Blog
- 06.10.2025Christian WehrliA wanderer among strangersStorytelling — the art of shaping experience into narrative — has an extraordinarily long lifespan. Before writing and printing existed, storytelling was the only way humans could share knowledge. It’s also one of humanity’s greatest inventions — a gym for the imagination and the mind. Reading or listening to a story remains one of the purest forms of entertainment.
Right now, humanity — meaning all of us — is living in the most intense storytelling age ever. On every possible (and impossible) channel, stories of every color, creed, and quality are being told.
That’s a wonderful thing. In principle.
The slightly bitter aftertaste comes from the sediment of “truth” at the bottom of many of these stories. And no, that’s nothing new. Someone — probably Aristotle — invented the fairy tale. It’s basically a polite way to tell lies beautifully. Fairy tales are often far more exciting and imaginative than real life itself.
The authors of the Bible, the Quran, and other sacred texts followed that same human instinct — turning belief into narrative. So it’s no wonder fairy tales have such long lives. They keep being told, retold, and reshaped.
Once upon a time…
But back to the present — to social media, traditional news outlets, and the audience on the receiving end.
Sometimes I have the joy and the honor of talking with friends about these enduring narratives. Politics, especially, is full of them — the same old stories recycled for new generations. One of the longest-running hits: the myth of the evil, greedy, lazy immigrant or refugee.
It’s the eternal tale of fear and suspicion — of “us” versus “them.”
Some of that fear is ancient biology. When early humans met the unknown, suspicion kicked in as a survival instinct. After all, Neanderthals didn’t exactly rush to befriend saber-toothed tigers.
But when people today close themselves off from others simply because they might be a threat, it becomes absurd — and ugly.
History shows again and again that the real danger often comes from within — from our own familiar circles. Fear doesn’t carry a passport.
After years of travel, I still can’t understand why anyone would choose to hate strangers. I’ve met wonderful, loving, fascinating people — and a few awful ones — in every country I’ve visited. But the good ones outnumbered the bad by far. And they still do.
Yet I keep stumbling upon narratives that fan the flames of xenophobia.
You know the lines: “Refugees get more money than our own seniors.”
Or, here in Canada: “The government gives refugees free houses and guaranteed income.”
Let’s make it short: No.
Refugees in their first year receive only a small start-up allowance — barely enough to pay rent and buy the basics. I’ve checked the data. The same is true for other defamatory myths about “those foreigners.”
So why are these false stories spread — and believed? Some have been around for decades.
One major reason lies in our tribal wiring: us against them. We convince ourselves that “they” are taking something that belongs to “us.”
Another driver — especially in media — is the outrage machine.
Clicks sell. Outrage sells faster. Sex and crime trigger our brains’ primal circuits, and have done so for millennia.
That’s why stories often go to print before facts are verified. And that’s disastrous.
Then come the populists — or as I like to call them, Po-pulists — who use hate speech as political currency. They pose as protectors and problem-solvers while exploiting fear for power.
Add to that the strategic and economic players who thrive on division. Polarized societies are easier to manipulate.
But here’s the good news: facts — and real stories — can undo these false narratives.
How? By telling new ones.
The more local stories we share about real refugees, real lives, real faces, the less “foreign” these people seem. And the less room there is for hate.
Most people don’t enjoy hating. It’s toxic, exhausting, and bad for the soul.
So I’ll keep counting on stories — the kind that heal, enlighten, and connect us.
Stories about humans. And, why not, about the other animals too.