Comments on Feminist Epistemologies, ch. 4, as Related to Three Earlier Philosophers

The ideas discussed in Linda Alcoff and Elizabeth Potter’s Feminist Epistemologies, Ch. 4, present a radically different view of epistemology than those suggested by previous philosophers. Far more attention is paid to the positionality of the thinking subject, leading to questions not previously considered: for example, does a person’s background fundamentally change the way they view, understand, and interpret the world? In other words, do the characteristics someone is born with predispose them to a different epistemology than others? And can we ever be sure that we are seeing things as they truly are? Feminist author Bat-Ami Bar On suggests that any philosophical discussion of epistemology is incomplete without equal consideration of epistemic privilege. Epistemic privilege, which she treats as a view you have that others don’t (given your place in society), comes with any identity of social marginality. The marginalized, those occupying a “margin” of society, enjoy a social epistemic privilege over those at the social center simply because the experiences of marginalized groups do not capture the attention of that social center. For this reason, they see things that others can’t. However, the social center, itself largely white/European, male, heterosexual, able-bodied, and economically secure, drives a significant portion of mainstream culture and formulates epistemologies based on that central perspective. These epistemologies are then extended to other gender identities, social classes, and racial and ethnic groups, and declared true for those groups as well. But the self-knowledge and individual perspective afforded by experiencing the social center as an outsider, Bar On argues, fundamentally change the way these groups view the world and render obsolete the epistemology suggested by previous philosophers. These philosophers, the vast majority of whom—as wealthy, white men—did inhabit the social center, are not able to adequately take into account epistemic privilege to constitute the thinking population as socially differentiated, rather than individualized, Enlightenment subjects. Ignoring, disregarding, or simply not addressing the societal differentiation a person’s positionality subjects them to, according to the author, means that we cannot understand how they see the world differently than those at the social center.

Earlier philosophers, however, likely would not have agreed with the concept of epistemic privilege; or, if they conceded its existence, would support its usefulness as extremely limited. Immanuel Kant, a fiercely Enlightened thinker, may have shared a common concern with many modern readers: What, exactly, are we experiencing differently? Kant’s own epistemology seems to completely eliminate the importance of worldly differentiation between people. He goes so far as to say that his theory (that human beings are not truly able to experience reality, but rather that we intuit the world around us through our shared, innate conception of space and time) is objectively real—that is, true for all human beings. However, this theory is also subjectively ideal. A different species would not understand the world in the same way, but through some other intuition(s) of its own. Here, the feminist author may question if a different sex, for example, might also see things fundamentally differently, but Kant would likely respond with a resolute “Nein.” Any person, regardless of gender, race, class, ability, or any other characteristic, experiences the world through space and time. Surely a white man and a black woman would not both look at a rocking chair and see a fundamentally different object. The feminist would then sigh—no, not that kind of “reality.” The abstract, shifting layers that make up the social world are much less concrete, but nonetheless impact the lives of human beings just as much as the physical world, and it is this that we are experiencing differently: the social patterns that govern the way humans interact with each other. Kant’s theory cannot account for this. In fact, Kant’s focus on the material world—to the exclusion of the social world—could serve as further evidence that he, as a member of the social center, simply does not need to worry about the social world the way that outsider groups do. Thus, for lack of epistemic privilege, is unable to expand his understanding of reality.

The earlier epistemology of René Descartes also proves potentially problematic. “I think, therefore I am” could easily be countered by the feminist authors: “I am (a certain way), therefore I think (a certain way).” Even here, Descartes’ individualism may come under fire. Perhaps, “We are (a certain way), therefore we think (a certain way)” better captures reality? The essential “we” is what grants marginalized groups agency. More than just a plea that I experience the world differently (easily granted by Enlightenment philosophers; we all experience the world differently), the “we” edit makes a bolder claim: We experience the world differently, in the same way, as a result of our position in society. This is much harder to contend with. The sort of individualistic thinking Descartes engages in requires a near-vacuum environment; the freedom to detach from the outside world and all its social threads for the maximum musing of a single mind. But while those at the social center can forget about those who are not, those who are not at the social center cannot forget about those who are. 

The concerns expressed in Bar On’s work regarding the blindness of the social center to the experience of marginalized groups nearly map onto Plato’s still-earlier Theory of Forms. Plato’s theory, while at times conflicting and seemingly incomplete—particularly on the issue of whether or not humans can experience or interact with the Forms in any way—expresses a conception of ascending levels of reality. For even a simple physical object, we can understand that the reflection of a leaf in a pond, for example, is less “real” than the leaf itself. Plato goes further to claim that the leaf itself is less “real” than the Form of the Leaf, which is the leafiest of all leaves: the ideal Leaf that expresses an ultimate reality humans cannot experience. The means by which we understand the existence of these supposed Forms is the Form of the Good, which operates like the sun in that we can see it (although we cannot express it), but it also provides the light by which we see everything else. Here there is a possible parallel to be drawn between the Form of the Good and the concept of epistemic privilege. Until you have experienced the Form of the Good (as epistemic privilege), you cannot possibly accept the Forms (as social realities hidden from those at the social center who need never look outside themselves). Thus, those who inhabit the social center are as trapped in their own privilege as the poor souls of the Cave: because they have never known anything different, they are extremely unlikely to ever experience the world as it truly is. And just as Plato’s Forms presented a perceptible world organized along a dividing line of reality, Bar On supports an epistemology whereby those closest to the social center see the world only as a filtered reflection of reality, while those at the margins—further and further from the center, as in concentric circles—draw closer and closer to apprehending reality the further they are from that center. The question remains, however: can anyone experience the (social) world as it truly is, according to the theory of epistemic privilege? Can anyone truly appreciate the Form of the Good? Perhaps a theoretical person experiencing theoretical maximum marginalization would have the most epistemic privilege possible, ascending the levels of reality to see the world as it truly is from the very outskirts of society. But perhaps not. The limits of a theory of epistemic privilege follow the limits of any theory of epistemology: perhaps getting us closer, but never quite there.