from "Why Truth is not Important in Philosophy"Suppose you are standing in a darkened room, and seem to see a candle ten feet in front of you. I attribute to you the belief that there is a candle ten feet in front of you. And so long as you have no reason to think anything funny is going on, I take you to be justified in that belief, since you can see it. So I take you to be committed to there being a candle ten feet in front of you, and entitled to that commitment: to have a justified belief. Nonetheless, I will not take it that you know that there is a candle ten feet in front of you if I don’t believe that—if, for instance, I, but not you, can see that there is an angled mirror five feet in front of you, and that the candle you see is actually quite close to you, hidden from you by a curtain. My assessment that your justified belief is not true is a way of expressing the fact that under the circumstances described, I am not willing myself to undertake commitment to the claim I attribute to you. Assigning some belief the honorific status of knowledge is important, because in doing that I am classifying it as being of the kind that I think everyone should employ as premises in their own inferences, should appeal to in their own reasoning. These are the beliefs that I take to be eligible to serve as reasons on the basis of which to form further beliefs. For I take it both that any good inference in which they figure as premises is one whose conclusions I should endorse, and I take it that good reasons can be given to believe them, in turn. Thus, these are the beliefs that I take it deserve to spread.
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Truth is not a concept that has an important explanatory role to play in philosophy. Appearances to the contrary are the result of misunderstanding its distinctive expressive role. The word ‘true’ does indeed let us say things that in many cases we could not say without it. But when we understand what it lets us say, and how it does that, we will see that the very features that make it expressively useful make it completely unsuitable to do the sort of theoretical explanatory work for which philosophers have typically enlisted its aid.
The expression “…is true” looks like a predicate that ascribes a property. If it were, it would be a very special kind of immediately and unconditionally normatively significant property: a kind of “to-be-believed-ness” property. No wonder metaphysicians, ethicists, and especially epistemologists have regarded it with fascination. Nor is its normative weight exclusively of an abstract, disinterested, ethical sort—a high ideal that is a suitable object of selfless commitment by those of good character, lofty aspiration, and sufficient leisure. For, we are assured by the philosophical tradition, the truth of our beliefs is the touchstone and sole possible guarantor of the success of our practical endeavors—including the lowest and most narrowly self-interested. Having beliefs with the special, desirable property of being true is the only reliable way to get what you want—to imbue your desires with the most important and desirable property they can aspire to: being satisfied. So truth is of supreme practical importance.
Besides its central significance for both the most ethereal principles and the most egoistical practices, truth has also seemed to hold the key to our inmost, ownmost nature. For ... we are not merely sentient creatures, but also sapient ones. That is, in addition to consciousness in the sense of having feelings and sensations—awareness in the sense that underwrites a distinction between being awake and asleep—as our mammalian cousins such as cats do, we have states with conceptually articulated contents that can be expressed in sentences. We can believe that the international monetary system needs to be reformed and desire that it be reformed. These are the propositional attitudes that can constitute knowledge. And the standard way to understand the propositional contents that distinguish these states from the images and raw feels that are the contents of merely sentient states is that they can be assessed as to their truth. The meaning of a declarative sentence, expressing the content of a possible belief (or desire, or intention), consists in the circumstances under which it would be true. To grasp or understand that meaning or content just is to know its truth conditions: how the world would have to be for it to be true. So the sort of mindedness that distinguishes us from the beasts of the field—the sapience that gives our species its very name—consists in the relations we stand in to the very special property of truth: that we can think things that could be true, desire and intend that they be true. Take away that relationship to truth and you take away our sapience, relegate us to the cognitive torpor of mere sentience. This sapience- constituting directedness at truth is the essence and the motor of our ascent out of that primeval sea into the broad highlands of thought. Philosophical concern with us, our nature and our spirit, is philosophical concern with truth.
This familiar philosophical scene, with truth at center-stage and in the leading role, is no doubt uplifting and inspiring. But I think it is deeply confused and almost totally wrong. Consider to begin with the idea that truth is the property of beliefs that conduces to the success of practical projects based on those beliefs. This thought is so deeply entrenched that some pragmatists have even sought to define truth as the success-producing property of beliefs. But even those not inclined to endorse such an order of definition have felt free to appeal to the intimate connection between the truth of beliefs and the satisfaction of desires for other philosophical projects—for instance when scientific realists argue that the at least approximate truth of our scientific theories is the only possible explanation for the practical success of our technologies: the extent to which they provide powerful instruments for getting what we want (at least, for some kinds of things we want).
The idea is that it is the truth of my belief that there are cookies in the cupboard that explains the fulfillment of my desire for cookies. This is an intuitively compelling thought, but we need to be careful with it. The truth of that belief will not lead to satisfaction of my desire in the context of the collateral false belief that the cupboard is in the kitchen, rather than in the pantry. And, to vary the example, the false belief that one can tan leather by boiling it with birch-bark will result in practical success if it is combined with the false collateral belief that the oak in front of me is really a birch. So the practical utility of a belief’s being true is wholly hostage to the truth or falsity of the collateral beliefs with which it is combined.
Well then, perhaps one should only talk about the truth of a whole set of beliefs—indeed, of all one’s beliefs. The requirement that we banish all error from our beliefs is a tall order, and probably not very realistic. But surely that would reliably produce successful, desire-satisfying actions? Not really. For the effects of collateral ignorance are just as bad as those of collateral error. If I am unaware that wet weather has swelled the cupboard door so that it cannot be opened, all my true beliefs about the location of the cookies and of the cupboard will be of no practical avail. But banishing ignorance as well as error seems over the top: is truth really only of practical use to the omniscient?
He goes on to endorse the prosentential account.If you don’t understand the sentence “The surgeon performed a cholecystectomy,” I can explain it to you by telling you that it is true just in case the surgeon removed the patient’s gall bladder. And we can say more general things, such as: Any claim of the form ~p is true just in case p is not true. But it would be a mistake to infer from this sort of appeal to truth conditions to express propositional contents that one can explain what propositional contents are by appeal to the conditions under which sentences are true. That would be a possible order of explanation only if one can make sense of the notion of truth prior to and independently of making sense of the notion of propositional content. And there is good reason to think that that cannot be done.
This is an appealing approach if it can be made to work.According to the prosentential theory of truth, whenever a referring expression (for example, a definite description or a quote-name) is joined to the truth predicate, the resulting statement contains no more content than the sentence(s) picked out by the referring expression. To assert that a sentence is true is simply to assert or reassert that sentence; it is not to ascribe the property of truth to that sentence.
I can hardly understand the metaphysical thesis that there is in the world, beyond our practices, a brute fact that makes a statement true. — Almagro
All these statements are indissociable from the first person, and that's the whole thing the correspondence theory's formulation points to. — Almagro
States, then? States of affairs? — bongo fury
"Just"??? — bongo fury
No entities corresponding to whole sentences. No truth-value attaching to things or events that aren't sentences. — bongo fury
Could we all just drop "state of affairs" and "proposition"? Serious suggestion. Because even the former ends up standing for "sentence". — bongo fury
Some of the trouble traces back to Alfred Tarski's unfortunate suggestion that the formula " 'Snow is white' is true if and only if snow is white" commits us to a correspondence theory of truth. Actually it leaves us free to adopt any theory (correspondence, coherence, or other) that gives " 'Snow is white' is true" and "snow is white" the same truth-value. — Goodman, Of Mind and Other Matters
I think N is the wrong way to go. I think we agree ? — Pie
Yes if N is a totality of corresponding facts. — bongo fury
I think maybe warranted beliefs are what's important. I'm not sure truth plays much of a role. But I'm willing to be corrected. — Pie
I think there's a clear difference here. And I think it's truth, not warranted belief, that is important in this case. — Michael
you want to say meaning is found in truth conditions, yes.
— Tate
Go on.
The essay explores that theme, tries to give it its due. I'm still making up my mind.
I think maybe warranted beliefs are what's important. I'm not sure truth plays much of a role. But I'm willing to be corrected. — Pie
I think maybe warranted beliefs are what's important — Pie
You know the meaning of P if you know when it's true. — Tate
Important for what? — Tate
-How can I have true beliefs ? — Pie
make sure your beliefs are warranted and justified. — Pie
You know the meaning of P if you know when it's true.
— Tate
If you mean if you know what would make it true, then that seems (tentatively) right. — Pie
Important for what?
— Tate
It seems philosophers can only manage to make sure their beliefs are warranted, justified. — Pie
Easier said than done. — Tom Storm
As it happens, Pilate's question was needlessly abstract and seems to construct 'truth' as a mystical property. — Tom Storm
the question for Pilate was, is Jesus starting an insurrection? This can be investigated. No need to calibrate the notion of truth. The best we can do is test everyday claims. Truth is not a property that all true propositions have in common. — Tom Storm
I imagine there are better and worse methods to go about doing this, right? Do you have any simple thoughts for a non-philosopher? — Tom Storm
Why then do we value warrant ? — Pie
How can I have true beliefs ? — Pie
1. "p" is true iff p
2. "'p' is true" means "p" — Michael
You are going to get into all sorts of trouble by treating truth as a first-order predicate.1. T(q) ↔ p — Michael
Confidence does speed things up, though. If you're running through the jungle trying to escape a saber toothed tiger, you need to react quickly to the justifications you're receiving. — Tate
I don't know, you're probably right. If you're justified, you may be more likely to be right. — Tate
I would expect you to be a knowledge externalist, though. — Tate
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