What is Truth?

The most commonly held view of truth stipulates a belief is true if and only if it corresponds to a fact. This is widely known as the correspondence theory of truth. Proponents of this view subscribe to its core ontological thesis: a belief is true if there exists an appropriate entity – a fact – to which it corresponds. If there is no such entity, the belief is false.Footnote ⁴

Although this definition appears relatively straightforward, unpacking the intricacies of truth remains an exceptionally complex undertaking. It is somewhat understandable then, when a jesting Pilate posed the aporia, ‘what is truth?’ Bacon insists, he ‘would not stay for an answer’.Footnote ⁵ To avoid the vagaries of perpetual obfuscation, pragmatists like William James insist, ‘truth is a property of certain of our ideas’. It means their ‘agreement – as falsity means their disagreement, with reality’. Ultimately this means, ‘true ideas are those that we can assimilate, validate, corroborate and verify. False ideas are those we cannot.’Footnote ⁶ Although this is the most popular concept of truth, it is not a universally accepted position.

Nietzsche, for example, is scathing of truth as an absolute. In his view, truth is nothing more than

Put simply, ‘truth are illusions which we have forgotten are illusions’.Footnote ⁸ Nietzsche, for his part, is not alone in doubting the existence of truth. Other philosophers such as Ludwig Wittgenstein likewise question its existence. He asks us to consider, ‘what does it mean: the truth of a proposition is certain?’Footnote ⁹ For Wittgenstein, if we cannot identify certainty, propositions are rendered meaningless. Since propositions merely express facts about the world, propositions in themselves are entirely devoid of value. The facts are simply just the facts. Everything else, everything about which we care, everything that might render the world meaningful, must reside elsewhere.Footnote ¹⁰

Other contributors to the debate include Heidegger who, surprisingly enough, proffers a more intelligible account of truth. He insists truth is: ‘veritas est adaequatio rei et intellectūs.’Footnote ¹¹ This can be taken to mean, ‘truth is the correspondence (Angleichung) of the matter to knowledge’. But it can also be taken to mean, ‘truth is the correspondence of knowledge to the matter’. Truth should therefore correspond to an external reality.

Naturally, this claim merits closer scrutiny. Should truth correspond to an external reality and beget correspondence of the knowledge to the matter, does this allow truth to evolve? Take for example the fact water boils at 100 degrees Celsius. Is this true? Well, yes and no. It boils at 100 degrees Celsius/212 degrees Fahrenheit, except when boiled at high altitude. There it boils at 85 Celsius/185 degrees Fahrenheit. How does Heidegger reconcile his understanding of truth with this we may ask? Moreover, before this anomaly was discovered, was it true to assert water boils at 100 Celsius? Would Heidegger acquiesce to the notion that sometimes we have approximations of ‘Truth’ in the form of ‘putative truths’ and that ‘Truth’ as the ‘totality of the facts’ remains elusive? Should this be the case, such an analysis would appear to suggest that, in order to define and understand truth, we must first know and understand the totality of everything. As Wittgenstein states:

We are not equipped with the ‘totality of the facts’. Our understanding of the world is hence limited. So too is our understanding of truth. Truth as the ‘totality of the facts’ is therefore somewhat akin to playing ‘Guess Who’ without several of the characters. Even though our body of knowledge is steadily being added to, ‘there is no way, to say it all. Saying it all is literally impossible: words fail. Yet it is through this very impossibility that the truth holds onto the real.’Footnote ¹³

Institutionalized Truth

Institutionalized truth is instances when, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, institutions declare that they alone possess truth. Based on this trenchant understanding, they refuse to ever question or revise their impression of what precisely truth is. Their perception of truth is consequently: stagnant, immutable and unassailable. In order to illustrate my point, consider this story from Aesop's Fables [530].

Aesop's Fables tells the story of Prometheus the master potter who decided one day to sculpt the form of Veritas [Aletheia, Truth], so that she [Veritas/Truth], would be able to regulate people's behaviour. As he was busy working, an unexpected summons from mighty Jupiter [Zeus] called him away. Prometheus duly departed, leaving the cunning Dolus (Trickery) in charge of his workshop. Dolus, having recently become one of the god's apprentices, was keen to impress. Fired by ambition, Dolus used the time at his disposal to fashion a figure of the same size and appearance as Veritas [Aletheia, Truth] with identical features. When he had almost completed the piece, he ran out of clay to use for her feet. A short time later the master returns, and with that, a rather coy Dolus hurriedly retreats to his seat, quaking with fear. Utterly awestruck, Prometheus was simply astonished at the similarity of the two statues and wanted it to seem as if all the credit were due to his own skill. Eager to accomplish this goal, he put both statues in the kiln and when they had been thoroughly baked, infused them both with life: sacred Veritas (Truth) walked with measured steps, while her unfinished twin stood stuck in her tracks. That forgery, that product of subterfuge, thus acquired the name of Mendacium [Pseudologos, Falsehood]. Even though she has no feet, it reminds us how every once in a while something that is false can start off successfully, but eventually with time, Veritas (Truth) is sure to prevail.

Those who imprison ‘truth’ within the confines of their institutions are not harboring truth, but rather its impostor falsehood. What they are left with is something that looks exactly like truth, with one notable exception – she has no feet. Generally people who subscribe to institutional truth are either unaware of how to spot her folly, or are perhaps beguiled by the idea, ‘if you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will eventually come to believe it’.Footnote ¹⁴ Some may know it is a lie, but in the midst of repeating it ad nauseam quickly succumb: whilst others – sometimes from the cradle to the grave, blindly trust it is the truth. Several examples of this phenomenon exist, for example, scientologists who base their religious beliefs on the fantastical sci-fi writings of their founder, L. Ron Hubbard. Alarmingly, Hubbard is even on record admitting it is not even a ‘religion’.Footnote ¹⁵ The fact truth's unfinished twin is eternally stuck in her tracks, may suit ‘religions’ such as this when it comes to upholding matters of orthodoxy. For the purposes of this paper however, it is those who blindly believe, that we shall concern ourselves with here. This is the group that refuses to survey truth from head to toe; it is the instance where Dolus has emerged supreme.

What is Scientism?

Scientism is the belief that science alone can render truth about the world and reality. It follows the same rubric as the well-established scientific method, whereby one starts with a question, formulates a hypothesis, tests the hypothesis under controlled conditions, collates data from the experiment, details their observations made during the experiment, and finally, formulates conclusions based on the data. As per the scientific method, scientism relies heavily on inductive methods. The precise point at which scientism deviates from the epistemic dictates of the popular scientific community boils down to its unshakable certainty in the reliability of its method. Predominantly it propounds,

Despite being a robust and rigorous position at first glance, scientism contends there is no such thing as truth outside this paradigm. It alone is the arbiter of truth. If you cannot potentially establish it via the scientific method, it simply does not exist. In this way, scientism as an ‘exclusive guide to reality’, precludes other ways of knowing. This positivistic view is certainly not a mainstream one, and it is worth noting that most practising scientists allow for other epistemological frameworks and paradigms, including ones that seek to outline the limitations of their own methods. That said, there are several notable examples of scientists who have forged their careers on ridiculing those who do not accept the incontrovertible efficacy of the scientific method.

Proponents of scientism frequently sneer at those who profess a belief in God, or indeed, anything that cannot be tested and verified under controlled conditions. One such example is the biologist Richard Lewontin. In his view, ‘in order to properly understand the universe, people should reject irrational and supernatural explanations of the world and accept a social and intellectual apparatus, science, as the only begetter of truth’.Footnote ¹⁷

Lewontin is not alone. For example, the distinguished chemist Peter Atkins in his article, ‘Science as Truth’ states: ‘I consider it to be a defensible proposition that no philosopher has helped to elucidate nature; philosophy is but the refinement of hindrance.’Footnote ¹⁸ Hawking is equally dismissive when he says, ‘there is a fundamental difference between religion, which is based on authority, and science, which is based on observation and reason. Science will win because it works.’

Hawking and Lewontin present rather a compelling case. However, perhaps it is a tad unhelpful to exclusively picture religion and science in terms of warring tribes, both of whom speak different languages and cannot broker peace. Former scientist and Anglican priest John Polkinghorne, for instance, contends that science and religion are actually searching for the same thing – namely, truth. He states, ‘I think of science and religious faith as being two eyes. Both are looking for truth. I can see with more depth and accuracy using both eyes together, like binocular vision, than if I use either eye by itself separately.’

Critiques of Scientism

There are of course several objections to scientism and its epistemic stance. Critics gleefully ask scientists to irrefutably prove that a happily married couple are in love with one another. Is it a chemical response? Is love merely the product of oxytocin in our bloodstreams? Will blood tests help measure my love for my wife for example? Perhaps we can be brought into a lab and subjected to MRI scans? Surely our brain’s activity will prove we are in love? To date, science has failed to convincingly resolve any of these questions.

Another example of where scientism is perhaps found wanting lies in the field of Quantum Mechanics. Here we have what is known as Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle. The Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle states that you can never know a particle's exact position and momentum simultaneously. In order to establish the velocity of electrons, we must first measure them. However, the only act of measuring we have at our disposal, (bombarding them with photons/light), affects how the particles behave. Thus, by observing what is going on, we are directly affecting the result. The same goes for observing an object's position. Uncertainty about an object's position and velocity makes it difficult for a physicist to determine much about the object. Effectively what this means is that the essential aspects of a particle (position, velocity, momentum, energy) can never be precisely measured at once, because the mere act of observation distorts at least one of these quantities. Despite such obvious limitations, CERN's large Hadron Collider, effectively a 10 billion dollar 27-kilometre ring of superconducting magnets, aims to prove exactly how our universe came to be. The assumption (Newtonian Determinism) that building the Hadron Collider, recreates conditions exactly as they were at the Big Bang moment is arguably a questionable jump.

First of all, this presupposes that the leading scientists know precisely what happened at the point of the Big Bang and indeed, all the variables that go along with it. Notwithstanding Heisenberg's cautionary counsel, this appears to be weak reasoning. Because the Hadron Collider is essentially constructed on foot of mathematical formulae, it presupposes mathematics can explain the universe satisfactorily. Consider the problem of infinity in mathematics. When we think of infinity we instinctively think big – galaxies, stars and the dizzy vastness of unending space. But in view of the fact we cannot measure infinity, we tend to subdivide, in an effort to find the smallest piece – an indivisible building block at the bedrock of things. The Hadron Collider is one such example of this quest in science.

Take a piece of A4 paper and try folding it in half more than seven times. You won't be able to do it. After a few goes, the thickness of the paper becomes the same size as the diameter. Now try cutting the paper in half, time after time. After a while you will get to around 22 cuts and then start to struggle. Eventually the size of the cutting instrument starts to be the limiting factor. Since the Hadron Collider is largely an instrument that attempts to subdivide the possible infinite origins of the universe, it takes what is possibly infinite (both mathematically and spatially) and puts it in a finite box. This short exercise demonstrates how the mechanics of subdivision quickly bring you face to face with the limitations of the actual, no matter how much you think the process may go on forever. It also leads us to question whether the ‘cutting instrument’, in this case, the Hadron Collider, is a limiting factor in its quest to explain the origins of the universe.

Secondly, there is a body of literature currently devoted to whether scientists are even in agreement over whether there was a big bang, or rather, a series of big bangs (see Bernard Carr, ‘Universe or Multiverse?’). Should one subscribe to the theory that there was an infinite series of big bangs, which ‘big bang’ does the Hadron Collider seek to emulate? Assume it mirrors the last ‘big bang’. What about all the other ‘big bangs’ before that? Maybe in the midst of those ‘big bangs’ something changed which then led to X and Y being the case instead of A and B as previously thought? Whatever your view may be, the question remains: is there sufficient evidence for these conclusions?

These short examples reveal, the more you chip away at scientism, the weaker its foundation becomes. Its foundation is based on the presupposition that the scientific method is the only way to achieve knowledge – in other words – it deems its epistemic method as being effectively bulletproof. Given that it is often declared by the scientific community that it is, ‘wrong always, everywhere, and for anyone, to believe anything upon insufficient evidence’,Footnote ¹⁹ there is no substantive reason why scientism should be an exception to this rule.

Scientism is so convinced of its own truth, it is oftentimes scathing of theism. Scientism dismisses religious experience outright as an explainable neurological phenomenon. For those who claim to have experienced ‘mysterium tremendum [et fascinans]’Footnote ²⁰, scientism retorts, ‘si Dieu n'existait pas, il faudrait l'inventer’.Footnote ²¹ Belief is powerful. It can play tricks on the mind. The only thing that matters is what one can prove via the scientific method. Besides, a sense of the other is hardly conclusive grounds for believing in God. After all, in matters of faith, ‘there is enough light for those who want to believe and enough shadow for those who don't’.Footnote ²²

Scientists Skeptical of Scientism

Further objections to scientism arise from amongst the scientific community itself. Whilst they contend the scientific method is the best way we have of approximating reality, they readily acknowledge that there are other ways of knowing and that there are also many flaws in the epistemic paradigm employed by the sciences.

The physicist, Paul Davies in his book The Mind of God reminisces about his childhood and his obsession with asking ‘why’. He recalls:

The final line deserves closer attention. Given that the question of truth, belief, justification, causality, interrogating inferences, verification, and cogent reasons for one's beliefs, thoughts and actions are all crucial components of epistemology, can one ever be ‘truly satisfied’ with a ‘that's that’ explanation? If the answer is yes, science cannot explain everything (why is there something rather than nothing and how can something come from nothing for example?), and therefore cannot claim to be our sole guide to explaining reality.

If the answer is no, how does science, and indeed, all forms of knowledge, avoid an ad infinitum chain of circular reasoning wherein each explanation of a fact demands a further explanation? The upshot of Davies’ thought-provoking analysis is that even the scientific method – and it must be said – all forms of acquiring knowledge, whether it be inductive, deductive, a priori or a posteriori, make certain assumptions about their methods in order to avoid an unending chain of circular reasoning stultifying the accretive nature of knowledge.Footnote ^*

With regard to the efficacy of the scientific method, principally, in view of the limitations of induction in establishing certainty, Richard Feynman tells us:

Feynman is clear about how big a role doubt plays in the life of a scientist. In his view it is necessary, healthy, and in many ways, the catalyst for all endeavor. Without doubt, the pursuit for certainty is meaningless. Doubt is the key to knowledge after all. In this way, ‘in so far as a scientific statement speaks about reality, it must be falsifiable; and in so far as it is not falsifiable, it does not speak about reality’.Footnote ²⁵ This is the tightrope scientists must walk on a daily basis. Their theories and methods must remain open to being corrected, revised, usurped and discarded – all in the name of truth. Often it is only the theories that scientists operating out of a scientistic framework acknowledge need to change, especially in light of new evidence, but never the methods they employ in deriving new knowledge. This is where scientism exhibits its folly. It never questions its method and refuses to embrace doubt as the key to knowledge. In this way, scientism engenders institutionalized truth.

Theology and Institutionalized Truth

The problem of institutionalized truth is not confined to the arena of scientism. Entrenched religions, for example, Roman Catholicism, continue to employ it in matters of heresy. In John's Gospel Jesus tells us, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me’ (Jn, 14:6). And in (Mt, 16:18), Jesus tells Peter, ‘And on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.’ Scripture is suitably vague though when it comes to the particulars of what shape this constructed authority should take. Certainly all institutionalized religions need some authority, an accepted modus of resolving major questions regarding orthodoxy. In the case of Roman Catholicism, one of these measures is papal infallibility.

Infallibility implies not only the absence of actual error, but also the fundamental inability of erring. Although, strictly speaking, infallibility is attributable to God alone, in all other instances, it is understood as a divine gift that is only operative under certain specified conditions. In this respect, Vatican I teaches that ‘according to the gospel evidence, a primacy of jurisdiction over the whole Church of God was immediately and directly promised to the blessed apostle Peter and conferred on him by Christ the Lord’. Through the act of succession, the Roman Pontiff thus assumes this role.

The teaching of infallibility is declared in Pastor Aeternus in Vatican I, (1870) and Lumen Gentium, (1964) in Vatican II. The first Vatican Council describes the infallible magisterium of the Roman Pontiff as follows:

There is justifiably quite a bit of confusion as to what infallibility entails. With respect to this, the council is quite clear it is not advocating papal infallibility, but rather the ‘infallible magisterium of the Roman Pontiff’ (PA, Ch, 4). Principally this affirms that ‘infallibility is not a personal attribute, but a temporary assistance divinely bestowed on him precisely in his capacity as universal pastor and authoritative leader’ (Ch 4).

Vatican II's teaching on infallibility is proclaimed in Lumen Gentium, 25. In this document infallibility is extended to bishops, when, in instances whereby they are dispersed throughout the world, ‘they are in agreement that a particular teaching is to be held definitively and absolutely’ or ‘when assembled in ecumenical council, they are for the universal church, teachers of and judges in matters of faith and morals' (LG, 25). Such decrees, must of course, ex cathedra, first garner the assent of the Pontiff.

Unsurprisingly, the doctrine of infallibility is a contentious issue in theology. One such vocal dissenter is the theologian Hans Küng. In his seminal work Infallible? An Enquiry, he excavates the theological cornerstones underpinning infallibility. Küng proclaims infallibility is irreconcilable with factual errors popes have made in the past. By virtue of this, ‘the traditional doctrine of the Church's infallibility…rests upon foundations which can no longer be called certain and impregnable, if indeed they ever could’.Footnote ²⁶ Another point Küng makes, concerns the biblical justification for infallibility. With regard to this he maintains such evidence is shaky and at odds with modern biblical scholarship. Further scrutiny exposes the fact that all doctrinal statements are also historically conditioned. Küng proposes, that in light of these considerations, infallibility should be replaced by ‘indefectibility’ or ‘perpetuity of truth’. This would allow the Church to be a learning church, a church whose authority is continually being guided by the light of the Holy Spirit.

Consider the infallible papal proclamation pertaining to the Assumption of Mary (1950). This belief in the corporeal assumption of Mary is founded on the apocryphal treatise De Obitu S. Dominae, attributed to St. John, dating from the fourth or fifth century. It is also found in the book De Transitu Virginis and in a letter attributed to St. Denis the Areopagite. It is likewise mentioned in the sermons of St. Andrew of Crete, St. John Damascene, St. Modestus of Jerusalem, St. Gregory of Tours and others. Yet, despite the ‘evidence’ contained within these texts, it was not until November 1, 1950 that Pope Pius XII solemnly defined Mary's bodily assumption into heaven as a dogma of faith in the apostolic constitution Munificentissimus Deus (MD):

Taken together, the biblical corroboration and papal decree ex cathedra, seems to be persuasive. But allow us to scrutinize the evidence more closely. Should we examine apocryphal works in more detail, particularly those that do not fall into the deuterocanonical category, we would discover texts like the Gospel of Mary and the Gospel of Thomas. For obvious reasons these gospels are anathema and ex-canonical. Take for example the following story from the Gospel of Thomas (2:1–3):

In evaluating this historical primary source evidence, it becomes painfully apparent the entire foundation of Christian belief, the Jesus of Faith that Christians follow and wish to emulate, would be pulled asunder if this text were accepted into the canon of scripture. One must ask the question then – why is the Vatican selectively judicious with its choice of evidence for the Assumption? The same principle applies to some of its other teachings, namely a male only priesthood. Are such instances glaring examples of institutionalized truth? Does this approach propagate an à la carte approach to religion? Truth walks with ‘measured steps’ after all and is not ‘stuck’ in her tracks. It could be argued the Roman Catholic Church wishes to avoid doubt spreading like a virus. This is why it turns to dogma, in the form of institutionalized truth. Dogma staves away uncertainty and yokes together the flock. Regrettably, in inoculating against doubt, the church guarantees her ‘truth’ is always stuck in its tracks. Should the church be truly convinced of the need to move away from institutionalized truth, it would embrace the maxim, ‘doubt isn't the opposite of faith; it is an element of faith’.Footnote ²⁷

A New Synthesis: Neurotheology-Towards Marrying Theology and Science?

One example of science and theology collaborating in an effort to avoid the perils of institutionalized truth is in the area of neurotheology. One of the leading pioneers in the scientific study of religious experience is Dr. Andrew Newberg. He is the foremost expert in neurotheology: the study of prayer, transcendence and meditation on the brain. The raison d’ être of this organisation is to determine how science might develop a sophisticated capacity to comprehend and interact with religious views. In this capacity, Dr. Newberg has been studying Buddhist and Franciscan monks/nuns and their prayer lives. His research looks at the long-term effects of meditation, and how these practises might change the brain. The results of his work have led to some startling results:

Admittedly, this ‘sense of connectedness with God’ is a non-sequitur jump and next to impossible to prove.Footnote ²⁹ Nonetheless, there have been some interesting developments vis-á-vis self-transcendent experiences and the presence of certain genetic markers.Footnote ³⁰

Twin studies conducted in Minnesota indicate there is a genetic contribution to the likelihood of church attendance or the propensity toward having self-transcendent experiences. Consistent with these studies, experiments comparing genes and behavior have found a correlation between the presence of a gene variant called VMAT2 and a self-report test of transcendence.Footnote ³¹ Similar findings pinpoint a correlation between measures of self-transcendence and a genetic marker for the dopamine transport molecule.Footnote ³² Following these findings, there are geneticists who unwaveringly believe we are hardwired for religiosity. And more importantly, they insist they can prove as much. Although this raises some interesting questions around one's predisposition for being a religious person, or indeed, having experiences of a transcendent nature, it fails to address the question of whether we are merely determined by our genes. It also fails to provide a control group of non-religious persons who may also experience self-transcendent moments in their lives. According to this logic, non-religious people who experience transcendent episodes should not have this marker. But if they do, how does this explain why they are non-religious? Surely the opposite should be the case?

There is a real danger that this approach will result in reductionism. If religiosity is reduced to neurophysiology, and in turn to the activity of neurons and neurochemistry, thereupon to atomic and subatomic particles, science runs the risk of reducing personhood to the subatomic world. At the end of the day, ‘we are not human beings having a spiritual experience…we are spiritual beings having a human experience.’Footnote ³³

Dawkins and the ‘God Helmet’

Richard Dawkins attempts to elucidate how religiosity can be explained on a neurological level by conducting his own experiment. He wears, what he affectionately calls, ‘the God Helmet’. The function of this helmet is to manipulate the neural electrical activity of his brain using a weaker variant of Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS). In previous experiments, TMS applied over the right temporal lobe in non-epileptic individuals results in reports of a ‘sense of presence’ which was described religiously by some (e.g., as the presence of God or angels).Footnote ³⁴ Based on these studies, some scientists concluded that all religious experiences must be the result of abnormal activity (microseizures) of the right temporal lobe. In line with this theory, Dawkins wanted to test whether an ardent atheist, under set controlled conditions, could experience a sense of the ‘other’ or ‘religiosity’.

During the course of this experiment Dawkins describes his thoughts and emotions. He describes some ‘dizziness’ and ‘twitching’ but not ‘the sensation of a presence’. Consistent with Dawkins’ findings, other independent studies found no evidence that TMS of the right temporal lobe increased reports of sensed presence or mystical experiences.Footnote ³⁵ This data would appear to indicate that TMS of the right temporal lope does not in itself induce ‘religious’ experiences. According to this evidence, suggestibility is the key factor in artificially producing these ‘mystical’ experiences. Thus, suggestibility, and not the application of the trans-cranial magnetic field, (as originally thought) is the primary cause of eliciting these experiences.

The central difference between Newberg and Dawkins’ approach is how they view the reliability of their methods. Dawkins appears to be utterly convinced that should this experiment be conducted with people of faith (suggestible test cases), it would effectively refute the arguments of religious experience. To his mind he has demonstrated that ‘religious experiences’ can be artificially constructed without the need to invoke the influence of a divine being. Of course, as evidenced by his attempt, suggestibility is key. If the subject is not ‘suggestible’, the experiment will simply not work. Newberg, for his part, embraces a far more measured position. He freely accepts that whilst his studies are inconclusive, ‘doubt is not a pleasant condition…but certainty is an absurd one’. Certainty presupposes we are in possession of the totality of all the facts. This is simply not the case. As Daniel J. Boorstin points out, ‘the greatest enemy of discovery is not ignorance, it is the illusion of knowledge’.Footnote ³⁶ T. S. Eliot likewise remarks, ‘all our knowledge brings us nearer to our ignorance’. These insights exemplify why it is incumbent on science and theology to dispel this illusion of knowledge, as it evolves under the guise of certainty. This is the future of all epistemological endeavors.

Concluding Remarks

Throughout this paper we have wrestled with how both scientism and Roman Catholic theology have institutionalized truth. Parallels were drawn between Truth (Veritas) and Falsehood (Mendacium). The argument was advanced, that in order to recognize truth, one must first survey her from head to toe. With this in mind, scientism's conviction it is the sole arbiter of truth was discussed. Various limitations pertaining to the epistemic methods employed in scientism were then duly considered and evaluated. Following this discussion, we moved to the example of institutionalized truth in theology. The theological underpinnings of Papal infallibility were outlined and critiqued. A new model incorporating theology and science, otherwise known as neurotheology was proposed as a bridge, whereupon both domains could coexist and compliment each other. In conclusion, perhaps the most important thing to remember is that we are all working towards Truth. The fact remains – we must, at all times, vigorously resist the temptation to institutionalize it.