The Gooseythro:
What is knowledge?
Badger wanders the market place (agora)
alone, asking his philosophical questions to all those who pass by.
“Where are you headed on this bright day,
dear Stoat?”
“Badger! I shall not talk with you, else you
try to suck me into one of your long winded dialogues. Good day.”
“And to you, too. Ah, but who is this
flapping down from his favourite oak tree. Owl, over here! Owl, come and land
by me.”
“Badger! I am in such a rush I cannot even
stay to preen my feathers. And even if I were not so hurried I would be
suspicious that you will try to-”
“Oh never mind, away with you (some animals
are so busy these days). Yet who is this cresting yonder hill -- a bard?
Gooseythro, lo there Goose, where are you headed?”
“Badger! I was just going to play my lute by
the beach. Should be a few hours of sun left yet. Will you join me?”
“I would, but I am engaged with something
else. Perhaps you could help me?”
“But of course my friend, you need only ask.”
“Very well, Goose. You see, I was most perplexed
this morning, having woken with something of an aching head. I fear some manner
of disease has stolen from me memories I once safely stored up there. I can't,
for all of my efforts, seem to remember what 'knowledge' is!”
“That is a most unlikely story Badger. It is
almost as if you were trying to ask me a philosophical question about knowledge
in a roundabout way. Nuh...hold your tongue, you don't need to apologise to me.
I will just answer the question and then continue my gay quest to the beach. Knowledge
is things that you know. There, you are cured and we can continue enjoying
our lives.”
“Knowledge is what you know. Hhhm. But what
about --”
“Now look here, Badger! I know this game.
It's the one where you keep on asking questions indefinitely. I shall not
indulge you any longer!”
“Good Goose, this is my last question, I
promise. All I want to know is what knowing is.”
“Okay, fine! Knowing is when you have an
understanding of something as being true. I know that I am carrying a lute. I
know that I am in Athens in 458 BC. I know that I am going to the beach very,
very soon and that you are coming with me to enjoy your life.”
“Yet these are all obvious enough truths and
thus easy to grasp. If this were all knowledge is, everyone would be an expert
of everything just through brute existence alone. Is knowledge merely our
understanding of the obvious?”
“Yes, well I don't just know obvious things
like the date. I know that two and two combined together make four, I know how
to play elegant strains on my lute and I know that the gods alter the passage
of stars and moon”
“Now let us not get carried away here Goose.
How is it you know it is the gods who move the stars about?”
“Simple really. What else could it be?”
“Why, it could be any number of things!”
“But I have evidence on my side, Badger. Very
powerful evidence.”
“Will you not share this with me before you
depart?”
“Yes I will (for I must admit this is getting
interesting). Every time the priesthood has struck upon the golden drum to wake
the gods a new moon has followed. How can it be denied that the moon-change is
created with the awakening of the gods?”
“The answer is quite simply to not strike the
drum, and wait to see whether or not the moon emerges.”
“But then the moon shall not emerge and the
tides shall wither!”
“How do you know this, Goose? I would love to
know.”
“For the new moon turns only with the beating
of the drum. It has been proven time and time again.”
“Perhaps it is not the drum that wakes the
gods, but some other force we do not yet know about. Although let us not get
bogged down here. I for one find it interesting that you tried to present
evidence of your knowledge, as opposed to just stating a belief.”
“A foolish Goose I would be if I did that! I
am certain a belief is not knowledge, no. It is just a belief. Once we have
evidence for it, then it becomes knowledge.”
“So this means that only things we can
confirm as true count for knowledge? So your memory of the song about the Pussycat
and the Minotaur is knowledge, because you know how to play it, but the
actual lyrics are not knowledge, as most of us
do not believe in ridiculous mythical creatures such as pussycats.”
“No, no, no. You misunderstand. The lyrics
are knowledge of a story, but the story itself is false. Remember, that because
the adventures are supposed to be illogical, it is alright to call them
knowledge. But if I said three and two made seventeen, this would not be okay.”
“So what you are saying, Goose, is this: You
know the song to be representative of a false, fantastical world of magic, but
it still counts as knowledge, because songs are supposed to be fantastical.”
“Precisely, Badger – you put it more
succinctly than I ever could.”
“I must disagree with you, dear Goose. You
see, I would categorize your song as a work of art,' at this, Goose blushed, 'which is designed to
operate on a different level to our everyday ideas of knowledge. For instance,
I may know how to fix a sandal, but this is merely technical knowledge. I may
know the meaning of life is to overcome the world of appearances in the search
of perfect ideas, this is debatable philosophical knowledge. I may know that it
is unlikely the gods concern themselves with piddling little moons, this is
knowledge of what is not the case. And I may know how to sing a song about
unlikely creatures such as possums, this is not really knowledge, but more an
artistic expression.”
“Then that would mean that not everything I
know is knowledge! Oh this is confusing me greatly, Badger. Although I do appreciate
you dividing things up into categories, I would much rather think that
everything in our heads that can be proven should be considered knowledge.”
“Oh, we move in circles like a donkey around
the well! Tell me, dear Goose, if you were lost in the desert and you saw a
mirage of an oasis, would that constitute knowledge?”
“Why not at all, Badger. I would think that I
was being tricked. Just as when I dream about making love, I know the visions
to be something different from real life. But even those illusions are still
part of my being, part of my memory, and part of my knowledge. Oh I insist it!”
“Then, just as an illusion has no realness
outside of your head; is it not fair to also call your song an illusion?
Alluding to a reality that is not there, after all?”
“I suppose I shall have to give you that
point, Badger. Are we finished now?”
“Not quite yet, I have one last question. Is
the song a good song?”
“Why of course it is! Do you doubt my
song-craft, Badger?”
“I do not. Yet Mule is not fond of your strains. Nor is Eel”
“What does Mule know about music?! And Eel
hasn't ears – she has no right to judge.”
“Ah, so people have varying 'knowledge' about
what is good music and what is bad. Mule dislikes your music because he does
not know it is good.”
“Precisely! That poor deprived quadruped.”
“And why does he not know your music is good?
Certainly he has heard it on many occasions. This means either one of two
things: either everyone can eventually be taught to learn about what is good or
not, or some things are not knowledge and are just down to the whims of the
individual animal.”
“No, that is nonsense. My music is good
because most people have said it is. This is my evidence – this
justifies my belief and makes it true. Right, Badger?”
“I am not convinced, good Goosey, I’m not
convinced at all. You are saying that knowledge is determined by the greatest
number of animals assenting to it. Yet this means that if everyone said the sky
was a dark shade of maroon, we would have to submit to it, in spite of our
contrary evidence.”
“Now it is you who is being naughty, Badger!
Earlier we established many different 'knowledges'. One was based on what we
could see, 'the sky is blue' and then we all conclude that the sky is blue. Art
however, must depend on some other type of knowledge – for all of us experience
art, but not all of us come to the same conclusions. So in terms of the worth
of song, I would say that it depends on the numbers who like it.”
“Well confound me, Goose – ye aesthetic
avian! I did not come here to discuss matters of art and other trivia. I must
say I am disappointed, with you and with myself for falling into such a trite
dialogue.”
“Do not for a second blame me for all of
this. You are the one who started it all.”
“I did, but not with the intention of falling
into the nettles of trickery.”
“How have I tricked you?! If anything it is
you who is the notorious, slippery irritant.”
“You said that mule did not have knowledge of
your music being good, because he was lacking something. Then you said that
what made your music good was that most people enjoyed it. However, everyone
knows that mule is obsessed with gossip and tends to conform to what others
say. The likelihood of mule not knowing that other people liked your music is not
worth considering.”
“Oh. I had not considered that much.”
“Such a conclusion is ludicrous; that the way
to know if something is 'good' is to know whether or not everyone likes it.
There must be something else that determines such knowledge. Hhhmm. Aha, I have
it. We are looking at the external reaction too much – we must look at the
actual songs themselves to determine if they are good, removed from the tastes
or whims of any audience, including our own tastes.”
“Very well, Badger, lead on. For I am ignorant
of what else to say.”
“There must be elements of the bards song
that determine its 'goodness'. Likewise with anything, be it a spear, a ship, a
'skin of wine, a canal. The knowledge of whether or not any of these things we
create are 'good' is contained within the very thing itself – how well it
achieves its purpose, and whatever people outside of it say is just so much
noise!”
“Let us stick to the song example if we
could. What makes a song good?”
“Well it is evident that you are the better
bard between us, owing to my being tone-deaf (and these oversized badger paws).
I would venture to say that you have more practice upon the lute and are
familiar with it. Your spirit is more finely attuned to the sensitivities of
sound and you are capable of weaving emotional tapestries with chords and
melodies. You listen to many other examples of good barding and this allows you
to discover and fulfil the purpose of music. All of these things
combined make up knowledge of goodness.”
“But what if a song fulfils all of these
criteria and yet a certain stubborn mule still refuses to acknowledge that the
song is a master-work of craft, function and delivery? (If I may say so
myself!)”
“Then there is evidently something amiss with
the mule.”
“So it is then a case that mule does not know
good from bad, and must be told what is good in order to appreciate it! That is
no more ludicrous then suggesting one must know what is popular in order to
know what is good.”
“Well...well...I never said this would be an
easy process did I? Nor did I ever lay claim to any particular knowledge, most
rampant goose!”
“Hold your bluff, Badger. You aren't
burrowing out of this one quite so soon. You stopped me asking for answers, I
tried to give you one and ended up being led along a dark, misty river with
yourself at the helm. Now you have struck a rock and rather than admit it you
try and blame me for this outcome. How perfidious!”
“I maintain it is no contradiction and you
are at your perverse little word games once more. Look, you said that by
knowing what is popular we can know what is good. I said that by knowing what makes
up good we can find out what is good. My suggestion is that we use
philosophical inquiry to determine this, you were just referring to the bulk
herd.”
“But so are you, my astute companion. For
consider this: You are still maintaining that the good of my song is still
outside of my song, in the reactions people display toward it. It is surely
inescapable that your 'knowledge' is influenced by what is considered popular
or no, by what we call the classics, and so on.”
“No! Now you paint my tail red and accuse me
of leaving a bloody trail across the fields of philosophy. The fact that people
enjoy the classics is not where knowledge of the classics being classic comes
from. The classics are classics for being classic, in and of themselves. Dig?”
“But you still know what is or is not classic
because of-”
“Again with the red paint! Regardless of how
much people exalt and enjoy the classics, the knowledge of their being good
could be discovered independently. This is why bards are so afraid of declaring
something a classic – for fear of being wrong. We know when something is good
because it will fulfil goodness against any odds.”
“You soar with the clouds with your
transcendent knowledge. An irony, as I am a mere land-goose in comparison,
earthy and even headed.”
“Where else could we discover knowledge of
'good'? In the mass flow, in the fickle utterance of sparrow, or the shallow
chatter of magpie? There is more to life than mere appearances and bulk
numbers.”
“Tell me Badger, now that the sun has gone
down and I have missed the bright beach, at least leave me with an answer. Was
it contagious?”
“Contagious? Whatever do you mean?”
“The thought-disease that stole your
knowledge of knowledge?”
“Ah that! Yes, evidently it was so.”
“Still, something of a contradiction isn't
it?”
“Not at all. I know that I lack knowledge,
for I know that there is something out there, some place where perfection
resides. We all know this, surely. Although, not myself, not all the time, I
have doubts too.”
“I am going home, Badger. I am going home and
I want to be left alone for a very long time.”
'Very well, whimsical beast! Flutter off with
you.”
“Yes, farewell my fluffy friend.”
“Ah, that was most exhilarating. But who is
this, cluttering along the passway. Horse! What are you doing out so late dear
Horse?”
“Badger! I'm in a rush to the stables, but
even if I weren't...”
Thus concludes the dialogue.
Selim 'Selim' Talat
The Philosophy Takeaway Issue 49 'Open Topic'
