Independently of the discussions on the development of Fichte’s philosophy, there is something that does not seem to change throughout the more than a dozen presentations of his doctrine, namely, his constant concern with the meaning of philosophy. This concern is such a structuring one for Fichte that he even decides to replace the very name of “philosophy” by another one, less heavy in meaning and better suited to elucidate the nature of this particular activity (...) that constitutes his own project. He calls it the Wissenschaftslehre. In this term created by Fichte three verbs can be found: wissen (to know), schaffen (to create) and lehren (to teach) – we would like to propose that Fichte’s conception of philosophy can be brought out as the orchestrated action of those three activities: knowing, creating and teaching. The point here being not to say that Fichte had the idea in mind of composing these three verbs (wissen, schaffen, lehren) when he created the term Wissenschaftslehre, but only that those terms offer useful landmarks for the exploration of Fichte’s philosophical landscape. -/- . (shrink)

According to a perhaps naive, but still dominant positivistic view of science, scientific knowledge is the only reliable knowledge. It is reliable because it is objective. It derives its objectivity from the objectivity of observation made by a detached observer. The way in which empirical scientists look at the world is sometimes described as “scientific attitude.” In order to be objective observers, scientists must be indifferent, disinterested, neutral and impartial. Personal opinions or preferences have to be suspended. No subjective elements (...) are allowed to intrude. Science is believed to be reliable if it is based on objective and verifiable observational statements which can be transmitted into laws and theories. The spectacular achievements of natural science and technology in today’s world appear to support the belief in the objectivity, reliability, and even supremacy of scientific knowledge. But is this view truly justified? Does science offer the best possible route to reliable knowledge, not only of natural but also of social phenomena? Should pre-scientific forms of knowledge, such as ethics, be seen as a matter of individual preferences or subjective emotions, and therefore be disregarded as knowledge? Before I attempt to answer these questions, I shall address the issue of objectivity in science. I believe that the understanding of this issue will help us to evaluate rightly the scientific claim to know and to assess the place of science among other forms of knowledge. (shrink)

In this book Jody Azzouni challenges existing epistemological conventions about knowledge: what it means to know something, who or what is seen as knowing, and how we talk about it. He argues that the classic restrictive conditions philosophers routinely place on knowers only hold in special cases, and suggests that knowledge can be equally attributed to children, sophisticated animals, unsophisticated animals, and machinery or devices. Through this perspective and a close examination of its relation to (...) linguistics and psychology, Azzouni freshly approaches longstanding epistemological puzzles including the dogmatism paradox, Gettier puzzles, Agrippa's trilemma, and the surprise-exam paradox. (shrink)

What does it mean to know something - scientifically, anthropologically, socially? What is the relationship between different forms of knowledge and ways of knowing? How is knowledge mobilised in society and to what ends? Drawing on ethnographic examples from across the world, and from the virtual and global "places" created by new information technologies, Anthropology and Science presents examples of living and dynamic epistemologies and practices, and of how scientific ways of knowing operate in the (...) world. Authors address the nature of both scientific and experiential knowledge, and look at competing and alternative ideas about what it means to be human. The essays analyze the politics and ethics of positioning "science", "culture" or "society" as authoritative. They explore how certain modes of knowing are made authoritative and command allegiance (or not), and look at scientific and other rationalities - whether these challenge or are compatible with science. (shrink)

On Friday God knew everything, including f, a proposition about what Jones would do on Monday; we can write the time-indexed proposition that on Friday God believed f as Bgf. If Jones does not do the thing that makes f true, then the resulting state of affairs will be ∼f. So on Monday, before a certain time – ‘ t time’ – Jones has it in his power to bring it about that ∼f. It seems to (...) follow that on Monday Jones has it in his power to bring it about that on Friday God believed something false. Yet this is impossible, as Bgp ⊃ p . But if f is false – if Jones makes it so on Monday – then so is Bgf, and God is not infallible. So either Jones cannot not do the thing that makes f true, and he has no freewill, or God is not infallible. The traditional responses to this dilemma are subtle, time-honoured and, as I see it, almost completely unconvincing. According to Linda Zagzebski , there are five of them: the Ockhamist response that God’s Friday belief is a so-called ‘soft’ fact, itself a problematic notion; the confused Molinist claim that on Friday God has something called ‘middle knowledge’ , so that God knows what Jones would do, but does not will it or know what Jones would do if … ); and the more sensible but still perplexing solution of Boethius’s that God’s knowing is not in time, so that the time-indexed proposition Bgf is not true. (How does it help to move the knowing that is said to determine our actions from the past to the timeless? It seems to …. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Structure, Change, and Survival: A Response To Winthrop-youngFranco Moretti (bio)Geoffrey Winthrop-Young’s is the sort of review article one dreams of: long, intelligent, and very generous. So, first of all, thanks. And thanks also for the clarity with which disagreements are expressed. In the same spirit, here is a brief response.The first area of disagreement comes early in the article, when Winthrop-Young claims that in the Atlas, “the (...) here and now of a specific location suffers something akin to the fate of a Barthesian myth: its specificity is subordinated to a signifying function as part of an established narrative sequence. But as Moretti chooses not to address the question of how this transformation is achieved, his discussion tends to gloss over the differences between geographical, literary, and imaginary locations” [7]. Frankly, I don’t think this is true. I often do exactly what Winthrop-Young demands, using a sequence of maps to clarify the successive steps by which a geographical space ends up supporting a specific narrative strucure: see the Austen maps that open the book, or the picaresque sequence in the first chapter, or the Balzac and Dickens maps in the second chapter—where I also address the issue in conceptual terms in a section entitled “Stories of the Third.” It’s true that I don’t do so in every case (as perhaps I should), and Winthrop-Young may of course disagree with the way I chart the transformation of space into narrative, but he cannot deny that I am doing so. The fact that those maps compose sequences of increasing complexity (as is particularly clear for Austen and Our Mutual Friend) proves precisely that I am indeed mapping a “transformation” of relatively simple beginnings into a complicated final structure. Incidentally, I do something similar in Modern Epic, where I describe how Joyce’s stream of consciousness “grows” from rather slim paragraphs to the plump ones we read now, or follow the slow rise of Ulysses’s polyphony. Again: my theses may be wrong—but they are an attempt to follow the step-by-step structuration of a text (or genre). This, after all, is the basic test of critical materialism: if we cannot describe the how and the why of the various steps, we are implicitly invoking “creativity” as an explanation for literary products. Which is a bit like invoking God. But on the futility of this, Winthrop-Young and I probably agree.The second disagreement regards the tempo of literary history: does morphological change occur in brief bursts separated by long periods of stasis (as in Eldredge and Gould’s punctuated equilibria)—or is it more evenly distributed across time? Here, Winthrop-Young claims [36, fn 5] that my attempt to see Schwarz’s account of Brazilian modernism and the genesis of magic realism as a single instance of punctuated equilibria is contradicted by historical evidence. He is right. Years ago, I adopted punctuated equilibria because it proved better than any rival theory at explaining the peculiar rapidity of many literary turning points (baroque drama; the rise of the British novel; the modernist season of European literature). From this initial conviction, I was (unconsciously) led to generalize, and to treat every case of major morphological change as an instance of punctuated equilibria. This was silly, and Winthrop-Young is right in criticizing me. However, he would probably agree that a single (or even a few) contrary [End Page 41] instances do not invalidate a theory in its entirety, and that what we most need is to know more about how literary change occurs. Only after such an empirical reconnaissance will the testing of theories be on a truly sound basis. Personally, I wouldn’t be surprised if we discovered that literary change can occur in more than one way, and that we need more than one theory to account for it; still, all I know of literary history suggests that punctuated equilibria will be the theory with greatest explanatory power.The last disagreement concerns literary selection: specifically, whether my view of it is indeed Darwinian, or whether I Lamarck-like “transform the concept of selection from the traditional passive filter... (shrink)

We can't know everything; in fact, compared to the vast expanses of our ignorance, we can't really know very much. So the problem of "limiting knowledge" is not just one of the conflict between efforts to make knowledge available and efforts to keep knowledge locked up. There is also the often-invisible problem of how we decide what it is we are going to try to know, and what, as a consequence, we decide, even if by benign neglect, (...) we are not going to know. This problem is particularly present in efforts to expand formal knowledge about the world through scientific research. In this essay I will briefly explore how this effort to expand knowledge brings with it, unavoidably and simultaneously, powerfully enforced limits on knowledge that are often unexamined. (shrink)

EMPIRICIST THEORIES OF PERSONAL IDENTITY STATE THAT THE IDENTITY OF A PERSON OVER TIME IS A MATTER OF BODILY CONTINUITY AND/OR SIMILARITY OF MEMORY AND CHARACTER. IN CONTRAST, THIS PAPER ARGUES THAT WHILE BODILY CONTINUITY AND SIMILARITY OF MEMORY AND CHARACTER ARE EVIDENCE OF PERSONAL IDENTITY, THEY DO NOT CONSTITUTE IT. IT IS SOMETHING UNDEFINABLE. THE DIFFICULTY OF KNOWING WHAT TO SAY IN PUZZLE CASES DOES NOT SHOW THAT PERSONAL IDENTITY EXISTS IN DIFFERENT DEGREES (...) OR THAT WE HAVE TO MAKE ARBITRARY JUDGMENTS ABOUT IT. IT SHOWS ONLY THAT SOMETIMES WE CANNOT KNOW WHO IS WHO. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hylomorphism, Change, and God's Mutability:A Rejoinder to Ebrahim AzadeganAmirhossein Zadyousefi (bio)In "A Long Way to God's Mutability: A Response to Ebrahim Azadegan"1 I tried to challenge what Azadegan says in his "On the Incompatibility of God's Knowledge of Particulars and the Doctrine of Divine Immutability: Towards a Reform in Islamic Theology."2 Then, in his "Necessary Existence, Immutability, and God's Knowledge of Particulars: A Reply to Amirhossein Zadyousefi,"3 Azadegan (...) replies to my response. In my response to Azadegan, I discussed many points, and Azadegan did not deal with all of them in his reply. So, in this short rejoinder, I will deal with what Azadegan has said about some of my criticisms. Before proceeding, I should say that in my response to Azadegan I remained neutral on whether God is mutable or not. All I have done there is to show that Azadegan's path to God's mutability by adopting Sadra's knowledge-by-presence theory is not as easy as it initially seems. Also, I have tried to show that Avicenna does not adopt the dogma of God's immutability. Rather, he has some reasons for adopting this view. I understand that one might challenge Avicenna's reasons for God's immutability. But, as I insisted in my first response to Azadegan, we should be careful not to conflate having a dogma with having a bad reason.In his reply to my response, Azadegan states that "according to Zadyousefi, Avicenna believes in an incompatibility between God's necessary existence and the denial of divine immutability." Then, he presents the following argument that he calls "Argument from God's Necessary Existence to His Immutability": [End Page 196]A1:1. God is a necessary existent.2. A necessary being possesses his attributes necessarily (the principle of 'Necessity of a necessary Being's Attributes').3. If God has a certain knowledge-set, then He has it necessarily.4. A necessary existent exists in all possible worlds and at all times.5. In all possible worlds God has a certain fixed knowledge-set.6. So what God knows at w1 (in a possible world w1 or in time t1 in the actual world) is the same as what God knows at w2 (or t2).7. Therefore, God is immutable."4But I have not argued by virtue of the above argument that according to Avicenna God's being a necessary existent is inconsistent with God's mutability. Instead, I have presented the following argument to show that:A2:Avicenna, following Aristotle, explains change via matter. That is, if something undergoes change or can undergo change, then it is composed of matter and form and hence it is material. Now, since every material being is constituted by a matter-form compound, every material being is dependent on its constituents (matter and form) and therefore is a contingent being. For a contingent being, according to Avicenna, is a being that is dependent on something else. So, every material being would be contingent. Therefore, God's mutability entails God's being material, which in turn entails God's being contingent. So, God's being a necessary existent is incompatible with God's mutability.As we can see, this argument is completely different from A1. I suspect Azadegan's A1 is a misinterpretation of an objection that I raised against him. In his initial paper, following Ghazālī, Azadegan states that, according to Avicenna, God's knowledge of particulars is in tension with God's eternality. In my response, I argued that this is not the case. According to Avicenna, God's knowledge of changing particulars, based on some certain mechanism for knowing the occurrence of a change among particulars (i.e., knowledge of change through indexical propositions), is in tension with God's being a necessary existent. I stated this inconsistency as follows:A3:8. God is omniscient.9. Therefore, for any change C among particulars, God knows the occurrence of C.10. For any knower S, if S knows the occurrence of C, then S's set of knowledge changes (based on indexical propositions). [End Page 197]11. If S's set of knowledge changes... (shrink)

What does it mean to know another person, and how is such knowledge different from other kinds of knowledge? These questions constitute an important part of what I call ‘second-person epistemology’ – the study of how we know other people. I claim that knowledge of other people is not only central to our everyday lives, but it is a kind of knowledge that is unlike other kinds of knowledge. In general, I will argue that (...) second-person knowledge arises from repeated interactions with another person, and that it also requires employment of certain cognitive abilities and a unique kind of second-order knowledge. This paper provides the framework for a second-person epistemology by examining some of our ordinary claims about what it means to know another person. I describe four conditions that typically characterize knowing another person. Then I describe the psychological grounds of knowing a person. Finally, I conclude with some thoughts about the unique symmetries of second person knowledge and the role of such knowledge in our broader epistemological endeavours. (shrink)

In this paper, I examine Augustine’s response to two Socratic statements: his exhortation for us to know ourselves, and his claim that he knows only that he knows nothing. Augustine addresses these statements in many works, but I focus in particular on his discussion of error in Contra Academicos, and his account of self-knowing (and not-knowing) in De Trinitate (DT). -/- For Augustine, error can occur in at least four distinct ways, and one of his (...) main purposes in Contra Academicos is to show that having an overly narrow view of error, focused on only one of those ways—namely, approving a falsehood as a truth—too easily leads to skepticism. He argues instead that erring can be a sin both of commission and of omission, and that failing to assent when one should assent is just as problematic as assenting when one should not. In both Contra Academicos and De Trinitate, Augustine extends his position by exploring the ways in which one can achieve epistemic certainty. But in doing this, he also offers scattered remarks about how one recognizes that one has not yet achieved certain knowledge, and thus about how one can know that one does not know. It is here that Augustine’s views are the most muddled, since he simultaneously claims that we (as humans in this life) are ignorant in many fundamental ways, that knowledge of something requires knowledge of that thing as a whole, and that nevertheless we can know ourselves, which obviously involves knowing that we do not know. It is to this puzzling group of claims that the remainder of the paper is addressed. (shrink)

You tell your friend about a strange event you witnessed. Your friend presses you: how do you know it really happened? It’s natural to answer that you saw it happen. But that can’t be the full story of how you know. Past seeing, by itself, does not entirely explain present knowing or reasonable believing. When our past learning matters for what we can be confident of in the present, something connects the two. (...) class='Hi'>That something seems to be memory. Memory plays some role in our everyday believing, and upon closer inspection that role appears essential. Yet memory is secretive, always operating, almost always without our noticing, and often eluding any effort to appreciate its workings. Even in philosophy, we take for granted memory’s unflagging efforts. There is some mystery about how it supports good inductive reasoning, for example, though we recognize that good inductive reasoning relies on past observation. And memory is what allows this indispensable relying, almost by magic. -/- How does memory help us believe and reason well, if it ever truly does? What might bottle it up and stop it? This entry surveys influential answers. (shrink)

Chapter 1: Ryle on Knowing How Chapter 2: Knowledge-wh Chapter 3: PRO and the Representation of First-Person Thought Chapter 4: Ways of Thinking Chapter 5: Knowledge How Chapter 6: Ascribing Knowledge How Chapter 7: The Cognitive Science of Practical Knowledge Chapter 8: Knowledge Justified Preface A fact, as I shall use the term, is a true proposition. A proposition is the sort of thing that is capable of being believed or asserted. A proposition is also something (...) class='Hi'>that is characteristically the kind of thing that is true or false; that snow is white is a true proposition, that Barack Obama is President of the United States as I am writing these words is another. Facts in this sense are not only among the things we believe and assert; they are also the kinds of things we know. The thesis of this book is that knowing how to do something is the same as knowing a fact. It follows that learning how to do something is learning a fact. For example, when you learned how to swim, what happened is that you learned some facts about swimming. Knowledge of these facts is what gave you knowledge of how to swim. Something similar occurred with every other activity that you now know how to do, such as riding a bicycle or cooking a meal. You know how to perform activities solely in virtue of your knowledge of facts about those activities. (shrink)

Crafted within a knowledge-first epistemological framework, Mona Simion’s engaging and wide-ranging work ensures that both the Knowledge Norm of Assertion (KNA) and Classical Invariantism (CI) can be part of a viable and productive research program.Dissatisfied with current strategies on offer in the literature, she successfully counters objections to the pair sourced in “shiftiness intuitions”—intuitions that seem to indicate that mere changes in practical context can impact the propriety of assertions and knowledge attributions. For example, in Keith DeRose’s (...) famous pair of low stakes versus high stakes bank cases, the consequences of Keith’s acting on The bank is open on Saturday if it were false change from trivial in low stakes to catastrophic in high stakes. We are to suppose that the proposition is true, and that Keith has access to the same quantity and quality of evidence for it in both cases. In low stakes, but not in high stakes, we are inclined to think that Keith can appropriately assert to his inquiring wife “The bank is open on Saturday.” In low stakes, Keith’s knowledge ascription “I know that the bank is open on Saturday” strikes us as aptly asserted and true. In high stakes only a knowledge denial on Keith’s part strikes us as aptly asserted and true.If we want to hang on to KNA, it looks like we will have to abandon CI and concede that ‘knows’ or knowledge is sensitive to changes in practical considerations. If we want to retain CI, we can try to say that, while Keith does still know that the bank is open on Saturday in high stakes, he does not have sufficient warrant to properly assert that it is. But such a move seems to run counter to KNA. We appear to be stuck in the Shiftiness Dilemma.Keen to get us out of the dilemma and to preserve the idea that epistemically good thinking and asserting are independent of practical concerns, Simion suggests a strategy that can also be used to protect other epistemic speech-act norms and notions from similar threats of practical shiftiness. She notes that having an impact on the degree of epistemic warrant required is not enough to make a norm an epistemic one. Fair enough. If I am given strong practical reason (a million dollars, or a gun to the head) not to adopt full belief until I have gathered more evidence, there is potentially some nonepistemic norm at work in the demand for further evidence. So it is a live possibility (indeed, a plausible one, as Simion would say) that our intuitions in the Shiftiness Dilemma are being misdescribed: they are tracking all-things-considered propriety of assertion, not epistemic propriety. In high stakes, practical norms override the epistemic norm KNA. Keith’s asserting “The bank is open on Saturday” would be epistemically proper but all-things-considered improper.Simion backs up her account with an etiological-function origin story and typology for the norms of assertion. Here is her characterization of etiological function for traits, artifacts, and actions. E-function.A token of type T has the e-function of type B of producing effect E in a system S iff (1) tokens of T produced E in the past, (2) producing E resulted in benefit of type B in S/S’s ancestors, and (3) producing E’s having B-benefited S’s ancestors contributes to the explanation of why T exists in S.In this schema, norms governing an action are typed by the functions or purposes of the action, which in turn are typed by the benefits the action delivers. The epistemic norm of assertion will be the one that characteristically and reliably enables participants in the practice of assertion to secure its primary epistemic good, which Simion identifies as knowledge (testimonial knowledge in hearers generated under normal conditions by the assertions of knowledgeable speakers). Moves in a practice either directly or indirectly aim at fulfilling the goal of the practice. Assertion is a move in the practice of inquiry, which has the generation of knowledge as its aim. Hence, Simion concludes, assertion aims at generating knowledge.This account helps to explain why, in cases like high stakes, Keith all-things-considered ought not to assert “The bank is open on Saturday,” even though he knows it is true. Prudential norms of assertion override the epistemic KNA, for when multiple functions come into conflict, the ones that are more important to the survival of the organism will generate weightier normative constraints.Simion then applies her account to the general category of constatives—for example, speech acts that express a speaker’s belief and the intention that the hearer form or continue to hold the like belief. Employing the taxonomy of Bach and Harnish, she argues that, as expressions of belief and hence varieties of assertion, constatives are subject to knowledge norms as well. Bach and Harnish identify fifteen different subcategories of constatives, each characterized in terms of the kind of belief and intention they express. The norms governing a species have to be at least as strong as the norms governing the corresponding type. As species of the type assertion, each subcategory, then, is subject to at least the necessary direction of KNA. Ultimately, we arrive at a knowledge norm for every speech act on the list, such as The Knowledge Norm of Conjecture (KNC):One’s conjecture that p is epistemically permissible only if one knows that there is reason, but not sufficient reason, to believe that p. Most of the proposed interpretations of various constatives are on the whole reasonable enough, though J. L. Austin would surely be unhappy to see so many different speech acts fashioned into varieties of assertion. Simion concludes with reflections on conjecturing, telling, and moral assertion.Construing the challenge of shiftiness intuitions in terms of the Shiftiness Dilemma allows Simion to declare success when the compatibility of KNA and CI with the relevant data of intuition is secured. Ensuring empirical adequacy for an explanatory framework is an important step, but pronouncements of victory by way of inference to the best explanation would be premature.Other candidates have been shown to match KNA’s familiar explanatory successes (involving lottery propositions, Moorean statements, etc.). Unlike KNA, alternatives that require only epistemically justified or rational belief or credence can allow that a subject is epistemically proper to assert what they believe when their belief is epistemically rational, even under conditions where there are defeating reasons that they are not in a position to be aware of. Furthermore, such norms seem better suited for philosophical or heated moral discussions where there is little consensus and individuals routinely fail to know that what they assert is true. Simion sounds the alarm that the Shiftiness Dilemma threatens to generalize “to epistemic normativity as a whole” (xi–xii), but norms concerning rational credence seem particularly immune.As Simion notes, the etiological-function model of norms that she proposes could be rebuilt with a different central epistemic aim at its core. Indeed, Millikan-inspired models along these lines are appealed to in other areas in philosophy where the concept of information takes center stage—a concept that may be more amenable to rigorous definition and use in dialogue with the sciences than knowledge. We can wonder, also, what special weight the etiological-function model accords to a knowledge-first perspective on epistemic normativity when the model is malleable in this way.The effectiveness of Simion’s strategy for shielding epistemically good thinking and assertion from practical shiftiness becomes less apparent when we try to apply it to Keith’s belief or judgment that the knowledge ascription/denial he asserts is true. It is unclear whether we are to suppose that, in high stakes, Keith epistemically ought to believe/judge that his asserted knowledge denial is false, but all-things-considered he ought to believe/judge that it is true. We do not have to accept that the knowledge-first, etiological function account of normativity for assertion carries over to belief, of course, but then what progress have we made in accounting for the shiftiness in Keith’s judgment that he knows the bank is open on Saturday in low stakes but not in high stakes?Furthermore, there are other ways to generate problems for fallibilist Classical Invariantists in low versus high stakes pairs of cases. Here is a simplified version of a puzzle from the debate over pragmatic encroachment. Consider low cases where you meet the invariant standards for knowing that p, but your justified confidence falls short of certainty. Among these cases, there must be some where you also meet the invariant standards for knowing that if p is true, then among your choices of action ϕ-ing results in the best overall outcome. Say, for instance, that you have a machine with a ϕ button, and your machine, which you know to be extremely reliable, tells you what the cost or benefit will be if you push the button and p is true versus if p is false. If you ϕ (push the ϕ button) and p is true, you win one hundred dollars; if you ϕ and p is false, you lose one hundred dollars. You face the choice: to ϕ or not to ϕ. Since you know that p, and you know that if p is true, then among your choices of action ϕ-ing results in the best overall outcome, you rationally conclude that ϕ-ing results in the best overall outcome, and hence that you ought to ϕ. If you know which choice of action has the best overall outcome, that is what you all-things-considered should do. Now consider high, where the quantity and quality of your evidence for p is the same, and you still know that your machine is extremely reliable. This time, however, the machine tells you that if you push ϕ and p is true, you win one hundred dollars, but if you push ϕ and p is false, you lose $1 million. Your rational confidence in p is not high enough to justify pushing the button, so you rationally conclude that you ought not to ϕ. Since in high nothing evidentially relevant has changed (all that has changed is the machine informing you of a new, more serious cost of acting on p if p is false), the classical invariantist will have to say that you still know that ϕ, and you still know that if p is true, then among your choices of action ϕ-ing results in the best overall outcome. So, according to CI, you should still be able to reason properly as follows: you know that p, and you know that if p is true, then among your choices of action ϕ-ing results in the best overall outcome, so you know that ϕ-ing results in the best overall outcome, hence you ought to ϕ. Classical invariantists owe us an explanation concerning how we can avoid the paradox here without conceding that knowledge is practically shifty. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Retrieving Contuition in Saint BonaventureJunius Johnson (bio)Introduction: A Baffling ConceptThe word "contuition" is one that has an immediate effect on the reader who first encounters it in the pages of Bonaventure: it is evocative, teasing the reader with the promise of a rich and fresh, new way of thinking about knowledge. Thus, Raniero Sciamannini speaks of: "…that mysterious act of knowledge that, with a singular term, (...) Saint Bonaventure has called contuition and that has always excited such great perplexity among the interpreters. Is it a generic or specific term? An apprehension of things or of God? Abstract or intuitive? Mediate or immediate? Natural or supernatural?"1Contuitio is built on the verb tueor. And here it is clear that there is something common between "contuition" and its semantic relative "intuition," which is built on the same verb: both are forms of seeing. Since "intuition" is a more common word and concept, it will provide a good place to begin.Intuition, as most of the commentators see it, is an immediate gaze. It need not, however, be a comprehensive gaze. One may gaze immediately in apprehension as well.2 Apprehension is that gaze whereby one sees an object but one does not see all of the object. Apprehension is true, but incomplete. It is not necessarily veiled, or dark, though it may be these things. Rather, apprehension describes any instance in which the subject is incapable of seeing all of the object, whether this be from an impediment on the part of the object or the subject. Thus, in the case of my knowledge of a tree, which says more than I can hear and whose nature I only imperfectly grasp, my knowledge is apprehension because I see in a glass (under a veil) and darkly. And in the case of the knowledge the blessed have of God, it is also apprehension because God so greatly exceeds their capacity that they cannot exhaustively know God. [End Page 5]In one way of looking at it, all of our knowledge is only ever apprehensive: we never so exhaustively know a thing that we cannot come to know more about it (and this may be thought to be true eschatologically as well); this is one way of expressing the wonder and mystery of each particular thing. Underlying this understanding is a strong view of comprehension, one that holds that comprehensive knowing is the determinate and final knowledge of any thing. This is, however, not the sense that Bonaventure is working with. He will allow that we comprehend a tree, and thus apprehension is reserved for only those situations where some impediment or excess intervenes. In fact, in actual use, Bonaventure will tend to deploy apprehension in cases of excess, not impediment.Both intuitio and contuitio are often deployed to handle apprehensive knowledge, that is, real knowledge that nevertheless falls short of mastery, either because the knower does not attain to the whole of the thing, or because the knower is not capable of grasping the whole of the thing.That puts intuition and contuition in a similar field, but it does not yet really say what contuition is. It turns out to be quite difficult to get a straight answer about just what Bonaventure means by the term. Studies are not numerous: only about a dozen. Generally when the term is referenced outside of these studies, there is a tacit assumption that we already know what contuition means, or it is given a one sentence summary that clearly indicates that a deeper discussion is to be desired. For example, Leonard J. Bowman writes:The act of knowledge that achieves this apprehension of the Word through the creature, or the creature in the Word, involves a contuition. Contuition, within Bonaventure's symbolic theology, is a grasp of a perceived thing in relation to its causes, especially to its exemplary cause, the Word.3It is not so much that this is an untrue account (although it is limited, for it is unable to account for all of the uses of contuition in Bonaventure); rather, the problem is that it is a thin account. Bowman does not offer an argument for the... (shrink)

This thesis mounts an attack against accounts of perceptual justification that attempt to analyze it in terms of evidential justifiers, and has defended the view that perceptual justification should rather be analyzed in terms of non-evidential justification. What matters most to perceptual justification is not a specific sort of evidence, be it experiential evidence or factive evidence, what matters is that the perceptual process from sensory input to belief output is reliable. I argue for this conclusion in (...) the following way. Chapter 1: The Arguments from HallucinationChapter 1 presents a skeptical argument from hallucination that starts from a premise about the alleged introspective indistinguishability of perception and hallucination, and concludes that perceptual knowledge is impossible. Underlying this argument are certain assumptions about the nature of perceptual justification, and different responses to the argument portray different views of perceptual justification. Evidentialism and dogmatism both reject the premise that appearances do not provide evidence sufficient for perceptual knowledge, although they disagree about the precise nature of the appearances. Epistemological disjunctivism rejects the premise that introspectively indistinguishable experiences provide the same evidence, while upholding the idea that some sort of evidence, namely factive evidence, is necessary for perceptual justification and knowledge. Process reliabilism rejects the premise that evidence is necessary for perceptual knowledge on the grounds that even perceptual justification can be obtained without evidence, as long as the cognitive process producing the belief is reliable.Chapter 2: EvidentialismChapter 2 starts by introducing some motivations for experientialist views of perceptual justification, such as evidentialism and dogmatism, which hold that conscious experiences evidentially justify perceptual beliefs. These motivations have to do with their ability to accommodate the New Evil Demon Intuition that demon-deceived subjects have justified perceptual beliefs and the Blindsight Intuition that blindsighters do not have justified perceptual beliefs. However, experientialist views are also faced with a Sellarsian dilemma: either experience is construed as non-propositional, but then the proposed evidential relation is unclear, or experience is construed as propositional, but then it is ad hoc to hold that they can evidentially justify without being justified themselves.Chapter 2 continues with a discussion of evidentialism, which grasps the first horn of this dilemma. I argue that evidentialism cannot adequately explain why a non-propositional experience constitutes evidence for this rather than that belief, and also does not provide any account of how to determine which belief fits an evidence-set which partly consists out of non-propositional experiences. Although a reliabilist version of evidentialism can provide a better account of these matters, it suffers from counter-intuitive predictions about justification and a conception of evidence that is so liberal that it could even include blindsighters and clairvoyants as having such evidence.Chapter 3: DogmatismChapter 3 focuses on variants of dogmatism, a theory of perceptual justification that grasps the second horn of the Sellarsian dilemma by holding that a perceptual experience with the content that p is sufficient for immediate prima facie justification of the belief that p. I first argue that dogmatism should identify perceptual experiences with high-level conscious states to accommodate the problem of novice vs. expert identification and the problem of the speckled hen. I then argue that this version of dogmatism still fails to meet a certain explanatory challenge which I dub the `Distinctiveness Problem'. Dogmatism should explain what is so distinctive about perceptual experience that enables it, in contrast with desire and imagination, to evidentially justify the belief that p without, in contrast with belief, being justified itself.Phenomenalist answers to this problem fail because they either do not provide a distinctive property of perceptual experience, or else provide a property that is reducible to or possibly caused by beliefs. In both cases, dogmatism would have the result that intuitively unjustifying experiences, such as imaginations, nevertheless become capable of justifying beliefs. Moreover, phenomenalists still need some explanation of why phenomenology is epistemically relevant at all.A new variant of the problem of the speckled hen is an intuitive illustration of this point against dogmatists. If a perceptual experience that p is not reliably connected to the fact that p or the belief that p, then beliefs based on this experience simply will not be intuitively justified. One possible response to this problem incorporates reliability into the content of experience in the sense that an experience cannot have the content that p if it is not reliably connected to both the fact that p and the belief that p. However, this will lose the motivation from the New Evil Demon Scenario, and will make large concessions towards reliabilism.Chapter 4: Epistemological DisjunctivismGiven these problems for experientialist views of perceptual justification, chapter 4 focuses on a different evidential account of justification: epistemological disjunctivism. According to the Justified True Belief version of Epistemological Disjunctivism, the fact that I see that p is the factive and reflectively accessible evidence in virtue of which I know that p. I argue that JTBED faces formidable problems: first, it cannot adequately deal with the basis problem, second, it cannot accommodate the New Evil Demon Intuition, third,it faces the problem of hyper-intellectualization, and fourth, it has no good account of reflective access.Knowledge First Epistemological Disjunctivism, in contrast, holds that seeing that p just is a way of knowing that p. The fact that I see that p constitutes my justification for believing that p, even though it is not necessary for my knowledge that p. Although this view solves most of the above problems, I argue that KFED still faces a challenge of its own: its notion of justification is so strong that justification entails knowledge but is not itself entailed by it. This means that it too faces a hyper-intellectualization objection because it cannot accommodate animal justification, and that it too will struggle to accommodate the New Evil Demon Intuition.Nevertheless, there is something to the epistemological disjunctivist idea that higher-order capabilities are important to perceptual justification. Specifically, higher-order capabilities provide one with a way of accommodating the Blindsight Intuition without appealing to the notion of experiential evidence: blindsighters are epistemically worse off than normal human perceivers because they lack higher-order beliefs about how they are gaining their information. If one holds that these higher-order beliefs provide a special sort of justification for perceptual beliefs, then blindsighters lack this type of justification. Chapter 5: Process ReliabilismAfter displaying the problems of several evidential accounts of perceptual justification, chapter 5 introduces a non-evidential account: process reliabilism. The classic version of this view holds that the reliability of a belief-forming process is necessary and sufficient for the prima facie justification of a specific set of beliefs, namely, those that arise out of belief-independent processes. Two classic major problems for this view consist of counterexamples to both the necessity and sufficiency of reliability for justification. Although the Generality Problem raises some difficulties for reliabilism, they do not appear to be insurmountable.The second part of chapter 5 focuses on a variety of process reliabilism, inferentialist reliabilism, that is explicitly aimed at responding to clairvoyance cases. According to inferentialist reliabilism, one should distinguish between basic and non-basic beliefs, where basic beliefs are those that result out of the non-inferential operation of an inferentially opaque cognitive system that developed in a natural way. Reliability is only sufficient for the justification of basic beliefs, while non-basic beliefs also require conditional reliability and justification of the beliefs on which they are based.This distinction between basic and non-basic beliefs is meant to answer the challenge arising out of clairvoyance cases because these are all supposedly cases in which the resulting beliefs arenon-basic. However, I argue that the beliefs in these cases come out as non-basic primarily because of the etiological constraint on cognitive systems, a constraint that is unfortunately undermotivated. It seems that beliefs can be justified even if they are produced by a cognitive system that developed by accident, or by a system that was artificially designed to produce those beliefs. So even though the inferentialist reliabilist might have a point in distinguishing between basic and non-basic beliefs, it is still in need of a different response to clairvoyance cases. Chapter 6: Rejoinders for ReliabilismChapter 6 improves on the inferentialist reliabilist account of justification by presenting a different way of dealing with the clairvoyance cases and New Evil Demon Scenario. I start from the empirically plausible idea that we know that we are perceiving when we are perceiving, not because of the use of experiential evidence, but rather, because of an unconscious source-monitoring mechanism. I then argue that the existence of such a source-monitoring mechanism could be used to explain why clairvoyance cases actually have to do with defeat rather than absence of prima facie justification: beliefs that pop up in our head should be recognized as stemming from untrustworthy sources, and so we acquire defeating higher-order beliefs about the first-order beliefs. I also argue that this defeat should be able to occur even if the higher-order beliefs are themselves unjustified. This defeater-account of clairvoyance is preferable to several externalist alternatives. Making reliability relative to a specific world seems rather ad hoc, and further requirements on justification, such as evidence-based belief, cognitively integrated belief, or properly produced belief, all appear unnecessary and are susceptible to adapted versions of the clairvoyance case.I further argue for an alternative inferentialist reliablist response to the New Evil Demon Intuition which treats it as mistaken rather than correct. The New Evil Demon Intuition might arise because of a mistaken view of actual perceptual justification as having to do with experiential evidence. This mistaken view could be explained by the fact that experience is actually reliably connected to belief and is often cited in response to a knowledge-challenge. If this is a correct analysis of the New Evil Demon Intuition, then there is an element of question-begging involved when this scenario is still pressed against inferentialist reliabilists who do not adhere to the experientialist assumption it presupposes.With the inferentialist reliabilist account in hand,we are able to see that many of the premises of the epistemological argument from hallucination are problematic. Evidence does not appear to be required for perceptual knowledge, as perceptual justification does not even require such evidence. Moreover, if we accept a reliabilist model of introspection, then we are often able to know on the basis of introspection that we are perceiving rather than hallucinating. Once one gets clear about the alternatives, it becomes apparent that the argument thrives on internalist assumptions about justification and knowledge that one need not accept. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Ideas 61.2 (2000) 305-326 [Access article in PDF] Logos and Kratos: Gramsci and the Ancients on Hegemony Benedetto Fontana * The purpose of this paper is to locate Gramsci's concept of hegemony, and its related ideas of civil society, the national-popular and the people-nation, within the political thought of classical antiquity. 1 In so doing, the paper seeks to identify strands or elements within (...) aspects of ancient political thought which may usefully be seen as conceptual prefigurations or as political anticipations of Gramsci's hegemony. It will show that Gramsci shares with the ancients specific theoretical, linguistic, and intellectual topoi. Hegemony has hitherto been located within the context, both theoretical and historical, of debates and controversies arising out of the Marxist and later Leninist revolutionary tradition. It is rightly seen as a notion developed by Gramsci to explain revolutionary failure in Italy and in the West generally, and consequently its antecedents are traced to the problems attendant upon the collapse of the Second International and the rise of Bolshevism in Russia. 2 While such an approach has been useful in revealing the immediate (both political and tactical) constraints acting upon Gramsci's thinking, it has overlooked passages in his writings which reveal an interest in, and [End Page 305] familiarity with, philosophical and theoretical themes originally formulated and elaborated by classical political thought.I. In a note entitled "Passage from Knowing to Understanding and to Feeling and vice versa from Feeling to Understanding and to Knowing" Gramsci establishes a distinction between intellectuals who "know" and the "people-nation" that "feels." The former may know but do not always understand or feel, while the latter may feel but does not always know. The intellectual, in order to know something politically and socially, not merely abstractly or philosophically, must understand it with feeling and passion. As Gramsci writes: The intellectual's error consists in believing that one can know without understanding and even more without feeling and being impassioned (not only for knowledge in itself but also for the object of knowledge); in other words that the intellectual can be an intellectual (and not a pure pedant) if distinct and separate from the people-nation, that is, without feeling the elementary passions of the people, understanding them and therefore explaining and justifying them in the particular historical situation and connecting them dialectically to the laws of history and to a superior conception of the world, scientifically and coherently elaborated--i.e. knowledge. One cannot make politics-history without this passion, without this sentimental connection between intellectuals and people-nation. 3The merely abstract knowledge of the intellectual becomes life and politics when linked to the experiential and passionate feelings of the people. At the same time, the feeling-passion of the people acquires the character of knowledge. Of course such a formulation is reminiscent of Marx's comments in the Theses on Feuerbach. 4 The dyadic relation between intellectual and people-nation, and between knowledge and feeling-passion, both parallels and informs the relation between common sense and good sense. Common sense is opinion which is incoherent and ambiguous 5 but which may nevertheless contain elements of truth to the extent that they are proliferated throughout a people. Good sense, on the other hand, is the common sense of the people as their passion and experience are imbued with knowledge and reason--that is, as the people begin to "think" coherently by producing their own intellectuals, the organic intellectual, or the democratic philosopher. 6 [End Page 306]Gramsci recalls the problem originally posed by Plato and Aristotle and running through the entire history of Western political thought up to thinkers as diverse as Hegel, Nietzsche, Weber, and Croce: namely, the relation between knowledge and politics, philosophy and rhetoric, ruler and people, reason and desire/appetite. 7 This relation poses the question regarding the role and status of reason. It is the way reason (the logos as transcendent reason or as speech and language) is perceived that moves the theory in either an ossified (absolutist... (shrink)

In daily life we not only speak not only of knowing facts but also of know-how. We may not only judge that someone knows that the stock market is in decline, that an avalanche is imminent or that ice is not marble but also that someone knows how to make money on the stock exchange, knows how to survive an avalanche or knows how to carve a realistic life-sized human figure from a block (...) of marble. Ryle first drew attention to analysis of know-how and argued that know-how does not consist of propositional knowledge. He went on to give an analysis of know-how. Since then the analysis of propositional knowledge has largely overshadowed that of know-how. However there has been a resurgence of interest in it. For example, relatively recent proposals in philosophy of mind and ethics proceed in terms of know-how. For example, in response to Frank Jackson’s knowledge argument, David Lewis replies that knowing what an experience is like is a matter of knowing how to recognise, remember and imagine it. Hilary Putnam claims that “knowing the meaning of the word ‘gold’ or of the word ‘elm’ is not a matter of knowing that at all, but a matter of knowing how”. A more specific variant on this claim is Michael Devitt’s conclusion that someone who knows the meaning of a term knows how to use it with a certain meaning but that such a person need not have ‘any propositional knowledge about what constitutes its meaning’. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Heidegger’s Craving Being-on-SchellingDavid L. Clark (bio)What we call spirit exists by virtue of itself, a flame that fuels itself. However, because as something existing, it is opposed by Being, the spirit is consequently nothing but an addiction to such Being, just as the flame is addicted to matter. The most base form of the spirit is therefore an addiction, a desire, a lust.—Friedrich Schelling, Stuttgart Private Lectures1. (...) Just Say NoHow not to speak of addiction? We know from Derrida that in talking this way we are always asking two overlapping questions, 1 both of which remind us that what is still confusedly called “addiction”—and with it, a host of related concepts ranging from “drugs” and “toxicity” to “dependence” and “simulation”—is perhaps best held open as a question or, rather, in the strange space between two questions, quite possibly more. First, an interrogative: a query that calls for a certain vigilance and responsibility when it comes to thinking about addiction, and that draws attention to the ways in which addiction is figured, the rhetorics or tropologies as well as the knowledges of addiction. Like mourning and longing, Schellingian philosophemes to which it is closely related and to which I will return in this essay, addiction is among other things a figure of understanding, to use Tilottama Rajan’s evocative phrase. 2 As a figure, so the first question goes, “addiction” deserves to be written and to be read slowly, not only for what might be called “political” reasons, which is to say, reasons having to do with the normalizing efficiency that comes of speaking the word too quickly, of claiming to know “who” the addict is as such and “what” it means to be addicted, but also because when it comes to addiction—again, like mourning and longing—we are dealing with a term that is irreducibly allegorical in nature, a term that inevitably says more than it says. One could almost say that “how not to speak of addiction” means “let us try to speak well or properly of addiction, even and especially if this means speaking properly of addiction’s multiple improprieties.” One could almost say this, if “addiction,” understood as a fundamental structure of desire that “holds valid for all possible contents of the world” [Slawney 42], were not precisely that which displaces and disorganizes firm oppositional limits between [End Page 8] propriety and impropriety, as it does between responsibility and irresponsibility, voluntarity and compulsion, delinquency and productivity, sickness and health, the very limits that the medical, juridical, and criminal discourses of addiction often seem most in the service of inscribing and enforcing. But of course the inability unequivocally to speak well (or, for that matter, unwell) of “addiction” in no way suggests that we have nothing to say about it—the collection of papers of which this one forms a small part is proof of that—and this goes to the heart of my second question, not interrogative but rhetorical in kind. “How not to speak of addiction?” also means that there is no way not to speak of it; insofar as addiction names a structure that precedes and exceeds the knowing subject (and is thus “older” than it), that subject is always “speaking” of it, as if answering and answerable to an imperious law, the law of addiction that amounts to an addiction to the law. Addiction there is: that is the strange, anonymous, and always anterior logic of craving, a craving no longer necessarily in thrall to the thought of self-possession and sobriety that Schelling scandalously evokes and explores, and that Heidegger directly pursues in his lectures on Schelling. More: where the human is, so too is “the deepest self-craving [der tiefsten Eigensucht]” [Heidegger, ST 140; 42, 244]. 3 Under these maximally habituated conditions, “how not to speak of addiction?” means that we are not unwilling but incapable of just saying no to a form of radical intoxication. Instead we find ourselves, as ourselves, whether speaking specifically about addiction or not, responding in a kind of passive affirmative to an originary craving, saying yes to addiction even when, in the name of an... (shrink)

Whether God has a knowledge is a controversial issue both philosophy and theology. Does God have a knowledge? If He has, does He know the particulars? When we assume that God knows particulars, is there any change in God’s essence? In the theistic tradition, it is accepted that God is wholly perfect, omniscience, omnipotent and wholly good. Therefore, it is not possible to say that there is a change in God. Because changing (...) is a kind of imperfection. On God’s knowledge, another controversial issue is whether God knows particulars or not. Most of theist thinkers argued that God is wholly perfect; because of perfectness, He must have perfect attributes. Knowing and goodness are a kind of perfect attributes. Ignoring and evil are a kind of imperfectness. If God is perfect being, He should have the perfect attributes and must know the particulars. For me in this subject, there are some similarities between al-Ghazālī and Maimonides. In this study I took into consideration the idea of al-Ghazālī and Maimonides on this subject. Based on Griffel and Stroumsa’s argument, I tried to show similarity between al-Ghazālī and Maimonides on God’s knowledge. Summary: Whether God has a knowledge is a controversial issue both philosophy and theology. Does God have a knowledge? If He has, does He know the particulars? When we assume that God knows particulars, is there any change in God’s essence? In this study I took into consideration the idea of al-Ghazālī and Maimonides on this subject. Based on Griffel’s and Stroumsa’s arguments, I tried to show similarity between al-Ghazālī and Maimonides on God’s knowledge.In the theistic tradition, it is accepted that God is wholly perfect, omniscience, omnipotent and wholly good. Therefore, it is not possible to say that there is a change in God because changing is a kind of imperfection. On God’s knowledge, another controversial issue is whether God knows particulars or not. Most of theist thinkers argued that God is wholly perfect; because of perfectness, He must have perfect attributes. Knowing and goodness are a kind of perfect attributes. Ignoring and evil are kinds of imperfectness. If God is perfect being, He should have the perfect attributes and must know the particulars. Based on God’s immutability, some thinkers argued that God does not knows particulars. Particulars occurs due to the matter. Matter and its functions are continually changing. Therefore, to know the particulars requires changing in God’s essence. If God is the most perfect being, it is impossible that He is subject to affection. Thus, God does not know the particulars. Other thinkers, like Avicenna, argued that God knows the particulars as a universal way. For example, God knows only humanity and He cannot know Zayd as a particular person. al-Ghazālī criticizes Avicenna’s idea in Tahafut al-Falasifa (The Incoherence of the Philosophers) and argues that God is a perfect being and He should know particulars as a particulars. For al-Ghazālī, God should know everything, and His knowledge is different from our knowledge. In order to explain this matter, he says in Ninety-Nine Names of God;“But this can be understood only through an example. Perhaps you have seen the clock which informs one of the hour of worship. If you have not seen it, then, generally speaking, (it is constructed in this manner). There must be a mechanism in the form of a cylinder which contains a known amount of water. There must also be another hollow mechanism which is placed within the cylinder (but) above the water, and a string which has one of its ends tied to this hollow mechanism. The other end is tied to the part of a small container which is placed above the hollow cylinder. In (this container) there is a ball. Under the ball there is another bowl (placed) in such a manner that if the ball drops will fall into the bowl, and its jingle will be heard. Then the bottom of the cylindrical mechanism must be pierced to a determined extent so that the water can escape through it little by little…. All of this can be determined by a determination of the extent of cause which neither increases nor decreases. It is possible to make the falling of the ball into the bowl a cause of another action and this other action a cause of a third action, and to continue this process indefinitely so that from it are generated remarkable and predetermined movements (actions) of circumscribed extent. The first cause was the falling of the water in a determined quantity…. All of that happens in a determined quantity and to a determined extent which causes the determination of all of it by (adding at this point) the determination of the first movement which is the movement of the water. When you understand that these mechanisms are the principles from which movements must result, and that the movement must be determined if the result is to be regulated, then certainly that which has been determined must proceed from them….Even as the movement of the mechanism, the string, and the ball are not external to the will of the inventor of the mechanism -on the contrary, that is what He willed when He invented the mechanism- so also all the events which occur in the world, both the evil and the good and the beneficial and harmful, are not external to the will of God Most High. Rather (all of) that is the intention of God Most High for the sake of which He has planned its causes.” For Maimonides, as in al-Ghazālī, God is a perfect being and He must have the perfect attributes. Because of knowing is a perfect attribute, He should know everything, and His knowledge is different from human knowledge. In order to explain the difference between God’s knowledge and human knowledge Maimonides gives a parable in The Guide of the Perplexed. “Suppose a thing is produced in accordance with the knowledge of the producer, the producer was then guided by his knowledge in the act of producing the thing. Other people, however, who examine this work and acquire a knowledge of the whole of it, depend for that knowledge on the work itself. An artisan makes a box in which weights move with the running of the water, and thus indicate how many hours have passed of the day and of the night. The whole quantity of the water that is to run out, the different ways in which it runs, every thread that is drawn, and every little ball that descends -all this is fully perceived by him who makes the clock; and his knowledge is not the result of observing the movements as they are actually going on; but, on the contrary, the movements are produced in accordance with his knowledge. But another person who looks at that instrument will receive fresh knowledge at every movement he perceives; the longer he looks on, the more knowledge does he acquire; he will gradually increase his knowledge till he fully understands the machinery…Our knowledge is acquired and increased in proportion to the things known by us. This is not the case with God. His knowledge of things is not derived from the things themselves; if this were the case, there would be change and plurality in His knowledge…” As can be seen from above, when Maimonides is explaining the difference of God’s and human knowledge, he uses the same example what al-Ghazālī used. Even though Maimonides does not mention al-Ghazālī’s name in his works, it could be seen that there are a lot of similarities between al-Ghazālī’s and Maimonides’s ideas. Based on Griffel and Stroumsa’s argument, in this paper, I tried to show that there is a similarity between al-Ghazālī’s and Maimonides’s ideas on God’s knowledge. In my opinion, therefore, in the formation of Maimonides’s thought, as he thanks to Muslim philosophers like al-Farābī, Avicenna and Averroes, he also thanks to al-Ghazālī. (shrink)

This dissertation defends materialism from the epistemic arguments against materialism. Materialism is the view that everything is ultimately physical. The epistemic arguments against materialism claim that there is an epistemic gap between physical and phenomenal truths (for example, that knowing the physical truths does not put you in a position to know the phenomenal truths), and conclude from this that there is a corresponding gap in the world between physical and phenomenal truths, and (...) materialism is false. -/- Chapter 1 introduces materialism and the arguments against materialism that I respond to in this dissertation. -/- Chapters 2 and 3 explore the phenomenal concept strategy (PCS), one promising materialist response to the epistemic arguments against materialism. The PCS admits that there is an epistemic gap between physical and phenomenal truths, but claims that it arises because of something special about our concepts of consciousness and not because of something special about consciousness itself. -/- Chapter 4 considers what reason there is to think that there is an epistemic gap between physical and phenomenal truths in the first place. I argue that some arguments might succeed in showing that there is such an epistemic gap, but that if these arguments succeed then they end up vindicating the PCS. -/- Chapter 5 considers more generally what is required for an epistemic gap to exist. In particular, it considers whether conceptual analysis is necessary to close an epistemic gap. (shrink)

Among the readers of Swedenborg, the Swedish thinker’s ‘theory of correspondences’ is often interpreted as treating empirical realities as only imperfect manifestations of spiritual realities. This interpretation that ascribes idealism to Swedenborg was originally proposed by Kant in the Dreams of a Spirit-Seer. Although Kant criticizes Swedenborg’s theory, he considers it no inferior to the theories of Leibniz and Wolf, which can entice a reader of Swedenborg to take Kant’s interpretation at face value: even if Kant did not agree (...) with Swedenborg, at least he took him to be on par with these ‘serious’ philosophers. However, this paper attempts to show that unless a reader of Swedenborg is willing to endorse Kant’s disdain towards ‘enthusiasm’, Swedenborg should not be interpreted as a Platonic idealist, because he devised his theory of correspondences precisely in order to avoid such idealism. As few scholars have recently pointed out, Swedenborg, like Kant, thinks that all our cognitive abilities operate in the limits of time and space, i.e. in the empirical world, but for Swedenborg, as opposed to Kant, this does not imply that we cannot acquire knowledge of the spiritual world. According to these scholars, Swedenborg thinks that such knowledge can only be acquired mystically, which would render him a Platonic idealist, just as Kant claimed. However, this paper claims that pace the aforementioned scholars, this is not the only or even the default way of coming to know the spiritual world according to Swedenborg. The paper argues that when positing that every empirical and spiritual reality ‘correspond’ with one another, Swedenborg uses the Latin word correspondere in a technical sense. In other words, he thinks that any human cognition is both spiritual in the sense of involving a logical relationship between extension and spirit, and empirical by occurring in time and space. Thus, by cognising something in the empirical world, we also cognise something in the spiritual world, even if we were not capable of knowing spiritual realities in themselves. This element of Swedenborg’s theory distances him from Platonic idealism. The paper concludes with a suggestion that Kant might have perceived the limitations of his interpretation of Swedenborg later on, as signalled by the fact that in the early 1780s, Kant extended his conception of Platonism to include all philosophy other than his own. However, taking this road would make Platonic idealism an uninformative concept for an interpreter of Swedenborg and apt to be replaced by the term ‘enthusiasm’–the concept that Kant used when describing those with whom he disagreed. (shrink)

Among the readers of Swedenborg, the Swedish thinker’s ‘theory of correspondences’ is often interpreted as treating empirical realities as only imperfect manifestations of spiritual realities. This interpretation that ascribes idealism to Swedenborg was originally proposed by Kant in the Dreams of a Spirit-Seer. Although Kant criticizes Swedenborg’s theory, he considers it no inferior to the theories of Leibniz and Wolf, which can entice a reader of Swedenborg to take Kant’s interpretation at face value: even if Kant did not agree (...) with Swedenborg, at least he took him to be on par with these ‘serious’ philosophers. However, this paper attempts to show that unless a reader of Swedenborg is willing to endorse Kant’s disdain towards ‘enthusiasm’, Swedenborg should not be interpreted as a Platonic idealist, because he devised his theory of correspondences precisely in order to avoid such idealism. As few scholars have recently pointed out, Swedenborg, like Kant, thinks that all our cognitive abilities operate in the limits of time and space, i.e. in the empirical world, but for Swedenborg, as opposed to Kant, this does not imply that we cannot acquire knowledge of the spiritual world. According to these scholars, Swedenborg thinks that such knowledge can only be acquired mystically, which would render him a Platonic idealist, just as Kant claimed. However, this paper claims that pace the aforementioned scholars, this is not the only or even the default way of coming to know the spiritual world according to Swedenborg. The paper argues that when positing that every empirical and spiritual reality ‘correspond’ with one another, Swedenborg uses the Latin word correspondere in a technical sense. In other words, he thinks that any human cognition is both spiritual in the sense of involving a logical relationship between extension and spirit, and empirical by occurring in time and space. Thus, by cognising something in the empirical world, we also cognise something in the spiritual world, even if we were not capable of knowing spiritual realities in themselves. This element of Swedenborg’s theory distances him from Platonic idealism. The paper concludes with a suggestion that Kant might have perceived the limitations of his interpretation of Swedenborg later on, as signalled by the fact that in the early 1780s, Kant extended his conception of Platonism to include all philosophy other than his own. However, taking this road would make Platonic idealism an uninformative concept for an interpreter of Swedenborg and apt to be replaced by the term ‘enthusiasm’–the concept that Kant used when describing those with whom he disagreed. (shrink)

This paper aimed to vindicate that Aristotle’s method of reaching the definition of something in Z 12 of Metaphysics is incomplete and suggest the way in which we can reach its true definition. This paper claimed that the definition reached by genus and differentia (say, “a human is a featherless, two-footed animal.”) is not true but merely a taxonomic definition¾“what a definition is like” (1038a35). The combination of essential differentiae of something does not express what (...) it is intrinsically but what other things are not, although the definition is the account of the essence. The combination of the differentiae ‘featherless’ and ‘two-footed’ are not what makes us humans in a positive sense. These differentiae simply set us apart from all other animals. Moreover, his method is arbitrary. The combination of essential differentiae is subject to change insofar as we can swap out one differentia for another. However, the essence of something cannot be changeable. In order to make “a definition like” be “a true definition,” this paper suggests another interpretation of the ultimate differentia. As he presents it, the ultimate differentia is the one that cannot be further divided. However, this paper interprets the ultimate differentia of something as its activity (ἐνέργειά) and its end (τέλος). Hence, it is necessary to combine Aristotle’s method of differentiation with the teleological ultimate differentia of something if we want to reach its true definition. Aristotle at various times refers to human as a rational animal, at other times as a featherless two-footed animal throughout his corpus. This paper suggests that one is taxonomic, an example of what definition is like, and the other one represents the achievement that can be made when we know the true end of a thing¾that is, true definition, if a human is for thinking with our logos. Keywords: definition, essence, taxonomy, differentia, the ultimate differentia, activity, end. (shrink)

Our know-it-alls, the new spirits, assert that faith alone saves and that works and external things contribute nothing to this end. We answer: It is true, nothing that is in us does it but faith, as we shall hear later on. But these leaders of the blind are unwilling to see that faith must have something to believe—something to which it may cling and upon which it may stand. Thus faith clings to (...) the water and believes it to be Baptism in which there is sheer salvation and life, not through the water, as we have sufficiently stated, but through its incorporation with God's Word and ordinance and the joining of his name to it. When I believe this, what else is it but believing in God as the one who has implanted his Word in this external ordinance and offered it to us so that we may grasp the treasure it contains? 1. (shrink)

Whatever our profession we are all engulfed in daily life and in the obscurity and density of the mental world. Who is this “I” that finds expression in such a wide variety of societies, in the convictions of the group and temperament of the individual self, in all that I perceive imperfectly and that makes me me? What does this sometimes slippery, sometimes thorny “I” say about the various attitudes towards knowing: the things I desperately (...) want to know, things I believe myself capable of dispensing with, those I fear knowing? (shrink)

The present contribution describes the nature of social practices based on habitual behavior. The first part concerns the notion of “habit” from a perspective that crosses philosophy and science. Habits structure our daily life and possess a social nature, as shown by informally shared habits and institutionalized rituals. After a brief reference to the philosophical debate, we point out the fundamental dimensions of habitual behavior, i.e., routine and goal-directed behavior. They also characterize shared social habits like rituals because we (...) need to: (a) simply follow social institutional practices and (b) actively cooperate to reach a certain goal. Our descriptive strategy aims at promoting the aspect of “control” in habitual behavior, namely, the possibility of accepting or refusing to do something. This control does not work in many pathological cases and cases of auto-illusion. The second part of the article will illustrate the interesting but disregarded case of the epistemic and moral embubblement, explaining it as an individual cognitive process and as a specific social practice that once followed or institutionalized becomes a shared practice routinely performed. The main features of an epistemic bubble concern the widespread situation in which the cognitive agents always resolve the tension between their thinking that they know _P_ and their knowing _P_ in favor of knowing that _P_”. The related case of the moral bubble indicates the situation in which agents are potentially or actually violent and unaware of it. This cognitive process expresses how difficulties in recognizing one’s own violence leads to disregarding the possible or actual inflicted harm: in this case, a process of what can be called “autoimmunity” is at play. We will contend that the concept of moral bubble can provide an integrated and unified perspective able to interpret in a novel way many social practices in which morality and violence are intertwined. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:I would like to begin by thanking Gregory LaNave for his analysis of Bonaventure's Itinerarium. His interpretation has helped me clarify my own understanding of that rich text. I would also like to thank the editors of Franciscan Studies who invited this response. It focuses on LaNave's misreading of "symbolic theology," his own "scientific" interpretation of the Itinerarium, and the relationship between scientific and symbolic theology as explained (...) by Bonaventure. Accordingly, I divide my response into three parts: Clarifying the Meaning of Symbolic Theology, Critique of Dr. LaNave's Analysis, and Scientific and Symbolic Theology.Clarifying the Meaning of Symbolic TheologyIn Divine and Created Order in Bonaventure's Theology, I employ the term "symbolic theology" to help the modern reader approach and appreciate Bonaventure's profuse use of symbols in the Itinerarium. Dr. LaNave acknowledges that such an accommodation is valuable: "The symbolic reading of Bonaventure has undoubted merits, not least of which is its attempts to do justice to his deft use of an array of symbols in his theology."In my "attempts to do justice" to the ubiquitous symbols throughout the Itinerarium, I describe "symbolic theology" in two ways. First, I claim that Bonaventure:does not employ symbols to prove anything, rather, he resorts to the effusive nature of symbols to demonstrate ineffable mysteries that elude easy description … symbolic thinking, in its most authentic form, is not a second-best mode of grasping reality but a penetration of its most profound metaphysical structure and dynamics.LaNave seems to have two concerns. On the one hand, since symbols do not "prove anything" he deems them as rather inadequate in describing metaphysical realities. For LaNave, symbols can not be "merely symbolic" if "they are in fact ways to penetrate the real metaphysical structure of the realities in question." The "merely" points to the need for something more, which LaNave identifies as the "objectivity of sensation" according to the "canons of a scientific theology ," In effect, he emphasizes by a threefold repetition that the "objectivity of sensation" can better examine "what is really there." It seems that symbols are less equipped for such a task.On the other hand, LaNave's contrast of "symbolic" with "scientific" seems to confuse what I identified as a general characteristic for the actual methodology I employed to analyze the Itinerarium: an analysis of the analogical triads produced by the threefold method of doubling. Like LaNave, I base my interpretation upon the dialectic of seeing God through and in a mirror . Hence, I disagree that I employ a "symbolic approach to theology." Rather, my approach primarily examines the text's analogical triads.Second, I also comment, "Bonaventure uses symbols to provide the imagination with powerful images with which one may ponder the deepest and highest levels of knowing." As an example, I provide the two symbols of the Seraph and Temple from Isaiah 6:1-2. However, LaNave does not comment on this second description of Bonaventure's "symbolic theology." Instead he states:the mystery revealed in any such symbol points to the whole of the mystery, never to any one part in isolation. For example, one may speak about creation and its relationship to the single creative activity of the Creator; but one must at the same time know that Creator to be the Trinity, and see the analogous presence of the Trinity in the creature. Analytical thinking might try to separate these elements; symbolic thinking always strives to see them implied in each other.To justify his claim, he cites pages 228-29 of Divine and Created Order.These pages do not treat or even mention "symbolic theology." Rather, they explain the terms principium, primum, and primitas, and their relation to the notion of ordo. These three terms concern foundational concepts that shape the ontology, metaphysics, and epistemology of Bonaventure's theology. In effect, LaNave correctly.. (shrink)

The project of studying children in order to understand them, which lies at the heart of contemporary thinking about children and their education, is misconceived. It rests, jrst of all, upon a false belief that we can only come to know something properly by deliberately and systematically pursuing knowledge of it. Secondly, it offers a paradigm of knowing children which justifies parents and teachers in not giving themselves to children. By re-interpreting the problems that adults (...) experience with children as technical, as arising from lack of information about them, it ignores the personal and moral dimension of adults’ relations with children and thus further alienates them from one another. (shrink)

The project of studying children in order to understand them, which lies at the heart of contemporary thinking about children and their education, is misconceived. It rests, jrst of all, upon a false belief that we can only come to know something properly by deliberately and systematically pursuing knowledge of it. Secondly, it offers a paradigm of knowing children which justifies parents and teachers in not giving themselves to children. By re-interpreting the problems that adults (...) experience with children as technical, as arising from lack of information about them, it ignores the personal and moral dimension of adults’ relations with children and thus further alienates them from one another. (shrink)

In this essay, I provide a new argument for Intellectualism about knowing how, one that does not rest on controversial assumptions about how knowing how is ascribed in English. In particular, I argue that the distinctive intentionality of the manifestations of knowing how ought to be explained in terms of a propositional attitude of belief about how to perform an action.

The emerging international biomedical law tends to recognise the right not to know one’s genetic status. However, the basis and conditions for the exercise of this right remain unclear in domestic laws. In addition to this, such a right has been criticised at the theoretical level as being in contradiction with patient’s autonomy, with doctors’ duty to inform patients, and with solidarity with family members. This happens especially when non-disclosure poses a risk of serious harm to the patient’s relatives (...) who, without that vital information, could be deprived of preventive or therapeutic measures. This paper argues, firstly, that individuals may have a legitimate interest in not knowing their genetic make up to avoid serious psychological consequences; secondly, that this interest, far from being contrary to autonomy, may constitute an enhancement of autonomy; thirdly, that the right not to know cannot be presumed, but must be “activated” by the individual’s explicit choice, and fourthly, that this is not an absolute right, in the sense that it may be restricted when disclosure to the patient is necessary in order to avoid a risk of serious harm to third persons. (shrink)

Walking through the supermarket, I see the avocados. I know they are avocados. Similarly, if you see a pumpkin on my office desk, you can know it’s a pumpkin from its looks. The phenomenology in such cases is that of “just seeing” that such and such. This phenomenology might suggest that the knowledge gained is immediate. This paper argues, to the contrary, that in these target cases, the knowledge is mediate, depending as it (...) class='Hi'>does on one’s knowledge of what the relevant kind of thing looks like. To make the case requires examining the nature of knowing what Fs look like. Is such knowledge to be understood as knowledge of a fact, or rather as a kind of ability? From the conclusion that the knowledge in the target cases is not immediate, the paper concludes that perception does not afford us immediate knowledge concerning objects’ kinds. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 27.2 (2003) 284-303 [Access article in PDF] Accidental Art:Tolstoy's Poetics of Unintentionality Michael A. Denner I ART'S ABILITY TO INFECT another with an emotion, the concept that has come to be probably the most readily identified catchphrase in What Is Art? (though it crops up in his earlier writings on art), derives from L. N. Tolstoy's dynamic identity claim about art: we know an (...) artist has created a genuine work of art when he "hands on to others feelings he has lived through, and that others are infected by these feelings and also experience them." 1 "What is art?" is then a taxonomical question, and, according to Tolstoy, art is identifiable from non-art not by some set of external characteristics—the way, say, Aristotle categorized animals in his natural history—rather art is recognizable by its function, by what it does. In this sense art is like a tool: A given thing is art because it performs a certain task, much as one might claim a screwdriver is anything that sets and removes screws, regardless of its external characteristics. Tolstoy, in fact, repeatedly refers to art as "orudie," "a tool," or even "a weapon."It is worth noting from the outset that this metaphor of contagiousness is one of sublimated violence. For its passive "perceiver" (Tolstoy's characteristic term for the consumer of art), art amounts to irresistible, surreptitious emotional manipulation by an external entity. Tolstoy is ever attentive to the underlying meanings of the words he chooses, and I think he means to emphasize the latent, etymological meaning of the zarazit', to infect, the root of which is razit', to strike, a military term that likely resonated with Tolstoy, a war veteran. 2 Etymological arguments aside, Tolstoy makes explicit the psychological violation that goes hand-in-hand [End Page 284] with the experience of a work of art in a diary entry from a period of work on an earlier variant of What Is Art?: "One must hone the artistic work so that it penetrates. To hone a work means to make it perfect artistically, in which case it will pierce through the indifference...." 3 In an earlier version of the essay, Tolstoy offers "hypnotism" as a synonym for infection (p. 53).With its ability to "penetrate" through indifference and colonize, willy-nilly, the other, art accomplishes directly and immediately what no amount of rational argument could accomplish: "Art is differentiated from the activity of rational activity, which demands preparation and a certain sequence of knowledge (so that one cannot learn trigonometry before knowing geometry), by the fact that it acts on people independently of their state of development and education, that the charm of a picture, of sounds, or of forms, infects any man whatever his plane of development" (p. 178).The effect of art does not depend on some graduated, sequential process as it does for rational activity: art's infectiousness is immediate and irresistible. According to What Is Art?, the summum bonum of art's infectiousness, its best use, but notably not its only, is bringing about the Kingdom of God by effecting a change in the psychology of all the individuals who experience it. "Religious art," Tolstoy's supreme category of art, surmounts the (ultimately illusory for Tolstoy) individuality of the perceiver by inducing in him or her an emotional union with the artist and all others who have experienced the work of art, thereby inducting all perceivers into the universal collective of humankind: "In this freeing of our personality from its separation from other people, from its isolation, in this uniting of personality with others, lies the chief characteristic and the great attractive force of art" (p. 228). Art is a sacrament and the artist a priest of sorts.It is often said, even by those who have read the work, that Tolstoy "rejected" art in the last decades of his life, and What Is Art? is often cited as evidence. Granted, much of the book excoriates much of the art of the ages, but one must not... (shrink)

The inclusion of the truth condition in the definition of knowledge has been responsible for a number of paradoxes. Some epistemologists claim that in the case of knowledge justification entails truth or that belief implies truth as there is a causal relation between truth and belief. Truth hence becomes redundant in the definition of knowledge. I do not drop the truth condition for this reason because this denies the autonomy of the distinct conditions for knowledge. I argue (...) class='Hi'>that truth and knowledge are inseparable. However. “that p is true” should not be a necessary condition in the definiens of the definiendum “S knows that p is true.” Whereas the quest of truth is a necessary condition for knowledge. While I drop the truth condition from the definition of knowing that p is true, I do not dropthe condition that p is false from the definition of knowing that p is false. This means that though I may know something that is not true, I cannot know something that is false. This is a compromised revision of the long standing intuition of epistemologists that if I know something then I cannot be wrong. Linda Zagzebski defines knowledge as: “Knowledge is a state of true belief arising out of acts of intellectual virtue.” (Zagzebski, 1996, 271). She has hence dropped the truth condition. Intellectual virtues direct us towards truth but they do not guarantee truth. In the ideal case whatever I know will be true, but in most cases it will be true to the best of my knowledge. (shrink)

What one is ultimately interested in with regard to ‘just cause’ is whether a specific war, actual or potential, is justified. I call this ‘the applied question’. Answering this question requires knowing the empirical facts on the ground. However, an answer to the applied question regarding a specific war requires a prior answer to some more general questions, both descriptive and normative. These questions are: What kind of thing is a ‘just cause’ for war (an aim, an injury or (...) wrong suffered, or something different altogether)? I call this ‘the formal question’. Then there is what I call the ‘the general substantive question’. Depending on the previous answer to the formal question, the general substantive question can be formulated as: ‘Which causes are just?’ or as ‘Under what conditions is there a just cause?’ A final question, which has recently elicited increased interest, is what I call ‘the question of timing’: does the ‘just cause’ criterion only apply to the initiation of a war or also to the continuation of a war, that is, can a war that had a just cause at the beginning lose it at some point in its course (and vice versa)? I argue that a just cause is a state of affairs. Moreover, the criterion of just cause is not independent of proportionality and other valid jus ad bellum criteria. One cannot know whether there is a just cause without knowing whether the other (valid) criteria (apart from ‘right intention’) are satisfied; and this account has certain theoretical and practical advantages. As regards the general substantive question, I argue that all kinds of aims can, in principle, be legitimately pursued by means of war, even aims that might sound dubious at first, like vengeance or the search for glory. Thus, the pursuit of such aims does not make the war disproportionate or deprive it of just cause. As regards the question of timing, I argue that the criteria of jus ad bellum apply throughout the war, not only at the point of its initiation. While starting a war at t1 might be justified, continuing it at time t2 might be unjustified (and vice versa), and this insight does not require an addition to jus ad bellum but is already contained in it. (shrink)

Descartes’s meditator thinks that if she does not know the existence of God, she cannot be fully certain of anything. This statement seems to contradict the cogito, according to which the existence of I is indubitable and therefore certain. Cannot an atheist be certain that he exists? Atheistic knowledge has been discussed almost exclusively in relation to mathematics, and the more interesting question of the atheist’s certainty of his existence has not received the attention it deserves. (...) By examining the question of atheistic knowledge in relation to the cogito, I articulate the advantage Descartes sees in having knowledge of God. I challenge a long-held reading of the cogito where “I exist” is the first full certainty and argue that while atheistic cogito is more certain than atheistic knowledge in mathematics, it cannot be a starting point for lasting and stable science, because science requires knowing the existence of the non-deceiving God. (shrink)

There is a social or collective sense of ‘knowledge’, as used, for example, in the phrase ‘the growth of scientific knowledge’. In this paper I show that social knowledge does not supervene on facts about what individuals know, nor even what they believe or intend, or any combination of these or other mental states. Instead I develop the idea that social knowing is an analogue to individual knowing, where the analogy focuses on the functional (...) role of social and individual knowing. (shrink)

When it comes to injustice, especially racial injustice, rage isn't just an acceptable response-it's crucial in order to fuel the fight for change. Anger has a bad reputation. Many people think that it is counterproductive, distracting, and destructive. It is a negative emotion, many believe, because it can lead so quickly to violence or an overwhelming fury. And coming from people of color, it takes on connotations that are even more sinister, stirring up stereotypes, making white people (...) fear what an angry other might be capable of doing, when angry, and leading them to turn to hatred or violence in turn, to squelch an anger that might upset the racial status quo. According to philosopher Myisha Cherry, anger does not deserve its bad reputation. It is powerful, but its power can be a force for good. And not only is it something we don't have to discourage, it's something we ought to cultivate actively. People fear anger because they paint it in broad strokes, but we can't dismiss all anger, especially not now. There is a form of anger that in fact is crucial in the anti-racist struggle today. This anti-racist anger, what Cherry calls Lordean rage, can use its mighty force to challenge racism: it aims for change, motivates productive action, builds resistance, and is informed by an inclusive and liberating perspective. People can, and should, harness Lordean rage and tap into its unique anti-racist potential. We should not suppress it or seek to replace it with friendly emotions. If we want to effect change, and take down racist structures and systems, we must manage it in the sense of cultivating it, and keeping it focused and strong. Cherry makes her argument for anti-racist anger by putting Aristotle in conversation with Audre Lorde, and James Baldwin in conversation with Joseph Butler. The Case for Rage not only uses the tools of philosophy to articulate its arguments, but it sharpens them with the help of social psychology and history. The book is philosophically rich and yet highly accessible beyond philosophical spheres, issuing an urgent call to all politically and socially engaged readers looking for new, deeply effective tools for changing the world. Its message will resonate with the enraged and those witnessing such anger, wondering whether it can help or harm. Above all, this book is a resource for the activist coming to grips with a seemingly everyday emotion that she may feel rising up within her and not know what to do with. It shows how to make sure anger doesn't go to waste, but instead leads to lasting, long-awaited change. (shrink)

Have social media sites like Facebook become such a significant part of our social fabric that people face negative consequences for not joining and sharing? What role does a right to privacy play in circumstances where self-disclosure is the norm? We surveyed students about teammate preferences for team members based on information availability and Facebook membership. Students report a strong preference for teammates for whom there is information and Facebook participation.

Prichard held, like some others before and since, that there is a categorial difference between knowing and believing: To know is not to have a belief of a special kind, differing from beliefs of other kinds; and no improvement in a belief and no increase in the feeling of conviction which it implies will convert it into knowledge. Nor is their difference that of being two species of a common genus. It is not that there (...) is a general kind of activity, for which the name would have to be thinking, which admits of two kinds, the better of which is knowing and the worse believing, nor is knowing something called thinking at its best, thinking not at its best being believing. (shrink)

Aquinas considers the questions “Does it exist?” and “What is it?” basic to any science in Aristotle’s sense. In his early works, Aquinas claims that we can answer the second question without answering the first, knowing a thing’s essence without knowing whether it exists. This claim is part of a famous argument for the real distinction between essence and existence in creatures, and for the existence of God. But in his later commentaries on Aristotle, Aquinas appears (...) to abandon the claim, insisting that it is impossible to know what something is without knowing whether it exists. What should we make of this apparent contradiction? It is possible that Aquinas simply changed his mind, or that in his later commentaries he is only explaining Aristotle’s view, with which he disagrees. In this paper, however, I defend a third solution based upon Aquinas’s distinction between two ways of knowing what something is—“by means of a definition” and “by means of a proposition.” For Aquinas explains that in the one way we can know a thing’s essence without knowing its existence, and in the other way we cannot. Thus, the apparent contradiction can be resolved by making just such a distinction. Yet understanding this third solution requires an examination of the semantics of definitions and propositions informing Aquinas’s logical approach to essence. Such an examination not only allows us to resolve the apparent contradiction between his works; it also gives us a better understanding of his logical approach to essence. (shrink)

ABSTRACTA longstanding tradition in philosophy distinguishes between knowthatand know-how. This traditional “anti-intellectualist” view is soentrenched in folk psychology that it is often invoked in supportof an allegedly equivalent distinction between explicit and implicitmemory, derived from the so-called “standard model of memory.”In the last two decades, the received philosophical view has beenchallenged by an “intellectualist” view of know-how. Surprisingly, defenders of the anti-intellectualist view have turned to the cognitivescience of memory, and to the standard model in particular, todefend (...) their view. Here, I argue that this strategy is a mistake. As it turns out, upon closer scrutiny, the evidence from cognitivepsychology and neuroscience of memory does not support theanti-intellectualist approach, mainly because the standard modelof memory is likely wrong. However, this need not be interpretedas good news for the intellectualist, for it is not clear that theempirical evidence necessarily supp... (shrink)

Participates in the internalism–externalism debate and offers broad support to the latter. If we consider evaluating others as potential informants, externalism seems right, for the subject's awareness of her fulfilment of the third condition for knowledge is neither necessary for her to be a good informant nor for her to be regarded as an informant at all. If the inquirer judges her own trustworthiness as an informant, then she will be in that extra state, which internalism adds to the (...) externalist account. Yet the extra state need not be built into the concept of knowledge, for being a good informant does not require being aware of fulfilling the third condition; relatedly, one can know without knowing that one knows. (shrink)

In saying ‘N knows that p’, where the supposed knowing is gained through rational reflection (the paradigm form of knowing, conceptually), I endorse N’s belief as rationally held, and hence correct (the ‘RhCB’ analysis). We understand this ‘hence’ not as ‘hence, infallibly’ but as ‘hence in fact’– a reliability reading, not implying infallibility (cf. the use of ‘hence’ to attribute non‐deterministic causation). The false appearance of inconsistency in our taking knowing to require an infallible guarantee of (...) correctness while regularly attributing knowledge where we lack an absolute guarantee arises from misreading of the ‘hence’ as implying infallibility, partly due to the mistaken assumption that ‘know’ functions purely descriptively. Though aware that rationality may occasionally fail to ensure correctness, we accept it as sufficing to yield knowledge wherever it does not fail – a consistent non‐infallibilist understanding of what knowing requires. (shrink)

Description: With major themes like "the knowledge of good and evil," "knowing that YHWH is your God," knowing that Jesus is the Christ, and the goal of developing Israel into a "wise and discerning people," Scripture clearly stresses human knowledge and the consequences of error. We too long for confidence in our understanding, the assurance that our most basic knowledge is not ultimately incorrect. Biblical Knowing assesses what Israel knew, but more importantly, how she (...) was meant to know--introducing a comprehensive Scriptural epistemology, firmly rooted in the Scripture's own presentation of important epistemological events in the story of Israel. Because modern philosophy has also made authoritative claims about knowledge, Biblical Knowing engages contemporary academic views of knowledge (e.g., Reformed Epistemology, scientific epistemology, Virtue Epistemology, etc.) and recent philosophical method (e.g., Analytic Theology), assessing them for points of fittedness with or departure from Scripture's own epistemology. Additionally, Biblical Knowing explores what proper knowing looks like in the task of theology itself, in the teaching and preaching of the church, and in the context of counseling.Endorsements: "Dru Johnson attends carefully to Scripture to elucidate the dimensions of human knowing it exemplifies throughout. He compares biblical knowing favorably with scientific epistemology in a Polanyian vein, and he contrasts it with the myopic preoccupation with propositions in Anglo-American analytic philosophy. Johnson taps his multi-disciplinary expertise to bring Christian scholars a valuable study that itself calls us to listening and participation in order to see a broader reality."--Esther L. MeekAssociate Professor of PhilosophyGeneva College"Dru Johnson's Biblical Knowing is a superb introduction to the latest currents in scholarship seeking to elucidate the philosophical content of Scripture. Johnson focuses on biblical approaches to human knowledge, arguing that Scripture shies away from propositional affirmations in favor of phenomenal experience as constitutive of knowledge. In doing so he defends rigor and clarity as biblical values, but boldly insists that these can be no less present in biblical stories about gaining knowledge than in the discursive arguments of later traditions. This is an excellent work that deserves careful attention, opening up new horizons in both philosophy and biblical studies."--Yoram Hazonyauthor of The Philosophy of Hebrew Scripture"Biblical Knowing makes a significant contribution to a fresh opening up of the relationship between Scripture and philosophy. This is no easy task, requiring the author to navigate philosophy, biblical studies, and theology. Dru does this masterfully. The result is a lucid, accessible text, and yet one that makes an original contribution. It is the sort of book that I have been waiting for when teaching epistemology and I suspect that many professors will have the same experience."--from the foreword by Craig G. BartholomewH. Evan Runner Professor of PhilosophyRedeemer University CollegeAbout the Contributor(s): Dru Johnson is an Assistant Professor of Biblical Studies at The King's College in New York City. He is also the Templeton Associate Research Fellow in Analytic Theology at the Institute for Advanced Studies at the Shalem Center in Jerusalem, Israel. (shrink)

This is a response to a Symposium on Phenomenology and Scripture. In examining a move from phenomenology to scripture, this symposium does not address all possible readers; it addresses a specific readership, for a specific reason, and within the framework of specific assumptions. By way of response, I want first to identify a few features of what I take to be the symposium’s specific address or context. Then, I will comment on what messages I believe the authors have delivered (...) to this context. The symposium specifically addresses those who participate willy nilly in the transcendental project of modern philosophy and of modern northern Europe. In that project, knowing, as noesis, means intentionality: its subject or agent is ultimately reducible to the unity of apperception; and its object— noema—is the object of the ego’s intentional knowing—the thematized object. It appears, furthermore, that the symposium identifies phenomenology not only with the species of Husserlian philosophy, but also with the broader genus of all efforts, from Descartes to Kant to Hegel to Husserl to Heidegger, to identify philosophy with an effort to frame the a priori conditions for, or the possibility of, knowing what we would know: from self to world to being itself—or to God. (shrink)