The Freytag: Known Truths – On Truthfulness and Lies – On the Longing for Coherence in Times of Confusion
In the first episode of his three-part series on “Truth, Lies, and the Internet,” Stefan Noir reports from the 35th Bamberg Hegel Week. Professor Konrad Liessmann opens the event with his lecture “Known Truths,” embarking on a philosophical search for what truth really is. The classical definition — “truth is that which corresponds to reality” — turns out to be more complex than it initially appears. Liessmann exposes linguistic pitfalls: “false factual claims” are contradictory, since facts are true by nature, while claims are merely assertions. Goethe’s Faust quote, “In the beginning was the deed,” directly contradicts the Bible’s “In the beginning was the Word” (John 1:1), revealing two worldviews: empiricism versus revelation. Scientific truths emerge as progressive, approximating truths — in contrast to apodictic truths, which are logically necessary. Especially striking: facts do not dictate actions — otherwise, humans would not be free. Values remain subjective preferences (Kant, Nietzsche), and matters of faith are non-negotiable. The liar’s paradox: to lie consciously, one must first know the truth — much like artists who create alternative realities. In an age of “alternative facts,” the ability to distinguish between deliberate lies and differing interpretations becomes a key skill. The series continues with “felt” and “algorithmic” truths.
The air in Bamberg is heavy and humid this evening as I enter the venerable hall of the university. It’s the first of three evenings I’ll spend attending the 35th Bamberg Hegel Week – a ritual that draws me year after year, like a philosophical pilgrimage. The theme this year: “Truth, Lies, Internet?” – a triad that could hardly be more urgent in our times.
Tonight’s speaker is Professor Dr. Konrad Liessmann from the University of Vienna. His lecture is titled “Known Truths: On Facts and Their Fictions” – a title that already captures the paradox of our time. I sit in the middle row, surrounded by people who seem to share the same hunger for clarity that I feel. The hall is well-filled, an encouraging sign that reflection on the foundations of our knowledge has not gone out of style.
Liessmann opens with the great question that has occupied philosophy from the beginning: What is truth? A question as fundamental as breathing, and yet so complex that it has preoccupied thinkers for millennia. The classic answer appears like an old acquaintance: truth is what corresponds to reality. Truth is what coheres with reality.
But even in these opening sentences, I sense the traps. What is this “reality”? Is it what I see, what I experience, what my senses convey? Or is it something else—something objective that exists beyond my subjective perception? And who decides what counts as “coherent”?
The professor skillfully leads us into the snares of language. The expression “false factual claim” is contradictory, he explains. Facts are, by definition, true—claims, however, are just claims. It’s a confusion of terms that we see daily in the political debates of our time. Here, it becomes clear how language itself can become a source of confusion.
Suddenly, Liessmann quotes Goethe: “In the beginning was the deed.” A direct contradiction to the Bible, which says, “In the beginning was the Word” (John 1:1). Two worldviews collide here: that of action and that of speech, that of empiricism and that of revelation. Faust’s translation of the Gospel of John is more than literary audacity – it is a philosophical program that asserts the priority of experience over theory.
As I follow Liessmann’s reflections, I become aware of how humble we must be in the face of truth. We can only ever approximate reality – never fully grasp it. Scientific truths are merely progressive truths, approximations. Science deals with current knowledge – well-confirmed, but ultimately provisional truths.
This reveals a fundamental distinction from what philosophers call apodictic truths. An apodictic truth is an irrefutable, necessary truth – like the statement that all bachelors are unmarried men. It is logically true, independent of empirical observation. Scientific truths, however, are always hypothetical, always subject to revision.
I am particularly struck by Liessmann’s point about the relationship between facts and action. Facts do not dictate actions, he emphasizes – otherwise, human beings would not be free. This is a deeply Kantian thought: the fact that humans are mortal does not prescribe how we should deal with death. The fact of climate change does not mandate specific political actions. There is a gap between is and ought – a gap first philosophically described by David Hume. Descriptive statements do not automatically imply normative demands.
And here we enter one of the most difficult terrains of philosophy: values. Values are always a subjective preference, says Liessmann. Kant would agree in that he emphasized the autonomy of the subject – even as he sought universally valid moral principles. Nietzsche, on the other hand, radicalized this subjectivity: for him, all values are human inventions, projections onto a world that is in itself devoid of value. “God is dead,” he proclaimed, “and we have killed him” – meaning that traditional, supposedly objective value systems have lost their legitimacy.
And yet: values either apply or they don’t. Here lies a peculiar dialectic. On the one hand, values are subjective; on the other, they claim validity beyond the individual. A value that applies only to me is not truly a value – it is mere arbitrariness.
The case is different with religious truths. These, as Liessmann aptly points out, are non-negotiable. They do not rest on empirical evidence or logic, but on conviction – on an existential decision. The believer cannot prove their truth without destroying it; the atheist cannot refute it without stepping onto the very ground on which it stands. Here we touch upon the mystery of faith – something that resists rational analysis.
In the final part of the lecture, Liessmann leads us to the distinction between lying and truthfulness. The liar, he notes paradoxically, must always know the truth. Only those who know what is true can lie deliberately. I’m reminded of Nietzsche, who once said something to the effect that liars and artists have something in common – both know the truth and consciously reject it. The artist creates an alternative reality; the liar distorts the existing one. Both are masters of intentional deviation from fact.
A liar always knows the truth – this simple insight feels startlingly relevant today. In a time when we hear talk of “alternative facts,” we must ask: are we dealing with deliberate lies or with different interpretations of reality? The answer determines our moral judgment.
As I leave the hall, I take more questions with me than I brought. But perhaps that’s the true purpose of philosophy: not to provide final answers, but to teach us how to ask the right questions. In a world flooded with information disguised as truth, the ability to discern has never been more vital.
The next two evenings will reveal how the theme unfolds: from known truths to felt truths, and finally to algorithmic truths. Three dimensions of truth in an age thirsting for orientation.
To be continued.
Sapere aude!
S. Noir
The link to the original German text: https://www.ganjingworld.com/s/mDb1p1wO6b
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