Censorship is the tool of those who have the need to hide

The night was heavy with an almost suffocating quiet. The lights from the streetlamps flickered weakly, casting long, eerie shadows across the sidewalks. The world outside seemed to hold its breath, as though waiting for something to break. Jack and Jeeny sat at a table in a dimly lit bar, the air thick with the faint scent of tobacco and stale beer. Their glasses were half-empty, but neither had touched their drink in what felt like an eternity. The music in the background was low, almost drowned out by the weight of the conversation yet to unfold.

Host: The bar was half-empty, the chatter of a few scattered patrons the only background noise. But here, at this small table in the corner, the atmosphere felt pregnant with something unsaid, something heavy between them. It was a tension that had been building for days, and now, it was about to explode into the open.

Jeeny: “I’ve been thinking about what Charles Bukowski said: ‘Censorship is the tool of those who have the need to hide actualities from themselves and from others. Their fear is only their inability to face what is real, and I can’t vent any anger against them; I only feel this appalling sadness. Somewhere in their upbringing, they were shielded against the total facts of our existence.’ Do you think that’s true, Jack?”

Jack: He stared into his drink, swirling it slowly, his eyes distant, as though the words had hit too close to something buried deep within. “I think it’s not just true, Jeeny — I think it’s the reality of the world we live in. We’re all just wearing masks, hiding behind our own little versions of the truth because we’re scared. Censorship isn’t just something the government does. It’s something we do to ourselves every day.”

Jeeny: Her eyes softened, her voice quieter now, like she was trying to find the right words, the right way to explain herself. “But don’t you think there’s a difference between self-protection and denial? Sometimes, we need to shield ourselves from things that are just too overwhelming. I mean, we can’t always face the truth — it’s too much.”

Jack: He took a long sip from his glass, his jaw tightening, the silence between them growing thicker. “Maybe, but when we start denying the truth, we lose the ability to see things as they are. Look at the world today — look at how many people still refuse to acknowledge the things that are staring them right in the face. Racism, inequality, climate change — people would rather bury their heads in the sand than face the fact that the world is changing, that it’s all falling apart.”

Jeeny: She shifted in her seat, her fingers tapping lightly on the table, the soft rhythm at odds with the gravity of the conversation. “But that’s the thing, Jack. When people hide from the truth, it’s not because they’re evil or malicious. It’s because they’re afraid. Fear is a powerful thing. It’s easy to look at the problems in the world and just shut down because it feels like the burden is too much to carry. I don’t think people are intentionally trying to hurt others. They’re just trying to protect themselves from feeling helpless.”

Jack: He leaned forward, his eyes intense, his voice a low growl. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it? We’re all afraid. Afraid of the truth, afraid of what it means. The anger comes from the fact that we’re too scared to face the reality of what’s happening to us. Censorship — whether it’s hiding the news, hiding the facts, or hiding our own fears — is just a way to pretend everything’s fine. But pretending doesn’t make it go away.”

Jeeny: Her gaze softened, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes. “I get it. I really do. But you can’t just throw all the blame on the people who are trying to protect themselves from the truth. Anger doesn’t solve anything. Sadness, maybe. But not anger.”

Jack: He paused, the edge of his anger dulling as he took in her words. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s just that I’m tired of watching people run from what they know deep down is real. I’m tired of watching the lies pile up. And I’m tired of pretending I can’t see the cracks in the world.”

Host: The light flickered as if responding to the tension in the air. For a moment, neither spoke. Their glasses sat untouched, the silence stretching between them like an impossible chasm, neither of them sure how to bridge it.

Jeeny: “Jack, censorship isn’t just about the government or the media. It’s about how we handle the truth in our everyday lives. The people we surround ourselves with, the choices we make about what we choose to confront. Sometimes, the hardest thing in the world is to accept what’s really happening and not just shut down when it gets too overwhelming. I think we all censor ourselves in one way or another.”

Jack: He ran a hand through his hair, his expression weary. “You’re right. But how do we get people to stop shielding themselves? How do we get them to open their eyes to the truth without forcing them to face it all at once?”

Jeeny: “Maybe we start by acknowledging the truth ourselves. We have to face it, Jack, and not be afraid to see it for what it is. Only then can we really help others to do the same. Censorship is a way of escaping, but facing the truth is the only way forward.”

Host: The bar had grown quieter, the sounds of the world outside now completely muted by the weight of their conversation. Jack sat back, his gaze still fixed on Jeeny, his mind slowly shifting from the anger of the moment to something deeper — something more vulnerable. He had never been good at facing his own truth, but for the first time, he felt a small opening, a crack in the wall he had built around himself.

Jack: “I don’t know, Jeeny. It’s just… it feels like the world’s been so lost for so long that I can’t see how we can ever get it back. Censorship isn’t just a way to hide things — it’s a way to keep people from even thinking about what’s really happening. How do you change that?”

Jeeny: “By starting with ourselves, Jack. By choosing not to hide from the truth, even when it’s ugly, even when it’s too much to bear. We can’t make others see it if we’re still hiding ourselves.”

Host: The rain had stopped, and the city outside was now bathed in the soft glow of neon. Jeeny’s words lingered in the air, a small beacon of possibility in a world so often consumed by fear and denial. Jack, for the first time in a long while, didn’t have an answer. But the question was enough, and for that brief moment, it felt like the first step toward something different — something real.