Philosophy
The Epistemology of Skill and Knowing-How Versus Knowing-That
Quick fact
Philosopher Gilbert Ryle argued that knowing-how cannot be reduced to knowing-that, because if every skill required knowing a fact, we'd face an infinite regress of knowing facts about how to apply other facts.
Why this is interesting
You can read every manual on riding a bicycle, yet still fall over the moment you sit on the seat. What does the bike-rider know that the manual-reader doesn't?
Read the full explanation
Understanding The Epistemology of Skill and Knowing-How Versus Knowing-That
We often talk about knowledge in two very different ways. When you say 'I know that Paris is the capital of France,' you're expressing a fact—a piece of information you can state. This is called knowing-that, or propositional knowledge. But when you say 'I know how to swim,' you're not stating a fact; you're describing a skill. This is knowing-how, sometimes called procedural knowledge. At first glance, these seem like just two different words for the same thing. But think about it: you can know all the facts about swimming—the physics of buoyancy, the correct arm strokes, the breathing rhythm—and still sink like a stone. Conversely, a skilled swimmer might be unable to explain how they stay afloat. This suggests that knowing-how is something more than just knowing a list of facts. The key difference is that knowing-how is about being able to do something, while knowing-that is about being able to say something true. You can demonstrate knowing-how by performing an action correctly; you demonstrate knowing-that by making a truthful assertion. A skill is a reliable ability, not just a memory.
A deeper explanation
The core debate about knowing-how versus knowing-that was ignited by Gilbert Ryle in his 1949 book 'The Concept of Mind.' Ryle attacked a view he called 'intellectualism'—the idea that knowing how to do something is always a matter of knowing that certain facts are the case. For example, an intellectualist would say that knowing how to play chess is just knowing that the knight moves in an L-shape, that you should control the center, etc. Ryle's argument is devastating: if every act of intelligence required first consulting a rule or fact, then you'd need a rule for applying that rule, and another rule for applying that rule, and so on. This infinite regress would make any action impossible. Therefore, knowing-how cannot be based on propositional knowledge alone. Instead, Ryle argued that knowing-how is a distinct kind of knowledge—a disposition or capacity that is exhibited in performance, not in contemplation. The debate continues today. Some philosophers, like Jason Stanley, defend a modern form of intellectualism, arguing that knowing-how is actually a species of knowing-that, but with a special kind of practical mode of presentation. They point to cases where you can 'know how' to do something without being able to do it—like knowing how to play a piano piece you've memorized but are temporarily paralyzed. Others, drawing on work in cognitive science, argue that skills involve procedural memory and tacit knowledge that cannot be fully captured by propositions. Why does this matter? Because it challenges the traditional focus of epistemology on propositional knowledge. If we want a complete theory of what it means to know, we must account for the knowledge that is in our hands and muscles, not just in our heads. This has consequences for education (how we teach skills), artificial intelligence (whether a system can truly 'know how' without propositional reasoning), and the philosophy of mind (how mental states relate to bodily abilities).