A student asked me the other day whether I approved of exaggerating for a good cause. The topic had apparently been discussed at an environmental forum, and the question was, essentially, “Does saving the climate justify lying?” Wouldn’t it be a good idea to use an impressive, if not necessarily factually correct, message to counteract the mind-numbing cacophony of the Trump administration, which drowns out more reasoned speech?

The student asked me this question because I had been talking about survivors of Stalin’s terror and their widespread tendency to inflate — whether when describing the height of a hill that had to be climbed or how many people had been shot on a single day. I had expressed great sympathy for the underlying cause and the overarching mission of the exaggerations: These people were trying to remember and convey unimaginable tragedy, which had to be described as greater in scope in every retelling — precisely to maintain its unimaginable quality. Every time the mind had adapted to information and images that had once seemed inconceivable, it required more horror to be impressed.

The comparison with America today was not far-fetched. We are not experiencing anything that resembles Stalinist state terror, but we are living through a period of mental hyperinflation: Ideas, prospects and spectacles go from unimaginable to ordinary in weeks or even days. A couple of months ago, the presence of the president’s daughter at top-level meetings was mind-boggling; now it barely scores a mention as Ivanka Trump, security clearance nearly in hand, prepares to settle into an office in the West Wing. The idea of an actual wall on the Mexican border once seemed too bizarre, too expensive, too self-defeating — and now that the government has begun soliciting design proposals, it doesn’t seem surprising.

Wouldn’t you need equal shock value on the other side of the political divide to capture Americans’ attention?