Epistemology

Epistemology is the part of philosophy that deals with the nature of knowledge. And because the standard conception of knowledge is justified true belief, epistemology also includes questions about the nature of mental states and truth, as well.

I’ve generally steered clear of these topics in my philosophical training; I took the standard graduate-level course in epistemology from an eminent philosopher in the field and have a working knowledge of the main questions that epistemologists wrangle with. But, for the most part, I never really got turned on to the issues, which always struck me as more technical than practically relevant to our day-to-day lives.

I do, though, find myself wondering more and more these days about what gets to count as knowing something and whether I can ever know if I know anything.

For instance, we’ve got this bigleaf maple tree growing in our back yard. It’s just about the same age as Mimi; it was barely a twig when we first moved in but now, almost ten years later, it’s a strong young sapling, fifteen feet tall, eight inches in diameter at its trunk’s base. But we’re thinking of taking it out, cutting it down so we can relocate the fence that runs along the alley behind our property.

This makes me very nervous, though. I hold a belief that the health and well-being of my kid is somehow linked to this tree. It’s superstitious nonsense to believe this; there’s no conceivable causal link between the vitality of Mimi and the tree. I can explain how I developed the belief, seeing human and plant grow up together, but I don’t think I’m justified in holding it.

And yet, part of me still thinks I have some mysterious knowledge here; I’m unable to completely reject the perceived connection between tree and child. If we cut down the tree Mimi gets a bad cold or breaks her arm or something, I’ll feel awful. That I do know.