Thanks for a very interesting analysis of 'what is truth' and its historical context.

To me, this debate lies at the very heart of the difference between mental and spiritual aspects of humanity. Truth at first appears to be an absolute, and purely a mental process, 'black and white', but once it is put into a spiritual context, the possibilty of grey areas and different viewpoints emerges.

This fits in with the historical analysis issue you raise. Interpretation of 'what is truth' will again depend on the spiritual stance of the analyst.

When using the term spiritual, I have in mind 'anything that is not physical or mental', in line with the Global Fitness Framework developed by Dr Jon Smith and myself. Thus mental covers the decision making process, but spiritual includes such aspects as ethics, motivation, morality, humanitarianism, global connectedness and religion.

The framework looks at physical, mental and spiritual fitness of individuals, groups and societies, and we are keen to encourage its use in historical analysis of such issues as slavery, colonialism, power and, ultimately, 'what is truth?'

If you are interested in collaborating to study these issues, I can send you copies of papers introducing the framework, our idea of global spirituality, our definitions of spirituality and religion, and thoughts on relevance of spirituality in the workplace.

Thank you to Andrew Stallybrass for this stimulating reflection on truth, not least in the context of history. I've recently resurrected a story I wrote following the Falklands/Malvinas conflict, in which a British army officer affected the surrender of the Argentine troops at Goose Green. But I am only too conscious that history is often written by the victors and seldom by the loosers. So while I was able to quote an Argentine conscripted soldier, who sought healing and reconciliation with the British, I really have little idea how most Argentinians feel to this day about the outcome of the war. A revealing portrait was shown recently on British television in a programme called 'Mummy's War', when Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher's daughter, Carol, visited the Falkland Islands, where she was feted, followed by her encounter in Buenos Aires with a group of Argentine mothers who had lost their sons in the war. It was painful indeed to see Carol Thatcher's total lack of comprehension of what these mothers had gone through, and the losses they suffered, in Argentina's abortive attempt to reclaim the islands which they see as historically theirs. Carol Thatcher's blunt assertion that 'We fought a war. You lost. We won', was met with gobsmacked incredulity by the mothers of Argentina's dead. Yet truth requires their perspective as much as the victors'. I felt ashamed indeed that the victor all too easily fails to live into the shoes, the reality, of the loser. Yet if there is to be any healing of history at all, that is precisely what is most needed. Abraham Lincoln's magnanimity after the American Civil War is a classic example to us all.