One of the oldest insights in philosophy is that many of the problems we struggle with in life are not always problems with the world itself, but problems with how we see it.
Personal hang-ups and insecurities — we all have them. For many of us, the instinctive response is to treat these things like problems that need fixing. Maybe it’s getting a haircut, going on a diet, investing in expensive makeup or cosmetic treatments, or simply filtering out imperfections in photos. Whatever the solution, we often assume that overcoming these insecurities requires altering some aspect of ourselves, whether that involves a physical trait or a character trait.
The difficulty with approaching our insecurities this way is that it rarely leads to lasting progress. We notice something we dislike and try to fix it. Then we notice something else and attempt to fix that too. And the process continues — one flaw after another — until either we run out of things to criticise or we find ourselves endlessly changing different parts of ourselves while the dissatisfaction remains.
At some point we have to pause and ask an important question:
The answer may be uncomfortable, but it is surprisingly simple. Although we treat these perceived flaws as the problem, they are often not the issue we need to overcome. Overcoming personal insecurities does not necessarily require changing who we are — it often requires changing how we see.
When we treat things like our lips, hips, or personality traits as flaws, we often mistake beliefs and opinions for objective truths. Beliefs and opinions are things that might be true or false. Their truth often depends on perspective.
For example, the idea of the “perfect” lip or hip size varies dramatically between individuals, cultures, historical periods and social environments. What is considered attractive in one place or era may be viewed very differently in another.
This means that statements such as “my hips are too wide” or “my lips are too thin” are not absolute truths. Their truth value depends entirely on perspective — and that perspective is shaped by social trends, cultural influences, media exposure and personal experiences.
This distinction between belief and truth was explored in depth by the philosopher Plato. In The Republic, he introduces a philosophical model known as The Divided Line, which explains how we often mistake appearances and opinions for genuine knowledge.
To see why this matters, it helps to compare these kinds of beliefs with something like mathematics. Consider the statement: All squares have four right angles. This statement is true regardless of perspective. It does not change depending on culture, fashion or personal opinion. Even if my teacher draws a terrible square on the board that appears uneven or distorted, the underlying mathematical truth remains the same: all squares have four right angles.
The appearance of the drawing does not change the reality of what a square actually is. The same philosophical principle applies when we evaluate ourselves. When we form beliefs about our bodies or personalities, we are often relying only on how things appear to us at that particular moment.
If we want genuine insight, we have to move beyond surface appearances and the limited perspective offered by our senses. Instead, we must learn to use what philosophers sometimes call our “mental vision” — our ability to reflect, reason and examine things more deeply.
Once we begin exercising this capacity, we move away from simply observing how things appear and begin understanding what they actually are. Take lips as an example. Lips may appear fuller or thinner, wider or narrower depending on the person observing them. But what lips are in reality has little to do with how they appear and everything to do with their function: the structures of flesh that form the mouth and allow us to breathe, speak, and consume food.
Those labels arise from interpretations of appearance, not from reality itself. Once we recognise this, we can begin focusing less on trying to change what merely appears problematic and more on understanding what is genuinely real.
The power to learn is present in everyone's soul and that the instrument with which each learns is like an eye that cannot be turned around from darkness to light without turning the whole body around.
Recognising this distinction does not mean our insecurities suddenly disappear. Changing perspective is not an overnight transformation.
For example, I can acknowledge that my own perspective — shaped by my experiences and the environment around me — sometimes leads me to think that my hips appear too wide. I can also recognise that this judgement may not represent any objective truth. But understanding this intellectually does not mean the insecurity disappears entirely. There will still be days when I catch myself thinking my hips look too wide.
Changing perspective is not a permanent state — it is an ongoing choice. Each time we encounter an insecurity, we can ask ourselves:
Some days I manage this well. Other days I struggle. But those moments do not erase progress. Changing perspective is not about perfection — it is about practice.
Education isn't the craft of putting sight into the soul. Education takes for granted that sight is there but that it isn't turned the right way or looking where it ought to look, and tries to re-direct it appropriately
My aim here is not to discourage the use of filters. In fact, it is a mistake to assume that using filters automatically means someone is trying to hide a flaw or is unhappy with how they look. I regularly use filters on my favourite social media platforms. Sometimes this may be because I want to soften a feature I feel insecure about. Other times it is simply because the filter looks fun, artistic or amusing.
They can provide different perspectives or aesthetic effects, but they do not reveal deeper truths about who we are. True insight — the kind that helps us understand ourselves and the world more clearly — does not come from better lighting, clever editing or flattering angles. It comes from reflection. It comes from questioning appearances rather than accepting them as truth. And that ability belongs to us.
So go ahead and use filters if you enjoy them. Experiment with them, laugh with them, enhance your photos if you wish. Just remember that who you are is not defined by how you appear in a photograph, in a mirror, or through someone else’s opinion. Those are only snapshots — brief appearances viewed from a particular angle at a particular moment in time. Who you truly are goes far deeper than that.
And when we learn to look beyond appearances and consult what philosophers call our mind’s eye, we realise that the most powerful filter we possess has never been on our phones — it has always been our perspective.
