How do we actually know if the stories we inherit are truth or myth?

That question has lingered in my

mind since I read our discussion, and even back when I was an elementary student in AralPan. My
doubts about history, and even about so-called “evidence,” grew larger when social media became part
of our daily lives. I realized how easy it is to twist the story behind an event, and that sometimes a
“certain event” might just be a made-up story, or what we call “chismis.” History is not just about dates
or battles, it is about the evidence we choose to trust. As an accountancy student,if we connect this to
my program: if the receipts are forged, then the whole report is worthless. And if the past can be
twisted that easily, what does that mean for our identity today? This topic is interesting to me, knowing
what is happening in our country, where even the records of corrupt officials often seem “off,” just like
what Sen. JV Ejercito said in the Senate Blue Ribbon Committee: “Parang iba ‘yung accounting nila,
debit, credit, kupit.” Hearing that made my suspicions grow even larger.

For me, studying historical sources and criticism is not just another academic requirement, it is a
safeguard, and I believe it is a kind of general knowledge everyone should learn. As an accountancy
student, I see the comparison right away. Both history and accounting wrestle with the same issue: truth
versus deception. Even students from other programs are familiar with this through “fact-checking,”
something many of us were introduced to back in senior high school. Reflecting on what we’ve studied, I
realize how deeply the lessons connect not only to my academic life but also to my responsibility as a
citizen in a time when lies spread quickly through social media.

Primary sources, in the simplest sense, are like raw materials. They are the firsthand accounts of history
such as letters, photographs, or artifacts. In short, original items that come directly from the past. These
materials haven’t yet been filtered or analyzed by later interpretations. In our lesson, example was
Andrés Bonifacio’s letters during the Philippine Revolution of 1896. In accounting, it's an original trial
balance sheet before adjustments. Another example is a post we create during a specific event, since it
captures what actually happened at that moment. Without these primary sources, it would be hard to
know what really happened because we would only be relying on secondhand information.

Next, secondary sources are interpretations of those raw materials. Like textbooks or documentaries.
They are created by people who did not directly witness the events but instead studied the evidence left
behind. They take the raw pieces and narrate it. Easier to digest, but they come with the author’s
perspective and biases. Based on the example of primary sources, a secondary source would be
scholarly articles analyzing the strategies of the Katipunan. For me, the example of that is the textbook
we used in our AralPan subject back in elementary. It explained historical events but it wasn’t a firsthand
account, it was written years later, based on other documents and sources.
I used to think the difference between the two didn’t matter much. After all, if a textbook already
explains history well, why bother with archives? But here's the problem: if we don't know how to tell the
differences, we might mistake interpretations for unfiltered truth. If someone only trusts a textbook
without checking the original documents, they might believe a version of history that was already
shaped by the author's bias. This why I always ask, "Where is this information really coming from?".
Understanding this difference doesn’t just make me a better student, it also trains me to think critically
in my daily life, especially in a time when misinformation can spread so quickly online.

The next step is how to evaluate them through criticism. First type is external criticism, which focuses on
checking the authenticity of a source by examining its physical characteristics, consistency with the
historical period, and the material used as evidence. For example, in studying the Philippine Revolution,
historians would need to verify the language used in a letter or whether these matched the context of
the time. This serves as the first layer of defense against deception, it filters out fake or altered
documents before they are even considered valid evidence. This step is important because the rest of
historical research would be risky without evidence of authenticity. In today’s context, it’s like checking
a social media post to see if it really came from an official page or just from a fake account. When
determining whether a piece of information is reliable or not, that one step—verifying its origin—makes
all the difference.

Internal criticism, meanwhile, is about credibility. It focuses on the author of the source, its context and
agenda, the knowledge informing it, and its intended purpose. I remember the viral post claiming that a
presidential candidate had achieved a Guinness World Record for the longest motorcade caravan. Many
supporters believed it, but it's false. Another is Ferdinand Marcos’ claim of being a decorated World War
II hero, which was later revealed to be exaggerated and unsupported by actual U.S. military records.
These cases taught me that even authentic-looking documents or testimonies can mislead if we don’t
question their content. This layer of criticism guards us from believing myths disguised as facts. It made
me think: if even scholars and the public could be deceived, what about ordinary citizens like me
scrolling through social media? Doesn’t fake news operate on the same? These historical deceptions
taught me is that "myths" can be sticky, and once they’re entrenched, they shape identity and culture.
Marcos’ claims, for instance, weren’t just personal lies, they influenced how some people saw him as a
“war hero,” (Ince, 2024) which in turn affected politics and public memory. That realization struck me.
It's not just about the past; it's also about how unsupervised lies can have a permanent effect on us
today.

So where do historians come in? In my eyes, they’re society’s auditors. They are the ones who sort
through the evidence, assess credibility, and put together stories that tell the truth. Without them, we’d
be living in half-truths. They don’t just record facts, they guard them. It is their duty to keep society from
being deceived, whether through deliberate manipulation or unintentional misinterpretations. So in
digital era, this role seems particularly important. The historian's function as the guardian of truth is
even more crucial in light of social media where influencers disseminating partial truths or outright lies. I
sometimes wonder: how different is a viral post about a supposed Guinness World Record from
Ferdinand Marcos’ fabricated claims? Both rely on people not checking their sources. In this way,
historians serve a part in influencing politics, culture, and identity in addition to being record-keepers.

As a student and citizen, the lesson I consumed is always question the source, always fact-check. They
have reshaped how I approach information in my daily life. Every day we are flooded with breaking news
or statistics disguised as facts. Before, I sometimes shared things without double-checking. But now, I
pause. Who posted this? Is there an actual primary source behind the claim? This habit has saved me
from embarrassment more than once, and it’s made me a more responsible digital citizen. This
reflection made me question how I normally process information. There is always a story being sold,
whether it be in political speeches or commercials. But source criticism teaches me to resist that
temptation. To ask: what’s the evidence? Is this fact or opinion? Honestly, it’s not easy. Questioning
everything can feel tiring. Sometimes I wish I could just sit back and accept what’s presented. But then I
remind myself that the cost of being careless is far greater than the effort of being critical.

Looking back, my reflection on these lesson has reshaped how I see history, and even how I see truth
itself. I understand that history is an ongoing discussion between the past and present, between
evidence and interpretation. The differences between primary and secondary sources taught me to look
beyond surface narratives. External and internal criticism showed me the importance of testing both
authenticity and credibility. Reflecting on the historian's role made me realize that truth is weak and
requires protectors. But most of all, this reflection reminded me that I, too, share in this responsibility.
As a student, a future professional, and a citizen, I need to live with the habit of “source criticism.”
Because truth isn’t handed to us neatly packaged, it has to be sought, tested, and sometimes fought for.
And so I leave myself with this final question: When future generations look back at our present, what
will they see? Will they find the truth, carefully preserved and critically examined? Or will they see yet
another myth, cleverly disguised, waiting for someone brave enough to question it?