Showing posts with label Epistemology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Epistemology. Show all posts

December 11, 2014

Epistemology: Modest Foundationalism

From: Clear Philosophy - Philosophy Made Easy
(I would point the arrows in various directions,
 to show logical interconnections.)
APOLOGIA
By Hendrik van der Breggen
The Carillon, December 11, 2014

Epistemology: Modest Foundationalism

Epistemology is that branch of philosophy which studies knowledge. As a philosopher, I've come to think that the epistemological view called modest foundationalism is the way to go.

To understand modest foundationalism, it is helpful to look at foundationalism in general, classical foundationalism in particular, plus the latter's weaknesses.

Foundationalism-in-general is the theory of knowledge that there are two types of solid and secure beliefs: (1) basic beliefs, which ground or confer justification on other beliefs but are not themselves grounded or justified by other beliefs; and (2) those other, non-basic beliefs, which derive their justification from the basic beliefs via some appropriate belief-forming relation, such as deductive logic, enumerative induction, inference to best explanation, etc.

The set of properly basic beliefs of the classical foundationalist consists of—and is limited to—the following three, of which we have certainty.

(a) Self-evident beliefs. These are propositions seen to be true once understood: "bachelors are unmarried" (definitions); 2+2=4 (simple math); "if P then Q, P, therefore Q" (simple deductive logic).

(b) Incorrigible propositions. These are beliefs concerning one's own immediate experience which seem immune from doubt: e.g., that I feel pain.

(c) Sense-data. This is what's evident to my senses: I seem to see a tree (I am being appeared to "treely").

Significantly, classical foundationalism is problematic for two reasons. First, it self-refutes—it doesn't satisfy its own criteria. It's neither self-evident, nor incorrigible, nor evident to the senses. It's a philosophical thesis.

Second, it's a philosophical thesis that fails to include many ordinary beliefs obvious to common sense. Enter modest foundationalsim.

Modest foundationalists hold that the set of properly basic beliefs is broader than that of the classical foundationalist, and certainty isn't required. This larger set of beliefs is justified (modestly) on the basis that these beliefs are intuitively obvious in the absence of defeaters (reasons to think otherwise).

That is, what we take to be obviously true via our sensory/ rational/ moral intuitions is prima facie (not absolutely) justified. Such intuitions are very apparently true, and are legitimately believed as such in the absence of good reasons for thinking our intuitions are mistaken, though, logically, they might be mistaken.

Such intuitions are presumed innocent until proven guilty.

Modest foundationalism includes not only the classical foundationalist's basic beliefs (a), (b), and (c), but also most or all of the following: (d) that we're not trapped in a matrix or a dream (we intuit this); (e) that the world has existed for more than five minutes (we intuit this, too); (f) that many of our memory beliefs are accurate (I remember what I ate for breakfast, so there's no need to cut open my stomach to check).

Also included are (g) that there are minds other than my own (yes, your friends have them!) and (h) that my ordinary perceptions of the world are veridical, i.e., I am more or less accurately seeing what's in the external world when I examine the world around me (when I read this article I know I truly see variously-shaped squiggly black marks on an actual piece of paper).

Also, some philosophers add (i): that there are actual, non-socially-constructed moral truths. We can "just see" (know/ intuit) that beheading babies is really wrong, that cutting children in half is really wrong, that rape is really wrong (though some suppress this knowledge).

Finally, some philosophers add (j): that God is real. This is a properly basic belief triggered (as opposed to inferred) when, say, we experience beauty in nature or read the Bible (though this intuition can be suppressed, too).

I think that (j) is correct, though I would add that, if one struggles with or doubts (j), its truth can also be inferred/ discerned via the evidence of the world—its design, its moral character, plus its evidence of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus—all gotten through the use of (a) through (i) via the study of science, moral philosophy, and history.

(Hendrik van der Breggen, PhD, teaches philosophy at Providence University College. The views in this column do not always reflect the views of Providence.)

For further thought: 

July 15, 2010

False dichotomy fallacy (again)

APOLOGIABy Hendrik van der Breggen
(The Carillon, July 15, 2010)

False dichotomy fallacy (again)
The false dichotomy fallacy (a.k.a. false alternatives fallacy) is a mistake in reasoning which occurs when we assume that there are only two options, when there are actually more, yet we go on to conclude that one particular option (of the two options) must be true.

Here’s an example: Let’s say I argue that everything is either black or white, but X is not black, therefore X must be white. This is a false dichotomy fallacy because the truth of the matter is that there are shades of grey as well as shades of red, orange, green, etc.

Last time I presented some examples of the false dichotomy fallacy which are problematic with respect to ethics (i.e., physician-assisted suicide, embryonic stem cell research, experimentation on frozen human embryos). This time I will present an example that is problematic with respect to epistemology (i.e., theory of knowledge).

Consider this claim from New Testament scholar D. A. Carson (Carson doesn’t believe this claim, he merely and correctly presents it as a fallacy incurred by some thinkers he calls “hard postmodernists”): “Either we human beings can know something absolutely, perfectly, exhaustively…or we human beings can at best glimpse some small perspective on something or other without any mechanism for discovering whether our perspective is an important part of the whole, a distorted view of the whole, or a skewed view of the whole….”

In other words, either (a) we can have certain, infallible, and complete knowledge of X, or (b) we should embrace skepticism concerning knowledge of X—i.e., we can’t know X truly.

Clearly, we do not and cannot have certain, infallible, and complete knowledge (because we are not God). So, or so the (fallacious) argument goes, we should be skeptical. We cannot know. End of argument.

Significantly, however, a third alternative is missing. Consider (c): We sometimes can and do know X truly, albeit fallibly and non-exhaustively.

To support the truth of the missed third option, let X = a wooden pencil. Surely, I can know truly that there's a wooden pencil on my desk even though I don't know everything about the object I’m calling a wooden pencil. Surely, I can know truly that there's a wooden pencil on my desk even though I don't know what type of wood it's made of, what sort of hardness the lead is, what the exact thickness of the lead is, what the chemical composition of the yellow paint is, etc.

I know that the object in question is a wooden pencil by carefully observing its salient features: It's about 7 inches long, yellow, wooden, thin like other pencils, plus has a blackish lead, brownish eraser, shiny metal band.

Of course, I could be mistaken. The object could be a plastic mechanical pencil built to look like a regular wooden pencil. But the fact remains that when I examine the object, I see that it's a regular wooden pencil. In fact, when I re-check the evidence, I know it's a regular wooden pencil.

Of course, I should admit that it’s logically possible that I’m hallucinating or in a Matrix—clearly, I don’t have absolute certainty. However, I also know that mere logical possibility (such as the moon might be made of cheese) isn’t sufficient grounds for actually taking seriously that the possibility may be true (that the moon is in fact made of cheese). That is, I know that mere logical possibility (i.e., a description that isn’t internally contradictory) isn’t the same as epistemic plausibility or probability (i.e., an evidence-grounded knowledge claim).

Of course too, when I look at X’s features, I also don’t know exactly how I know that X is a wooden pencil. Presumably, light reflects off the pencil’s surfaces onto my retinae, which then send a neurological message to my brain, which in turn let’s me see the pencil plus classify its properties. Whether this story of how I know is correct or not, I know the following philosophical fact: Even though I don’t know how I know the pencil, I know that I know the pencil. That I know is more basic, knowledge-wise, than understanding how I know.

Thus, it’s reasonable to think that I sometimes can and do know X truly, even though my knowledge isn't exhaustive, isn’t perfect, and isn’t absolute. I know some things truly, even though I'm fallible and limited.

Happily, via the doing of various types of critical thinking—e.g., the sciences, history, New Testament studies, philosophy, etc.—I can know even more things, or at least come to a reasonable belief concerning those things, albeit fallibly and in a limited sort of way.

The false dichotomy fallacy—it sometimes takes careful thinking not to be fooled by it.

(Hendrik van der Breggen, PhD, teaches philosophy at Providence College, Otterburne, Manitoba, Canada. The views in this column do not always reflect the views of Providence.)