to make light. But I do want to question the implicit misrepresentation that said particular four-letter prefix can give.

I mean to suggest that both post-truth and post-conflict suggest a false degree of separation between the circumstances of the past and those of the present.

Truth to post-truth; order to chaos; progress to decline; light to dark.

Conflict to post-conflict; volatility to stability; threat to security; bad to good.

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One of the earliest examples of written text concerned the anti-corruption and governance reforms of Urukagina, a popular ruler in the ancient Babylonian city-state of Lagash; Urukagina styled himself as a restorer of governing integrity.

Although there are no records of Urukagina denigrating ‘experts’ or motivating crowds to chant, ‘drain the swamp’, the concerns of this ancient ruler highlight the enduring nature of political turmoil.

‘Truth’, in the public sphere, has always been contested. For this is the forum in which we grapple with the most difficult issues of our shared existence. How ought we to care for the most vulnerable? How ought we treat the environment we all live in? How ought we regulate the ways in which we exchange resources? What limits if any ought we place on individual freedom? These are the questions to which the organisation of public life speaks. They are both philosophical and practical. To be debated indefinitely and dealt with immediately.

The answers to these affect us all. Meaning everyone can (indeed I would contend, should) consider their own opinions on such questions. Politics is the means by which we can articulate and reform these opinions through discussing and debating our ideas together.

Politics is not therefore an arena for indisputable truths. This is not to suggest that the search for truth is futile or irrelevant to the public square, but it is not its primary focus. Politics is where we debate truth, not assert it.

Post-truth politics is arguably a form of tautology; it uses different words to say the same thing twice. For politics is by its nature post-truth.

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Accepting this, conflict is also an inherent part of democratic political societies. As long as two people exist so too will differences of opinion. Conflict therefore is an inevitable and progressive part of the equation of human interaction.

Characterising Northern Ireland as a ‘post-conflict society’ is therefore a misnomer and you don’t even need to read the latest Belfast news headline to come to the same conclusion.

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For contemporary public debate in general, and in Northern Ireland in particular, perhaps we need to be a bit more critical about the terms we use. Maybe if we relied less on the language of ‘posts’ we could focus more on the complex, contestable questions we all face.

Humanity is a glorious display of diversity. Meaning that this side of eternity, disagreement is unavoidable.

Politics is the means by which we negotiate our differences; allowing conflict to lead us to collective judgements when we can and teach us how to agree to disagree when we can’t.

Perhaps once we give up hankering after a mythical pre-truth or closing our eyes to believe in a conflict-free present we might begin together to move one step closer to the happily ever after ever before us.