The pursuit of knowledge is the implicit or explicit objective of every academic discipline, not the least of these, the various disciplines that travel under the banner of Science.

The importance of knowing how we know (1)

You may not know much, but you know more than you think.

Not much. You?
Humorist Michael Feldman begins his weekly radio program by asking the audience, “Waddaya know?” To which the audience, with one voice, replies, “Not much. You?”

The pursuit of knowledge is the implicit or explicit objective of every academic discipline, not the least of these, the various disciplines that travel under the banner of Science. The process of schooling intends to equip us with such knowledge as will enable us to realize a full and enjoyable life. Adjusting what we know to the situations and circumstances in which we find ourselves at any moment is an occupation crucial to achieving our ends in life. Thus, understanding knowledge – what it is and how to attain it – would seem to be critical to human wellbeing.

In our day the question of what we know, or can know, has largely been taken over by the disciplines of materialist science. In many ways, this is a very good thing; in other ways, not so much.

The very word, “science,” derives from a Latin root which means, “knowing” or “being skilled” in something. The Oxford English Dictionary defines science as “The state or fact of knowing; knowledge or cognizance of something specified or implied.” The process and disciplines whereby people have come to know things have traditionally been referred to as “sciences.” Indeed, even the disciplines of theology have been referred to by this rubric over the years.

In our day, by a combination of gross negligence and craven cowardice on the part of certain members of the intellectual community, and intellectual sleight of hand on the part of others, the “hard” sciences – those disciplines that engage the material world in their quest for understanding, explanation, and practical usage – have come all but to monopolize the term, “science.” No university in America has a chair of theological science, or aesthetic science, or even philosophical science. The “softer” disciplines of social or human science – sociology, economics, education, psychology, and so forth – still claim the title, and, thus, some place at the table discussing what it is possible for human beings to “know.” But their ability to brandish the mantel of science depends, in large part, on their willingness to submit to protocols of knowing dictated by the material sciences and rigidly enforced by the scientific community as a whole.

But do we really want to say that human beings cannot be said truly to “know” anything unless and until that claim to knowledge, whatever it may be, has been subjected to rigorous testing, evaluation, trial, publication, and replication by other “knowers”? Not even the most devoted materialist would make such a claim.

If that were the case, asked at any time what we claim to know, we might all respond with a shrug by saying, “Not much. You?”

On the other hand…
The problem, of course, is that all of us do know some things, many things, in fact, and not all the things we know – indeed, not even most of them – have been learned through the scientific method.

Moreover, as is obvious in the cases both of “bad science” – scientists who manipulate data to prove their claims, as in the case of certain British environmental scientists – and mistaken scientific conclusions – Ptolemy’s wrong view, based on careful observation of the material cosmos, of the nature of our solar system – the protocols of science can at times lead to wrong knowledge.

All this points to what philosopher A. J. Ayer referred to as “the problem of knowledge”: how can we know anything, and how can we know that we know it? Obviously this is an important question, since virtually all our conscious actions in the world, all day long, are based on what we think we know. If we think we know something to be one way, and it turns out to be otherwise, our actions will have been in vain, or even perhaps disastrous.

Happily, for most of us, the things we claim to know, and of which we are fairly well assured, typically work out as we expect: That driver in the other lane will obey the law and not suddenly veer in front of me. My employer will reward my labors every two weeks with a pay check. My wife and family will be waiting for me at home. Mashing this button on something called a “remote” will activate my CD player, and the particular choice I have indicated will bring pleasure and relaxation after a long day at work. When I inquire concerning what is for dinner, and receive an answer, I can be assured that my query has been heard, my ears have processed a reliable response, and when I sit down to dinner what was promised will be delivered. And so on.

For the vast majority – by far and away the vast majority – of our decisions each day, we act on knowledge which we have acquired by some means other than the protocols of material science. And, since the actions we take on the basis of such knowledge combine to produce the daily routines with which we are so familiar, and which seem to work so well for us, there must be some other way, or other ways, of accounting for what we know besides that over which the scientific community claims virtual hegemony.

What do we know, how do we know, and how do we know that we know?
Most of us have never taken the time to ponder the questions posed in the heading above. We just know stuff, and what we know – however we have come to know it – seems to serve us pretty well.

That kind of studied indifference to the problem of knowledge may not hinder us most of the time. However, at some critical points in our lives, especially where issues of life and death, happiness and fulfillment, meaning and purpose are involved, failure to understand this problem and to work through it in a satisfactory manner can make a significant difference in our experience of life.

There are elements of knowledge and ways of knowing which are more fundamental and more important than what the material sciences can tell us. All of us employ these ways of knowing, but perhaps few of us understand how they work and whether or not our use of them should be considered as reliable.

In the next several installments of this column I propose to address the problem of knowing. My aim is not to knock materialist science down from its high horse. Rather, my aim is to examine other means of knowing, to consider their limits and proper use, and to make sure they have a proper place in the saddle of our lives. Further, I hope to demonstrate aspects of how we know that are common to all forms of knowing and which, the better we understand them, and the more careful we are in their use, the more reliable and true will be our claims to knowledge in every area of life.

T. M. Moore is Principal of The Fellowship of Ailbe, a spiritual fellowship in the Celtic Christian tradition (www.ailbe.org), and Dean of Centurions. He serves as Content Manager for The Chuck Colson Center for Christian Worldview (www.chuckcolsoncenter.org) and as General Editor for The Worldview Church (www.worldviewchurch.org). Sign up at our website (www.ailbe.org) to receive his daily email devotional Crosfigell, reflections on Scripture and the Celtic Christian tradition. You can also sign up at www.colsoncenter.org to receive his daily study, ViewPoint, studies in Christian worldview living, or at www.worldviewchurch.org to receive his daily pastoral devotional, Pastor to Pastor. T. M. and his wife and editor, Susie, have four grown children and eleven grandchildren and make their home in Hamilton, VA.