Restoring a naive view of truth
"I remember
this paper I wrote on existentialism. My teacher gave it back with an F. She’d
underlined true and truth wherever it appeared in the essay, probably about
twenty times, with a question mark beside each. She wanted to know what I meant
by truth."
— Danielle Egan (journalist)
Someone says
to you: “My miracle snake oil can rid you of lung cancer in just three weeks.”
You reply: “Didn’t a clinical study show this claim to be untrue?” The one
returns: “This notion of ‘truth’ is quite naive; what do you mean by ‘true’?”
Many people,
so questioned, don’t know how to answer in exquisitely rigorous detail.
Nonetheless they would not be wise to abandon the concept of ‘truth’. There was
a time when no one knew the equations of gravity in exquisitely rigorous
detail, yet if you walked off a cliff, you would fall.
Often I have
seen – especially on Internet mailing lists – that amidst other conversation,
someone says “X is true”, and then an argument breaks out over the use of the
word ‘true’. This essay is not meant as an encyclopedic
reference for that argument. Rather, I hope the arguers will read this essay,
and then go back to whatever they were discussing before someone questioned the
nature of truth.
In this
essay I pose questions. If you see what seems like a really obvious answer,
it’s probably the answer I intend. The obvious choice isn’t always the
best choice, but sometimes, by golly, it is. I don’t stop looking
as soon I find an obvious answer, but if I go on looking, and the
obvious-seeming answer still seems obvious, I don’t feel
guilty about keeping it. Oh, sure, everyone thinks two plus
two is four, everyone says two plus two is four, and in the
mere mundane drudgery of everyday life everyone behaves as if
two plus two is four, but what does two plus two really, ultimately equal?
As near as I can figure, four. It’s still four even if I intone the question in
a solemn, portentous tone of voice. Too simple, you say? Maybe, on this occasion,
life doesn’t need to be complicated. Wouldn’t that be
refreshing?
If you are
one of those fortunate folk to whom the question seems trivial at the outset, I
hope it still seems trivial at the finish. If you find yourself stumped by deep
and meaningful questions, remember that if you know exactly how a system works,
and could build one yourself out of buckets and pebbles, it should not be a
mystery to you.
If confusion
threatens when you interpret a metaphor as a metaphor, try taking everything completely
literally.
Imagine that
in an era before recorded history or formal mathematics, I am a shepherd and I
have trouble tracking my sheep. My sheep sleep in an enclosure, a fold; and the
enclosure is high enough to guard my sheep from wolves that roam by night. Each
day I must release my sheep from the fold to pasture and graze; each night I
must find my sheep and return them to the fold. If a sheep is left outside, I
will find its body the next morning, killed and half-eaten by wolves. But it is
so discouraging, to scour the fields for hours, looking for one last sheep,
when I know that probably all the sheep are in the fold. Sometimes I give up
early, and usually I get away with it; but around a tenth of the time there is
a dead sheep the next morning.