The antiquity and general acceptance of an opinion is not

Hear the solemn words of Pierre Bayle, the French philosopher who shone light upon the shadows of certainty: “The antiquity and general acceptance of an opinion is not assurance of its truth.” In this saying lies the unmasking of one of humanity’s oldest deceptions: that age itself sanctifies belief, and that the multitude makes it so. Bayle, living in the seventeenth century amid religious strife and dogmatic wars, knew well that falsehood can march across centuries dressed in robes of honor, and that even whole nations may bow before illusions.

The origin of Bayle’s wisdom is bound to his time, when ancient doctrines and widely shared opinions were wielded as weapons. He saw how the authority of tradition was used to silence dissent, how the cry of “all believe this” was raised as though it were proof. But Bayle pierced through this illusion: for neither the dust of antiquity nor the weight of acceptance can change the substance of truth. What has been long believed may still be false; what is shouted by the many may still be hollow.

History confirms his words with thunder. For centuries, men declared with absolute confidence that the sun circled the earth. This opinion, ancient and universally accepted, was upheld by priests, scholars, and kings alike. Yet when Copernicus and Galileo dared to look with clearer eyes, they discovered that the earth itself moved in the heavens. Their revelation was scorned, ridiculed, even condemned. But in time, the falsehood of the ages crumbled, and the truth stood radiant. Thus Bayle’s warning was proven: longevity and popularity do not clothe falsehood in reality.

Consider also the long belief in the divine right of kings—that monarchs ruled by the unquestionable will of heaven. For ages, this opinion was held as sacred law. To challenge it was to risk death. Yet the revolutions of England, America, and France tore the veil from this illusion. The world learned that rulers are accountable to the governed, not enthroned by divine decree. Once again, antiquity and acceptance were shown powerless to sanctify falsehood when the fire of truth revealed their emptiness.

The lesson, O seekers of wisdom, is clear: do not trust the age of an idea, nor the size of the crowd that repeats it. Ask instead: does this opinion endure under the light of reason? Does it bear fruit in justice and goodness? If not, it may be but a shadow passed down from the dead, binding the living in chains of illusion. Truth has no master but reality itself, and it waits to be discovered by those with courage to question.

Yet beware: to challenge what is ancient and accepted is no easy path. The one who dares to seek truth may be branded heretic, rebel, or fool. But remember that all progress has been born of such courage. From the prophets who denounced idolatry, to the reformers who cried against corruption, to the scientists who unveiled the cosmos—each stood against the weight of the crowd. They bore scorn, yet in time their names were honored, for truth vindicated them.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, let your practice be this: hold every opinion lightly, even if it comes with the dignity of centuries or the applause of millions. Test it by reason, by evidence, by conscience. And if it fails, cast it away, though all the world should cling to it. For the worth of a belief lies not in its age or its popularity, but in its harmony with what is real.

Thus remember Bayle’s wisdom: that antiquity and acceptance are fragile masks, and only truth endures. Walk not in the blindness of tradition or the clamor of the multitude, but in the clear and difficult light of questioning. In this way, you shall be free, and you shall help set others free, breaking the chains of falsehood that bind mankind across the ages.