The human mind is shaped by and tied to the language it speaks while communicating with other minds or itself.
We keep asking, “But what does it mean to say I know something?” or “What is knowledge?”. Think about it. What does this question presuppose? It presupposes that there is something called knowledge which we are trying to understand. In a mathematical context, the question “what is X?” is ill-posed unless X has been already defined in some form and now we are either asking for the definition or seeking to express what X is in a different form. When we ask what knowledge is, are we asking about the meaning of the word “knowledge” or the actual thing that this word talks about? Unless we answer the former, the latter is ill-posed. How do we investigate the meaning of words?
Understanding the meaning of the words we speak presupposes a vague conceptualization of the idea expressed by those words through usage and experience in the everyday world. Most of the work in philosophy begins with a concretization of the ideas expressed by words through a process that goes by the name of definition. However, definitions are often contested because they fail to incorporate certain aspects of the word recognized in everyday usage. Then, other definitions are proposed. A rational mind therefore does not or cannot invent concepts out of the blue, but begins with the world as experienced by the senses of its flesh and the words of its language, and abstracts the quintessence of its experience into a linear, coherent narrative starting from definitions, axioms and leading to conclusions. Philosophy is, in this respect, the refinement of everyday thought. Everyday thought is moulded by language. And language is a result of the accident of our biological design. Our thoughts are therefore unique to us as humans and our picture of the world is not an actual depiction of reality, but rather a caricature of the impression we have about how the world might look like.
Let me expand on that. Have you ever wondered what the world looks like to a bat? Surely, it has a mental impression of the world we share with it. But there is no reason to believe that it “sees” it the same way we do. For an extreme example, imagine that in the distant future a species of plants becomes sentient and self-aware. Perhaps it would not have any sense perception of spatial extension because of its restricted locomotion. Maybe it communicates with its friends through chemical signals sent via a complex network of interconnected roots under the soil. For survival, they would probably evolve features that allows them to communicate the distances of incoming predators, even though they have no direct sense perception of spatial extensions. What mental image do you think they would have of the world? Surely, it would be vastly different from how we see the world. Their language does not grant them the possibility of sharing the same ideas and concepts that we do. Similarly, our language does not grant us the possibility of seeing the world through the “eyes” of another being which communicates in a language vastly different from our own. Our impression of the world is essentially tainted by our cognitive lens, and therefore cannot be an actual depiction of reality, but only an impression.
Having said that, I would like to generalise the classical definition of knowledge, that it is a justified, true “belief”. Classifying knowledge as a subset of beliefs makes it seem subjective, because beliefs are experienced by a subject, perhaps exclusively humans. Although one can argue that the ontological truth of the world outside of a subject, which his sensory experiences make him perceive as being external to himself, may never be convincingly deduced, we shall notwithstanding take a leap of faith and assume the objective existence of the external world. Epistemic objectivity, in my opinion, is knowledge of the objective existence of things a subject experiences. Moreover, since the truth of propositions concerning the external world can never be asserted with complete certitude, nobody can tell if anybody ever knows anything. Modern usage of the word knowledge alludes to all kinds of beings (such as the sentient trees) and inanimate objects as well, entities which do not embody the capacity to hold beliefs. For example, we say “a planet knows where to go”, or “the tree knows when it is being eaten”. I, therefore, think it would be best to define knowledge as the possession of correct information. Beliefs are a subset of ways information can be stored.
I understand there might be some circularity in what I have said above, and perhaps these redefinitions simply push the real questions about epistemology that have puzzled philosophers for ages to these redefined terms, and they ask the same questions in other words. Nevertheless, I think it is fun, if not useful, to think about it in this way and to continue to ask questions about the supposedly obvious.
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