In this essay I will examine Quine’s treatment of mental entities in “On Mental Entities,” and in “Mind and Verbal Dispositions.”
Part I:
Quine’s first paper, “On Mental Entities,” hinges on the notion that our ontology and epistemology should be based around a concern for the overall simplicity of the system, and it’s overall utility in relationship to experience. The question then becomes: if sense data exists, which Quine concedes prima facie (for convenience), then what advantage does it give the scientist?
If we look to memory we see sense data as a mere specter against the constant blare of present sensory input. To use an example, the table is not pictured in the memory as a brown, trapezoidal shape in the lower half of the visual field; but rather, it is pictured in the memory as a table. The memory is just as much an avenue for the positing of extra-sensory data (e.g. the notion ‘table’), as it is an avenue for the positing of sense data (e.g. a brown trapezoidal plane in the lower half of the visual field); namely, we cannot defer to memory, expecting it to be a clear, unalloyed account of an experience.
Enough with notions of memory as capable of positing pure sense data from the past, what about the present? If we look to the Gestalt Psychologist we see that even the present experience is marked with past concepts and present goals. Quine writes,
It is not an instructive oversimplification, but a basic falsification, to represent cognition as a discernment of regularities in an unadulterated stream of experience. Better to conceive of the stream itself as polluted, at each succeeding point of its course, by ever prior cognition (Q 310).
This passage is a philosophical tour de force for those who oppose the notion of sense data and mental entities as a pure foundation for science. The problem that is so nicely illustrated by the Gestalt diagrams is that it is impossible for the scientist to determine what is given immediately through sense impressions and what is imposed by our standing notion of the world. Indeed, the notion of sense data is no more tenuous than that of the external world (Q 310).
Finally, it is important to notice that Quine does not argue that the ontology that accepts the external world is superior to the ontology that accepts mental entities; instead, Quine argues that we are simply bound to the former. If we accept, with Quine, that as language learning creatures we are bound to an ontology that accepts external objects, then it is unclear what advantage the positing of additional mental entities would provide. From this essay, we find that the positing of mental entities as a pure foundation for science, is either moot or it is a hindrance. If the positing of mental entities is merely a tool to ease the austere epistemologist’s anxiety that sheep and tables are on the same epistemological footing as molecules and electrons, then all the worse for mental entities.
Part II:
In “Mind and Verbal Dispositions,” Quine begins by plotting out what mentalistic semantics is and why it is so regularly deferred to.
All of this begins with Descartes and the bifurcation of rational animals and automata. Man, Descartes held, is the only creature endowed with the mind, the rest are automata. A more widely held argument was presented by Watson’s “Muscular Theory of Meditation,” and states that the human being is the only creature who possesses language. The argument is that no appreciable mental activity can be had without linguistic aid, and no mindless creature would be equipped to navigate the complexities of language. Most thought is speech; namely, thought is accomplished through the flexes and twitches and pulls of the same muscles in the brain that account for speech (there are a few exceptions to this, e.g. geometric relationships).
The notion that language is what separates us from automata is, however, a misconception. Like the child, a dog is capable of language learning in his own way. At home, my family would often spell out the word ‘park’ when speaking in the presence of the family dog for fear of stirring her into a dither. Though at the crude early stages of language learning, the child actively learns words through their utterance, the dog paws at the door when it wishes to go outside, barks at the food bowls when it’s hungry, etc. As Quine so nicely puts it, “let us not arrogate to rationality what may be superior agility of lips, and tongue, and larynx” (Quine 315). Though there are many factors in contrasting human language with animal symbols (combinatorial productivity, unpredictable spontaneity), the difference is one of degree and not kind. However, it is the vast difference in degree that encourages mentalistic semantics.
Mentalistic semantics is founded on the unanalyzed notion of meaning. For the uncritical mentalist, as the child learns to assent to ‘ball’ while in the presence of a small spherical object and through the encouragement of his father, he learns the meaning of the word ball; a meaning that is shared by his father, and was passed down by his father’s father. This, of course, is a terrible confusion. Upon seeing a ball, and understanding the word ‘ball,’ the child is not being imbued with ideas, thoughts, or meanings; this is mentalistic semantics at its worst.
As we said earlier, mentalistic semantics is based upon the unanalyzed notion of meaning, which is broken into two parts i) when we speak of knowing the meaning of an expression and ii) when we speak of sameness of meaning. To put it simply, we are said to know the meaning of an expression when we are able to produce a clearer expression that maintains the original meaning. This accounts for the most dangerous aspect of mentalistic semantics: the illusion of explanation. We understand an expression insofar as we know its meaning, and translations of that expression are accurate so long as they maintain the meaning of the original expression. The problems with the notion of meaning is evidently expressed through Quine’s example of ‘eighty-two’ and ‘ottantadue.'
I said to my small son, 'eighty-two. You know what I mean?' He said, 'No." Then I said to my small daughter, 'Ottantadue. You know what I mean?' She said, 'Yes. Eighty-two.' I said, 'See, Margaret understands Italian better than Douglas understands English' (Q 316).
Assuming that Quine’s children are both native to the English language and not the Italian language, it is strange to think that one would understand the meaning of Italian expressions better than the English ones. This sort of confusion is, according to Quine, symptomatic of poor concept building, and a clear example of the failures of mentalistic explanation.
In the line of explanation, there are three purported levels: mentalistic, behavioural, and physiological. Physiological, as he puts it, is the most ambitious and the avenue for causal explanation. Mentalistic explanation, if it can be called that, is the most tenuous. Behavioural is, according to quine, the area in which we ought to focus our efforts.
Part III:
In a way, both of these essays account for an almost Wittgensteinian approach to philosophy. In both essays, Quine begins by explaining the reasons for positing mental entities and why those reasons can be therapeutically resolved.
In the first essay, Quine purports that mental entities where originally deferred to in attempts to place the foundations of science just “me-ward” or the external world. Essentially, it was the epistemologists concern for what there is, and how those decisions would affect natural science. For the epistemologist, it is a matter of great concern that tables and sheep where are on the same epistemological footing as molecules and electrons. While molecules and electrons were posited in recorded history, the common sense positing of macroscopic external objects such as tables and sheep only varies by “degree of antiquity;” both factor in to our understanding of the world through the overall simplicity of their integration, and their explanative force. Macroscopic objects are given to us through common sense and are crucial to elementary language learning, and therefore can be expected to stick around. Microscopic objects, on the other hand, do not share the same link to fundamental human behavior and development; namely, while macroscopic external objects will continue to be a part of epistemology and ontology, microscopic objects will come and go as new and more efficacious scientific postulations are made. This, of course, is a pragmatic decision.
In the second essay Quine argues that the positing of mental entities is a residual symptom of Descartes’ bifurcation of man and beast as thinking things and automata. Though it is no longer commonly held that man is the only creature blessed with gifts of intelligence (language, etc.), it is the vast degree of difference between human intelligence and animal intelligence that encourages mentalistic semantics, and steers us away from the natural sciences. This, however, is a mistake.
What is central to both essays is the question, “what do mental entities contribute, if anything, to the natural sciences and our understanding of the world?” In the case of sensation, we have seen that memories of sensory experiences and even present experience offer nothing pure enough to be considered a solid foundation for science. And, in the case of mentalistic semantics, Quine’s abovementioned example nicely illustrates the awkward results of “knowing meaning,” and “sameness of meaning.” In both essays it becomes clear that mental entities can be filed away as unnecessary appendages to philosophy and science. Though philosophically, sensation was an ambitious attempt to prevent circularity in the field of science, it inability to produce ‘the goods’ so to speak, is reason enough to abandon ship. This is not the case, however, with mentalistic semantics. Instead, mentalistic semantics was the result of confusion. The point that Quine is making by distinguishing man from animal by degree and not kind, is that it is absurd to attempt to analyze language and physical object through a deferral to meaning, ideas, and thoughts. This only offers the illusion of explanation. Instead we much attempt to understand language naturally through gross behavior.
In both essays, Quine’s position on mental entities is clear: they are an unnecessary distraction. This is not to say, however, that we do not have sensations or ideas or thoughts, but rather, that such things should not factor into our ontology and epistemology.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Epistemology as Normative Inquiry, and Natural Science
Introduction:
This paper consists of three parts. In ‘Part I,’ I will review Jaegwon Kim’s argument concerning normativity and the natural sciences as presented in the paper, “What is ‘Naturalized Epistemology?’” The review of this argument will focus specifically on Kim’s understanding of Natural Epistemology, and his concerns for normativity in the natural sciences. In ‘Part II,’ I argue that Kim’s concerns are indicative of a clear, and general misunderstanding of Quine’s philosophy. Finally, in ‘Part III,’ I will make some assumptions as to how such a gross misunderstanding can take place.
Part I:
Descartes set out to do two things in his meditations; he attempted to define the criteria by which we should justify beliefs, and he attempted to validate our pre-existing body of knowledge. Since then, modern epistemology has been dominated by the notion of justification; namely, what is justified belief, and how is it that we have come to justifiably believe so much. The former half of the fascination with justified belief is paramount to traditional epistemology. The commitment to our pretheoretical system of knowledge, on the other hand, is also the commitment of any serious epistemologists. Indeed, we know a great deal of things, and the pursuit of epistemology is to understand how that has come to be.
According to Kim, the notion of justification becoming the focal point of epistemology is no accident. Justification is the only specifically epistemological component of what Kim refers to as the “tripartite” conception of knowledge: truth, belief, and justification (Kim 383). Truth is a semantic-metaphysical concept, and belief is a psychological one, both of which cannot account for what people ought to know. Justification, instead, is the only normative concept in epistemology. The notion of justification would allow the austere epistemologist to eke out his/her ontology, speaking surely and directly about what knowledge is and how we ought to obtain it. Epistemology, defined as such, is a normative inquiry that systematic study of the conditions of justified belief (Kim 383).
For Kim, the notion of a new epistemology is not an unpromising one. Concerning the Cartesian “quest for certainty,” Kim writes, “so it is agreed on all hands that the classical epistemological project, conceived as one of deductively validating physical knowledge from indubitable sensory data, cannot succeed” (Kim 386). However, the notion of a new epistemology as something contained within a chapter of empirical psychology is not a new epistemology at all. As a normative venture, it is the business of epistemology to determine what justifies beliefs and what beliefs are justified. To replace traditional, normative epistemology with empirical psychology is to forfeit the vary nature of epistemology. Kim writes, “Quine is urging us to replace a normative theory of cognition with a descriptive science” (Kim 389). If this is the case, Quine’s naturalized epistemology could hardly be counted as epistemology at all.
The abovementioned failures of the Cartesian Project, however, do no account for the whole of traditional epistemology. As we have seen, the Cartesian program was meant to account for the criteria for epistemic justification, and what beliefs ought to be considered justified by those standards. Quine’s new epistemology is somewhat different:
"Quine is not suggesting that we give up the Cartesian foundationalist solution and explore others within the same framework… Quine’s proposal is more radical than that. He is asking us to set aside the entire framework of justification-centered epistemology. That is what is new in Quine’s proposal. Quine is asking us to put in its place a purely descriptive, causal-nomological science of human cognition" (Kim 388).
What separates Quine’s philosophy from that of traditional epistemology is that Quine focuses on the “factual” and “descriptive” aspects of cognition as opposed to the “normative” or “prescriptive” (Kim 389). The fact that Quine would suggest a move from traditional, prescriptive epistemology to a descriptive science is a careless confusion. Such a theory could not, on the best of days, account for the whole of the epistemological project.
The failure to account for a normative side of epistemology would be a critical blow to Quine’s epistemology. The very notion of knowledge is indeed a normative one. If natural epistemology cannot account for norms, then knowledge itself drops out of epistemology all together. For Kim, this notion is highlighted by the inauspicious absence of the term in Quine’s philosophy. Instead of ‘knowledge,’ Quine speaks of “theory” and “representation,” the likes of which are inspired by the senses. The study of “the relationship between meager input and torrential output,” is indeed the Quinean project. The relationship that Quine speaks of, however, is purely descriptive and does not account for normativity. Kim writes, “his [Quine’s] interest is strictly causal and nomological: he wants us to look for patterns of lawlike dependencies characterizing the input-output relations for this particular organism and others of a like physical structure” (Kim 390). This attempt by Quine to account for the pursuits of traditional epistemology is far from satisfactory. For natural epistemology to account only for descriptive, nomological relationships between input and output is simply psychology by another name; Epistemology, as we have come to understand it, is in the business of justification. Though there is a relationship between stimulus input and cognitive output, this relationship is causal and does not account for the ‘evidential relationship.’ Kim continues,
The causal relation between sensory input and cognitive output is a relation between ‘evidence’ and ‘theory’; however, it is not an evidential relation. This can be seen from the following consideration” the nomological patterns that Quine urges us to look for are certain to vary from species to species, depending on the particular way each biological (and possibly non-biological) species processes information, but the evidential relation in its proper normative sense must abstract from such factors and concern itself only with the degree to which evidence supports hypothesis (Kim 390, emphasis added).
Though Quine’s project undoubtedly has its appeal and its advantages, if it cannot account for normativity then it simply is not a way of doing epistemology (let alone a better way). Indeed, the information gained from unveiling a lawlike relationship between sensory input and cognitive output would be a tour de force for modern epistemology. Such nomological relationships would surely be unearthed through the faculties of natural epistemology. Yet, without norms and prescriptions within the field of natural epistemology, why not turn to, say, “hydrodynamics or ornithology rather than psychology” (Kim 391)? Psychology would be able to account for nomological relationships between evidence and theory in its own way; yet why we ought to look to psychology in the study of such relationships is unclear without the guidance of normativity. The grave natural epistemologist, then, would be blind without such guidance, picking and choosing willy-nilly from natural sciences less suited for epistemological questions. This cannot be what Quine had in mind when establishing his epistemology within a chapter of psychology.
Part II:
The problems in this paper begin with Kim’s understanding of the scope of Quine’s philosophy. Kim explains the pivotal argument in Quine’s epistemology as being a renouncement of Descartes’ “quest for certainty.” Though this is, in fact, what Quine writes in “Epistemology Naturalized,” it does not account for the pivotal point in his argument. Instead, this point comes as a product of Quine’s philosophical rejection of “First Philosophy.” In his essay, “Five Milestones of Empiricism,” Quine writes, “the fifth move, finally, brings naturalism: abandonment of the goal of a first philosophy” (Q 305, emphasis added). In characterizing the Cartesian quest for the foundation of the natural sciences as forlorn a hope as attempting to reduce the abstract ontology of mathematics to logic, Quine is declaring the bankruptcy of “First Philosophy” as a whole. According to Quine, the attempts of “First Philosophy” to find the foundations of knowledge have simply failed to yield results. Though some attempts have come close (e.g. Der Logische Aufbau der Welt (Q. 262)), and other have yielded philosophically interesting results, the whole venture has been marred by inefficacy.
With the concession of the failure of the Cartesian Project, the possibility of any normative judgment existing outside of, or prior to, the natural sciences become unavailable. As we have seen earlier, Kim’s rejection of Quine’s epistemology pivots on his understanding of epistemology as being in the ‘business of justification.’ Epistemology without norms is simply not epistemology. However, where such norms can come from once we have abandoned the pursuits of “First Philosophy” is unclear. In “Siegal on Naturalized Epistemology and Natural Science,” Roth clearly states, “The denial that there are standards of evaluation which are genuinely independent of and better warranted than those current science endorses is what is meant when Quine claims that there is no ‘First philosophy’” (Roth 487). Kim’s concern that the natural sciences are purely descriptive notwithstanding, where would these alleged norms come from now that we have rejected “First Philosophy?”
The repudiation of “First Philosophy” and a move towards naturalism is meant to account for all aspects of epistemology, including both the descriptive and normative functions. How, then, Kim concedes the failures of “First Philosophy” is completely puzzling; for without any prior or supra-scientific ground from which to make normative decisions as to what beliefs are justified, such assessments seem to be nothing more than a philosophical superstition; namely, without “First Philosophy” there is no place from which to make Kim’s argument.
Perhaps Kim’s concession of the failures of “First Philosophy” was not that at all. The very fact that this paper was written is a testament to Kim’s happy endorsement of traditional epistemology. In turn, let us be generous and take a closer look at Kim’s argument. Let us Assume that Kim is simply acknowledging the failures of Descartes’ “quest for certainty,” the possibility of logically deducing the sciences from sense data, and the possibility of translating the sciences into sensory terms, and not the whole of “First Philosophy” (what margin exists between these pursuits and “First Philosophy” is, unfortunately, unclear). In any case, Kim’s concern for Quine’s natural epistemology is a serious one. I doubt that any philosopher would accept an account of knowledge without some form of justification. Without the guidance of normative methods, the natural epistemologist is blind, choosing his methods as if by lottery. Fortunately for the natural epistemologist, this is not the case.
Science is concerned with heuristics in general, as Quine puts it, “with the whole strategy of rational conjecture in the framing of scientific questions” (PoT). Prediction is and will continue to be the checkpoint of science. As Quine says, "it [prediction] is what decides the game, like runs and outs in baseball" (PoT 20). Yet this point is not to say that prediction is a normative element of the sciences. Science as such is not committed to purely empirical theories; instead, empirical theories have simply been the most efficacious mode of scientific pursuits. Other forms of scientific inquiry may at one point or another prove to be more beneficial to the game of science. Clairvoyance and telepathy are indeed, by Quine’s definition, scientific options; however moribund these options may be is established by the rules of the game. The question for any mode of scientific inquiry is, “how well do these options yield predictions?” At such a time when clairvoyance and telepathy make their mark on the sciences, perhaps a new norm would advise us to visit the local soothsayer, burn incense, or pray to Norse gods. This would be a drastic change for the natural science. However, science would carry on with new norms and heuristic standards.
More over, Quine argues against this absence of normativity in natural epistemology, citing the “watchword of empiricism” and most notable norm of natural epistemology: nihil in mente quod non prius in sensu (PoT 19). This is a “prime specimen” of natural epistemology for it is the achievements of the natural sciences that tell us that there is nothing in our understanding of the world that did not come first through the senses (PoT 19). As such, normativity in natural epistemology is contained within the sciences, governed by the rules of prediction and for an overall eye for simplicity. To assume that the movement in the cognitive science, from physiognomy to empirical psychology, is due in large to the laudable achievements of philosophers, is an arrogant assumption indeed. The revision of methodology, for Quine is also a part of science, “for Quine, science is not just the search for truth, e.g., substantive laws, but also includes debate with regard to how best to proceed about the business of formulating such laws” (Roth 490). It is here that we begin to understand the answer to the question, “why not turn to, say, hydrodynamics or ornithology rather than psychology (Kim 391). Psychology, as opposed to hydrodynamics or ornithology, is in the business of understanding man’s relationship to the world. The psychological methods of inquiry, which have been refined with an eye for simplicity and in accordance with the rules of predictability, simply yield results. Ornithology and hydrodynamics, on the other hand, cannot achieve the same when applied outside their fields. To use Kim’s terminology, the “evidential relations” established by, say, hydrodynamics, when applied to the relationship between sensory input and cognitive output would not satisfy predictability to the same extent that psychological posits would. In the same fashion, psychology would not be fit to establish “evidential relations” for the movement of water through damns, pipes, etc. The fact that psychology is in the business of studying the relationship between “meager input and torrential output,” does not signify a purely descriptive chapter in the natural sciences. Such a claim would imply that psychology was arrived at whole and unencumbered by trial and tribulation. Indeed, when deferring to the history of scientific revolution, such an account is obviously perverse. Perhaps, too, we ought to assume that molecular biology and particle physics are merely sciences of old, amended by new technology. This is not to say that technology does not add to the sciences, but rather, that the natural sciences are “fallable” and “corrigible,” engaged in a constant revision, bound by rules and aesthetics, and with no end in sight (PoT 20). Additionally, technological advancements come only after the establishments of norms and prescriptions emplaced by the very science to which said technology is applicable (e.g. the electron microscope was created to enhance the scientist’s ability to see microscopic objects with the purpose of enlarging objects in mind. It was not constructed haphazardly, to simply see what we might see). These are the norms of natural science.
Part III:
Kim’s concern for Natural Epistemology is a serious one. Without norms and prescriptions, it is true, there cannot be knowledge. As Kim’s argument continues, we see the compounding effects of an epistemology without normativity; without norms knowledge itself drops out of epistemology, and for that matter, beliefs, propositional attitudes, rationality, agency, etc. However, to simply state that the natural sciences do not account for normativity is to simply beg the important question in this argument. For Kim, the burden of proof does not lie on the compounding repercussions of an epistemology without norms (this much can surely be agreed upon); instead, Kim must articulate why it is that natural epistemology exemplify a norml-ess philosophy. To this end, Kim asserts the argument that the relationship between “meager input and torrential output” is a purely descriptive one. This point, also, can be conceded; yet, it does not account for the very reason that psychology is equipped to describe such relationships in the first place; namely, the question, “why psychology?” was never asked. This question is paramount to both Quine’s understanding of the natural sciences and to the normative methods that account for those sciences. We may ask ourselves, “why does the psychological study of how sensory input and cognitive output relate to each not seem totally absurd?” The answer points to the norms of natural science. These norms hone and refine from within, guiding the scientist to hypotheses which fit nicely into the current of natural theory. Once elucidated, these norms can be seen clearly, as an integral part of the natural sciences and of Naturalized Epistemology.
Once we elucidate normativity as implicit in natural epistemology, Kim’s compounding concerns for an epistemology without norms simply dissolve. With normativity emplaced for natural epistemology, the criterion of judgment becomes the same as for any epistemology: does this philosophy account for our pretheoretical body of knowledge, and does it account for what ought to be considered knowledge? As for the first half of the question, the answer is a resounding ‘yes.’
For Quine, knowledge, or something like it, consists of the sentences endorsed by our current and best scientific theories. These sentences convey meaning as attached to a larger set of sentences, all of which are contained within a theory. The inauspicious absence of the term ‘knowledge,’ in Quine’s philosophy, however, is not a careless mistake. The notions of belief and propositional attitudes, also receive little attention from Quine’s philosophy. This is not to say that they are not addressed here and there, but rather that such notions carry with them little meaning for natural epistemology.
Natural epistemology accounts, obviously, for the first half of traditional epistemology; it accounts for our pretheoretical body of knowledge by Quine’s definition of knowledge, as those sentences which are endorsed by our best scientific theories. Though this definition cannot account for beliefs like “I believe in Kallipolis,” other beliefs like “there are atoms” are firmly grounded in scientific theory. Notions of rationality and agency, too, have their places in natural epistemology however uninteresting they may be.
The second question, however, is more difficult. The pragmatic decision to defer to psychology and natural science with question of how evidence relates to theory is one that is constantly being updated. Indeed, Quine’s natural epistemology is a “visionary quest” (Roth 431). If, with Quine, we repudiate the pursuits of “First Philosophy,” then a movement towards natural epistemology is an intuitive one. Yet, such a move is not a necessary one. The austere traditional epistemologist can (and, it is often the foundationalist’s nature to do so) tirelessly hack away at the foundations of knowledge forever. Indeed, the best argument against natural epistemology is the working traditional one. For the naturalist, however, the next moves in epistemology are evident and refreshing: a move towards a working theory of knowledge. This move is one that must be held accountable for the same questions as the old epistemology; it must answer all the same questions, and it must resolve all the same problems. As we forsake the hope of a philosophy that is prior to the sciences, some of the old problems fade away while, others change, and myriad problems will certainly arise. The option of traditional epistemology is still an avenue which some may wish to venture, however, natural epistemology is also for venturing.
This paper consists of three parts. In ‘Part I,’ I will review Jaegwon Kim’s argument concerning normativity and the natural sciences as presented in the paper, “What is ‘Naturalized Epistemology?’” The review of this argument will focus specifically on Kim’s understanding of Natural Epistemology, and his concerns for normativity in the natural sciences. In ‘Part II,’ I argue that Kim’s concerns are indicative of a clear, and general misunderstanding of Quine’s philosophy. Finally, in ‘Part III,’ I will make some assumptions as to how such a gross misunderstanding can take place.
Part I:
Descartes set out to do two things in his meditations; he attempted to define the criteria by which we should justify beliefs, and he attempted to validate our pre-existing body of knowledge. Since then, modern epistemology has been dominated by the notion of justification; namely, what is justified belief, and how is it that we have come to justifiably believe so much. The former half of the fascination with justified belief is paramount to traditional epistemology. The commitment to our pretheoretical system of knowledge, on the other hand, is also the commitment of any serious epistemologists. Indeed, we know a great deal of things, and the pursuit of epistemology is to understand how that has come to be.
According to Kim, the notion of justification becoming the focal point of epistemology is no accident. Justification is the only specifically epistemological component of what Kim refers to as the “tripartite” conception of knowledge: truth, belief, and justification (Kim 383). Truth is a semantic-metaphysical concept, and belief is a psychological one, both of which cannot account for what people ought to know. Justification, instead, is the only normative concept in epistemology. The notion of justification would allow the austere epistemologist to eke out his/her ontology, speaking surely and directly about what knowledge is and how we ought to obtain it. Epistemology, defined as such, is a normative inquiry that systematic study of the conditions of justified belief (Kim 383).
For Kim, the notion of a new epistemology is not an unpromising one. Concerning the Cartesian “quest for certainty,” Kim writes, “so it is agreed on all hands that the classical epistemological project, conceived as one of deductively validating physical knowledge from indubitable sensory data, cannot succeed” (Kim 386). However, the notion of a new epistemology as something contained within a chapter of empirical psychology is not a new epistemology at all. As a normative venture, it is the business of epistemology to determine what justifies beliefs and what beliefs are justified. To replace traditional, normative epistemology with empirical psychology is to forfeit the vary nature of epistemology. Kim writes, “Quine is urging us to replace a normative theory of cognition with a descriptive science” (Kim 389). If this is the case, Quine’s naturalized epistemology could hardly be counted as epistemology at all.
The abovementioned failures of the Cartesian Project, however, do no account for the whole of traditional epistemology. As we have seen, the Cartesian program was meant to account for the criteria for epistemic justification, and what beliefs ought to be considered justified by those standards. Quine’s new epistemology is somewhat different:
"Quine is not suggesting that we give up the Cartesian foundationalist solution and explore others within the same framework… Quine’s proposal is more radical than that. He is asking us to set aside the entire framework of justification-centered epistemology. That is what is new in Quine’s proposal. Quine is asking us to put in its place a purely descriptive, causal-nomological science of human cognition" (Kim 388).
What separates Quine’s philosophy from that of traditional epistemology is that Quine focuses on the “factual” and “descriptive” aspects of cognition as opposed to the “normative” or “prescriptive” (Kim 389). The fact that Quine would suggest a move from traditional, prescriptive epistemology to a descriptive science is a careless confusion. Such a theory could not, on the best of days, account for the whole of the epistemological project.
The failure to account for a normative side of epistemology would be a critical blow to Quine’s epistemology. The very notion of knowledge is indeed a normative one. If natural epistemology cannot account for norms, then knowledge itself drops out of epistemology all together. For Kim, this notion is highlighted by the inauspicious absence of the term in Quine’s philosophy. Instead of ‘knowledge,’ Quine speaks of “theory” and “representation,” the likes of which are inspired by the senses. The study of “the relationship between meager input and torrential output,” is indeed the Quinean project. The relationship that Quine speaks of, however, is purely descriptive and does not account for normativity. Kim writes, “his [Quine’s] interest is strictly causal and nomological: he wants us to look for patterns of lawlike dependencies characterizing the input-output relations for this particular organism and others of a like physical structure” (Kim 390). This attempt by Quine to account for the pursuits of traditional epistemology is far from satisfactory. For natural epistemology to account only for descriptive, nomological relationships between input and output is simply psychology by another name; Epistemology, as we have come to understand it, is in the business of justification. Though there is a relationship between stimulus input and cognitive output, this relationship is causal and does not account for the ‘evidential relationship.’ Kim continues,
The causal relation between sensory input and cognitive output is a relation between ‘evidence’ and ‘theory’; however, it is not an evidential relation. This can be seen from the following consideration” the nomological patterns that Quine urges us to look for are certain to vary from species to species, depending on the particular way each biological (and possibly non-biological) species processes information, but the evidential relation in its proper normative sense must abstract from such factors and concern itself only with the degree to which evidence supports hypothesis (Kim 390, emphasis added).
Though Quine’s project undoubtedly has its appeal and its advantages, if it cannot account for normativity then it simply is not a way of doing epistemology (let alone a better way). Indeed, the information gained from unveiling a lawlike relationship between sensory input and cognitive output would be a tour de force for modern epistemology. Such nomological relationships would surely be unearthed through the faculties of natural epistemology. Yet, without norms and prescriptions within the field of natural epistemology, why not turn to, say, “hydrodynamics or ornithology rather than psychology” (Kim 391)? Psychology would be able to account for nomological relationships between evidence and theory in its own way; yet why we ought to look to psychology in the study of such relationships is unclear without the guidance of normativity. The grave natural epistemologist, then, would be blind without such guidance, picking and choosing willy-nilly from natural sciences less suited for epistemological questions. This cannot be what Quine had in mind when establishing his epistemology within a chapter of psychology.
Part II:
The problems in this paper begin with Kim’s understanding of the scope of Quine’s philosophy. Kim explains the pivotal argument in Quine’s epistemology as being a renouncement of Descartes’ “quest for certainty.” Though this is, in fact, what Quine writes in “Epistemology Naturalized,” it does not account for the pivotal point in his argument. Instead, this point comes as a product of Quine’s philosophical rejection of “First Philosophy.” In his essay, “Five Milestones of Empiricism,” Quine writes, “the fifth move, finally, brings naturalism: abandonment of the goal of a first philosophy” (Q 305, emphasis added). In characterizing the Cartesian quest for the foundation of the natural sciences as forlorn a hope as attempting to reduce the abstract ontology of mathematics to logic, Quine is declaring the bankruptcy of “First Philosophy” as a whole. According to Quine, the attempts of “First Philosophy” to find the foundations of knowledge have simply failed to yield results. Though some attempts have come close (e.g. Der Logische Aufbau der Welt (Q. 262)), and other have yielded philosophically interesting results, the whole venture has been marred by inefficacy.
With the concession of the failure of the Cartesian Project, the possibility of any normative judgment existing outside of, or prior to, the natural sciences become unavailable. As we have seen earlier, Kim’s rejection of Quine’s epistemology pivots on his understanding of epistemology as being in the ‘business of justification.’ Epistemology without norms is simply not epistemology. However, where such norms can come from once we have abandoned the pursuits of “First Philosophy” is unclear. In “Siegal on Naturalized Epistemology and Natural Science,” Roth clearly states, “The denial that there are standards of evaluation which are genuinely independent of and better warranted than those current science endorses is what is meant when Quine claims that there is no ‘First philosophy’” (Roth 487). Kim’s concern that the natural sciences are purely descriptive notwithstanding, where would these alleged norms come from now that we have rejected “First Philosophy?”
The repudiation of “First Philosophy” and a move towards naturalism is meant to account for all aspects of epistemology, including both the descriptive and normative functions. How, then, Kim concedes the failures of “First Philosophy” is completely puzzling; for without any prior or supra-scientific ground from which to make normative decisions as to what beliefs are justified, such assessments seem to be nothing more than a philosophical superstition; namely, without “First Philosophy” there is no place from which to make Kim’s argument.
Perhaps Kim’s concession of the failures of “First Philosophy” was not that at all. The very fact that this paper was written is a testament to Kim’s happy endorsement of traditional epistemology. In turn, let us be generous and take a closer look at Kim’s argument. Let us Assume that Kim is simply acknowledging the failures of Descartes’ “quest for certainty,” the possibility of logically deducing the sciences from sense data, and the possibility of translating the sciences into sensory terms, and not the whole of “First Philosophy” (what margin exists between these pursuits and “First Philosophy” is, unfortunately, unclear). In any case, Kim’s concern for Quine’s natural epistemology is a serious one. I doubt that any philosopher would accept an account of knowledge without some form of justification. Without the guidance of normative methods, the natural epistemologist is blind, choosing his methods as if by lottery. Fortunately for the natural epistemologist, this is not the case.
Science is concerned with heuristics in general, as Quine puts it, “with the whole strategy of rational conjecture in the framing of scientific questions” (PoT). Prediction is and will continue to be the checkpoint of science. As Quine says, "it [prediction] is what decides the game, like runs and outs in baseball" (PoT 20). Yet this point is not to say that prediction is a normative element of the sciences. Science as such is not committed to purely empirical theories; instead, empirical theories have simply been the most efficacious mode of scientific pursuits. Other forms of scientific inquiry may at one point or another prove to be more beneficial to the game of science. Clairvoyance and telepathy are indeed, by Quine’s definition, scientific options; however moribund these options may be is established by the rules of the game. The question for any mode of scientific inquiry is, “how well do these options yield predictions?” At such a time when clairvoyance and telepathy make their mark on the sciences, perhaps a new norm would advise us to visit the local soothsayer, burn incense, or pray to Norse gods. This would be a drastic change for the natural science. However, science would carry on with new norms and heuristic standards.
More over, Quine argues against this absence of normativity in natural epistemology, citing the “watchword of empiricism” and most notable norm of natural epistemology: nihil in mente quod non prius in sensu (PoT 19). This is a “prime specimen” of natural epistemology for it is the achievements of the natural sciences that tell us that there is nothing in our understanding of the world that did not come first through the senses (PoT 19). As such, normativity in natural epistemology is contained within the sciences, governed by the rules of prediction and for an overall eye for simplicity. To assume that the movement in the cognitive science, from physiognomy to empirical psychology, is due in large to the laudable achievements of philosophers, is an arrogant assumption indeed. The revision of methodology, for Quine is also a part of science, “for Quine, science is not just the search for truth, e.g., substantive laws, but also includes debate with regard to how best to proceed about the business of formulating such laws” (Roth 490). It is here that we begin to understand the answer to the question, “why not turn to, say, hydrodynamics or ornithology rather than psychology (Kim 391). Psychology, as opposed to hydrodynamics or ornithology, is in the business of understanding man’s relationship to the world. The psychological methods of inquiry, which have been refined with an eye for simplicity and in accordance with the rules of predictability, simply yield results. Ornithology and hydrodynamics, on the other hand, cannot achieve the same when applied outside their fields. To use Kim’s terminology, the “evidential relations” established by, say, hydrodynamics, when applied to the relationship between sensory input and cognitive output would not satisfy predictability to the same extent that psychological posits would. In the same fashion, psychology would not be fit to establish “evidential relations” for the movement of water through damns, pipes, etc. The fact that psychology is in the business of studying the relationship between “meager input and torrential output,” does not signify a purely descriptive chapter in the natural sciences. Such a claim would imply that psychology was arrived at whole and unencumbered by trial and tribulation. Indeed, when deferring to the history of scientific revolution, such an account is obviously perverse. Perhaps, too, we ought to assume that molecular biology and particle physics are merely sciences of old, amended by new technology. This is not to say that technology does not add to the sciences, but rather, that the natural sciences are “fallable” and “corrigible,” engaged in a constant revision, bound by rules and aesthetics, and with no end in sight (PoT 20). Additionally, technological advancements come only after the establishments of norms and prescriptions emplaced by the very science to which said technology is applicable (e.g. the electron microscope was created to enhance the scientist’s ability to see microscopic objects with the purpose of enlarging objects in mind. It was not constructed haphazardly, to simply see what we might see). These are the norms of natural science.
Part III:
Kim’s concern for Natural Epistemology is a serious one. Without norms and prescriptions, it is true, there cannot be knowledge. As Kim’s argument continues, we see the compounding effects of an epistemology without normativity; without norms knowledge itself drops out of epistemology, and for that matter, beliefs, propositional attitudes, rationality, agency, etc. However, to simply state that the natural sciences do not account for normativity is to simply beg the important question in this argument. For Kim, the burden of proof does not lie on the compounding repercussions of an epistemology without norms (this much can surely be agreed upon); instead, Kim must articulate why it is that natural epistemology exemplify a norml-ess philosophy. To this end, Kim asserts the argument that the relationship between “meager input and torrential output” is a purely descriptive one. This point, also, can be conceded; yet, it does not account for the very reason that psychology is equipped to describe such relationships in the first place; namely, the question, “why psychology?” was never asked. This question is paramount to both Quine’s understanding of the natural sciences and to the normative methods that account for those sciences. We may ask ourselves, “why does the psychological study of how sensory input and cognitive output relate to each not seem totally absurd?” The answer points to the norms of natural science. These norms hone and refine from within, guiding the scientist to hypotheses which fit nicely into the current of natural theory. Once elucidated, these norms can be seen clearly, as an integral part of the natural sciences and of Naturalized Epistemology.
Once we elucidate normativity as implicit in natural epistemology, Kim’s compounding concerns for an epistemology without norms simply dissolve. With normativity emplaced for natural epistemology, the criterion of judgment becomes the same as for any epistemology: does this philosophy account for our pretheoretical body of knowledge, and does it account for what ought to be considered knowledge? As for the first half of the question, the answer is a resounding ‘yes.’
For Quine, knowledge, or something like it, consists of the sentences endorsed by our current and best scientific theories. These sentences convey meaning as attached to a larger set of sentences, all of which are contained within a theory. The inauspicious absence of the term ‘knowledge,’ in Quine’s philosophy, however, is not a careless mistake. The notions of belief and propositional attitudes, also receive little attention from Quine’s philosophy. This is not to say that they are not addressed here and there, but rather that such notions carry with them little meaning for natural epistemology.
Natural epistemology accounts, obviously, for the first half of traditional epistemology; it accounts for our pretheoretical body of knowledge by Quine’s definition of knowledge, as those sentences which are endorsed by our best scientific theories. Though this definition cannot account for beliefs like “I believe in Kallipolis,” other beliefs like “there are atoms” are firmly grounded in scientific theory. Notions of rationality and agency, too, have their places in natural epistemology however uninteresting they may be.
The second question, however, is more difficult. The pragmatic decision to defer to psychology and natural science with question of how evidence relates to theory is one that is constantly being updated. Indeed, Quine’s natural epistemology is a “visionary quest” (Roth 431). If, with Quine, we repudiate the pursuits of “First Philosophy,” then a movement towards natural epistemology is an intuitive one. Yet, such a move is not a necessary one. The austere traditional epistemologist can (and, it is often the foundationalist’s nature to do so) tirelessly hack away at the foundations of knowledge forever. Indeed, the best argument against natural epistemology is the working traditional one. For the naturalist, however, the next moves in epistemology are evident and refreshing: a move towards a working theory of knowledge. This move is one that must be held accountable for the same questions as the old epistemology; it must answer all the same questions, and it must resolve all the same problems. As we forsake the hope of a philosophy that is prior to the sciences, some of the old problems fade away while, others change, and myriad problems will certainly arise. The option of traditional epistemology is still an avenue which some may wish to venture, however, natural epistemology is also for venturing.
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