Below are two similar but indipendent essay question answers, firstly explaining the epistemological principle within Meno's Paradox, and secondly, explaining how knowledge functions in Aristotle's Metaphysics.
The Epistemology of Meno’s Paradox
In Plato’s Socratic dialogue, Meno and Phaedo, we see Socrates and Meno discuss whether virtue exists, and how knowledge of virtue is gained so that one may be a virtuous person. The dialogue covers various topics and themes, but arguably most importantly, it introduces Meno’s Paradox, leaving behind many epistemological and metaphysical implications in philosophy to come. This essay will make clear the logic Socrates demonstrates, and how exactly this would go on to influence skeptical and epistemological thought.
To contextualize, Meno first asks Socrates to tell him whether virtue is teachable, or if it may be acquired by some means, such as practice, or that it may already be a part of human nature. Socrates, however, suggests that Meno has jumped the gun, as Socrates is unable to give an account of how knowledge of virtue is acquired since he himself does not know what virtue even is. He argues that “how could I know what sort of something is, when I do not know what it is?” He elaborates further that if someone does not know of a specific thing, they cannot know that thing's specific qualities, such as Meno, to a stranger, being rich or handsome if that stranger has never met or heard of Meno. The epistemological principle at play here is that searching for something’s being, such as virtue, is impossible if we have no idea of what to search for– where might the search even begin? If a pirate is searching for a treasure without a map to its location nor an idea of what the treasure is, they may only hope to stumble across it. Even then, however, if one were to stumble across the treasure through happenstance, how would they even know that whatever they found was the treasure they were initially embarking after?
Understanding the epistemological critique at play may reveal a problem in coming to learn anything at all, let alone broader metaphysical concepts such as being, truth, or virtue. But it is no question that we do, indeed, already know some things, such as syllogistic truths. Socrates’ issue with the discussion comes from precisely the idea of the learning of that thing being possible. No doubt, this model still posits that knowledge itself is possible, where instead the paradox comes into play regarding that knowledge’s acquisition. Though our epistemological concerns here may grow when remembering Socrates’ words in the Apology, that “I was conscious of knowing practically nothing” (or, more colloquially put, “I know that I know nothing”). One may assume, then, that Socrates is doubtful of any learning at all, as there is fundamentally nothing that Socrates thought he knew, and therefore nothing that Socrates could learn. So how are we to continue in any field of study without admitting an ignorance to what we are pursuing?
On the one hand, this may hold consequences for various epistemological understandings such as the correspondence theory of truth, which asserts that something is true if it corresponds with that thing in the world. But, under this model, how could one come to know that this correspondence is the truth that is being identified in any given statement? Perhaps a restructuring of our approach to the role of knowledge and how it is acquired would be useful here. For example, as Socrates later goes on to argue that what we call “learning” is actually a process of remembering, or recalling knowledge which we have always already known. While this does sidestep the problem of having no idea of what “treasure” we are searching for in any pursuit, as he’s arguing that we do already have that idea within us, this perspective fails to account for a critical aspect of “science”, or any system that opts for a totalization of knowledge, for instance, that is its inherent possibility of being wrong. When we discover even a mathematical or logical proof, these too can be wrong (just as the ontological argument for God, at one point, was considered “sound”). Potentially, a “system of learning” that is open to being wrong could be meaningful to our understanding of knowledge—this is arguably somewhat present in Aristotle’s ethics, as well, as his concept of virtue ethics is one based on habituation, where we come to learn and discover what virtue is through our experience and engagement with the world and altering how we act in society through acknowledging “good” and “bad” habits. We can only reach eudaimonia through doing good things authentically, and not because they are specifically “good” things, thus these things aren’t something “learned” or “taught” in a traditional and fallible sense, but are instead open to change and sincerity through how we have acted in the past, and how we will act in the future.
The Differences Between Craft and Experience Knowledge
In Aristotle’s book, Metaphysics, he outlines the ways knowledge takes shape, and identifies both craft knowledge and, conversely, experience. In the two thousand years since Aristotle’s writing, the ambiguity between these two concepts has only grown with different readings, interpretations, and applications of his thought. These concepts, however, play a key role in Aristotle’s philosophy, and must be carefully understood to see how Aristotle’s philosophy as a whole sets a stage for empirical though to cultivate.
Firstly, it seems necessary to distinguish Aristotle from Plato here, as Aristotle’s thought is, in some sense, a direct response and critique of the Platonic perspective. Plato argues that all things have a perfect eternal form, which particulars imperfectly “mimic”. Any specific tree, for example, has, underneath its physical form, has an eternal from “underneath it” which our soul can recognize as a tree. Aristotle’s philosophy is a direct attack on this, and specifically reverses this relationship; rather than having specific objects be united by a universal form “outside” of the world, the universal understanding itself is made up only by experience of particulars. Aristotle uses the example of doctors, writing that “For the doctor does not cure a human, except coincidentally… [someone] who happens coincidentally to be a human”. (3)
The difference between “experience” and “craft knowledge” is based on this reversal– in short, one may understand experience as instances of encountering particulars, whereas craft knowledge is the application of those particulars onto their universal. A doctor cannot prescribe a remedy to any given patient from any given disease based on their “universal” status, as the patient is not that universal, but a particular patient. The disease, too, cannot be primarily understood as universal, as its effect on the patient is also particular. This is not to say that there is no way of knowing what drug to give what patient, but that the particular must be prioritized to give knowledge onto the universal– thus, experience dictates craft knowledge. This is why Aristotle elaborates that “[i]f, then, someone without experience has the account and knows the universal, but does not know the particular included under it, he will often make an error in treatment, since it is the particular that admits of treatment”. (4)
Aristotle’s view, therefore, is one which inherently joins our understanding to the world itself, as opposed to what would be critiqued by thinkers such as Friedrich Nietzsche, for example, as “other worldly” thought in Plato’s metaphysical model. The distinction between craft knowledge and experience has an aspect of “practicality” to it, which also informs his ethical model. A concept like “eternal” truth or knowledge, then, is somewhat of a misnomer, as the knowledge is based on experience, which is then also only true as long as the craft demonstrates to particular instances its truth. This feeds further into Aristotle’s concept of science– he writes that the importance of science is specifically not out of its “utility”, as it is its ability to be remedied or refined in the future (which is its openness to experience) which makes science useful.
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