The Most Dangerous Lie
A professor once told me something that has stuck with me ever since:
“The most dangerous lie is the one that’s closest to the truth.”
At the time, we were discussing Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra and his idea of the übermensch—a superhuman figure. We talked about how powerful ideas, even ones that sound noble, can evolve into something dark when taken too far. The Nazi regime is a brutal example.
That idea has only become more relevant over time. Especially now—with AI.
I’m Not Anti-AI. Not Even Close.
I actually used AI to help write this piece. I’m not the best writer—I tend to think in a stream of consciousness. So I fed my messy draft into a tool that helped me shape my thoughts more clearly. It was incredibly helpful.
That’s the point. AI is just a tool.
Like a table saw, it can build something beautiful or cause irreparable harm. The saw isn’t inherently dangerous—but it requires skill, wisdom, and care to be used well. I wouldn’t hand it to my 7- or 8-year-old and say, “Have at it.” But I am teaching them, slowly, intentionally, how to use it so that one day we can create something together.
The Real Risk Isn’t the Tool
The deeper risk with AI isn’t just job loss or automation. It’s more subtle—and more dangerous. It’s the erosion of truth.
AI can generate content that sounds true. It can look real, feel authentic, even carry emotional resonance. But it might not be true. And in media and marketing—especially in storytelling—we’re walking a tightrope where the difference between truth and what only sounds like truth is razor thin.
If we’re not grounded in something deeper… if we stop asking hard questions or rush too quickly to produce instead of reflect, we’re standing on a hillside in a rainstorm. And that slope? It won’t hold forever.
So What Do We Do?
We tell stories.
Real ones. Human ones.
In a world of synthetic content and polished messaging, authentic stories cut through. They connect. They stick. They move people.
I think of people like Bernie, who’ve lived through hell—trafficking, addiction, abuse—and come out the other side. Her story isn’t a stat. It’s not a slogan. It’s not “generated.” It’s human.
And when someone tells a story like that, we don’t ask if AI wrote it. We don’t check citations. We lean in. Because it’s honest. It’s lived. It’s real.
Why This Matters for Nonprofits and Mission-Driven Brands
You’re trying to communicate impact. You’re trying to show results. And yes—numbers matter. But people don’t connect with data. They connect with people.
So here’s the challenge:
Don’t just describe the outcomes. Tell the story of the person who lived those outcomes. Not in a way that’s polished or performative. But in a way that’s rooted in your own lived empathy. In your crooked heart, as W.H. Auden said.
Because the closer truth and lies live next to each other, the more crucial real stories become.
So maybe start by asking yourself:
What story are we telling?
And who needs to hear it?
Till next time,
Josh
