- published: 30 Nov 2015
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Episteme, as distinguished from techne, is etymologically derived from the Greek word ἐπιστήμη for knowledge or science, which comes from the verb ἐπίσταμαι, "to know". In Plato's terminology episteme means knowledge, as in "justified true belief", in contrast to doxa, common belief or opinion. The word epistemology, meaning the study of knowledge, is derived from episteme.
For Plato and Aristotle episteme was a concept for universal knowledge that is true by necessity. In this sense, the objects of episteme cannot change. For Plato, these objects exists in the world of ideas. For Aristotle, episteme is the result of logical reasoning through syllogism. In contrast to the certain knowledge of episteme, doxa can be true in some cases but false in others.
The contemporary philosopher Michel Foucault used the term épisteme in a highly specialized sense in his work The Order of Things to mean the historical a priori that grounds knowledge and its discourses and thus represents the condition of their possibility within a particular epoch. In subsequent writings, he made it clear that several epistemes may co-exist and interact at the same time, being parts of various power-knowledge systems. But, he did not discard the concept:
the ashen people cry
they sigh in vain for life
and tears from tired eyes are falling
filling ponds with grief
bitter thoughts they bleed
gloomy water fills the seas
these repentant blackened souls
all sentenced to deplore
the malicious deeds in mortal life
on what they now redeem
the baneful essence feeds
growing strong - awaits release
with tears they raise the seeds
knowing -
condemned they watch it grow
in this eternal sleep
creating the reality
dim heartbeats moaning chime
send shivers down my spine
can this be real - I hear the breathing
a distant rumble roars
it rumbles cross the moors
the ground beneath me fels alive
with tears they raise the seeds
knowing -
condemned they watch it grow
in this eternal sleep
creating the reality
a serenade of death and pain
is playing in my head
the ashen people fades away
and nothing seems the same
I face a bloodred sky
I sense the silent time
a vision from the past is calling
a child of misery
a book of sand I see
it's like a dream within a dream
with tears they raise the seeds
knowing -
condemned they watch it grow
in this eternal sleep