Martin LeFevre: What Is Knowledge?

The branch of philosophy concerned with the nature of knowledge, especially with reference to its limits and validity, is called epistemology. Ironically, such specialization is at the heart of the problem of knowledge. Indeed, a philosopher who specializes is no philosopher at all. But just what is knowledge?

To define knowledge is of course a function of knowledge, which begs the question: Is a perspective from which the nature of knowledge can be viewed even possible? But even at this level, if one holds a definition loosely, it can be useful.

To my mind, the known is the totality of human experience, whether stored in the brain, in books, or in computers. Therefore knowledge is both the rational and non-rational content of thought. It is the scientific, testable body of information that is exponentially growing, as well as the memories of a lifetime, as well as everything that has been passed down through the generations. Other animals acquire knowledge, but only humans know that they know, and know that they don’t know (though few stick with that premise).

This is a very broad definition of knowledge, which doesn’t wade into the many pools of schools, such as empiricism, rationalism, and constructivism, not to mention the even muddier streams of ‘true knowledge’ and ‘true belief.’ My intent here is not to provide a philosophical discourse, but to convey two things that seem clear. First, that knowledge and truth are distinct domains; and second, that there are two kinds of learning—positive and negative.

For thousands of years, conscious knowledge was only passed on orally. Technology changed very slowly, and traditions endured for a very long time. When writing emerged, things began to change more rapidly, although civilizations such Rome or Egypt still lasted hundreds or even thousands of years.

In prehistoric times, people did not distinguish practical knowledge from other kinds of knowledge. Beliefs about ancestors were just as real as the knowledge of animal behavior. A creation myth was just as true as the technique for making a fire, and woven just as deeply into the fabric of social life. In a way, we are still making that same mistake, by failing to distinguish between knowledge and truth.

Knowledge, even the most rigorous scientific knowledge, is not truth, but an idea or set of ideas about the world. Our ideas may be accurate, but they cannot be true, since what is true can only be perceived in the moment, without words or prior knowledge and experience. To know something and to be aware of something are completely different.

Most philosophers reject the proposal that there is such a thing as ‘immaculate perception,’ maintaining that our conditioning always determines, or at least colors what we see. But just as one can have a sensory perception of pain without a thought about the pain, so too one can see a tree without the word and knowledge about the tree mediating the experience.

In fact, one only sees a tree, or anything else, when knowledge--the entire content of the known-- is held in abeyance. One may study birds, and know a lot about a hummingbird for example. But watching with all one’s senses, mind, and heart the incredible movements of a hummingbird as it feeds a few feet away is not a function of knowledge. To truly see the hummingbird, knowledge and the known must be quiet.

Truth is the whole, ever-changing actuality in the present moment; knowledge is partial and always entrains the past, either systematically in science, or associatively in memory. Truth is neither relative nor absolute. To perceive the truth, and live by virtue of insight, one has to be capable of holding knowledge and the known in abeyance while watching and listening with all one’s being.

Knowledge is limited, not extensionally, but intrinsically. Living in terms of knowledge (which includes experience) is to severely limit, and ultimately deaden one’s being. The great lie of our age is that knowledge and expertise make a person intelligent and wise. Both the Right and the Left fall for the cult of the expert, and are in the thrall of known.

Knowledge, whether rational or non-rational, is accumulative. One kind of learning, involving knowledge, is cumulative, but there is another kind of learning altogether. Negative learning has nothing to do with knowledge. One starts and sticks with ‘I don’t know,’ and learns by negating knowledge and experience. Human beings grow by negation, not accumulation.

- Martin LeFevre is a contemplative, and non-academic religious and political philosopher. He has been publishing in North America, Latin America, Africa, and Europe (and now New Zealand) for 20 years. Email: martinlefevre@sbcglobal.net. The author welcomes comments.

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