What is
truth? – Trying to Make Sense of Truth
First, some
‘grammatical remarks’ about what it is not.
·
“There is no truth” is a
self-contradiction (self-referentially incoherent), since it claims something
true about the world. It is like saying “There is no language.”
·
“There is no truth” can also
mean: except for the one I just told you. That is not self-referentially
incoherent. Still, it doesn’t quite make sense. It contradicts the universal
quantifier "no truth" because it admits at least one truth exists. If
we wanted a less misleading statement, it would be something like this: There
is only one (absolute) truth: all claims to truth other than this one are
false.
·
This also points to something
deeper: That language cannot consistently posit the absence of truth since it
relies on the concept of truth to communicate, to make sense at all. Language
also presupposes identity (A=A) and logical consistency (it is not the case
that p is the case and p is not the case). We can’t prove truth, identity, and
contradiction do not exist because we need them to prove anything at all. We
cannot imagine a language in which truth (and core logical concepts) is not
presupposed.
·
Truth is not determined
individually or communally. It can’t be the case if I or my culture claim that
the sun is driven around the earth in a chariot chased by a giant wolf, and you
or your culture deny that in favor of the current scientific account, at least
one of us is wrong. Therefore, it makes no straightforward, logical sense to
say, ‘I have my truth and you have your truth’ It does make sense to say, ‘I
like this’ and ‘You like that.’ But my liking the belief that the sun is being
chased across the sky by a wolf and even wishing it were so doesn’t entail that
the sun is being chased across the sky by a wolf.
·
Truth is not determined by
power. Might does not make right (i.e. true). I think of Winston Smith in
Orwell’s 1984 being brought to believe that 2+2=5. Not even the power of Big
Brother can make that true. Even if we were conquered by Big Brother and driven
to think that 2+2=5 from childhood on, it would still be false. Galileo submitted to the church’s teachings on
the solar system because of its power to harm him but that had nothing to do
with truth.
·
Except for conceptual and
logical truths such as ‘All bachelors are unmarried’ or ‘A whole is greater
than its part,’ truth cannot be stipulated.
While some truths are determined by stipulation or definition, not all
truths are. (e.g. Some swans are not white).
·
‘Science alone determines what
is true’ is false in one sense, incoherent in another. It is not only that many everyday facts are
determined apart from the scientific method. More interestingly, the
proposition is self-referentially incoherent (like ‘there is no truth.’) If
science alone determines what is true, then it must also determine whether that
proposition is true. But that is not a possible problem for science. No scientific
study could have anything to say about such a question.
Truth as
an Analogical Concept
There are
different senses of ‘truth.’
·
Truth as authenticity or
genuineness – the judgment that a particular x really meets all the
conceptual criteria for being a real (or a good) x. A true friend. That
painting is truly beautiful. She is a really good teacher. Shakespeare was a
true poet. Etc.
·
Propositionally truth. Propositional truth refers to the correspondence between a
statement, or proposition, and reality. A proposition is a declarative
statement that asserts something about the world and can be assigned a truth
value—either true or false—based on whether it accurately corresponds to facts
or reality. For example, the proposition – an example of a scientific ‘law’
– "Water boils at 100 degrees
Celsius at sea level" is considered true because it accurately reflects a
physical phenomenon observable in the world. In contrast, the proposition
"The moon is made of green cheese" is false because the evidence
shows it to be untrue – indeed, it would violate known scientific laws.
The classical
attempt to say what unites these senses is given by Aristotle and refined by
Aquinas. We aspire to truth when we aspire to say of what is, that it is. To
say of what is not, that it is not. If we indeed say of what is that it is,
then we have spoken truly. If not, falsely. Truth is in us – a product of
intellect (and language, representation). It does not depend on what we think
but on the things, the way the world is, reality. How the world is determines
what is true or false. The intellect makes the thoughts that are adequate to
reality – or not. “The truth is in the
intellect in so far as it is conformed to the object understood.”
This is so abstract that it does not tell us anything about any concrete truth. Philosophical concepts like 'goodness' or ‘truth’ allow them to encompass a wide range of interpretations and applications across different domains of life and thought. They stretch because reality is what it is and we are what we are. As long as the strong analogy holds between different applications, we understand more in light of them. When the analogy breaks and the same word get used equivocally, we have to go back to the drawing board.
A Fact of
the Matter versus an Account that Aspires to Truth
The concept of 'true' shares a similar
analogical nature with 'good,' exhibiting a versatility that adapts its meaning
across diverse contexts while retaining a core characteristic. When we speak of
something as 'true,' whether in empirical sciences, ethics, or epistemology, we
invoke a standard of correspondence to reality. For instance, a true scientific
theory accurately describes and predicts observable phenomena, while a true
ethical principle aligns with moral values and norms upheld by a community. In
epistemology, true beliefs correspond with objective facts about the world.
However, like 'good,' the term 'true' shifts in meaning when applied to
different domains. A true statement in mathematics pertains to logical
consistency and proof, whereas a true statement in literature might communicate authenticity (i.e. fitting, appropriate, revealing)
responses to reality. In contrast to 'good,' which may denote different
qualities entirely (like sharpness for a knife versus teaching ability for a
teacher), 'true' maintains a consistent core criterion of correspondence with
reality across its varied applications. This analogical nature of truth allows
it to be assessed contextually while upholding its fundamental essence of
accuracy and alignment with the facts of the matter.
Acknowledging the diversity of statements
and the realities they address reveals the complexity of truth as
correspondence to reality. Statements range widely, encompassing factual claims
about physical phenomena, interpretations of artistic works, explanations of
human behavior, and conceptual analyses of abstract ideas like 'truth' itself.
Each type of statement interacts with its corresponding reality in distinct
ways: empirical statements are evaluated against observable phenomena,
interpretative statements against cultural contexts, and conceptual statements
against logical coherence. This complexity suggests that truth involves not
only factual accuracy but also contextual relevance, interpretative validity,
and conceptual consistency. Thus, while disclosing reality remains the central
underlying feature of truth, its application across diverse statements means
that considerations of context, interpretation, and the nature of the realities
are often in play. Truth is an analogical concept.
Truth
is frequently articulated through critical vocabularies internal to diverse
domains such as art, ethics, and philosophical inquiry. For instance, when we
describe a poem as sentimental, we invoke a critical vocabulary that assesses
its adherence to truth in art. Sentimentality suggests that the poem may
manipulate emotions in a way that departs from genuine emotional depth or
authenticity, thereby distorting reality to achieve a self-gratifying effect.
Conversely, an unsentimental poem might be praised for its raw honesty and
adherence to the complexities of human experience, aligning more closely with a plausible understanding of reality. In ethics, terms like integrity and hypocrisy
similarly serve as critical markers of truth, evaluating the consistency and
sincerity of actions and intentions against convictions about what is morally
real. These examples illustrate how truth, when considered within various
critical vocabularies, is a placeholder term for more complex language use in different
areas of life. It has become difficult for us to see the connection between
these critical vocabularies and truth because of the way the latter concept intersects
with different public ideologies (or ‘discourses’) in contemporary capitalist
culture.
The popular
notion of truth often hinges on straightforward correspondence between
statements of fact and states of affairs: "It is raining outside" is
deemed true if, indeed, rain is falling. However, in numerous spheres of human
inquiry and experience, truth emerges through accounts that
go beyond simple factual statements. In history, for instance, the truth about
past events is uncovered through narratives that consider
multiple perspectives, primary sources, and historical contexts. A historical
narrative is evaluated for its coherence and consistency in explaining the
complexities of social, political, and cultural dynamics. Similarly, in
science, the truth of a scientific theory is not merely a matter of stating facts
but involves constructing explanatory frameworks that integrate empirical
evidence, predictive power, and internal consistency. Theories like Einstein's
theory of relativity or Darwin's theory of evolution provide comprehensive
accounts of natural phenomena that transcend individual observations to offer
broader explanatory power. In philosophy, truth often emerges from rigorous
argumentation and conceptual analysis, where competing theories are evaluated
based on their logical coherence, explanatory scope, and ability to withstand
critical scrutiny. These examples illustrate that while correspondence to facts
remains fundamental, truth in many areas of life is disclosed or falsified
through rich, contextual accounts that capture the complexities and interconnectedness
of reality.
Coherence complements the idea of truth
by providing an additional criterion for evaluating complex accounts and
narratives while maintaining the requirement that truth ultimately discloses
aspects of reality. While correspondence to facts establishes the factual
accuracy of statements, coherence ensures the internal consistency and logical
integrity of broader accounts or theories. In historical research, for example,
a coherent narrative not only aligns with known facts but also integrates
disparate events and perspectives into a unified framework that elucidates the
causal relationships and historical significance of events. Similarly, in
scientific inquiry, coherence demands that theories not only explain observed
phenomena but also maintain logical consistency across various experiments and
predictions. A scientific theory that is coherent reflects a deeper
understanding of natural processes and can withstand empirical scrutiny over
time. In philosophy, coherence theories of truth posit that truth emerges from
the systematic coherence of beliefs within a comprehensive framework, where
each belief supports and reinforces others without contradictions. This
approach ensures that truth is not merely a collection of isolated facts but a
cohesive understanding that reveals deeper insights into the nature of reality.
Therefore, while coherence enhances our understanding and assessment of truth,
it does so in conjunction with correspondence to reality, ensuring that truth
claims are both internally coherent and genuinely reflective of the
complexities of the world.
The
'correspondence' metaphor, while intuitive, can be misleading as it implies
that language and thought directly mirror or model reality. However, the
ability of accounts and narratives to disclose or falsify aspects of reality,
such as ideologies revealing underlying power dynamics rather than objective
truths, suggests a qualification. Our accounts of reality are always partial
and context-bound, capable of uncovering certain aspects while potentially
obscuring others. Reality, in this view, transcends our attempts to
exhaustively capture it through language or representation in art– at least when
philosophical, theological, historical, or literary accounts aim at
truthfulness. Heidegger's conception of truth as uncovering or disclosure,
rooted in his existential phenomenology, resonates here. For Heidegger, truth
involves revealing the underlying meaning and significance of phenomena within
the context of human existence, rather than simply mirroring the world as it is
This approach maintains a form of realism by affirming that there is an
independent reality to which our interpretations can correspond, while
recognizing the interpretative and contextual nature of truth claims relative
to our finitude. Thus, truth as disclosure offers a richer understanding that
accommodates the complexities and limitations inherent in our attempts to grasp
and articulate the nature of reality.
The search for truth can be seen as the quest to make sense of a complex and often bewildering reality. In our attempts to understand the world, whether in science, philosophy, literature, or everyday life, we engage in a continuous process of sense-making. This involves constructing coherent narratives, developing explanatory frameworks, and refining our conceptual tools to better grasp the multifaceted aspects of reality. While acknowledging the inherent limits of human understanding—where reality surpasses our ability to comprehend it fully—the pursuit of truth drives us to seek patterns, connections, and meanings that bring order and intelligibility to our experiences. Whether we are unraveling the laws of physics, exploring ethical dilemmas, interpreting historical events, or contemplating the nature of existence itself, the search for truth involves making sense of diverse phenomena and integrating them into meaningful frameworks of understanding. In this way, truth-seeking almost defines our humanity relative to other animals that we know of. That is what is means to be self-conscious, to be an animal capable of language and reason.
The complexity of the concept exceeds my grasp. Here is an attempt to picture the complexity, and it only scratches the surface:
. . .
As long as Catholicism, for example, is true,
then no other real truth can contradict it. I heard this from a Thomist the
other day. If science makes a claim that seems to contradict Catholic truth,
either science is mistaken or (more probable) if one rightly understands
Catholic doctrine, then the appearance of contradiction was mistaken. If
science provides overwhelming evidence for some version of evolution over
billions of years, then the account in Genesis cannot be understood to be a counterfactual
account; it must be understood symbolically – as the Church understands it. No
contradiction. More fundamentalist protestant sects understand Genesis as a
literal, factual account. Thus for them science is mistaken. And they can
account for all the evidence amassed by science by claiming God must be testing
our faith.
Reason can be interpreted as trying to know
– to justify beliefs – through looking at the empirical world and by argument.
Argument can be interpreted as based on the syllogism:
1.
All living
beings that have evolved from simpler forms of life are products of natural
selection.
2.
Humans are
living beings that have evolved from simpler forms of life.
3.
Therefore,
humans are products of natural selection.
4.
No species
that is a product of natural selection was created in its current form by a
divine being.
5.
Humans are
a species that is a product of natural selection.
6.
Therefore,
humans were not created in their current form by a divine being.
A classical empiricist objection to the syllogism as a way to knowledge
is the problem of infinite regress. This objection posits that the truth of any
syllogistic conclusion depends on the truth of its premises. However, the
premises themselves must also be justified by further premises, leading to an
endless chain of justifications. Here is how this objection can be applied to
the given example: All living beings that have evolved from simpler forms of
life are products of natural selection. This premise relies on the acceptance
of the theory of evolution, which in turn is based on numerous observations,
experiments, and sub-theories. Each of these sub-theories and observations
requires its own justification and empirical support. Another premise – Humans are living beings that have evolved
from simpler forms of life – depends on specific evidence that humans have
evolved, such as fossil records, genetic evidence, and comparative anatomy. Again,
each piece of evidence requires further validation and support. For the
syllogism to be valid and provide new knowledge, the premises must be true.
However, ensuring their truth requires additional premises to support the
theory of natural selection. Each supporting premise itself would need further
justification, creating an infinite regress where each level of premises
demands an additional level of premises to validate it. Consequently, the
syllogism alone cannot break free from this chain and provide definitive
knowledge without empirical grounding. This shows the necessity of relying on
sensory experience and empirical evidence at each step, rather than purely
logical reasoning, to avoid the infinite regress and establish any claim as
knowledge. But sensory experience is not self-authenticating; it can be
doubted, as Descartes and Berkeley did.
The point is this: for reason
to do its job, we must at some point in the chain assume that our knowledge
corresponds with the truth. We must take certain truths as self-evident. As
long as our lives run their course, nothing may challenge this. I must not only
believe in the reality of the world (in some sense) but in the goodness of life
(despite all the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune). I must believe that
human beings are intelligible objects of love and thus forgiveness. I must
believe that I ought never to cast the first stone. I must believe that no one
can just exploit others as contemptible objects. That it is better to live in
the truth than a lie. Etc. Whenever I make an argument, deep down such beliefs
function logically as self-evident truths. I am justified in believing them to
be self-evident, however, only because I would choose not to be born into a
universe in which they weren’t true.
As long as my life goes on
without anything terrible happening, these beliefs will retain the status of
self-evident truths in my belief system. But let happen to a son of mine what happened
to a little girl in Potsdam some time ago – kidnapped, raped, murdered – and in
my despair I might be brought to curse God and the entire Creation. Who knows
how they will respond to such horrors? Now my response doesn’t determine the
truth or falsity of the beliefs. But at the deepest level beliefs are not like
facts or conceptual truths – It is raining. A whole is greater than its part.
They are intelligible – or not. They make sense of life as a whole – or not.
All the beliefs I stated can fail to make sense of my life if my life changes.
And they continue to make sense of my life only because I can somehow separate
from happened to the little girl from my life – which may be an illusion.
We live in the gap between our
beliefs, the ways our beliefs are justified (or not), and the never fully
attainable truth. We must assume some beliefs as self-evident though we know
they can only be that in faith, hope, and love – or the absence of these
virtues. Scepticism does not escape this dilemma, at least if it asserts
something like there is no truth, reality, or knowledge – that itself is a
self-evident truth-claim.
. . .
There is a gap between ‘I know x’
and ‘x is true,’ although these and similar expressions are often used synonymously.
Let me use one simple context out of
millions of more complex ones. I come home from work and find my family eating
supper. I see a full portion of Brussels sprouts on my son’s plate and, knowing
he doesn’t like Brussels sprouts, assert: that Kili did not eat his Brussels
sprouts. That belief is justified by the evidence on the plate and my knowledge
of my son’s likes and dislikes, his eating habits. My belief – here following a
well-trodden path in epistemology – is somewhat justified, but I wouldn’t say ‘I
know that Kili has not eaten his Brussels sprouts’ because this evidence is inconclusive;
I was not present the whole time. Kili protests – ‘That is not true!’ – and informs me that what I see is his third
helping. His mother and brother both confirm this. Later someone in the family
doubts that Kili eats Brussels sprouts but I can refute this: ‘I know he does!’
and relate this incident.
There is a world – a form of life – interwoven with language in the background here. An alien might have great difficulty making sense of any of this. But for us who share this form of life or world, the connection between truth, knowledge, and reality seems straightforward. It is like these concepts (and others, like belief and justification) are part of one conceptual puzzle: you don’t have the whole picture until you have all the pieces and know how they fit together. You can’t just reflect on the concept of truth without reflecting on the concepts that are a part of it (I prefer the old-fashioned word Idea (translation of the Greek eidos) to concept, in its Platonic understanding).
If x is true, however – if my assertion ‘Kili ate his Brussels sprouts’ is true – we are saying something about the way reality is. If I know x – if I say ‘I know Kili ate his Brussels sprouts’ – then I am saying something about how well justified my belief is in the truth of my belief. My belief is very well justified in this example – but not certain. Kili, brother, and mother could have lied to me to protect Kili from my mild censure. At another level, I might have been dreaming the whole thing. We do have ways to distinguish dreaming from waking reality but sometimes that might be difficult to do. At yet another level, I might live in the Matrix, and my whole world might be just a computer-generated image. In the first case, perhaps they will admit the truth later in life. At the third level, no possible certainty can be attained because it would require getting out of my consciousness of the world to see the world as it is apart from my experience. Either he ate his sprouts or he did not. ‘He did’ is either true or false, period. ‘I know he did’ can be practically certain, almost, if I know my family to be honest. But logically it can never be certain. I can be wrong about anything I am justified in believing, and thus know. Only with an absolute Knower – God – can what is known exactly correspond with what is true.
Thus truth is more an Idea like a
geometrical circle. Of any circle we draw on paper, we can ask: ‘Is it a good
circle?’ ‘How closely does it correspond to the ideal geometric circle?’ Of
anything we know, of anything we believe is true, we can ask: ‘But is it really
true?’ Just as our empirical circles – the ones we draw on paper – can approach
perfection without ever attaining it, so can our knowledge approach truth
without ever attaining it, except perhaps in phenomena like the law of
non-contradiction, which are the precondition for the possibility of saying anything
about the world at all.

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