Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481

https://doi.org/10.1007/s11406-019-00099-z

A Common-Sense Pragmatic Theory of Truth

John Capps 1

Received: 5 February 2019 / Revised: 15 May 2019 / Accepted: 7 June 2019 /

Published online: 18 June 2019
# Springer Nature B.V. 2019

Abstract
Truth is a fundamental philosophical concept that, despite its common and everyday
use, has resisted common-sense formulations. At this point, one may legitimately
wonder if there even is a common-sense notion of truth or what it could look like. In
response, I propose here a common-sense account of truth based on four “truisms” (to
use J.L. Austin’s term) that set a baseline for how to go about building an account of
truth. Drawing on both ordinary language philosophy and contemporary pragmatic
approaches to truth, I defend a pragmatic, common-sense theory of truth. The result is a
theory that focuses the use and function of truth while also emphasizing its “subject-
independence.”

Keywords Common sense . Pragmatic theory of truth . Cheryl Misak . J.L. Austin .
Correspondence theory of truth

1 Introduction

In the mid-1930s Arne Næss interviewed 300 people to pin down a common-sense
notion of truth: that is, what truth means to ordinary, normal people without philosoph-
ical training or exposure. It didn’t go well. After a few false-starts he started using a
“rigid questionnaire” and, after a few hundred interviews lasting from 10 min to 10 h,
he concluded that there was no such thing as a common-sense or “non-philosophers’
view of truth”:

There is no such view. One can just as well (or perhaps even better) speak of the
philosophers’ view of the truth notion. (Næss 1938: 47 emphasis in original)

Since Næss had earlier catalogued some 200 different definitions of truth given by
philosophers, it was perhaps no surprise that laypersons, too, would understand the

* John Capps
john.capps@rit.edu

1
Department of Philosophy, Rochester Institute of Technology, Rochester, NY 14623, USA
464 Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481

concept of truth in a vast variety of different and generally incompatible ways.

Unfortunately, in the absence of anything remotely close to consensus, philosophers’
claims to offer a “common-sense” definition of truth, or to find support in common
sense, rang hollow. Not only was there no philosophical consensus on the meaning of
truth, there was no common-sense consensus either.
I’d be surprised if things have changed much since Næss’ study. But if there’s no
such thing as a common-sense definition of truth—if no definition or theory of truth is
obviously more natural or embraced by a majority of non-philosophers—then this
raises two questions. First, what could be common-sense criteria for truth? And,
second, where do various conceptions of truth stand in terms of these criteria?
What follows is an argument for a common-sense—and in some ways “pragmat-
ic”—theory of truth. Given Næss’ results, I’m not sure it will sound like common sense
to lay people—though I’m hopeful that perhaps it will. I’m also hopeful that it will
sound like common sense to philosophers and, if it does, that would be a fine result too.

2 Why Care about Common Sense?

But, first, a preliminary question: if there’s no common-sense notion of truth, then why
care what common sense would say? There’s no connection between a notion being
common-sense and it being, for want of a better word, true. Many views once described
as common sense have later turned out to be false, wrong-headed, or just silly. So why
should we care whether a particular notion of truth is common sense?1
I would argue that we should care, and that there is value in pursuing a common-
sense understanding of truth, for the following reason: we have to start somewhere.
Austin—not surprisingly—puts the point well, observing that where terms have
evolved through common use, where they have “stood up to the long test of the
survival of the fittest” and “in all ordinary and reasonably practical matters,” then if
we pay attention to how these terms are used, we can arrive at insights that are both
more “sound” and “subtle” than we “are likely to think up in our armchairs” (1956: 8).
Ordinary language shares this with common sense: both provide initial, and prima facie
credible, data for what certain terms mean in practice. Since common sense can be
mistaken, and ordinary language can be confused or inconsistent, Austin does concede
that “ordinary language is not the last word: in principle it can everywhere be
supplemented and improved upon and superseded.” But he then adds, “only remember,
it is the first word” (1956: 11, emphasis in original). More recently, Cheryl Misak and
Penelope Maddy, among others, have made similar points. As Misak puts it, “we must
start from where we find ourselves—as human beings, laden with beliefs and practices,
trying to make sense of ourselves and the world” (2015: 262) while Maddy has argued
that such a starting point is the natural beginning for what she calls the “plain inquirer”
or “second philosopher” (2017: 4).

1
By “common sense” I don’t mean to refer to a specific philosophical position, such as Scottish common sense
realism, Peirce’s critical common-sensism, or Moore’s position in “A Defence of Common Sense” (thanks to a
reviewer for raising this question). I take common sense in a non-theoretical (common sense?) way: “common”
in the sense of widely shared, or, as argued below, a generally accepted baseline. But also “common” in the sense
of “ordinary,” hence the connection with ordinary language philosophy. (In this sense one could argue that
ordinary language philosophy is a post-linguistic turn version of common sense philosophy.)
Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481 465

Austin was well aware of the limits of this ordinary language approach, noting that
sometimes words have become so “infected with the jargon” of philosophical theories
that we can no longer look at them with completely fresh eyes (Austin 1956: 8).
Moreover, he admits that “true” is a “peculiar” and “extraordinary” word that requires
special handling in order to see how it compares with other ways of describing the
success or failure of particular statements (statements might also be labeled vague or
precise, misleading or straightforward, e.g.) (Austin 1950: 122). But these caveats
aside, there are still good reasons for approaching the concept of truth from how it is
typically and frequently used, even if there is no common-sense definition of truth to
which to appeal. If Austin is right that “the theory of truth is a series of truisms” (Austin
1950: 115), then we might be able to identify some basic, common sense truisms about
truth—and theories of truth—that can help direct our thinking. So, even if we agree
with Næss that there is no common-sense definition of truth, the situation may not be so
dire if, rather than starting from people’s conscious attempts to define the notion, we
instead look at how the notion of truth is used and how it functions. In other words,
ordinary common-sense uses of truth are a good place to begin.
This is why ordinary language philosophy is a natural starting point for a common-
sense examination of truth. Later I will point to some similarities between ordinary
language philosophy and philosophical pragmatism—with the caveat that both “ordi-
nary language philosophy” and “pragmatism” are rather amorphous terms. As a result,
with regard to the former, I’ll mostly focus on Austin. After all, as Maddy observes—
repeating an anonymous quip—one problem with ordinary language philosophy was
that “there wasn’t any school…there was just one genius” (2017: 42).

3 Common Sense about Theories of Truth

So, what are the common-sense “truisms” (to use Austin’s term) about truth? In this
section I will discuss four truisms that set a baseline for what we should expect from a
theory of truth. In Section 4 I will argue that these four truisms are all we need.
These truisms fall into two categories. The first two are “methodological” in that
they describe useful strategies for approaching concepts like truth that, because they are
so common and widely used, are difficult to analyze into constituent parts. (Perhaps, to
modify U.S. Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart’s observation, truth is one of those
things that “you know it when you see it.”) These are truisms about truisms, common
sense about common sense: if one chooses to take a common-sense approach to truth,
then these are the truisms that will guide that process. They are truisms about theories
of truth. The second two truisms are “substantive” in that they make positive claims
about how we understand and use the concept of truth. These capture aspects of the
concept of truth that, I will argue, are non-controversial: hence, in a substantive sense,
“truisms.” These are truisms about the concept of truth.
This reference to substantive truisms may remind one of Wright’s “platitudes”: what
he calls “a certain set of very general, very intuitive principles” (1992: 34) or “anything
that chimes with ordinary a priori thinking about truth” (2001: 759). The strategy, here,
is similar: to identify features of the concept of truth that any theory of truth should
capture, whatever their other differences. The tactics, however, are different. While
there is some overlap between these truisms and Wright’s list of platitudes, these
466 Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481

truisms are not all “intuitive” or “a priori.” Instead they are meant to be uncontroversial
reflections of how the concept of truth is used in ordinary, everyday contexts. What
makes them truisms is how well they reflect our experience of using the concept of
truth, not how well they fit our a priori intuitions. Unlike platitudes, these truisms may
not be immediately or intuitively obvious but, hopefully, they will seem obvious and
uncontroversial upon further examination.
Lynch (2009) also appeals to “truisms” about truth but his goal is very different.
While his appeal leads to a defense of alethic pluralism—the idea that, depending on
what we’re talking about, different properties may play the role of truth—my proposal
here is more modest: an account of truth that is versatile enough to apply across
contexts. While Lynch’s approach may appeal to foxes, the current proposal should
appeal to hedgehogs.

3.1 Truism #1: Modest Beginnings

The first, methodological, truism is that, because we use truth in all sorts of ordinary,
everyday contexts, this is where we should start: with ordinary, everyday uses of truth—
and not with strange, deviant, or paradoxical ones. Actually, this is a good strategy in
general: whatever the subject, it’s usually best to get a grasp on typical cases before
studying the outliers. Austin claimed that the “primary” uses of truth occur in statements
like “It is true (to say) that the cat is on the mat” or “That statement (of his, etc.) is true”
(Austin 1950: 112), and that sentences like these are the best starting point for understand-
ing the concept of truth. In other words, a theory of truth should have modest beginnings.
Specifically, this means we should be most concerned with explaining prosaic uses
of truth and not be concerned, at least at the beginning, with puzzles like the liar
paradox (as, for example, axiomatic and formal theories of truth (e.g., Halbach 2011;
Bell et al. 2018) tend to do). Horwich puts the point clearly. Responding to what he sees
as Williamson’s too-quick dismissal of a half-century of work on truth, Horwich asks:
“but can it be that the philosophically interesting question about truth is how to escape
from the liar paradoxes? To say ‘yes’ would be to embrace a strikingly narrow
conception of the subject”(2011: 528).
In response Horwich claims that, since the concept of truth has evolved over time to
serve various practical purposes, we should expect it to be somewhat “messy”
(2011: 526). Truth will not, as a result, be the sort of thing we can successfully lay
siege to with formal techniques, Williamson’s preferred strategy. Developing a theory
of truth that prioritizes a solution to the liar paradox is thus likely to skew our
understanding of the notion, much as a theory of mammals that prioritizes platypuses
will likely distract us from more common and usual features.2
Of course, this isn’t to say that solutions to the liar paradox or other issues are not
important, illuminating, or relevant. As Austin would put it, starting from ordinary
contexts of use needn’t be the last word. But, on the other hand, this truism does question
the wisdom of starting from paradoxes—problems which invite certain types of solutions
2
Austin also seems to have recognized this, dismissing the liar paradox in a footnote to his essay “Truth”: “It
takes two to make a truth. Hence (obviously) there can be no criterion of truth in the sense of some feature
detectable in the statement itself which will reveal whether it is true or false. Hence, too, a statement cannot
without absurdity refer to itself” (Austin 1950: 118). Austin’s parenthetical “obviously” is revealing, suggest-
ing that liar sentences are a clear example of what he calls a “misfire.”
Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481 467

and approaches—when there is plenty to be said about how truth functions in more
ordinary contexts. This first truism encourages us to start modestly, by examining how we
put the concept of truth to common-sense use in ordinary contexts. If one is aiming for a
common-sense theory of truth, then this is where one should begin.

3.2 Truism #2: The Goldilocks Principle

The second methodological truism, like the first, focuses on how to approach the
concept of truth and, in particular, what we should expect from a philosophical theory
of truth. If the first truism is about modest beginnings then the second truism is about
modest endings: it states that accounts of truth should, like Goldilocks, aim for what is
“just right,” neither claiming too much nor too little. I’ll call this truism “The
Goldilocks Principle.” Not every theory of truth satisfies the Goldilocks Principle.
Consider, for example, deflationary theories of truth which claim, in general, that the
scheme “‘p’ is true iff ‘p’” says most everything there is to say about truth.
Deflationists, disquotationalists, and minimalists worry that saying more than this will
lead to metaphysical confusion and philosophical obscurity, and will distract from
truth’s core function as a way of forming generalizations (“Everything she said was
true,” for example). I suspect nearly everyone will agree that these deflationary theories
capture an essential aspect of the concept of truth. However, many have argued that
these theories are too minimal and overlook essential features of the concept of truth.
Misak concludes that the deflationist’s “quest for purity will result in something rather
empty and useless, for the important work is in spelling out the relations between truth
on the one hand and assertion, verification, success, etc. on the other” (2000: 63).
Similarly, Price argues that deflationism, while unobjectionable as far as it goes, doesn’t
say enough about the function truth plays:

I think that the right approach to truth is to investigate its function in human
discourse—to ask what difference it makes to us to have such a concept. Unlike…
minimalists, however, I do not think the right answer to this question is that truth is
merely a grammatical device for disquotation. I think that it has a far more
important function, which requires that it be the expression of a norm. (2003: 171)

More recently Price puts it like this:

I am sympathetic to the charge that the familiar disquotational versions of

deflationism pay insufficient attention to the normative character of the notions
of truth and falsity. Disquotational truth seems too ‘thin’ to play its proper role in
an adequate theory of the general features of assertion, commitment, and judg-
ment. (2011: 16)

If there are uses of truth that go beyond its generalizing and disquotational function—I’ll
discuss some plausible candidates in the next section—then deflationary theories
arguably don’t go far enough and therefore do not satisfy the Goldilocks Principle.
In contrast, correspondence theories of truth arguably go too far. Besides problems of
detail (defining the correspondence relation, defining “fact” without referring to truth,
etc.), correspondence theories of truth have often had difficulty specifying which types
468 Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481

of statements are capable of being true or false (i.e., are “truth-apt”). Take, for example,
claims about the future or ethical claims. While it seems plausible to treat these claims as
truth-apt—we say things like “it’s true that tomorrow I will be flying to San Francisco”
or “it’s true that plagiarizing is wrong”—if the truth of such claims depends on the
existence of ethical and future facts then we quickly find ourselves wading into deep
metaphysical thickets. And this is just the beginning: modal and mathematical claims, as
well as others, pose similar challenges (Price 2013; Capps 2014).
The problem is that correspondence theories of truth, by requiring the existence of
corresponding facts, can make it difficult to see how certain classes of statements can
be truth-apt: as Lynch puts it, “consider propositions like two and two are four or
torture is wrong. Under the assumption that truth is always and everywhere causal
correspondence, it is a vexing question how these true thoughts can be true” (2009:
34).3 Since truth is a condition for knowledge, this also makes it difficult to see how
these statements can be known. To be clear, that certain statements can’t be known or
aren’t truth-apt is not, by itself, the problem: the problem is how we got to this
conclusion. Typically, if there’s an area where truth and knowledge are out of reach,
then we look to some feature of that area that puts it beyond study. For example, if we
can’t know the real skin color of dinosaurs, then that’s because skin and pigment aren’t
fossilized like bone. If there’s no way of knowing whether a fair coin will land heads or
tails, this is because either outcome is equally likely. If we can’t know the weather next
week then that’s because weather is a non-linear dynamic system. If we can’t say who’s
a better comedian, Charlie Chaplin or Tina Fey, this is because aesthetic standards are
historically variable. If your boss can’t know what’s in your e-mail, this is because you
used PGP encryption, and so on… The point is that, if there are things we cannot know,
we generally treat this as due to features of these things, not as a consequence of the
particular theory of truth we happen to hold. The tail shouldn’t wag the dog and a
theory of truth shouldn’t determine the limits of what can be inquired into. That we
can’t have knowledge in a certain area, or that truth is not a property of certain
statements, are conclusions that should be reached after examining those areas, and
not as a result of having defined truth in a particular way.4
This means that theories of truth can do too much as well as too little. The
Goldilocks Principles advises aiming for a theory that is “just right,” one that ade-
quately describes the function of the concept of truth without hindering its application.
Of course, this principle could still lead us wrong. We might discover, at the end of the
day, that theories of truth need to do more, or less, than we first thought. But that’s
exactly the point: this is something we should discover at the end of the day, not build
in from the beginning. If one is aiming for a common-sense theory of truth, then one
needs to keep the Goldilocks Principle in sight.

3
While Lynch here speaks of “causal” correspondence—he focuses on this as a possible explanation for how
facts make corresponding beliefs true—the more general point stands: if the truth of, e.g., moral claims
depends (perhaps but not necessarily causally) on the prior existence of moral facts, and if we’re baffled by
how moral facts exist, then correspondence theories make it difficult to see how these claims can be true.
4
Maddy (2017) makes a similar point, arguing that we should approach philosophical problems much as we
do problems in other fields: namely against a backdrop of ordinary, common-sense results that, in the absence
of any specific problem, provide the basis for ongoing inquiry. We should, in other words, resist the invitation
to defend our views “from scratch” (2017: 158) since doing so is both under-motivated and puts us at a serious
and perhaps insurmountable disadvantage from the outset.
Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481 469

3.3 Truism #3: The Use of Truth

The first two methodological truisms encourage us to look at common-sense uses of

truth across a range of ordinary contexts. They propose a general strategy for theories of
truth to follow. The third, substantive truism is more tactical and begins to describe
what these uses are. So, what are we doing when we say “It is true that the cat is on the
mat” or “That statement is true”?
Deflationists, among others, have long noted that the concept of truth plays a useful
grammatical and semantic role, allowing us to say things like, “everything Mary says is
true” or “yes, that is true.” In this regard any theory that incorporates Tarski bicondi-
tionals, including redundancy, deflationary or minimalist theories (e.g., Horwich 2010),
or prosentential theories (Grover et al. 1975; Brandom 2002), undoubtedly get some-
thing right: the concept of truth makes our language much more efficient. Without it
we’d sometimes be forced to make infinitely long conjunctions or to repeat ourselves or
others in awkward ways. That truth serves this function is, I think, undeniable. The
question is whether it has other uses in addition.
Misak and Price, among others, have argued that the concept of truth functions as a norm
that places expectations on speakers and their assertions. In addition to its generalizing and
disquotational use, the concept of truth also functions as a norm of asertoric discourse.
Misak writes, “once we see that truth and assertion are intimately connected—once we see
that to assert that p is true is to assert p—we can and must look to our practices of assertion
and to the commitments incurred in them so as to say something more substantial about
truth” (Misak 2007, 70). She argues that by asserting something to be true, as opposed to
simply posing a hypothetical, we take on an obligation to specify the consequences of our
assertion, to consider how our assertions can be verified, and to offer reasons in support of
our claims. As a result, Misak concludes, truth “is bound up with the practice of assertion,
which then binds it further to expectations for experience, reasons, and inquiry” (2007: 71).
Likewise, Price also concludes that truth is an essential norm of assertion. Without it,
the norms governing assertion would only cover what he calls “subjective assertibility”
and “personal warranted assertibility;” that is, without truth, we could be held account-
able only for either insincerely asserting things we don’t ourselves believe (thus
violating the norm of “subjective assertibility”) or for asserting things when we don’t
have enough evidence (thus violating the norm of “personal warranted assertibility”).
By themselves these two norms are not enough. Without a third norm, the norm of
truth, there would be no way of motivating disagreements between people who speak
sincerely and with, from their own perspective, good reasons. The norm of truth thus
provides the “friction” we need to treat disagreements as genuinely needing resolution:

Without the third norm, differences of opinion would simply slide past one
another. Differences of opinion would seem as inconsequential as differences of
preference. With the third norm, however, disagreement automatically becomes
normatively loaded. (Price 2003: 180-181)

Likewise, Wright notes that “to assert is to present as true” (1992: 34) and he treats this
as one of the “key platitudes” that is a necessary part of any adequate theory of truth. In
other words, 1) without the connection to truth, it’s no longer clear to what degree
assertions would still be assertions (as opposed to speculations or musings), and 2)
470 Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481

without the connection to assertion it’s no longer clear that this is a theory of truth. The
concept of truth serves the essential function of making assertoric discourse possible:
without truth, making assertions would not come with obligations, and the idea of
conflicting assertions would lose its bite.
This means that, in addition to playing various important grammatical and semantic
roles, the concept of truth also functions as a norm of assertion and inquiry. When we
say “It’s true the cat is on the mat,” we take on certain epistemic obligations: to give
reasons, to consider evidence for and against, and to follow this claim wherever it may
lead. This gives us a more robust picture of the function of truth in ordinary situations.
To sum up, the third truism is that truth has these basic uses: besides its function as a
device for generalization, disquotation, etc., truth also functions as a norm of assertion
and inquiry. By capturing the basic ways we use the concept of truth—similar to what
Lynch refers to as truth’s “job description” (2004: 405)—this third truism offers a
common-sense view of what truth most fundamentally does. It is a truism because it is
uncontroversial that truth does play these basic roles. It tells us something about what
truth is via a description of what the concept does.

3.4 Truism #4: Subject-Independence

The third truism describes what truth does, but it does not tell us what truth means. It does
not provide a definition of truth. However, depending on what sort of definition is desired,
attempting to define truth may be “folly” (Davidson 1996) or unproductive. Indeed,
ordinary language philosophers and pragmatists have often avoided giving “definitions”
of truth or else have carefully couched the kind of accounts they do give. From the
standpoint of ordinary language philosophy, Baz argues that Strawson (among others)
was “right that no truly satisfying analysis of the meaning of ‘true’, or theory of truth…is
forthcoming…there are good reasons to take the demand for such an analysis or theory to
be not only ill-founded, but also responsible for much philosophical difficulty” (2012: 32).
Likewise, Misak refrains from calling her account of truth a “definition” since doing so
might imply providing necessary and sufficient conditions for a belief to be true. Such
definitions, she argues, may be useful to those entirely unfamiliar with the concept of truth,
but the rest of us are better served by a “pragmatic elucidation”: “an account of the role the
concept plays in important and practical endeavors, such as inquiry and knowledge
acquisition” (2015: 264). If Misak and Strawson are right, then the quest for a definition
of truth—especially if this involves stating necessary and sufficient conditions for what
truth, fundamentally, is—is both misguided and likely doomed from the start.5

5
As one reviewer pointed out, this means that pragmatists and others have often denied offering anything so
grandiose as a “theory” when doing so entails offering a “definition” of truth. Part of the reason is tactical: the track
record for defining truth is not encouraging and James’ pragmatic theory of truth, in particular, has received its share
of well-deserved criticism from Russell (Russell 1909) onward. As a result, pragmatic theories of truth have
sometimes offered “criteria” of truth instead of a “definition” though this, too, has been problematic: having a
definition of truth—being able to say what it is—would seem to be a precondition for specifying the criteria that true
beliefs must satisfy. In response, pragmatists have sometimes blurred the distinction between definition and criteria,
using a pragmatic theory of meaning to argue that having adequate criteria for truth—being able to say what
distinguishes true beliefs—demonstrates the same cognitive grasp that definitions aim for, but without the pretension.
(We can begin to see why for similar reasons Neurath proposed putting “truth” on a list of “dangerous” terms whose
definitions require constant maintenance, ad hoc adjustment, and what he called “terminological rope-dancing”
[Neurath 1940: 133]; for more on Neurath’s tortured relationship to the concept of truth see [Mancosu 2008]).
Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481 471

But this raises the question: what can we say, if anything, about what truth is? Some,
of course, have denied that there is any substantial answer to this question: truth, they
argue, is not the sort of property where we should expect a substantive account (as
Horwich puts it, “the concept of truth is superficial and trivially explainable” [2010: 4]).
Others—we’ve seen Misak and Price take this approach—argue that this deflationary
approach is insufficient and must be supplemented by an account of truth’s function in
assertoric discourse. Beyond this, there are a range of more substantive attempts to
define truth, including correspondence (e.g., Niiniluoto 1999; Vision 2004), coherence
(e.g., Blanshard 1939; Hempel 1935), pragmatic (e.g., James 1975; Cormier 2001), and
pluralist (e.g., Lynch 2009) theories. And, of course, each of these theories comes in a
variety of different and often incompatible versions.
Here are some examples. Austin embraces a version of the correspondence theory of
truth, noting that defining truth in terms of correspondence to the facts “can hardly be
wrong” at least “as a piece of standard English” (Austin 1950: 115). But Austin is quick
to add that both “facts” and “correspondence” can easily lead to misunderstanding and
that, moreover, truth is just one of several ways of describing how statements may
successfully correspond to the facts (1950: 124). Austin also raises the concern that
truth can become an “obsession” distracting us from more important questions about
how we successfully use words to describe the world (1950: 124–125). So, while
describing a statement as true means that it corresponds to the facts (this, along with
some additional apparatus is as close as Austin gets to a definition of truth), he is
careful to note that this account is limited in terms of the philosophical work that it
does. Although Austin pointedly rejects Strawson’s deflationary claim that truth is
“logically superfluous,” his common-sense, ordinary language approach avoids re-
inflating the concept of truth to where it assumes outsize significance.6
Misak, instead, argues for treating truth on broadly Peircean lines, while avoiding
some of Peirce’s less fortunate turns of phrase. Rather than invoke Peirce’s notion of an
“ideal limit” to which true beliefs tend, she argues that a true belief is simply:

One that would withstand doubt, were we to inquire as far as we fruitfully could
on the matter. A true belief is such that, no matter how much further we were to
investigate and debate, that belief would not be overturned by recalcitrant
experience and argument. (2000: 49)

Misak’s point (and, she would argue, Peirce’s) is simply that, when we say that a belief
is true, this is shorthand for saying that it is “everything we want it to be” (2000: 54)
and that “a true belief is one that stands up and would continue to stand up to reasons
and evidence” (2015: 265). This “pragmatic elucidation” provides us with the meaning,
as opposed to the function, of truth: a true belief is a belief that will never disappoint.
One more example: Lynch’s (2009) alethic pluralism starts from three “core truisms”
that capture the function of truth in our “cognitive economy” (2009: 71). These
truisms—essentially that truth is objective, a norm of belief, and a goal of inquiry—

6
It’s an open question whether Austin’s version of the correspondence theory avoids the problems mentioned
earlier. He’s aware that statements about the future pose problems but it’s still not clear that he’s successfully
met the Goldilocks Principle. In fact, some (e.g., Longworth 2017) have argued that he actually puts forward a
proto-deflationary theory, which would suggest that his account actually does too little, not too much.
472 Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481

describe truth’s “job description.” These core truisms, Lynch argues, are essential to
what truth is and does: essentially, providing an objective norm that we should aim for.
However, depending on the context, different properties can satisfy this job description:
“a robust correspondence property, for instance, may play the truth-role in connection
with beliefs about macrophysical objects” while a different property may be appropriate
when the topic is mathematics or morality (Wyatt and Lynch 2016: 329). According to
Lynch, while the concept of truth serves a constant function, it refers to different
properties, or means different things, depending on the domain of discourse.
As a result, while Austin, Misak, and Lynch draw attention to the function and use of
truth in ordinary discourse, they also offer accounts of what the concept of truth means:
correspondence to the facts, in Austin’s case; long-term durability, in Misak’s case; all
of the above and then some, depending on the domain, in Lynch’s case. But none of
these proposals qualify as truisms because, even after thoughtful consideration, none
are obvious and uncontroversial. (This does not, by itself, mean that they are wrong,
just that they are not truisms.) There are lingering issues with each of these theories, as
even their defenders acknowledge (see Burgess and Burgess 2011 and Künne 2003 for
overviews and critiques of a range of definitions of truth).
Still, there is one thing we can say about truth—one thing we can say about what truth
means separate from its use or function—that, I would argue, does qualify as a truism.
This is truth’s subject-independence: that when we say a statement is true, we mean that
it “gets thing right” (to use Misak’s [2015: 263] phrase) in a way that does not depend on
us or, as Lynch puts it, “the truth of a belief depends on how things are; not on how I or
anyone else might wish them to be” (2009: 8).7 When we say that a belief is true—when
we make the effort to say “it’s true the cat is on the mat” rather than just “the cat is on the
mat”—we mean to convey that the cat’s location does not depend on us, our point of
view, or whatever we happen to think about the cat. What is true is not the same as what
we happen to think or hope or wish is true; thinking does not make it so. Truth is a realist
concept in this rather banal, fallibilist sense: we can be wrong about what is true because
what is true does not depend on us. This means that a commitment to subject-
independence runs through otherwise opposing theories of truth: subject-
independence is something these theories can agree on despite their other differences.
Furthermore, truth’s subject independence is uncontroversial on both common-sense
and theoretical levels, a desideratum that any theory of truth should respect or, if not,
account for. Certainly, a significant part of what we common-sensically mean when we
say something is true is that it is independent of our perspective, point-of-view, or
anything distinctly personal about ourselves. Unless there’s an explicit qualification, to
assert the truth of “grass is green”, “sugary drinks are unhealthy”, “2 + 2 = 4”, “the
president is orange,” or “torture is morally wrong” is to claim that these things are
independent of what the person making the statement happens to think. Compare, for
example, “the weather is uncomfortably hot” with “it’s true that the weather is uncom-
fortably hot.” While the former is consistent with saying, “the weather is uncomfortably
hot to me (but perhaps not to you)” the latter is the sort of thing one says to signal that the
7
“Does not depend on us” in any significant sense to rule out some trivial cases. “It’s true that my cat is on the
mat” depends on me (it’s my cat) but not in any significant sense: my cat’s location is independent of what I
happen to think it is. Likewise, “It’s true that I will pick you up at the airport” depends on me, my memory, and
my ability to keep promises but, again, doesn’t depend in any significant sense on what I think. Either I show
up at the airport or not, and thinking doesn’t make it so.
Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481 473

weather really is uncomfortable, that it’s not just me, that anyone would agree that the
weather is uncomfortable. This is how truth involves and entails subject-independence.
The subject independence of truth is also uncontroversial and widely accepted even
among philosophers. Whether it is Aristotle’s description of truth in the Metaphysics
(“To say of what is that it is not, or of what is not that it is, is false, while to say of what
is that it is, or of what is not that it is not, is true” [1011b25]) or Tarski’s T-schema
(some version of “‘p’ is true iff p”) or some other account entirely, the underlying idea
is that a sentence’s truth depends on the content of that sentence and not on what the
speaker thinks about the content of that sentence. In fact, given the T-schema’s wide
acceptance (besides some technical questions, the main reservation is whether it is all
we need), there’s good reason to think that subject independence is central to the
meaning of truth and at the heart of virtually any well-developed theory of truth. (The
one exception might be some unsophisticated forms of truth-relativism: the sort of view
that Rorty claimed no one actually holds except, perhaps, for the “occasional cooper-
ative freshman.”) Despite their other differences, pragmatism, coherentism, pluralism,
and the correspondence theory can all agree that whether a statement is true or not is
independent of what one thinks. Whether truth also means long-range durability,
correspondence to the facts, coherence with other statements, or some combination
of these (depending on the domain), these theories all concur that truth is subject
independent. This justifies treating it as the fourth truism: truth means subject-
independence; subject-independence is the common-sense core of the meaning of truth.

3.5 A Common-Sense Theory of Truth

These four truisms set a baseline for thinking about truth: not just the function of truth
or its meaning, but also how to go about giving a philosophical account of the concept.
These truisms, again, are:

1. Modest Beginnings: start from ordinary contexts of use

2. The Goldilocks Principles: aim for an account that neither does too much nor too little
3. The Use of Truth: truth is a device for generalization and a norm of assertion and inquiry
4. The Meaning of Truth: Truth is subject-independence

Taken together, these truisms offer a common-sense approach to truth that highlights
the uncontroversial common ground shared by otherwise opposing theories.8

8
A natural question at this point is whether these truisms can conflict with each other. There may, for example,
be a tension between the Goldilocks principle and the fourth truism, depending on how truth’s subject
independence is described, and what counts as saying too much or too little. If subject independence is taken
to require indefeasibility (as some Peirceans might insist) or correspondence with reality (as some correspon-
dence theorists might insist) then, yes, there will be tension with the Goldilocks principle. (I address problems
with correspondence above and problems with Peircean approaches below, in Section 4.1.) So, unless there are
clear benefits to offset the significant costs, the temptation to expand subject independence in these ways
should be resisted. The overall strategy, again, is to identify a core set of truistic commitments that can be
widely accepted. Subject independence seems to be one of these commitments—who could disagree?—and,
while some might wish to bolt on aftermarket parts, install a louder stereo, and add some pinstriping, doing so
can have unintended and counterproductive consequences, besides annoying the neighbors and voiding the
manufacturer’s warranty. Proceeding with caution should keep tensions between the truisms to a minimum.
(Thanks to a reviewer for pointing this out.)
474 Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481

Whether these truisms constitute a definition or theory of truth depends on what one
means by “definition” and “theory.” They don’t provide a definition in the sense of
specifying the necessary and sufficient conditions for a proposition to be true. But the
third and fourth truisms do address what “truth” means and the role it plays in assertoric
discourse. Likewise, the truisms don’t provide a theory if a theory of truth must address
the “metaphysical” (Kirkham 1992, 20) question of what makes a proposition true,
whether that be “facts,” “reality,” or some other factor. But the third and fourth truisms
do explain how the concept of truth is used and the first two truisms justify proceeding
in this way. That may be theory enough.
Others, too, have noted the “folly” of defining truth (Davidson 1996). Wiggins proposes
instead “elucidating” the concept by identifying “some interesting, substantive connexion
between the concept of truth and some other concept or concepts (2002: 325-326). Likewise,
Misak speaks of a “pragmatic elucidation” that is “an account of the role the concept plays in
practical endeavors” (Misak 2007: 68). I’ll continue to speak here of an “account”, “ap-
proach,” or “theory” of truth while recognizing that these terms are not completely precise.

4 Common Sense and Pragmatism about Truth

At this point the obvious question is whether these truisms are sufficient for a theory of
truth—both methodologically and substantively—and what sort of theory that would
be. In this section I’ll argue for a kind of pragmatic theory of truth, the details of which
will shortly emerge. However, there’s an obvious objection: haven’t I just stacked the
deck by starting from these four truisms?
I think this is a legitimate concern, especially since these truisms do emphasize the
use and function of the concept of truth, themes often associated with pragmatic
accounts (Hookway 2002; Misak 2015). So, is a pragmatic approach to truth already
implied by these four truisms? My answer is a qualified “no”: while there is an element
of circularity here, it is of the self-reinforcing, not vicious kind. Let me explain.
Whenever we discuss epistemological terms we find ourselves in a unique position.
When we discuss the concept of truth, we aim for our claims to be true, just as when we
discuss the concept of justification, we aim for our claims to be well-justified. And not
true or justified in just any sense, but true and justified in exactly the senses we defend.
Someone defending a correspondence theory of truth will aim to give an account that
corresponds to the epistemological facts, while someone defending a pragmatic theory
of truth will aim to give an account that, in some sense, “works.” Despite the possible
appearance of circularity here, there’s nothing wrong with this. Others, too, have noted
this odd feature of truth. Price, e.g., writes that in speaking of truth:

The relevant metaphysical issues tend themselves to be framed in terms of truth,

and related notions.…[S]o the issue of the status of truth is here enmeshed with
the terms of the problem, in a way which is quite uncharacteristic of metaphysical
issues about other notions. (Price 2003: 188)

So there is at least this kind of circularity operating here: my account aims to be true in
exactly and only the sense that it describes. But this is not a problem with this
account—rather, on pain of inconsistency, it is a necessity.
Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481 475

However there’s another, related concern. It is that these truisms, by front-loading

the use and function of truth, unfairly stack the deck in favor of pragmatic approaches
to truth. Again, there may be something to this concern but, I would argue, not as much
as might first appear. To see this, consider that any theory of truth should be prepared to
say something about the use and function of truth, not just pragmatic theories (as
Kirkham [1992: 39] points out, there is often confusion about what different programs
and projects aim to show with regard to the concept of truth). The third truism, that the
concept of truth functions to form generalizations while also putting speakers under
certain normative obligations, does not in itself privilege any particular theory of truth
over another. For example, a correspondence theory might incorporate this truism while
also adding that what really matters is how true beliefs correspond to the facts.
Deflationary theories, too, might accept this truism while emphasizing that truth’s core
function is to help form generalizations: everything else follows from this fact. As a
result it would be wrong to conclude that these truisms stack the deck in favor of one
theory of truth.
However, even if these truisms don’t stack the deck in favor of a pragmatic theory of
truth, they do point in the direction of one. In the next two sections I will argue, first,
that a good case can be made for halting at just these four truisms and, second, for
treating an account based on these—and only these—truisms as a common sense and
pragmatic theory of truth.

4.1 And Nothing More

The four truisms set both methodological and substantive parameters for a theory of
truth. In addition to setting a starting point and goal, they also provide an account of
both the function and the meaning of the concept of truth. An account that lacked one
of these features—that addressed the function of truth but not its meaning (or vice
versa), or that failed to specify a starting point, etc.—would seem obviously inadequate.
One may disagree with the details, or argue for additions, but it is hard to disagree that
these four truisms do, by themselves, constitute a theory of truth with a basic set of
strategies and tactics.
But are these four truisms sufficient? I suspect most disagreement will focus not on
the content of these truisms—there’s a reason they are truisms, after all—but on
whether they say enough. Defenders of the correspondence theory will, of course,
want to add some sort of correspondence relation, some pragmatists will want to add
utility conditions, and so on. While it’s not possible to consider every possible
addition—conceivably there is an unlimited number of these—I do want to say
something about the most likely candidates.
For example, some might argue that subject-independence is not sufficient for
describing the meaning of truth, since it says nothing about what makes a claim true.
To answer that question one might propose adding a correspondence condition: that
what makes a claim true is that it corresponds to the facts or reality. But there are
several problems with this proposal. First, there are well-documented problems of
detail: there is still little consensus among correspondence theorists on what, exactly,
a correspondence theory is committed to (Künne 2003), or what, exactly, core terms
such as “correspond” and “facts” refer to (as Austin noted long ago; for more recent
versions of the correspondence theory see Vision 2004 and Niiniluoto 1999). Second,
476 Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481

as noted above, correspondence theories often have difficulty accounting for areas of
discourse that seem clearly truth-apt—but where it’s not clear what these truth-apt
statements correspond to. Third, and finally, while the correspondence theory may
seem to have a ready answer to the question of what makes a belief true, on closer
examination this question (and the correspondence theory’s answer) loses much of its
crispness. The problem is not that there are sometimes too few candidates for what
makes a statement true (though this is sometimes the case) but that there are too many.
For example, what makes it true that “the cat is on the mat”? Let us say that it is the fact
that the cat is on the mat (whatever that is). But if that is so, then why not also certain
facts about the cat’s skeletal structure, its behavior, even facts about the mat (that it is
made of soft material and not, say, corrugated iron), or certain facts about language or
the way language divides up the world?9 The correspondence account thus gives us
much to chew on—perhaps too much—but little in the way of real nutrition. In the end
it’s not clear that adding correspondence to our four truisms improves matters at all.
To see why consider the function the correspondence theory is supposed to serve.
The correspondence theory appears to excel by offering a clear answer to what makes a
belief or statement true. (Though, as we just saw, its answer is mostly empty calories.)
Why does this seem such an important question? The reason, I think, is that it addresses
the concern that truth is not just whatever we want it to be. But that concern is already
addressed by the fourth truism: we are already committed to the subject-independence
of truth which is, we saw, built in to the common-sense use of truth in ordinary
contexts. Given this, it’s not clear what value there is in attempting to specify exactly
what makes a statement true: especially when, depending on the statement, there may
be too few or too many answers to that question, and the prospects for meaningful
illumination are scant. Rather, it seems as if we already have what we need in the fourth
truism and, if so, the correspondence theory only adds an unnecessary epicycle to an
already complete approach to truth.
Another example: as we’ve seen, Misak’s pragmatic account of truth holds that
when we say a belief is true we mean that it will “satisfy all of our aims in inquiry,”
continue to be “everything we want it to be” (2000: 54) and be, in effect, “indefeasible”
(2008: 95). In other words, Misak makes temporal independence an additional condi-
tion on the concept of truth: a true belief is one that will never disappoint, one that will
always satisfy. However, there are several issues with this proposal. For one thing, in
some contexts, it isn’t clear how or that true claims are actually temporally independent
in this sense. If one says, “it’s true that the cat is on the mat” is one really inviting others
to investigate this indefinitely? I tend to think not: while I would argue that, at a
minimum, one is implying that the cat’s location is subject-independent, it is excessive
to suggest that temporal independence plays a part in this equation. Rather, the
difference between “the cat is on the mat” and “it’s true that the cat is on the mat” is

9
Put in other words, the most pressing issue facing truth-maker theory is not whether truth-makers exist but
rather what sorts of truth-makers exist for different sorts of claims: e.g., negative, general, or modal
propositions (Armstrong 2004). It does not help much to say that true propositions are made true by the
“world” or the “facts”: as Armstrong notes, “different truths.…all have the same maximal truthmaker, the
world” (2004: 24), because this sheds scant light on how these sorts of claims are made true. Because
correspondence theories of truth are not designed to address this issue, one could agree with Armstrong’s
“maximalist” proposal—that every truth has a truth-maker—but still question whether this gives correspon-
dence theories of truth an opening.
Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481 477

that the latter signals that anybody would agree about the cat’s location. The difference
here is not at the level of temporal-independence: that is, as Bernard Williams put it,
“one thought too many.”
But there are deeper problems as well. One of the consequences of Misak’s position
is that we cannot ever know when a given belief is true, as she concedes: “we might in
fact believe all sorts of truths, but we cannot know when we are in such a position,
precisely because we cannot know when we have a belief which would forever satisfy
our aims” (2007, 83). Misak is explicit that while we can have true beliefs, we cannot
know that we have true beliefs: “we are never in a position to judge whether a belief is
true or not” (2000, 57, emphasis added) and “we cannot know when we have a true
belief” (2000, 58). This is a problematic result. If it’s not possible to know, on this
account of truth, that x is true then, combined with the plausible assumption that
knowing x means knowing x is true, it follows that we cannot know x (this is a simple
modus tollens). This radically skeptical result not only flouts the second Goldilocks
truism—by undermining our ordinary claims to have knowledge it obviously does way
too much—but it also goes against the grain of pragmatism, which generally treats
skepticism as an almost self-evidently demented position, an attitude that extends as
well to claims that directly entail such skepticism.10
Meanwhile, it is not clear what temporal independence would add to our under-
standing of truth that subject independence does not already provide. Much as we saw
with correspondence theories of truth, the notion of temporal independence is an
answer to the question of what makes a true statement true: namely that it will be
durable into the endless future. But the reason we care about an answer to that question,
I’d argue, is that we need to maintain the subject independence of truth, something
we’ve already done by accepting the fourth truism. As a result temporal independence
appears to be a solution in search of a problem, an add-on that is not itself necessary to
ensure truth’s independence from what we happen to think.
Others might suggest further additions to our four truisms. There obviously isn’t
room, here, to look at all of these in the detail they deserve. But we can see a strategy
emerging in the responses above: any additions need, above all, to do something
beyond what the four truisms do already, and they need to do it in a way that doesn’t
introduce additional problems.
This strategy bears some similarity to Fine’s (1986) response to the realism-
antirealism debate. After identifying a “homely” core belief that both realist and
antirealists can accept, Fine discusses what both sides then insist adding to this “core
position.” Antirealists will want to add on a particular theory of meaning or truth that
supports their antirealist interpretation of scientific theories. Realists, Fine argues, will
want to add on a “desk-thumping, foot-stamping shout of ‘Really!’” (1986: 129). The
10
Does subject-independence also lead directly to skepticism (as some idealists, e.g., might have claimed)?
It’s not clear that it does, or at least not without the help of some significant assumptions. Misak’s approach
leads to skepticism because, while truth is supposedly temporally independent, truth-seekers are temporally
dependent and, as a result, we are never in a position to know when or if we’ve reached the hypothetical end of
inquiry (again, “we cannot know when we are in such a position”). Such, it seems, is the nature of time.
Subject-independence does not have this implication because, while we are never able to step out of time, we
are able to step out of our shoes: we consider testimonial evidence, we run statistical tests to determine
significance and rule out bias, we attempt to replicate results, etc. In short, subject-independence does not lead
intrinsically to skepticism in the same way that temporal-independence seems to (at least not without making
assumptions about what it is to be a subject). Thanks to an anonymous reviewer for raising this point.
478 Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481

proper response, Fine concludes, is to hold on to the core position and nothing else. I
would argue that we should draw the same lesson here.
Finally, we might ask what a theory of truth really needs to do. In the tradition going
back to Tarski, at least, a theory of truth needs to do three things: it needs to be
extensionally adequate (i.e., it needs to capture the pretheoretic extension of “____ is
true”), it needs to be explanatorily adequate (i.e., explain the role of truth in everyday
contexts), and it needs to have some response to the truth-theoretic paradoxes, such as
the liar paradox. This common sense theory addresses at least the first two desiderata.
The second truism—the Goldilocks Principle—helps ensure extensional adequacy,
while the third truism—addressing the function of the concept of truth—explains
how the concept of truth is actually used.11 While this common-sense theory doesn’t
have a ready response to the truth-theoretic paradoxes, it does have an excuse: these
paradoxes only arise under artificial laboratory conditions, and not under the normal
real-life conditions where truth is usually found.

4.2 Common Sense Pragmatism

The final question is what sort of theory this is. I would argue that it falls most
comfortably under the category of a “pragmatic” theory, though with a few caveats.
The first is that “common sense” and “pragmatic” are often used interchangeably, so of
course a common sense account will be pragmatic. My claim is that the connection is
deeper than this, however. Second, there isn’t a lot of consensus on what the pragmatic
theory of truth is—there’s a big difference even among historical figures such as Peirce
and James—so I can’t claim that this theory is pragmatic in the same way or to the
same degree as every other “pragmatic” theory of truth (for more on the multiple
meanings of “pragmatic” theories of truth see (Capps 2019)).
Still, this theory can lay claim to the pragmatic label for two reasons. First, it
incorporates aspects of the proposals made by Misak and Price—both widely regarded
as modern examples of pragmatic accounts of truth (Talisse and Aikin 2011)—and
especially their common claim that truth functions as a norm of assertion and inquiry.
The common thread, here, is an emphasis on the use and function of the concept of
truth, along with a commitment to viewing the pragmatics of truth as on a par with, and
shedding light on, what we mean by the concept of truth (i.e., its semantics). In other
words, if Misak’s and Price’s accounts qualify as pragmatic, then this one does, too.
Second, there is an argument for this account’s historical connection to pragmatism.
There’s evidence that Dewey held something close to the common-sense view. This
might come as a surprise since Dewey is often viewed as endorsing Peirce’s account of
truth—when he isn’t avoiding the topic altogether. However, I think the comparison
with Peirce is overdrawn: if we look at Dewey’s scattered writings on truth, and
especially his “Propositions, Warranted Assertibility and Truth” (1941), we see that
he was very close to articulating the common-sense view expressed here (Capps 2018).

11
Granted, there may be different standards of “explanatory adequacy,” what calls for explanation, and what
counts as adequate. Again, the strategy defended here is to start small and focus on core areas of common
agreement: no one denies that truth allows for disquotation and generalization or that it adds grit necessary for
actual assertoric discourse. Even Rorty largely agreed with these points, though he didn’t make a big deal of it
for fear that doing so invited bad metaphysical behavior (Rorty and Price 2010). Instead, disagreement will be
over possible additions to these four core truisms—and over whether such additions are needed.
Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481 479

In response to critics—notably Russell—who accused him of equating truth with the

“satisfaction of personal desire” (1941, 182) Dewey argued that this process, resulting
in propositions described as “true,” depends on external conditions, not wishful
thinking:

After what I have already said, I hope it suffices to point out that the question of
truth-falsity is not, on my view, a matter of the effects of believing, for my whole
theory is determined by the attempt to state what conditions and operations of
inquiry warrant a “believing,” or justify its assertion as true; that propositions, as
such, are so far from being cases of believings that they are means of attaining a
warranted believing, their worth as means being determined by their pertinency
and efficacy in “satisfying” conditions that are rigorously set by the problem they
are employed to resolve. (1941: 181 emphasis in original)

This view, Dewey argued, deserves to be viewed as a correspondence theory albeit in

an “operational sense”: “as a key answers to conditions imposed by a lock, or as two
correspondents ‘answer’ each other; or, in general, as a reply is an adequate answer to a
question or a criticism—; as, in short, a solution answers the requirements of a
problem” (1941: 178).
For Dewey, truth is a property of propositions that are the result of inquiry. While
this formulation goes beyond the account offered here, at its heart is the idea of subject-
independence. As Dewey is careful to note in response to Russell, truth is not the same
as personal satisfaction. No matter how delightful a proposition is, its truth is indepen-
dent of what the believer happens to think, wish, or desire. Dewey frames this
independence in terms of true propositions being the result of a rigorous inquiry aimed
at generating solutions to concrete problems, but the underlying intuition is the same:
truth is independent of what the believer, or inquirer, happens to think.
The difference with Peirce is especially stark here. While Peirce, as Misak reads him,
views truth as a property of propositions that would stand up to indefinite inquiry, Dewey
views truth as a property of propositions that have stood up to, or are the result of, inquiry.
While Peirce looks to the indefinite future, Dewey focuses on the present. Putting it this
way raises the obvious question of whether Dewey actually defines truth as the result of
inquiry which, since inquiries can lead to contradictory results, would be an obviously
disastrous outcome. But Dewey is a more acute thinker than that, so it’s safer to interpret
him not as offering a definition but rather a “pragmatic elucidation” of what we manage to
do in using the term: primarily, that a proposition is reliable not because it will be
dependable into the future but because it has arisen through a process of controlled inquiry.
More, of course, could be said on this topic, but this gives us two good reasons for
thinking that the present account—the four common-sense truisms and nothing more—
does qualify as a pragmatic theory of truth.

5 Common Sense Stakes

The foregoing gives us a common-sense pragmatic theory of truth. This account is

grounded in four truisms which while not all equally self-evident are arguably funda-
mental to our understanding of truth. They are also, to a large degree, agnostic
480 Philosophia (2020) 48:463–481

regarding various general approaches to truth: the main question is what, if anything,
should be added to these truisms. I’ve claimed that by themselves they give a sufficient
account of truth, and some plausible-sounding additions actually introduce more
problems than they solve. The conclusion is that, as far as truth goes, the bond between
common sense and pragmatism is actually quite strong.
It’s worth saying something about what is at stake here. The topic of truth can
sometimes seem dry and unrewarding, far removed from real-world concerns of a more
obviously ethical, political, or normative nature. But, as Misak notes, we care—and
should care—about the truth because we care about getting things right (2015: 264):
and near the top of the list of things we care about getting right are our ethical, political,
and other normative beliefs (see McIntyre 2018; O’Connor and Weatherall 2019). So,
as noted earlier, we should be concerned if a theory of truth places hurdles in the way of
understanding and assessing these beliefs. We should also be concerned if a theory of
truth is silent on the range of beliefs and propositions for which we have practical,
common-sense reasons to view as truth-apt. The approach to truth proposed here, and
the four truisms on which it is grounded, address this concern by eliminating any
hurdles to treating normative beliefs as truth-apt, for both methodological and substan-
tive philosophical reasons. Preserving the truth-aptness of these normative beliefs, and
showing how they can be debated and inquired into, should be a goal of any account of
truth. The alternative, where these beliefs are settled by appeal to non-epistemic factors
such as tradition, authority, or power, is an alternative we should work hard to avoid.12

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