3 - The Problem of Human Knowing: A Historical Overview From The Philosophy of the Human Person, by James B. Reichmann, SJ . . . it is not impossible to become a competent scientist without knowing much about the history of science, but no man can carry very far his own philosophical reflections unless he first studies the history of philosophy. Etienne Gilson INTRODUCTION The problem of human knowing is central to the problem of what it means to be human. It is not surprising, therefore, that the problem of knowing has played an important role in the historical development of Western philosophy. How this problem is resolved does, to a high degree, shape and determine one's view regarding a philosophy of the human person. A historical overview, however brief and inadequate, will greatly facilitate our understanding of the positions taken by modern and contemporary philosophers. It will, as well, enable us to contrast somewhat the views assumed by more recent thinkers with those of the early Greek philosophers, pointing up the similarities and differences between the two as well as highlighting areas of historical dependence. PLATO (427-347 B.C.) Plato was the first philosopher to undertake an in-depth analysis of the phenomenon of human knowing. He is without question one of the great intellectual geniuses of the Western world. Indeed, many scholars would rank him at the top. Unfortunately, since all of the major extant works of Plato are in dialogue form, it is difficult to determine whether or not the views expressed in the dialogues are meant to represent Plato's own views. Therefore, I will make no pretense of presenting an authentic historical account of Plato's views, but instead will provide a brief summary of the theory of forms, which seems to have its historical origin with Plato himself. We must leave to the Platonic scholar the ultimate determination of what Plato's own position was with regard to his theory and, particularly, whether he might have changed his views toward the end of his life. Scholars remain divided regarding the definitive interpretation of Plato's theory of recollection, and it may well be that the outstanding historical questions surrounding his views may never be resolved to everyone's satisfaction. For purposes of our present study we assume nothing more than that Plato intended his theory of forms to be taken seriously. Plato, who was deeply convinced of the intellectual dimension of man, made a sharp distinction between sensory and intellective knowledge. He did not accept the teaching of some of the earlier pre-Socratics, such as Democritus (460-362? B.C.), who viewed all knowledge as essentially one and explained human understanding as merely a refined form of sensation. Democritus conceived of knowledge as an effect of impinging atoms, from which all material things were made, on the senses. To explain the phenomenon of knowledge, Democritus employs what today we would call a mechanistic model, which is based on the assumption that ideas are merely images formed by the patterned onslaught of small particles of matter on the sensory faculties. In short, Democritus assumes a materialist position and sees no fundamental difference in sensing, knowing, and other activities found in nature, such as growth. Further, Democritus is a subjectivist, or phenomenalist, since he also maintains that what we know are the images, or perceptions, within the senses, not the things themselves, independent of the knower. Plato reacts forcibly against such a view of human knowing, and the general thrust of all his dialogues is to insist on the transcendent dimension of the human spirit vis-a-vis the material world. In his concern to refute the materialism of the earlier philosophers, Plato tends to sharply divide the world of human experience into two domains: that of understanding and that of sensory perception. Plato is convinced that the human act of understanding involves an activity that totally transcends the world of material objects and sensation. Ideas are universal and abstract and are unlimited by time and space. Consequently, Plato does not see how they could derive from the shadowy world of sense objects where things are in continual flux and are singular, material, and limited; therefore, subject to the limitations of time and space. Because of the dichotomy between the intellective and the sensory worlds, Plato saw no possibility for any real interaction between them, at least not to the extent that the mind is dependent upon the world of material things for the ideas it has. Since ideas are universal and immaterial, they could not derive from the material world where everything is singular. This leads Plato to deny that the material world is truly a cause of our knowledge. He will not deny, however, that the world of sensible things plays a role in our knowing, for it does occasion our awareness of our ideas. Yet Plato does not admit that the material world causes that knowledge, and thus he denies that there is any real dependency of the mind on sensible, or material, things. Hence, he must look elsewhere for his explanation of the origin of the ideas found in the human mind. In order to account for the ideas we have, Plato appeals to a prior existence of the mind or soul. He suggests that prior to birth the soul enjoyed a fullness of knowledge but that, when it was conjoined with the body, the soul lost its conscious awareness of the ideas it once had. Since union with the body induces in the soul a general state of forgetfulness, it is the role of sensible things to stimulate and thus occasion our recollection of the ideas we possess in our subconscious. It is for this reason that Plato is able to say that all learning is merely a matter of remembering and that, consequently, knowledge leads one back to the world of prior existence, where the mind or soul enjoyed an uninhibited vision of truth and goodness, of the ideas it now must struggle to recall through its contact with, and immersion in, the material world, which is really a world of shadows. From this, one can readily see that Plato's theory of the origin of knowledge is heavily intellectualist and that it attributes minimal importance to the body and to the world of sensible forms. Indeed, Plato views the body as an obstacle to the life of the soul, a kind of prison from which the soul is constantly trying to escape through the acquisition of knowledge. This view is strongly reinforced by Plato's symbolic account of human existence as it is presented in his famous allegory of the cave, in book seven of his Republic. ARISTOTLE (384-322 B.C.) A pupil of Plato's for nearly twenty years, Aristotle understood Plato's teaching thoroughly, but while he greatly admired his mentor, he was unable to entirely accept Plato's teaching. It should be borne in mind that even though Aristotle's theory of knowledge differs rather substantially from that of Plato's, Aristotle borrows heavily from him and is, in many respects, very much a Platonist. Aristotle shares Plato's profound conviction regarding the difference between sensory and intellective activity. He agrees that ideas do in fact transcend the material world of sensible things. Yet, at the same time, he does not accept Plato's contention that these ideas are obtained through a prior existence. Rather, he maintains that all ideas in the mind are derived through experience. Thus he views the material world as the cause of our ideas and not merely the occasion of them. In order to make good on this assertion, Aristotle must show how it is possible for immaterial and abstract ideas to derive from material and concrete things. It is not an easy task, and most of Aristotle's philosophic efforts, as well as those of many of the great philosophers throughout the Western tradition, were directed either toward making such an assertion plausible or toward attempting to show what an impossible task it was. Briefly, Aristotle's rejoinder to Plato is as follows: All human knowledge is obtained through experience. In the beginning of an individual's life, the mind is like a slate upon which nothing is written. The body must thus share with the soul the task of accumulating knowledge. The body is not the prison of the soul but the instrument whereby it obtains access to the material world. All knowledge must, for Aristotle, come to the mind by having in some way previously passed through the senses. To render such an explanation consistent, Aristotle must view the sensible world, which for Plato is merely a world of shadows, as a world of genuine intelligible objects. The material world was not actually knowing but it was capable of being known; it was intelligible. Aristotle refers to it simply as potentially knowable. The world is intelligible because, in a restricted but real sense, it contains ideas embedded in sensible objects. These ideas or forms, as he calls them, are not actually intelligible because they exist under material conditions, rather the freeing of the material forms from their material conditions renders them actually intelligible. Thus Aristotle sees understanding as an act by which the mind becomes one with the other, the material object. Not in the sense, of course, that there is a physical unity of the two, for the stone does not truly enter either into the eye or into the mind, but in the sense that the form or intelligible dimension of the material thing has been assimilated by the mind, and now functions as the form or determining principle by which the mind has been moved from a state of capacity to one of act. The mind is in act—that is to say, actually knowing at this moment—to the extent that it is informed by the other. From Aristotle's point of view, understanding is not remembering but discovering, for it is through understanding that the other reveals itself to the mind. Clearly, then, according to this view, the mind very much depends on the material world, not merely to occasion what it knows but to cause it to actually be that which is known. Aristotle also speaks of an agent, or active, intellect which performs the singularly important function of raising the material thing to the level of pure intelligibility. That is, the role of the active intellect is not to change the thing but to dematerialize it, liberating its form from the material conditions which make it concrete, singular, and individual. Aristotle's explanation places much more importance on the role of body in the human knowing process than does Plato's. In Aristotle there is a marked shift away from an appeal to an otherworldliness to explain knowing, and a pervading dependency of the human mind or spirit upon the body and the world of material things. Yet, at the same time, Aristotle also maintains that the act of understanding is an immaterial operation which transcends the world of sense, even though it does take its rise from that world as regards the content of its thinking. For Aristotle, human understanding is a dialogue with the world of sensible things.