BASR: Discourse Journal

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Shakespeare and the Analysis of Knowledge

Author: Dan O'Brien

Journal Title: Discourse

ISSN:

ISSN-L: 1741-4164

Volume: 4

Number: 1

Start page: 57

End page: 70

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In this paper I propose to show how the plays of Shakespeare can be used as a source of Gettier-type scenarios. There is an important pedagogical reason for doing this. Gettier’s actual examples often strike students as highly artificial and psychologically implausible. Arguably, this does not diminish their philosophical importance, although it does reduce the chance of certain students taking them seriously. In fact, the artifice and Byzantine nature of the debate surrounding the analysis of knowledge in general has become somewhat infamous.

On the few occasions when I have taught the “analysis of knowledge” literature to undergraduates, it has been painfully clear that most of my students had a hard time taking the project seriously. The better students were clever enough to play fill-in-the-blank with ‘S knows that p if and only if_’. They could recognize the force of the increasing arcane counterexamples that fill the literature, and they occasionally produced new counterexamples of their own. But they could not, for the life of them, see why anybody would want to do this. It was a source of ill-concealed amazement to these students that grown men and women would indulge in this exercise and think it important—and still greater amazement that others would pay them to do it!’ (Stich, 1990, p. 3)

My hope, then, is that convincing and psychologically plausible Gettier examples would contribute to making the analysis of knowledge more accessible. Literature can provide ideal source material, and analytic philosophy should not be shy of making use of it. After laying out Gettier’s argument against the traditional account of knowledge, I shall give a short sketch of a Gettier example that can be found in The Comedy of Errors. Scenarios from certain other plays shall then be considered in more depth, and I shall show how the Gettier cases found there can be used to illuminate certain key epistemological issues such as those concerning the role of luck, self-knowledge and testimony.

1. The Analysis of Knowledge and Gettier

A true belief does not necessarily amount to knowledge. Right now I just happen to believe that it is raining in Casablanca. I have no reason to hold this belief; I just do. And, as it happens, it is true. I cannot be said, though, to have knowledge of this occurrence. I have simply been lucky. An analysis of knowledge, therefore, needs to rule out such lucky episodes. In order to do this, knowledge has traditionally been seen as consisting of justified true beliefs. And, justification is provided by the possession of good reasons or adequate evidence in support of the truth of one’s beliefs. Such a conception of knowledge has its roots in Plato.

THEAETETUS: …I once heard someone suggesting that true belief accompanied by a rational account is knowledge, whereas true belief unaccompanied by a rational account is distinct from knowledge. (Plato, 1987, 201c-d)

There have been though, various objections to this traditional analysis. Some have claimed that justification is not necessary for knowledge,¹ and others have claimed that one need not have belief². The most influential attack, however, can be found in Gettier (1963). He suggested certain scenarios within which thinkers are seen to have justified true beliefs even though we would not want to say that they have knowledge. The following is one of Gettier’s examples. Smith has always seen Jones driving a Ford, and by selecting three places at random, he considers the following three propositions.

(i) Either Jones owns a Ford, or Brown is in Boston.
(ii) Either Jones owns a Ford, or Brown is in Barcelona.
(iii) Either Jones owns a Ford, or Brown is in Brest-Litovsk.

Given the car he has seen Jones driving, Smith is justified in believing all three. It turns out, though, that Jones does not own a Ford (it was a rented car), and, by chance, Brown happens to be in Barcelona. (i) and (iii), then, are false; (ii), however, is true, and, Smith is justified in believing this proposition. We would not, though, want to say that this is something that Smith knew. It was simply lucky that Brown happened to be in Barcelona. Gettier purports to show, then, that even justified true beliefs can be acquired by accident. And, as luck is anathema to knowledge, Gettier concludes that the traditional analysis is inadequate. It should be noted that such scenarios are far from a minority interest, and that Gettier’s paper is probably the contemporary research paper with the highest ‘interest per word’ ratio (number of words written about the paper: number of words in the original). Gettier’s paper is a mere three pages long, yet it has elicited hundreds of lengthy replies. A good survey of some of this work can be found in Shope (1983).

2. The Comedy of Errors

Antipholus and Dromio of Syracuse are the identical twins of Antipholus and Dromio of Ephesus. Consequently, one of the main themes of the play is that of mistaken identity. On arriving in Ephesus, Antipholus of Syracuse is greeted as an old acquaintance, even though he has never been there before.

ANTIPHOLUS: There’s not a man I meet but doth salute me
As if I were their well-acquainted friend,
And every one doth call me by my name.
Some tender money to me, some invite me,
Some other give me thanks for kindnesses.
Some offer me commodities to buy.
Even now a tailor called me in his shop
And showed me silks that he had bought for me,
And therewithal took measure of my body.
Sure, these are but imaginary wiles,
And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here. (Act 4, scene 3)

When Angelo the goldsmith addresses him as “Antipholus”, he reacts in surprise, “Ay, that’s my name”, to which Angelo gives the reply: “I know it well, sir.” (Act 3, scene 2). We should not, however, see this as a case of knowledge. The people of Ephesus think that this Antipholus is the one who lives locally, and it is simply coincidental that their usual acquaintance has a twin with the same name. We would, however, like to say that they have justified true beliefs concerning the name of this man. This is because his appearance is identical to the man they know to be called “Antipholus”, and, because they do not know that the latter has a twin. We have, then, justified true belief without knowledge, and so, a Gettier case.

3. Much Ado About Nothing

Beatrice and Benedick are tricked into thinking that each is in love with the other. So as that Benedick can hear, his friends suggest that it is clear that Beatrice is in love with him (act 2, scene 3); and, similarly, it is engineered that Beatrice overhears a similar conversation concerning Benedick’s alleged love for her (act 3, scene 1). These stories are not, however, grounded in their true feelings; they are merely designed to make Beatrice and Benedick fall for each other (although an alternative interpretation of this scene is discussed below). The plan works and Beatrice and Benedick do fall in love. (This scenario was copied in the recent French film, Amelie.) Benedick, then, believes that Beatrice is in love with him because he has heard stories of her pining. He has, therefore, a true belief, one for which he has good justifying evidence. However, his belief is true, not because of what he has heard, but because Beatrice falls for him as a result of their friends’ deception. We would not say, then, that Benedick knows of her love, given that his reasons do not describe its actual source. Again, then, we have a Gettier case.

There are several features of this scenario that could be usefully explored in class discussion. Firstly, one could focus on the concept of luck and its relation to knowledge. It was suggested above that the Gettier examples are important because they show how even justified true beliefs can be acquired by accident, and thus, it is claimed that the traditional analysis does not provide sufficient conditions for knowledge. In this case, however, one would not say that the lovers acquired their beliefs by accident or that luck played any part in their acquisition. This is because the situation was deliberately engineered in order that Beatrice and Benedick come to have those particular beliefs. Thus, this scenario could be useful in helping students to articulate why Gettier cases should not be seen as constituting knowledge; more needs to be said than that they simply involve the “lucky” acquisition of justified true belief.

Secondly, this example could be used to lead into a discussion of whether belief is necessary for knowledge. Up to the third act, our protagonists are engaged in “a kind of merry war”: they are constantly needling and insulting each other. It is not too difficult, however, to read into such behaviour a deep attraction between them. Beatrice and Benedick are seemingly fascinated by each other. It could be said, therefore, that even before their friends’ intervention, there is an attraction between them, even love. Their friends, then, could be seen, not as instigating a love affair, but as forcing them to admit to themselves that they have been in love all along, and, that they have perhaps always known of the love of the other. (This is a claim that could be seen as supported by the fact that right at the start of the play Beatrice inquires as to whether Benedick has returned from the war.) Here, then, there is the suggestion that there may be knowledge without belief, something to which the traditional analysis is opposed. The claim is that Beatrice and Benedick have known all along that they love each other; it is only, however, with their friends’ intervention that they come to acknowledge this and that they come to actually believe, both that they love the other, and, that their love is reciprocated.

Thirdly, this scenario is relevant to the issue of self-knowledge. Benedick thinks that he distrusts all women because of their infidelity, and, therefore, he claims to believe that he will never get married. Similarly, right up until the end of the play, Beatrice professes to believe that there is no man worthy of her. These beliefs, however, turn out to be false: Benedick does get married (to Beatrice); and, Beatrice does find a man who is worthy of her (Benedick). Nevertheless, on a broadly Cartesian account of self-knowledge, Benedick and Beatrice cannot be mistaken about the content of their beliefs, that is something to which they have infallible access. In the play, though, it is suggested that some of the other characters know the thoughts of the lovers better than they know them themselves. To Don Pedro, and perhaps to us, it seems plausible that both Benedick and Beatrice do actually want to get married and that they do not have such negative views concerning the opposite sex. The ease with which they are thrown into each others’ arms may suggest that this is so. We have, then, reason to doubt the Cartesian account of self-knowledge, or, at the very least, a useful scenario within which to discuss the possibility of other accounts.

4. Hamlet

Hamlet suspects that his uncle Claudius murdered his father, the King of Denmark. And, this is true. In order to test out his suspicions, Hamlet stages a play—’The Murder of Gonzago’—which in some respects resembles the supposed murder of his father (Act 3, scene 2). During the performance, Hamlet watches for Claudius’s reaction, and, in the middle of the play, Claudius becomes upset and storms out. This provides Hamlet with good evidence of Claudius’s guilt, and, therefore, he has a justified true belief that it was Claudius who killed the King. The key question, then, is whether or not we would want to say that he has knowledge of this fact. Interestingly, there are two interpretations of Shakespeare’s intentions with respect to this scene, and these interpretations provide different answers to this question.

One interpretation holds that Claudius’s behaviour is not driven by guilt. During the play-within-a-play, Hamlet regularly interjects and provides a constant commentary. It is such behaviour that causes Claudius to be upset, and not the fact that the play reminds Claudius of his crime. It is, then, fortuitous for Hamlet that Claudius is so sensitive to his clumsy staging of the play, and it is coincidental that Claudius’s sensitivity leads to the kind of behaviour, which could also be taken as indicative of his guilt. On such an interpretation, we would not want to say that Hamlet knows the identity of the murderer, even though he has a true belief backed up by seemingly good evidence.³ This scenario, then, would constitute a Gettier case.

There is, however, a different interpretation of this scene. Claudius could be taken to be acting out of guilt. If this is the case, then luck is not involved in Hamlet’s acquisition of this true belief concerning the murder of his father. It would, therefore, be plausible to say that Hamlet does have knowledge of the crime. Such competing interpretations could be incorporated into an in-depth look at Gettier, with students asked to offer their interpretation of the play, and an account of how their interpretation impacts on the relevance of this scene to Gettier and to the analysis of knowledge.

5. Othello and the Role of Lies in the Transmission of Knowledge

In Othello there is a very important handkerchief. It is Othello’s first gift to his wife, Desdemona, and it becomes the focus of his crippling and ultimately tragic jealousy, the main theme of the play. Desdemona drops this handkerchief and it is found by her maid, Emilia (act 3, scene 3). Before it can be returned, however, Iago—the villain of the piece—takes it from her. This handkerchief will be useful to him in his plan to make his master, Othello, jealous of Cassio, a rival employee. Iago tells Othello that Desdemona is having an affair with Cassio, and he later claims that he has seen Cassio wiping his beard with the handkerchief. These are both lies; lies, however, that lead to Othello having a true belief, a true belief that Desdemona no longer possesses the handkerchief. This belief is also justified given the testimony of Iago, who Othello takes to be a trustworthy friend. Here, then, our first thought might be that we have a putative Gettier case since the reasons that Othello takes to justify his belief are not those that are actually operative in making his belief true. I, however, shall claim that this is not so, and, in order to do so, I shall first need to look more closely at the role that lies and falsehoods can play in the acquisition of knowledge.

One response to the Gettier cases has been to claim that justification cannot be provided by reasoning that involves false beliefs (see Feldman 1974). The rationale for this claim is that our conception of justification is that of possessing good reason or adequate evidence for taking one’s beliefs to be true. A belief that is false, therefore, cannot provide such evidence or rational support. In our example, then, Othello should not be seen as acquiring a justified true belief concerning the whereabouts of the handkerchief because he arrives at his conclusion on the basis of Iago’s false testimony. If this is so, then we do not have a counterexample to the traditional analysis. However, this prohibition against false beliefs has faced various problems. Notably, it cannot be seen to rule out all Gettier cases since there are other such scenarios in which no explicit reasoning is involved. Looking out of my window into the garden I come to acquire the belief that my tulips are in bloom, and, they are. What I am actually looking at, however, are some plastic flowers that a friend has left there: these flowers obscuring the real flowers behind. Given what I can see, though, I would seem to have a justified belief, and, as said, one that is true. One would not want to say, however, that I know that my flowers are in bloom. And, note that here there is no reasoning or inference involved: on looking into my garden I simply come to acquire this belief about my tulips. Such an example shows that not all Gettier cases can be ruled out on the grounds that one’s justification involves false beliefs. I, however, would like to go further: I would like to suggest that falsehoods can actually make a contribution to justification and that they can be important in the transmission of knowledge. If I can show that this is so, then the lies that Iago tells Othello may help Othello gain knowledge of the whereabouts of the handkerchief.

If we are to take the Othello example as a Gettier case, it would have to be our intuition that Othello does not know that the handkerchief is lost. It is not clear, however, whether this is what we should say. Othello does acquire his belief on the basis of Iago’s lie, and, ultimately, this lie is intended to give Othello a false belief concerning Desdemona’s infidelity. In order for this to be accomplished, though, Othello must first come to have the true belief that Desdemona does not possess the handkerchief. And, Iago lies in order that Othello comes to have this information. Therefore, Othello does not come to have his belief by accident. Iago knows the whereabouts of the handkerchief and he intends his speech act to convey this knowledge to Othello. I suggest, then, that here we have a case where the vehicle of knowledge transmission is a lie. If this is persuasive, then this example should not be seen as a Gettier case.

In order to support such an interpretation, we can turn to some familiar cases where it is plausible that lies or falsehoods are used to pass on knowledge. Such a method is often used by parents, politicians and schoolteachers. In chemistry lessons at school, we are told that an oxygen atom can combine with two yet not three hydrogen atoms. An explanation is given that involves conceiving of atoms as akin to tiny solar systems of sub-atomic particles. Thus, we come to believe that H20 is a stable molecule and that H30 is not. This is a true belief. The given explanation, however, is simply false: atoms are not like that. Thinking of them as so, however, enables us to learn a correct fact about water. This, of course, is intentional on the part of our teachers. The true explanation is too complex for us to appreciate, and this false story is told with the intention that it will enable us to pick up certain true scientific beliefs. And, here it seems clear that we can acquire scientific knowledge in this way.

Another such example appears later in Othello. After Iago leaves the handkerchief in Cassio’s room, Cassio finds it and takes a liking to it. Again, based on Iago’s lies about a fictitious affair between Cassio and Desdemona, Othello comes to believe that Cassio is in possession of Desdemona’s handkerchief. This belief is true, even though it is based upon the lie that Desdemona has given it to him as a token of her love. One could, then, think that this is a Gettier-type case since the reason the belief is true is distinct from the reasons upon which Othello’s belief is based. Again, though, the role of Iago should make us resist this interpretation. Iago’s hand in both the planting of the handkerchief, and in the testimony he gives to Othello, suggest that we should see this as a case of justified true belief and one of knowledge. This is because Iago intends his lie to provide Othello with the correct information concerning the whereabouts of the handkerchief. We have seen, then, that certain incidents in Othello may force us to rethink the role that lies can play in the transmission of knowledge.

When discussing Othello in the context of the problem that Gettier raises, we also have to be careful to specify just which belief is relevant to our discussion. In our first example, the belief with which we are concerned is simply that the handkerchief is lost, and not that Desdemona is unfaithful. The latter belief is false and, therefore, the question of whether this belief amounts to knowledge is not raised. This issue concerning the correct specification of the belief relevant to a Gettier case is what the next section goes on to explore.

6. Richard III: Specifying which Belief is Relevant to a Gettier Case

The evil Richard of Gloucester produces a fake prophecy which tells his brother, King Edward, that “G of Edward’s heirs the murderer shall be” (act 1, scene 1). This convinces Edward that his sons will be murdered and that the subject of the prophecy—the “G”—is his brother George Clarence. Edward arrests him and this gives Richard the opportunity to arrange to have Clarence killed. Even though the prophecy is a fake, however, it does turn out to be accurate. The G who orders the murder of Edward’s heirs is actually Richard of Gloucester. Edward, then, has a true belief that G will be involved in the murder of his children. And, this is a belief that he perhaps has good reason to accept, given the prophecy and the fact that Richard also informs Edward that Clarence has children of his own who have much to gain if Edward’s sons are killed. It is, however, accidental that he comes to have such a true belief given that his reasons are based on a fake prophecy, one that is merely intended to incriminate the innocent George Clarence. Edward, then, cannot be said to know that the murderer is G, and thus, this is a Gettier case.

This example raises a question that students often find problematic, that is, the question concerning just which belief is relevant to a particular Gettier example, and whether it is plausible that the thinker in question has such a belief. One response to the Richard III case would be to say that Edward does not believe that just any G will murder his children. He actually believes that Clarence might; that is why he has Clarence arrested. The claim, then, is that Edward does not have a true belief since it is false that Clarence is involved in the murder, and thus, we do not have a counterexample to the traditional analysis. Such a response is in some ways parallel to that which is often given by students to Gettier’s own example involving the job vacancy. Smith and Jones have both applied for a job. The boss, however, has told Smith that Jones will be selected. Smith has also seen ten coins in Jones’s pocket. He has, then, good evidence and therefore justification for believing that Jones will get the job, and, that Jones has ten coins in his pocket. From this, Smith reasons that he has strong evidence for the belief that the man who will get the job has ten coins in his pocket. And, this belief turns out to be true. This, however, is because unbeknownst to Smith, he himself will get the job and he himself has ten coins in his pocket. It cannot be said, then, that Smith knew that the man who would get the job would have ten coins in his pocket. In class discussion, a common response to this case is to claim that Smith does not believe that just any man with ten coins in his pocket will get the job; he believes that this man is Jones. This belief, however, is false; thus, we do not have a counterexample to the traditional analysis. We have, then, parallel responses to these two cases; in both, it is denied that the thinker has a true belief about a general subject—one about any man—it is, rather, that he has a specific belief about a particular man, a belief that is false.

It is not, however, compulsory to interpret such cases in this way. It does have to be admitted that the reasoning which Gettier attributes to Smith is unusual; it would be an odd train of thought to have as one waited for the results of a job interview. But, nevertheless, it is certainly possible that one could reason in this way, and, if so, one could have the belief that Gettier specifies. In this case, then, an inference is made from a belief concerning a specific person to a belief with a more general subject. In the Richard III example, I suggest that it is plausible that the opposite move is made. To arrive at the conclusion that the G must be George Clarence, it would seem that Edward must first believe the prophecy. And thus, at least until he has come up with the name of Clarence, he will think (perhaps only fleetingly) that a G—some G or other—will be the murderer. As said, this would be a true belief, and one that could ground a Gettier-type case.

Lastly, while we are discussing Richard III, it would be useful to consider the manner in which (in some performances of the play) the King’s physical disabilities are taken to indicate that he is not trustworthy. Here we have an illustration of one possible misunderstanding that may arise with respect to the concept of justification. We may be tempted to say that our suspicions are justified by the fact that Richard does go on to perform certain evil deeds. And, this is certainly a way we have of talking about “justification”: one might say that John’s lifelong support of West Bromwich Albion Football Club has been justified by their promotion to the Premiership. This, however, is not the concept of justification that is relevant to the Gettier cases or to epistemology in general. Our main concern should be with epistemic justification, and this concerns whether our beliefs are likely to be true. The important question, then, is whether there is good reason to think that West Bromwich Albion will get promoted, and that Richard will turn out to be evil, before we come to see whether or not our beliefs are actually true or false. If so, then we have epistemic justification for accepting such beliefs; if not, then we may only have what one could call, “after-the-fact”, justification. With respect to the character of King Richard, then, we may have this latter type of justification, but we do not have epistemic justification because such aspects of one’s physique are not a reliable guide to one’s moral character.

7. Potential Problems and Feedback

I have introduced such examples in a limited way to my epistemology lectures and tutorials and they have gone down well. The way I approached this, however, was through giving a précis of the various plots, rather than by showing video clips of the plays or through readings of the actual text. The latter approaches, I think, would be more satisfying and they are something that I will try next year. There are, though, certain problems that I foresee and I wonder if anybody has any thoughts on how they could be overcome. Shakespeare is not easy: some of the vocabulary and grammar is old and alien to students; and, they are plays, written to be performed rather than simply read. Because of such factors, a video of Olivier’s Hamlet at the National Theatre may not successfully engage students, nor will simply a photocopy from the Arden Comedy of Errors (excepting, of course, those students who are enrolled on Joint Honours English and Philosophy courses or those who have taken English Literature at A level). More useful, perhaps, would be the more accessible Hollywood treatments such as Brannagh’s Much Ado About Nothing and Ian McKellen’s 1930’s Richard III. As said, I would welcome some suggestions here, and if anyone decides to use Shakespeare in this way (or if they already do so), some feedback on whether this could be a successful and illuminating way to teach the analysis of knowledge would be appreciated. From my limited attempts, it looks promising.

8. Conclusion

In this paper I hope to have illustrated some ways in which Shakespeare could be integrated into the study of the analysis of knowledge. This will have various benefits. At times, analytic philosophy takes an almost perverse pleasure in concocting bizarre examples and scenarios. These are sometimes very useful and illuminating (and often amusing), but to one not attuned, they can be off-putting. To counter such a reaction, I have shown here how other rich examples can be taken from literature. Such examples are beneficial because they help ground our philosophical concepts in psychologically plausible examples of human behaviour. They can also, perhaps, have a reciprocal effect on our appreciation of literature. A performance of Othello, for example, does not just tell us something about the vicissitudes of human jealousy and weakness, but also something about human knowledge.

Endnotes

See Sartwell (1991) and Williamson (2000). The latter provides a radical departure from the traditional analysis. Knowledge is not described in terms of justified belief, but rather, the order of explanation is reversed: both belief and justification are explained in terms of the more fundamental mental state of knowing.
See Radford (1966).
For this interpretation, see Greg (1917).

Bibliography

Feldman, F. ‘An Alleged Defect in Gettier Counter-examples’, Australasian Journal of Philosophy, vol. 52, 1974, pp. 68-9.
Gettier, E. ‘Is Justified True Belief Knowledge?’, Analysis, vol. 23, 1963, pp. 121-3.
Greg, W. ‘Hamlet’s Hallucination’, in Modern Language Review, vol. 12, 1917, pp. 410-421.
Plato, Theaetetus, tr. R. Waterfield (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1987).
Radford, C. ‘Knowledge—By Examples’, in Analysis, vol. 27, 1966, p. 1-11.
Sartwell, C. ‘Knowledge is Merely True Belief’, Philosophical Quarterly, vol. 2, 1991, pp.157-165.
Shakespeare, W. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (London: Harper Collins, 1994).
Shope, R. The Analysis of Knowing: A Decade of Research, (Princetown, NJ: Princetown University Press, 1983).
Stich, S. Fragmentation of Reason, (Cambridge, Mass.: A Bradford Book, MIT Press, 1990).
Williamson, T. Knowledge and Its Limits, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000).

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