HOW DO WE SELECT QUESTIONS?

The question of the selection of what to say, whether here and now, or generally, has seldom been discussed. We all agree that a speaker should not be capricious in the choice of what he says.

we even say, truth is independent of space, time, and circumstances. But there is one particular circumstance which signifies, and which is (rightly) most often stressed by the enemies of the correspondence theory of truth- pragmatists, relativists, and subjectivists. It is true to me, says the sub­jectivist. I decree the truth - for me and my followers. The circumstance which the objectivist by implication declares irrelevant is the speaker. The truth-value of what I say is independent of me or of my convenience or of my survival as the fittest. Do not believe me on my say so, and do not believe me even in order to save my life. Believe me only if you think I am saying the truth.

The requirement to avoid arbitrariness in our pronouncement is seldom discussed, yet it is best manifest in the objectivist theory of truth. The reason for the lack of mention of the requirement to avoid arbitrariness is, indeed, that it is covered by the requirement to speak the truth. The traditional view among men of science is that since scientists speak the truth they need not worry about avoidance of caprice: there is no caprice in truth. Much has been said about the fact that scientists and philoso­phers easily get on each other’s nerves. The reason, I think, is that scien­tists take their own objectivity for granted, whereas philosophers often find this highly problematic.

Philosophers may find this problematic on any of three counts. First, they may reject the objectivist theory of truth. In this case I am as impa­tient with them as the scientists are. Second, they may be skeptics who doubt that anybody knows the truth. I am a skeptic myself and have en­countered much impatience from scientific colleagues. Third, they may suggest that as a scientist selects certain truths from a larger body of truths his selection may be arbitrary. Many sophisticated scientists are willing to pay attention to this objection, though they usually consider it quite answerable. I agree with them, but find the answer not so easy to formu­late. In this chapter I shall try to present not the answer but an answer, one possible objectivist criterion of selection. The criterion of selection will not be a criterion of selection of truths but of putative truths. For, as I say, I wish to start from a skeptical premiss, denying that we know truth from falsehood (except for tautologies, of course).

Our problem, how to speak while avoiding caprice as much as possible ? itself stems from our ignorance. If we had knowledge, not only would we know how to avoid caprice, but we would even find speech redundant. Those who know, share the silence of the community of knowers. We talk, we exchange ideas, we have dialogues, at least in order to even out the differences which are idiosyncratic - as a necessary condition for the search for the truth. So, we talk, for one thing, because we do not know the truth. Pretending to know the truth may easily make us replace the un­known truth by the sense of the meeting, namely what is widely accepted as true. For, though there is no point telling you what you know already, I may tell you what you want to believe anyway, so as to reinforce your desire. The ironing out of idiosyncracies is only a necessary condition for truth, not a sufficient one; it may also serve self-deception. And so, (1) we do not know the truth, and (2) we may mistake popularity for truth.

I shall take these three objections in this order, dispose first of the first two, concerning knowledge of truth, and concerning consensus, in order to concentrate on selectivity, criteria of selectivity, rules for the selection of putative truths, or rules concerning what constitutes significant putative truths.

The objectivist theory or the correspondence theory of truth has fre­quently been taken to extremes, with that resultant sectarianism and fanaticism which extremism so often entails. In order to be objective, it has traditionally been claimed, one must insure or secure or guarantee that one is being objective; in brief, prove one’s correctness. This is an incredible idea: allegedly, objectivity requires proof of objectivity and proof of objectivity requires proof of truth. No doubt, proof of truth is to be taken as a sufficient condition of proof of objectivity which is to be taken as a sufficient condition of objectivity. Also, the making of sufficient conditions necessary is always adding a safety margin. But the safety margin may be too wide; it may require from us more than is at all pos­sible. Turning proof from a sufficient to a necessary condition for truth rests on the doctrine that one is always able, in principle at least, to offer some proof. This exaggerated zeal for truth leads to the conclusion that as a responsible citizen I speak the truth - and hence, my opponents are all knaves and/or fools. This complex of views can be ignored; it may op­timistically be declared a thing of the past. Admittedly, it still has circula­tion, but so have so many defunct currencies.

The idea of guaranteeing objectivity by proof is often now replaced by the idea of aiming at objectivity by inter-subjective inspection.

Now to dispose of my second objection concerning unanimity as truth surrogate. It is hardly possible to please any large audience which has not been filtered through a monolithic ideology. Even on the supposition, which I believe to be true, that any philosophical audience will share certain presuppositions, it is hard to get at the sense of the meeting. First, as R. G. Collingwood noted in his Essay on Metaphysics (1944), some presuppositions are not expressible; or rather, as I would like to correct him, some of today's presuppositions are not yet expressible - they have not yet found their proper expression. The inexpressible (or not yet ex­pressed) presuppositions constitute, Collingwood asserts, a point of view or a viewpoint. They constitute, he adds, a metaphysics. With modifica­tions as stated, I go along with him.

Even if some of the presuppositions we all share can be articulated in sufficient numbers to constitute a public lecture, there will be quite a few who will think it nothing more than a string of platitudes. The rest of this lecture may be a case in point. Now, some audiences love to be reassured, some to be challenged. Therefore, how to avoid pleasing by appeal to pre­judices, is hardly ever a serious problem.

It is hard enough to interest many members of even a fairly homogenous audience in one question, let alone to get them to agree on the answer to it.

The fact that some intellectual groups are nearly unanimous about what is a question worth pursuing at the moment is something of a miracle. The question I now wish to raise interest in, is just this: Are there any inter-subjective criteria for ranking the significance and/or interest of a given question or set of questions? There is a growing conern in the pro­fession with the question of questions. Philosophy seems now to be on the verge of developing a theory of problems. Arthur and Mary Prior have already christened it ‘erotetic logic’ (in their paper on Bishop Whately’s logic of questions, Philosophical Review, 1955). Before I go on I wish to summarize what follows in one paragraph.

IL