What does “truth” even mean?

We have many contradictory platitudes about truth.

Truth is relative; truth is absolute. Live your own truth; you can’t change the facts. I don’t know what to believe anymore; I have faith.

We don’t always mean the same thing when we talk about the truth, so we need to inject some clarity into this oft-muddled conversation. There are different kinds of truth, and when we’re able to communicate clearly about what they are, we might actually figure out what to do with them. I’ll offer definitions of two important types of truth below.

Important note—if you find your opinion differs about the kinds of truth, or if you have something to add, please comment at the bottom of the page to tell me about it. I relish hearing other perspectives; it forces me to think more deeply and clearly and provides me opportunities for better understanding!

The first kind of truth is simply factual truth. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. The earth is an ellipsoid (a spherical-ish shape). Pure water freezes at zero degrees Celsius. These are facts. They are observable, measurable, verifiable. People who think contrarily to facts find themselves, when they require the facts in order to act, achieving different outcomes from what they’d intended.

An architect who desires large amounts of natural light in the morning will find himself or herself sorely disappointed if his or her design places all the windows on the west side of the house. A rocket scientist who wants to calculate launch parameters to put a vehicle into orbit will not come up with anything useful if he or she believes the earth is flat (how do you even orbit something that isn’t shaped roughly like a sphere, anyway?). The facts simply are, and if you encounter them in the course of your life, they will prove their truth to you. If you fail to believe them, they will probably make you pay for your unbelief.

The second kind of truth is meaning. I am a philosopher. The Swiss Alps are the most beautiful place in the world. People deserve to be free. While you can observe facts related to meaning, you can’t directly observe this kind of truth. Moreover, two different people may derive different meanings about the same things, and the meanings will not necessarily prove their truth or make people pay for inaccurate beliefs in the same way that facts do. Humans construct meanings from facts, from their own desires, and from other meanings already rattling around in their heads.

The truthfulness of the same meaning statement can very much shift from person to person. For example, I have no formal training or credentials as a philosopher. Since I don’t, someone who has formal training and credentials as a philosopher might very well say that I’m not one. And for them, that would be true because, to them, a philosopher is someone who has a baseline of understanding and who thinks about reality a certain way. The observable facts tell them that I don’t possess any of the requisites to call myself a philosopher. On the other hand, the meaning I ascribe to word “philosopher” is someone who actively seeks wisdom, so it is true that I am a philosopher. This is more than just semantics, because here’s the strange thing: My truth—that I’m a philosopher—will, over time, make me more and more a philosopher to those for whom I am not currently one. The meaning that I’ve created will shape not only the facts—what knowledge I gain, the writing I produce, etc.—but also the meaning that people will attach to my identity because of the future that my meaning will create.

“Parmenides, your assertion about meaning works well enough for identities, but what if there’s someone who thinks that people do not deserve to be free? How can that be true at the same time the statement ‘people deserve to be free’ is true for someone else?”

I’m so glad you asked.

Hopefully I don’t have to convince too many of you of the truth that people deserve to be free, but I’ll attempt it anyway. A person who thinks people deserve to be free will seek freedom for themselves and others. He or she will treat people as if they deserve to be free, and those people will have greater freedom as a result. And by doing this, the advocate for freedom will use his or her own freedom for the very noble purpose of making others free. In so doing, the advocate for freedom will prove that he or she is worthy of freedom.

On the other hand, the holder of the belief that “people do not deserve to be free” will impose a arbitrarily narrow range of behaviors on others. The rejector of freedom will resort to coercion, incarceration, and sometimes violence to ensure that people are not partaking in “forbidden” behaviors that have nothing to do with the maintenance of a safe or orderly society. The rejector of freedom will require behaviors that serve no purpose other than for people to fall in line with others’ expectations of them. In proving that he or she would use freedom to deny freedom to others, the rejector of freedom proves that he or she does not, in fact, deserve to be free. So, the belief holder’s meaning becomes manifestly true, but only for himself or herself.

Note that a person’s meaning will drive behaviors that cause that person to influence the lives of others, but the inherent truth does not extend to other people. The one who holds the belief that others don’t deserve to be free may in fact imprison others, but this belief holder has made no one deserving of this fate except himself or herself.

My meaning that I’m a philosopher is similarly limited in the extent of its truth. It is shaping my behavior and myself as a person, and for that reason, it is true. If I persist, I may yet succeed in sharpening others’ philosophical thought, and for that reason also, it is true. Yet the truth of the meaning that I am a philosopher in no way mandates a shakeup of hiring criteria for philosophy departments at universities, because my meaning is likely not true for any of them. This split is why people speak of “my truth” or “living my truth.” It isn’t because they think they can change the facts by sheer force of will; it’s because their meaning is, in fact, true for them.

Meaning changes from person to person and from one time to another. Facts collide with meaning and desire to create more meaning in a never-ending cycle. So, what do we do with truth? And do we handle the two kinds—facts and meaning—the same way? We’ll tackle these questions in a subsequent post. In the meantime, I’ll ask you to comment below on facts, meaning, and truth and the roles they all play in your life. I’m looking forward to hearing from you!

In search of meaning and truth,

We have many contradictory platitudes about truth.

Truth is relative; truth is absolute. Live your own truth; you can’t change the facts. I don’t know what to believe anymore; I have faith.

We don’t always mean the same thing when we talk about the truth, so we need to inject some clarity into this oft-muddled conversation. There are different kinds of truth, and when we’re able to communicate clearly about what they are, we might actually figure out what to do with them. I’ll offer definitions of two important types of truth below.

Important note—if you find your opinion differs about the kinds of truth, or if you have something to add, please comment at the bottom of the page to tell me about it. I relish hearing other perspectives; it forces me to think more deeply and clearly and provides me opportunities for better understanding!

The first kind of truth is simply factual truth. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. The earth is an ellipsoid (a spherical-ish shape). Pure water freezes at zero degrees Celsius. These are facts. They are observable, measurable, verifiable. People who think contrarily to facts find themselves, when they require the facts in order to act, achieving different outcomes from what they’d intended.

An architect who desires large amounts of natural light in the morning will find himself or herself sorely disappointed if his or her design places all the windows on the west side of the house. A rocket scientist who wants to calculate launch parameters to put a vehicle into orbit will not come up with anything useful if he or she believes the earth is flat (how do you even orbit something that isn’t shaped roughly like a sphere, anyway?). The facts simply are, and if you encounter them in the course of your life, they will prove their truth to you. If you fail to believe them, they will probably make you pay for your unbelief.

The second kind of truth is meaning. I am a philosopher. The Swiss Alps are the most beautiful place in the world. People deserve to be free. While you can observe facts related to meaning, you can’t directly observe this kind of truth. Moreover, two different people may derive different meanings about the same things, and the meanings will not necessarily prove their truth or make people pay for inaccurate beliefs in the same way that facts do. Humans construct meanings from facts, from their own desires, and from other meanings already rattling around in their heads.

The truthfulness of the same meaning statement can very much shift from person to person. For example, I have no formal training or credentials as a philosopher. Since I don’t, someone who has formal training and credentials as a philosopher might very well say that I’m not one. And for them, that would be true because, to them, a philosopher is someone who has a baseline of understanding and who thinks about reality a certain way. The observable facts tell them that I don’t possess any of the requisites to call myself a philosopher. On the other hand, the meaning I ascribe to word “philosopher” is someone who actively seeks wisdom, so it is true that I am a philosopher. This is more than just semantics, because here’s the strange thing: My truth—that I’m a philosopher—will, over time, make me more and more a philosopher to those for whom I am not currently one. The meaning that I’ve created will shape not only the facts—what knowledge I gain, the writing I produce, etc.—but also the meaning that people will attach to my identity because of the future that my meaning will create.

“Parmenides, your assertion about meaning works well enough for identities, but what if there’s someone who thinks that people do not deserve to be free? How can that be true at the same time the statement ‘people deserve to be free’ is true for someone else?”

I’m so glad you asked.

Hopefully I don’t have to convince too many of you of the truth that people deserve to be free, but I’ll attempt it anyway. A person who thinks people deserve to be free will seek freedom for themselves and others. He or she will treat people as if they deserve to be free, and those people will have greater freedom as a result. And by doing this, the advocate for freedom will use his or her own freedom for the very noble purpose of making others free. In so doing, the advocate for freedom will prove that he or she is worthy of freedom.

On the other hand, the holder of the belief that “people do not deserve to be free” will impose a arbitrarily narrow range of behaviors on others. The rejector of freedom will resort to coercion, incarceration, and sometimes violence to ensure that people are not partaking in “forbidden” behaviors that have nothing to do with the maintenance of a safe or orderly society. The rejector of freedom will require behaviors that serve no purpose other than for people to fall in line with others’ expectations of them. In proving that he or she would use freedom to deny freedom to others, the rejector of freedom proves that he or she does not, in fact, deserve to be free. So, the belief holder’s meaning becomes manifestly true, but only for himself or herself.

Note that a person’s meaning will drive behaviors that cause that person to influence the lives of others, but the inherent truth does not extend to other people. The one who holds the belief that others don’t deserve to be free may in fact imprison others, but this belief holder has made no one deserving of this fate except himself or herself.

My meaning that I’m a philosopher is similarly limited in the extent of its truth. It is shaping my behavior and myself as a person, and for that reason, it is true. If I persist, I may yet succeed in sharpening others’ philosophical thought, and for that reason also, it is true. Yet the truth of the meaning that I am a philosopher in no way mandates a shakeup of hiring criteria for philosophy departments at universities, because my meaning is likely not true for any of them. This split is why people speak of “my truth” or “living my truth.” It isn’t because they think they can change the facts by sheer force of will; it’s because their meaning is, in fact, true for them.

Meaning changes from person to person and from one time to another. Facts collide with meaning and desire to create more meaning in a never-ending cycle. So, what do we do with truth? And do we handle the two kinds—facts and meaning—the same way? We’ll tackle these questions in a subsequent post. In the meantime, I’ll ask you to comment below on facts, meaning, and truth and the roles they all play in your life. I’m looking forward to hearing from you!

In search of meaning and truth,

Parmenides