On Knowledge

The word “knowledge” has a broad semantic range—it describes epistemic realities that are quite diverse. Knowledge can mean information, for instance, the knowledge of analytical geometry or of communal life in medieval Italy. Knowledge also describes a skill, for example, the knowledge of bread-making or clock-repair. I remain distinct from both knowledge possessed as information or as a skill. But, there is a third “type” of knowledge, which is harder to distinguish from myself. It is a part of me; it is what classical philosophy calls a habit. In this regard, we speak of the talent of the poet or the courage of the soldier. It is this last type of knowledge that we seek to give an account for in this work. The poet’s facility with the beauty of language and the soldier’s courage in the face of adversity is possessed in a way that is “second nature.” Beyond knowledge as “information” (like trigonometry or twelfth-century life in Perugia) or knowledge as a “skill” (like making bread or fixing clocks), both which remain—at least to some degree—distinct from myself, we are considering an ingrained, personal knowledge that is co-extensive with myself. It is a knowledge derived from a deep intimacy and union with the reality known. It is a knowledge forged in experience, shaped by affection, possessed as a habit. The accomplished poet and the courageous soldier have developed a new sense by which they are able experientially to judge things pertaining to beauty or courage by reference to their own internal sense or instinct. This is the terrain of connatural knowledge.