JuanFlorencio will doubtless have his own thoughts on this, but I will answer as I understand it (which is largely influenced by Aquinas, obviously).
Is knowledge apprehending a thing as it is in thought, or is thought an instrument by which we apprehend a thing as it is in reality?
The latter. (I think that can be shown by simple recognition of how our intellection works.) Of course, apprehension is only the first “degree” of knowledge; our knowledge becomes “perfect,” or complete, when we judge the correspondence of our apprehension (or lack thereof) with reality.
That is one of
the great divides in philosophy: it places—believe it or not—Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas on one side, and most of the other philosophers I have encountered on the other (Plato; St. Augustine; Duns Scotus; practically all the moderns, including Descartes, Leibniz, Locke, Hume, and especially Kant; and, in their own way, the vast majority of the Postmoderns).
I am not saying, in any way, that these philosophies are the
same. What each one considers the object that is known, and they way that it is know, is very different. However, they all have in common that the proper object of knowledge is the
interior representation (whatever it is they want to call it: recollection in Plato;
esse obiectium in Duns Scotus; the “idea” in the most of the moderns; the “object” in Kant; the
sache in Gadamer).
With Aristotle and Aquinas (as I mentioned) there is identity of knower and thing known, according to the form. Hence, our intellects practically “touch” the things that we know. (As I as explaining to JuanFlorencio, in Aristotle and Aquinas, the “essence” is not something “inside”*or “underneath” the thing—at least, not primarily. Rather, it
is that thing. A dog is an essence; you and I are essences; and so on.)
What permits that union between knower and thing known is the thing’s form: first and foremost its substantial form (because substances are easier for us to apprehend than their properties); and, as we get to know the thing better, also its accidental forms.
Do we move from thought to things or do things produce knowledge in the intellect which is the raw material on which judgements are made? Does intelligence emerge as human beings apprehend the external world?
At least the most fundamental judgments are imposed on us by the things outside of us. Just by opening our eyes, we are forced to make hundreds of judgments—most of them barely perceptible to our consciousness, but they are there, if we take the time to reflect on them.
We are capable of doing more, however, than simply recognizing what is available to our direct observation. We can use our reason to gain knowledge that we otherwise would not have. We can assume the knowledge that reliable witnesses have given us. (E.g., I have never seen Tokyo, but I have sufficient reason to trust the maps, dictionaries, and encyclopedias that say it exists and is the largest city in Japan—if not in the world.)
We can even use our reason (and specifically our ability to make analogies) to investigate things that cannot be seen at all: subatomic particles, for example; or (as we are doing now) the inner workings of the human intellect; or the nature of substance.
Is common sense to be distrusted as successive approximations of reality get produced as scientific knowledge increases? Or is it a feature of common sense that it is constantly critical of itself and always trying to return to and adjust itself to the external reality it perceives in being such that truth and being are the same thing?
Common sense (not the internal sense, here, but the knowledge that can be gained even before systematic knowledge is attempted) should
never be disdained. That is one of the best criteria for judging a philosophy: does it account for the phenomena that everyone sees? Does it hold up in the face of those things that are the easiest for us to know?
That is why a philosophy such as Descartes’ (which denies the reliability of the senses) or Kant’s (which, in addition to being skeptical of the reliability of the senses, denies the knowability of the “thing in itself”) should be viewed with caution. There are a lot of good things to be found in both authors; but their fundamental presuppositions are flawed right from the get-go.
There is a maxim in logic:
contra factum, non argumentum est: no argument is to be made against plain fact.
A philosophy can, and should, explain how the phenomena accessible to direct observation arise, but should never contradict them.