schweblog

(This entry could also be entitled “Why I’m Glad I’m a Philosophy Major”.)

After one more semester, my present academic stint will come to a close and I will be awarded with the ever-common BA in the (not-so-common) field of philosophy, which I have no doubt will provide little or no assistance in landing me a job. As this chapter to my life approaches its end, I’ve taken a lot of time to step back from the papers and Scantron sheets (probably more time than I should have, actually) to evaluate the worth of my education through the only lens I really know: philosophy. In short, I am trying to evaluate if the tools that I have been given are useful, using those exact same tools to do the evaluating.

Philosophy typically breaks down knowledge into three different “branches”:

Ontology: A study on the nature of things; basically, why things exist in the state that they do.
Metaphysics: A study of the things outside of us and, usually, how they interact.
Epistemology: A study of knowledge itself, usually within the context of its boundaries and limits.

To the layman, these three things may seem entirely unrelated. If you look over them again, though, you’ll realize that the first and second rely upon some grounding in the third. Whereas ontology and metaphysics look outward into the world and provide explanations, epistemology looks inward and asks itself some very important questions: What can I know? How can I be certain of it? Can one claim of truth be more less valid than another?

These epistemological questions are the most fundamental part of any theory on the world. Some approaches are a given (for example, the approach of the natural sciences, which assume that observable, verifiable evidence is the only way to know something) and others are self-contained (string theory and quantum physics, for example, struggle with the issue of ever knowing if the field itself can be validated beyond their formulae). There are other fields, however–mostly in the humanities–that skip over the epistemological issue altogether. Not only is it a mistake, but it is a glaring omission that seems to predominate the entire community.

A classic example is the field of sociology, which typically posits a series of ideological or psychological systems to explain phenomena in the world. Examples can be taken from Marxist and feminist theory: schools within both views posit an overarching approach or drive that saturates the world (misogyny, capitalism, greed, etc.) and serves to provide the fuel for oppression of a particular group (women, the proletariat, etc.). Usually, these theories are intricate and wide in scope. Additionally, they are almost always flawed by a very inherent and obvious mistake.

The mistake is an epistemological one. Or, rather, the lack of an epistemological approach. Foucault never really outlines how he could posit an episteme and claim that it justifiably exists. Marx’s essentialist suggestions (homo faber, that man is naturally driven to work) are never reconciled with any sort of skeptical inquiries into how one can glimpse into the very nature of man. Freud’s ego, id, and superego are convenient tools for analysis, but have never been shown to actually exist. None of the above theorists try to explain the process–or how–they have come to know anything.

At the risk of over-generalizing, I would argue that a large number of the fields that constitute “the humanities” are vulnerable to the exact same criticism. Needless to say, many of these fields reside under the broader title of philosophy. But under that same umbrella, the field of epistemology looms, deep-seeded, within the same academic discipline. And it is there, within the realm of epistemology–perhaps the most skeptical of all fields–that the fate of “the humanities” lies. The answers to the questions that epistemology poses will ultimately be the same answers that justify or doom the world of a liberal education. And that is why I am glad to be a philosophy major.