On Perception, Belief, and Knowledge

On Perception, Belief, and Knowledge

 Consciousness gets defined as there being something it is like. This isn’t a classical analysis in terms of necessary and sufficient conditions, but it manages to elucidate what consciousness is (more or less); it captures the concept intuitively, if gnomically. In that spirit, I define knowledge as the world impinging on the soul—the affecting of the I by the It. Gnomic but suggestive. The main purpose of such definitions is to contrast the thing defined with other things in the conceptual neighborhood—in the case of consciousness, the physical world. In the case of knowledge, it is perception and belief: knowledge is different from these; they are not what knowledge is. So, what are they? If we knew this, we could say that knowledge is not that. In the same style, I will venture an answer—a suggestive formula not a classical analysis. It is something you might say to a child or an alien to get them to cotton onto the concept, or what sums up for an expert what these things amount to. Thus: perception is the world making itself felt, and belief is the mind taking itself into its own hands. Perception is the senses feeling the impact of the world, its causal power; the senses are what primarily are impacted not the mind or soul or self. These are so-called peripheral organs, unlike the intellect, and the impact may not be accepted by more central faculties—as in the case of visual illusion. We need not be swayed by what our senses tell us, but we cannot help being swayed by what our intellect tells us—what our faculty of knowledge tells us. Perception does not ipso facto reach as far as the soul, the inner sanctum where true knowledge resides. The senses are peripheral reflexes, psychophysical mechanisms, modular and mindless. They do what they are told by the stimulus, thoughtlessly. But the soul questions, resists, refutes; it doesn’t take the world’s impingent lying down. It impinges, I decide. Knowledge is less stimulus-world dominated than perception, though it takes the world very seriously, that being where knowledge ultimately comes from. In addition, the senses differ among themselves as to mode of causation and phenomenology, whereas knowledge is not modality-specific. You don’t feel your knowledge as in one sense modality rather than another. The soul (the central system) has stripped it of its original phenomenology. Knowing may be a type of seeing, but it isn’t the same as sensory seeing, i.e., the senses operating alone. Knowledge is above all that, proudly, autonomously. Knowledge is the master and perception is the servant. Knowledge is in me, but perception takes place outside of me—in my periphery (physically and psychologically). Knowledge belongs in the inner sanctum not the outhouses and reception rooms.

How about belief? Now this is another article altogether, a different kettle of mental fish. I said it is the mind taking itself into its own hands, not handing the job over to the world; world-impingement is not its sine qua non. It owes little loyalty to the world; it is all about itself, save per accidens. How can I be so accusatory? Because of wishful thinking, rash inference, emotional interference. Belief is the mind making itself felt, impinging on itself, shaping its own contours. Belief is internally propelled in its essence, though it may hook up with perception and knowledge when they suit its purposes. This makes belief quite different from knowledge—more like emotion. Belief is a sentiment. Belief is what you say in your heart, passionately. Knowledge is what you register in your brain, soberly. Your mind has a hold on your beliefs and bends them to its will. Beliefs can result from guesswork, inspired or otherwise, but knowledge never can. Belief loves conspiracy theories; knowledge abhors them. There is no such thing as wishful knowledge or irrational knowledge or baseless knowledge. But beliefs can thrive in an atmosphere of ignorance and emotion and prejudice. Knowledge is precious, but belief is often junk (unless allied with knowledge). The mind indulges in belief, but not in knowledge. Knowledge is open to the world, but belief is closed to it; a person could have a mind wholly constituted of false belief, but not false knowledge. Belief is subject to the will (possibly unconsciously), but knowledge is independent of the will. That’s why there is wishful belief but not wishful knowledge—wishful thinking but not wishful knowing. There could be a knowing mind without any beliefs at all, and the world be better for it. Beliefs are demons, or can be; they are the opposite of knowledge. Beliefs resent the impingement of the world (truth, reality).

If we picture the cognitive mind as consisting of three continents, we can say that these continents are separated by vast oceans and have very different geologies. They are made of different stuff. Roughly, perceptions are made of impressions, beliefs are made of volitions, and knowledge is made of facts: feelings, wishes, and truths. The geological strata may be overlaid by other strata, but when you dig down deep this is the material you come up with: igneous, metamorphic, sedimentary. Belief is a friable volatile rock; perception is a sturdy but breakable rock; knowledge is a solid dependable rock. Plato should have had a parable of the rocks in which he compared and contrasted perception, belief, and knowledge. To change the image: perception is like the wind, belief is like showers, and knowledge is like snowfall. Wind is tolerable and generally manageable, showers are annoying and you wish they would stop, and snow is occasionally unwelcome but always beautiful. (Consciousness is like a bright sunny day—that’s what what-it’s-like is like.)

What about the will? It too needs its summary formula, its striking image. I propose this: the will is the creature reaching out into the world. I envisage an octopus extending its tentacles, and lava flowing from a volcano, and a thunderstorm. I say “creature” because action is primordial and doesn’t even require sentience (see A. Schopenhauer). The reaching out is the creature extending itself into the world, tentatively, hopefully, adventurously. It is the soul impinging on the world in more advanced creatures. It is obviously not the same as perception, belief, and knowledge, though it can be joined to them. In willing the soul acts on the world instead of the world acting on it—the reverse of knowledge. We might even say, metaphorically, that it is the soul becoming known to the world. It is as if our artifacts have knowledge of us. We can impinge on the soul of the world (literally, if the world has a soul).[1]

[1] It will be observed that we are far from traditional conceptual analysis here, though the foregoing can be described as conceptual elucidation. It might even be called conceptual poetics—what a poem about knowledge, belief, and perception would look like. Alternatively, it is vernacular description—how our ordinary language would characterize the things in question. It is not uptight. It is impressionistic and imaginative. Its model is not Principia Mathematica but Alice in Wonderland.