I can't quite find the certainty that Calboner does that there is only one kind of truth. Or let me say that I am not sure that one kind of truth is the only useful kind, coinsidering that usually that one kind of truth is inaccessible to us.
Consider these two statements. Do they represent the same kind of truth?
1) The sum of the interior angles of a triangle is always 180 degrees.
2) The force on an object is equal to the product of its mass and its acceleration.
I think the burden is on you to explain how there is a difference in the so-called "kind of truth" -- a combination of words that seems to me devoid of sense -- pertaining to the one and that pertaining to the other.
In what does the truth of (1) consist? In the fact that the sum of the interior angles of a triangle is always 180 degrees. In what does the truth of (2) consist? In the fact that the force on an object is equal to the product of its mass and its acceleration. For any proposition of the form "Such and such is the case," what does its being true consist in? In such and such's being the case. The difference lies in the propositions, not in the job that the word "true" performs, namely to take us from merely considering the proposition to asserting it.
We may use the word "truth" to mean "something that is true" or "true proposition" (as in the phrase, "We hold these truths to be self-evident"). In that sense we may speak of different truths. E.g., we may say that the sentences (1) and (2) express different truths. But that is just to say that they express different true propositions. The entire difference is explicable, once again, in terms of the difference between the propositions. There is no work whatever for the notion of a difference in the so-called "kind of truth" to do.
I confess that I really do not understand why anyone would be attracted to the idea that there are different so-called "kinds of truth." The idea seems to me simply to rest on a confusion of the bearers of truth -- the propositions, as I have called them, which can be as diverse as anything conceivable -- with truth itself.
The question "What is truth?", at least when asked in a spirit of philosophy rather than of politics (as when posed by a certain Roman governor), is in effect a trick question. It is in fact a trick question of the very trickiest kind, in that the people who pose it in all sincerity are themselves victims of the trick.
The word "truth" is, obviously, an abstract singular common noun. Generally speaking, given any such noun N, it makes sense to ask the question that comes from prefixing the phrase "What is . . . ?" to it -- "What is food?", "What is humor?", "What is photosynthesis?", etc. In each of these cases, we answer the question by mustering our knowledge of the thing -- the stuff or the quality or the process -- signified by the noun. In the case of "What is truth?", we do not even know what we are supposed to think about. The only knowledge of truth that we can muster is our knowledge of what things are true -- our knowledge of truths. When we try to consider truth itself, in abstraction from truths (true propositions), we are completely at a loss.
The reason for this perplexity is that the noun "truth" does not work in the way that those nouns do. To say how it works is not at all easy. But the kernel of any explanation is contained in what I said earlier about the adjective "true": to apply that word to a proposition is to assert the proposition. "Truth" consists in being true, and "true" is an adjective that works in the fashion just specified. To think that in calling a proposition "true" we are attributing to it a quality of some kind is a logical illusion. Once one has fallen prey to that illusion, one will engage in a fool's errand trying to explain what this quality is, and will either conclude that it is an impenetrable mystery, or one will produce bogus and incoherent answers (or both).
