There are those in the world today (and there have always been these people) who claim that there is no such thing as absolute truth. 'What is right for you is right for you, and what is right for me is right for me--all truth is relative', they say. While this claim is self refuting (i.e., if their claim is true, and all truth is relative, then what they just said is only relative, and hence irrelevant and meaningless), it is also untrue. There must be absolute truth. Allow me to explain.
Let us suppose that I come home and find an orange sitting on my kitchen table. This orange was not there when I left, and I really don't know who's it is or how it got there. Lets suppose that I am so concerned about his orange that I call you over to my house to help me investigate this orange, and how it got there. You're happy to come over, and we end up spending the afternoon rubbing our chins, scratching our heads, and pontificating about the origin and destiny of this unexplainable orange on my kitchen table.
Then let's say that you come up with a theory about the orange--that it was placed there by a neighbor of mine who brought it over to our house as a gift. But I'll have nothing of it, and propose a theory of my own: That somehow the orange was brought to us by heaven's divine design, and that the orange should never be eaten, but should be put under a glass case so that people can file by and admire it.
After discussing our theories and failing to come to an agreement about the truth of the orange, you and I decide to invite others over to look at the orange and vote between our theories. Your theory is the overwhelming winner of votes, as the people that we invited considered it the more 'rational' of the two theories. We even perform careful scientific analyses on the orange, and all of the evidence seems to support your neighbor theory. Someone who comes over even reports to have seen someone carrying an orange outside, and walking into my house with it. All of the evidence points to your theory. Finally I acquiesce, and admit that I believed your theory was right all along. We have a good laugh about it, and finally you head back home.
Then Suzana comes home, and I explain to her all about the orange, and where it came from. Then she tells me that
she brought the orange home from school--that it was given to her by one of her teachers, and she placed it on our kitchen table between classes.
I immediately call you and tell you about what Suzana told me, and you believe that what Suzana said was true. We then call everyone who helped to decide on the truthfulness of your theory, to let them know what really happened. None of them believe us though, and continue to believe that one of my neighbors brought us the orange.
This story, while admittedly a little corny, can help us learn about truth, and the necessity of absolute truth. Although you and I came together and did our best to find out what the truth of what happened was, we were flawed in our methods because we couldn't know the truth until Suzana came home and told us. The orange didn't come from one of my neighbors, it didn't come from the sky, it came from Suzana. And no matter how much hypothesizing we could ever do, no matter how much evidence points to the contrary, the truth of the matter is that the orange was placed there by Suzana. And although everyone in the world may believe otherwise, that is not what happened--it is not the truth. The truth is that Suzana placed it there.
This idea is especially relevant in relating morality to ethics because so many people claim that their own beliefs are what govern them, and that their concept of 'true' is independent of whatever truth may be, so they can do what they want. This form of retreating back to egoism is dangerous, and is at the heart of some political platforms.
My point is this: Truth of necessity must be absolute. There cannot be "what's true for me and what's true for you." There can only be one truth of the matter.
This idea will be especially important for my next post about evolution and its implications.