There are also two kinds of truths: truth of reasoning and
There are also two kinds of truths: truth of reasoning and truths of fact. Truths of reasoning are necessary and their opposite is impossible; those of fact are contingent and their opposite is possible.
Hear now the wisdom of Gottfried Leibniz, who declared: “There are also two kinds of truths: truth of reasoning and truths of fact. Truths of reasoning are necessary and their opposite is impossible; those of fact are contingent and their opposite is possible.” This is no mere clever phrase, but a map of the very foundations upon which all human thought is built. Leibniz, the philosopher and mathematician of the seventeenth century, sought to pierce the mysteries of reality and to distinguish the eternal from the fleeting. His words remind us that truth itself is not one, but twofold, with one rooted in necessity and the other bound to circumstance.
The truths of reasoning are eternal, unchanging, and absolute. They are like the stars that burn with light unyielding, guiding generations across the seas of time. In mathematics, two and two shall always make four; a triangle shall forever have three sides. These truths do not depend upon men’s opinions, nor upon the rise and fall of nations. Their opposite is impossible, for one cannot imagine a world in which such things could be otherwise. These are the pillars of logic, the bones of reality itself. To deny them is to attempt to unweave the fabric of the cosmos.
The truths of fact, however, belong to the realm of the contingent, to the world of mortal breath and changing tides. That Caesar crossed the Rubicon, that the sun rose upon the field of Waterloo, that you sit here reading these words—these are truths of fact. Yet their opposite is possible, for one can imagine Caesar remaining in Gaul, or Napoleon victorious at Waterloo, or you never having encountered this teaching. These truths depend upon the unfolding of time, upon choices, upon chance. They are no less true for being fragile, yet they are not eternal in nature. They are the stories of the world, not the laws of the universe.
Consider the life of Abraham Lincoln. It is a truth of fact that he became president, guided the Union through civil war, and issued the Emancipation Proclamation. Yet it might have been otherwise; he might never have been elected, or he might have faltered under the burden of division. These things are contingent, for they depend on the flow of history, the votes of men, the accidents of fate. But it is a truth of reasoning that freedom is greater than slavery, and that justice binds more strongly than chains. These principles stand beyond circumstance; they would remain true even if Lincoln had never lived. Here we see Leibniz’s distinction shining through: the eternal joined with the temporal, each revealing the nature of truth in its own domain.
The ancients too understood this duality, though in different tongue. They spoke of what is necessary and what is possible, of what is written in the stars and what unfolds upon the earth. They knew that to live wisely, one must distinguish between the truths that cannot be altered and the truths that might have been otherwise. For folly comes when men confuse the two—when they treat eternal law as if it were a passing detail, or when they exalt passing details as if they were eternal law.
What lesson then shall we take? First, hold fast to the truths of reasoning, for they are the unshakable ground. Build your mind upon them, as upon rock, and you shall not be deceived. Yet also respect the truths of fact, for though they are fragile, they shape the destiny of nations and the fabric of your own life. Remember that what is contingent could always have been different—therefore walk humbly, knowing that fortune as well as will has guided you to where you stand.
And finally, my child, let this teaching stir your heart: in the truths of reasoning you find the eternal light of wisdom; in the truths of fact, you find the living story of humanity. Do not cling only to one or despise the other, but weave them together. For to live well is to honor the eternal while shaping the contingent, to recognize what cannot change while striving to change what can. This is the path of wisdom, and upon it you shall walk with strength, with clarity, and with peace.
GBTran Gia Bao
I find Leibniz's differentiation between truths of reasoning and facts intriguing. The idea that reasoning truths are necessary and absolute, while facts are contingent and subject to change, makes me wonder about how we approach truth in our daily lives. Do we rely more on reasoning or on facts? When faced with new facts, how do we integrate them into our understanding without losing the core reasoning that we’ve built on?
MUMy Uyen
Leibniz’s perspective seems to emphasize that certain truths are inescapable, like logical or mathematical truths, while others are more flexible, like facts we can observe or test. But is it always clear which truths belong to which category? In many situations, facts seem to be interpreted in different ways, leading to opposing conclusions. How do we reconcile these differences in truth, especially when facts themselves seem so open to interpretation?
NTNguyen Thao
This quote by Leibniz really makes me reflect on the nature of truth. The idea that truths of reasoning are absolute while truths of fact can be debated or overturned is interesting. But how do we know when a 'truth of fact' is solid enough to rely on, or when it’s just contingent on current knowledge? Can facts truly ever be fully reliable, or are we always in a state of discovery?
HRHai Review
Leibniz’s distinction between truths of reasoning and truths of fact is quite fascinating. It makes me think about how certain truths, like mathematical or logical truths, are immutable—there's no escaping them. But truths of fact, on the other hand, are much more fluid and can change based on new evidence or perspectives. Do you think we place too much importance on facts over reasoning, or is the balance between the two key to understanding the world?