‘It’s lunchtime and it’s raining. Both things can be true at the same time,’ said my husband, putting on the face that makes him look like John Betjeman on a windy day.
The use of this gnomic formula has grown so popular that not many minutes go by without encountering it. Danny Fortson, in the Sunday Times, wrote: ‘If the question is “is AI ‘real’ or a bubble?”, the answer is “yes”. Both can be true.’ A leading article in the Times observed that ‘violent crime has dropped to historic lows, yet a rise in antisocial behaviour has made many Londoners feel less safe. Both phenomena can be true at the same time.’
Paul Hayward, in the Observer, introduced an ethical component: ‘In most spheres, to argue that two things can be true at once is a standard liberal reflex.’ I can’t say I’ve noticed that liberals are better at looking at both sides of a question, but it may depend upon whom you compare them with. In the Times, an article on Daniel Levy’s time at Spurs, said: ‘Glass half-full, glass half-empty; evaluating his time at Tottenham Hotspur, both things can be true.’ Indeed, in this case both things must be true: a half-full glass is half-empty.
The Sun said: ‘This may sound odd, the idea that the SNP leader says he wants an independence referendum, and at the same time he doesn’t. But both can be true.’ Well, no, when people say things they don’t think, it is called dishonesty.
Dan Hodges in the Mail held out for the logician’s principle of non-contradiction: ‘Keir Starmer can be true to Morgan McSweeney’s political vision. Or he can be true to himself. But he can no longer be both.’ John Oliver upped the ante in the Guardian by saying of student protests in America: ‘Multiple things can be true.’ Perhaps an infinite number of things may be true. It is hard to know.
This cliché is annoying because it states, as if it were a new insight, a very familiar truth. But other reasons that it is annoying may also be true.
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