Grice's C

communicatum: it is a commonplace that Grice belongs, as most philosophers of the twentieth century, to the movement of the linguistic turn. Short and Lewis have “commūnĭcare,” earlier “conmunicare,” f. communis, and thus sharing the prefix with “conversare.” Now “communis” is an interesting lexeme that Grice uses quite centrally in his idea of the ‘common ground’ – when a feature of discourse is deemed to have been assigned ‘common-ground status.’ “Communis” features the “cum-” prefix, commūnis (comoinis , S. C. de Bacch.); f. “con” and root “mu-,” to bind; Sanscr. mav-; cf.: immunis, munus, moenia. The ‘communicatum’ (as used by Tammelo in  social philosophy) may well cover what Grice would call the total ‘significatio,’ or ‘significatum.’ Grice takes this seriously. Let us start then by examining what we mean by ‘linguistic,’ or ‘communication.’ It is curious that while most Griceians overuse ‘communicative’ as applied to ‘intention,’ Grice does not. Communicator’s intention, at most. This is the Peirce in Grice’s soul. Meaning provides an excellent springboard for Grice to centre his analysis on psychological or soul-y verbs as involving the agent and the first person: smoke only figuratively means fire, and the expression smoke only figuratively (or metabolically) means that there is fire. It is this or that utterer (say, Grice) who means, say, by uttering Where theres smoke theres fire, or ubi fumus, ibi ignis, that where theres smoke theres fire. A means something by uttering x, an utterance-token is roughly equivalent to utterer U intends the utterance of x to produce some effect in his addressee A by means of the recognition of this intention; and we may add that to ask what U means is to ask for a specification of the intended effect - though, of course, it may not always be possible to get a straight answer involving a that-clause, for example, a belief that  He does provide a more specific example involving the that-clause at a later stage. By uttering x, utterer U means that-ψ­_b-dp iff (Ǝ.φ).(Ǝ.f).(Ǝ.c): I. U utters x intending x to be such that anyone who has φ will think that (i) x has f  (ii) f is correlated in way c with ψ-ing that p (iii) (Ǝ.φ): U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ will think, via thinking (i) and (ii), that U ψ-s that p (iv) in view of (3), U ψ-s that p; and II (operative only for certain substituends for ψ_b-d). U utters x intending that, should there actually be anyone who has φ, he will, via thinking (iv), himself ψ that p; and III. It is not the case that, for some inference-element E, U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ will both (i) rely on E in coming to ψ (or think that U ψ-s) that p and (ii) think that (Ǝ.φ): U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ will come to ψ (or think that U ψ-s) that p without relying on E. Besides St. John The Baptist, and Salome, Grice cites few Namess in Meaning. But he makes a point about Stevenson! For Stevenson, smoke means fire. Meaning develops out of an interest by Grice on the philosophy of Peirce. In his essays on Peirce, Grice quotes from many other authors, including, besides Peirce himself (!), Ogden, Richards, and Ewing, or A. C. Virtue is not a fire-shovel Ewing, as Grice calls him, and this or that cricketer. In the characteristic Oxonian fashion of a Lit. Hum., Grice has no intention to submit Meaning to publication. Publishing is vulgar. Bennett, however, guesses that Grice decides to publish it just a year after his Defence of a dogma. Bennett’s argument is that Defence of a dogma pre-supposes some notion of meaning. However, a different story may be told, not necessarily contradicting Bennetts. It is Strawson who submits the essay by Grice to The Philosophical Review (henceforth, PR) Strawson attends Grices talk on Meaning for The Oxford Philosophical Society, and likes it. Since In defence of a dogma was co-written with Strawson, the intention Bennett ascribes to Grice is Strawsons. Oddly, Strawson later provides a famous alleged counter-example to Grice on meaning in Intention and convention in speech acts, following J. O. Urmson’s earlier attack to the sufficiency of Grices analysans -- which has Grice dedicating a full James lecture (No. 5) to it. The case by Urmson involved a tutee offering to buy Gardiner an expensive dinner, hoping that Gardiner will give him permission for an over-night visit to London. Gardiner knows that his tutee wants his permission. The appropriate analysans for "By offering to buy Gardiner an expensive dinner, the tuttee means that Gardiner should give him permission for an overnight stay in London" are fulfilled: (1) The tutee offers to buy Gardiner an expensive dinner with the intention of producing a certain response on the part of Gardiner (2) The tutee intends that Gardiner should recognize (know, think) that the tutee is offering to buy him an expensive dinner with the intention of producing this response; (3) The tutee intends that Gardiners recognition (thought) that the tutee has the intention mentioned in (2) should be at least part of Gardiners reason for producing the response mentioned. If in general to specify in (i) the nature of an intended response is to specify what was meant, it should be correct not only to say that by offering to buy Gardiner an expensive dinner, the tutee means that Gardiner is to give him permission for an overnight stay in London, but also to say that he meas that Gardiner should (is to) give him permission for an over-night visit to London. But in fact one would not wish to say either of these things; only that the tutee meant Gardiner to give him permission. A restriction seems to be required, and one which might serve to eliminate this range of counterexamples can be identified from a comparison of two scenarios. Grice goes into a tobacconists shop, ask for a packet of my favorite cigarettes, and when the unusually suspicious tobacconist shows that he wants to see the color of my money before he hands over the goods, I put down the price of the cigarettes on the counter. Here nothing has been meant. Alternatively, Grice goes to his regular tobacconist (from whom I also purchase other goods) for a packet of my regular brand of Players Navy Cuts, the price of which is distinctive, say 43p. Grice says nothing, but puts down 43p. The tobacconist recognizes my need, and hands over the packet. Here, I think, by putting down 43p I meant something-Namesly, that I wanted a packet of Players Navy Cuts. I have at the same time provided an inducement. The distinguishing feature of the second example seems to be that here the tobacconist recognized, and was intended to recognize, what he was intended to do from my "utterance" (my putting down the money), whereas in the first example this was not the case. Nor is it the case with respect to Urmson’s case of the tutees attempt to bribe Gardiner. So one might propose that the analysis of meaning be amended accordingly. U means something by uttering x is true if: (i) U intends, by uttering x, to induce a certain response in A (2) U intends A to recognize, at least in part from the utterance of x, that U intends to produce that response (3) U intends the fulfillment of the intention mentioned in (2) to be at least in part As reason for fulfilling the intention mentioned in (i). While this might cope with Urmsons counterexample to Grices proposal in the Oxford Philosophical Society talk involving the tutee attempting to bribe Gardiner, there is Strawsons rat-infested house for which it is insufficient. An interesting fact, that confused a few, is that Hart quotes from Grices Meaning in his critical review of Holloway for The Philosophical Quarterly. Hart quotes Grice pre-dating the publication of Meaning. Harts point is that Holloway should have gone to Oxford! In Meaning, Grice may be seen as a practitioner of ordinary-language philosophy: witness his explorations of the factivity (alla know, remember, or see) or lack thereof of various uses of to mean. The second part of the essay, for which he became philosophically especially popular, takes up an intention-based approach to semantic notions. The only authority Grice cites, in typical Oxonian fashion, is, via Ogden and Barnes, Stevenson, who, from The New World (and via Yale, too!) defends an emotivist theory of ethics, and making a few remarks on how to mean is used, with scare quotes, in something like a causal account (Smoke means fire.). After its publication Grices account received almost as many alleged counterexamples as rule-utilitarianism (Harrison), but mostly outside Oxford, and in The New World. New-World philosophers seem to have seen Grices attempt as reductionist and as oversimplifying. At Oxford, the sort of counterexample Grice received, before Strawson, was of the Urmson-type: refined, and subtle. I think your account leaves bribery behind. On the other hand, in the New World ‒ in what Grice calls the Latter-Day School of Nominalism, Quine is having troubles with empiricism. Meaning was repr. in various collections, notably in Philosophical Logic, ed. by Strawson. It should be remembered that it is Strawson who has the thing typed and submitted for publication. Why Meaning should be repr. in a collection on Philosophical Logic only Strawson knows. But Grice does say that his account may help clarify the meaning of entails! It may be Strawsons implicature that Parkinson should have repr. (and not merely credited) Meaning by Grice in his series for Oxford on The theory of meaning. The preferred quotation for Griceians is of course The Oxford Philosophical Society quote, seeing that Grice recalled the exact year when he gave the talk for the Philosophical Society at Oxford! It is however, the publication in The Philosophi, rather than the quieter evening at the Oxford Philosophical Society, that occasioned a tirade of alleged counter-examples by New-World philosophers. Granted, one or two Oxonians ‒ Urmson and Strawson ‒ fell in! Urmson criticises the sufficiency of Grices account, by introducing an alleged counter-example involving bribery. Grice will consider a way out of Urmsons alleged counter-example in his fifth Wiliam James Lecture, rightly crediting and thanking Urmson for this! Strawsons alleged counter-example was perhaps slightly more serious, if regressive. It also involves the sufficiency of Grices analysis. Strawsons rat-infested house alleged counter-example started a chain which required Grice to avoid, ultimately, any sneaky intention by way of a recursive clause to the effect that, for utterer U to have meant that p, all meaning-constitutive intentions should be above board. But why this obsession by Grice with mean? He is being funny. Spots surely dont mean, only mean.They dont have a mind. Yet Grice opens with a specific sample. Those spots mean, to the doctor, that you, dear, have measles. Mean? Yes, dear, mean, doctors orders. Those spots mean measles. But how does the doctor know? Cannot he be in the wrong? Not really, mean is factive, dear! Or so Peirce thought. Grice is amazed that Peirce thought that some meaning is factive. The hole in this piece of cloth means that a bullet went through is is one of Peirce’s examples. Surely, as Grice notes, this is an unhappy example. The hole in the cloth may well have caused by something else, or fabricated. (Or the postmark means that the letter went through the post.) Yet, Grice was having Oxonian tutees aware that Peirce was krypto-technical. Grice chose for one of his pre-Meaning seminars on Peirce’s general theory of signs, with emphasis on general, and the correspondence of Peirce and Welby. Peirce, rather than the Vienna circle, becomes, in vein with Grices dissenting irreverent rationalism, important as a source for Grices attempt to English Peirce. Grices implicature seems to be that Peirce, rather than Ayer, cared for the subtleties of meaning and sign, never mind a verificationist theory about them! Peirce ultra-Latinate-cum-Greek taxonomies have Grice very nervous, though. He knew that his students were proficient in the classics, but still. Grice thus proposes to reduce all of Peirceian divisions and sub-divisions (one sub-division too many) to mean. In the proceedings, he quotes from Ogden, Richards, and Ewing. In particular, Grice was fascinated by the correspondence of Peirce with Lady Viola Welby, as repr. by Ogden/Richards in, well, their study on the meaning of meaning. Grice thought the science of symbolism pretentious, but then he almost thought Lady Viola Welby slightly pretentious, too, if youve seen her; beautiful lady. It is via Peirce that Grice explores examples such as those spots meaning measles. Peirce’s obsession is with weathercocks almost as Ockham was with circles on wine-barrels. Old-World Grices use of New-World Peirce is illustrative, thus, of the Oxonian linguistic turn focused on ordinary language. While Peirce’s background was not philosophical, Grice thought it comical enough. He would say that Peirce is an amateur, but then he said the same thing about Mill, whom Grice had to study by heart to get his B. A. Lit. Hum.! Plus, as Watson commented, what is wrong with amateur? Give me an amateur philosopher ANY day, if I have to choose from professional Hegel! In finding Peirce krypo-technical, Grice is ensuing that his tutees, and indeed any Oxonian philosophy student (he was university lecturer) be aware that to mean should be more of a priority than this or that jargon by this or that (New World?) philosopher!? Partly! Grice wanted his students to think on their own, and draw their own conclusions! Grice cites Ewing, Ogden/Richards, and many others. Ewing, while Oxford-educated, had ended up at Cambridge (Scruton almost had him as his tutor) and written some points on Meaninglessness! Those spots mean measles. Grice finds Peirce krypto-technical and proposes to English him into an ordinary-language philosopher. Surely it is not important whether we consider a measles spot a sign, a symbol, or an icon. One might just as well find a doctor in London who thinks those spots symbolic. If Grice feels like Englishing Peirce, he does not altogether fail! meaning, reprints, of Meaning and other essays, a collection of reprints and offprints of Grices essays. Meaning becomes a central topic of at least two strands in Retrospective epilogue. The first strand concerns the idea of the centrality of the utterer. What Grice there calls meaning BY (versus meaning TO), i.e. as he also puts it, active or agents meaning. Surely he is right in defending an agent-based account to meaning. Peirce need not, but Grice must, because he is working with an English root, mean, that is only figurative applicable to non-agentive items (Smoke means rain). On top, Grice wants to conclude that only a rational creature (a person) can meanNN properly. Non-human animals may have a correlate. This is a truly important point for Grice since he surely is seen as promoting a NON-convention-based approach to meaning, and also defending from the charge of circularity in the non-semantic account of propositional attitudes. His final picture is a rationalist one. P₁ G wants to communicate about a danger to P₂. This presupposes there IS a danger (item of reality). Then P₁ G believes there is a danger, and communicates to P₂ G2 that there is a danger. This simple view of conversation as rational co-operation underlies Grices account of meaning too, now seen as an offshoot of philosophical psychology, and indeed biology, as he puts it. Meaning as yet another survival mechanism. While he would never use a cognate like significance in his Oxford Philosophical Society talk, Grice eventually starts to use such Latinate cognates at a later stage of his development. In Meaning, Grice does not explain his goal. By sticking with a root that the Oxford curriculum did not necessarily recognised as philosophical (amateur Peirce did!), Grice is implicating that he is starting an ordinary-language botanising on his own repertoire! Grice was amused by the reliance by Ewing on very Oxonian examples contra Ayer: Surely Virtue aint a fire-shovel is perfectly meaningful, and if fact true, if, Ill admit, somewhat misleading and practically purposeless at Cambridge. Again, the dismissal by Grice of natural meaning is due to the fact that natural meaning prohibits its use in the first person and followed by a that-clause. ‘I mean-n that p’ sounds absurd, no communication-function seems in the offing, there is no ‘sign for,’ as Woozley would have it. Grice found, with Suppes, all types of primacy (ontological, axiological, psychological) in utterers meaning. In Retrospective epilogue, he goes back to the topic, as he reminisces that it is his suggestion that there are two allegedly distinguishable meaning concepts, even if one is meta-bolical, which may be called natural meaning and non-natural meaning. There is this or that test (notably factivity-entailment vs. cancelation, but also scare quotes) which may be brought to bear to distinguish one concept from the other. We may, for example, inquire whether a particular occurrence of the predicate mean is factive or non-factive, i. e., whether for it to be true that [so and so] means that p, it does or does not have to be the case that it is true that p. Again, one may ask whether the use of quotation marks to enclose the specification of what is meant would be inappropriate or appropriate. If factivity, as in know, remember, and see, is present and quotation marks, oratio recta, are be inappropriate, we have a case of natural meaning. Otherwise the meaning involved is non-natural meaning. We may now ask whether there is a single overarching idea which lies behind both members of this dichotomy of uses to which the predicate meaning that seems to be Subjects. If there is such a central idea it might help to indicate to us which of the two concepts is in greater need of further analysis and elucidation and in what direction such elucidation should proceed. Grice confesses that he has only fairly recently come to believe that there is such an overarching idea and that it is indeed of some service in the proposed inquiry. The idea behind both uses of mean is that of consequence, or consequentia, as Hobbes has it. If x means that p, something which includes p or the idea of p, is a consequence of x. In the metabolic natural use of meaning that p, p, this or that consequence, is this or that state of affairs. In the literal, non-metabolic, basic, non-natural use of meaning that p, (as in Smith means that his neighbour’s three-year child is an adult), p, this or that consequence is this or that conception or complexus which involves some other conception. This perhaps suggests that of the two concepts it is, as it should, non-natural meaning which is more in need of further elucidation. It seems to be the more specialised of the pair, and it also seems to be the less determinate. We may, e. g., ask how this or that conception enters the picture. Or we may ask whether what enters the picture is the conception itself or its justifiability. On these counts Grice should look favorably on the idea that, if further analysis should be required for one of the pair, the notion of non-natural meaning would be first in line. There are factors which support the suitability of further analysis for the concept of non-natural meaning. Meaning_NN that p (non-natural meaning) does not look as if it Namess an original feature of items in the world, for two reasons which are possibly not mutually independent. One reason is that, given suitable background conditions, meaning, can be changed by fiat. The second reason is that the presence of meaning_NN is dependent on a framework provided by communication, if that is not too circular.  Communication is in the philosophical lexicon, commūnĭcātĭo, f. communicare, "(several times in Cicero, elsewhere rare), and as they did with negatio and they will with significatio, Short and Lewis render, unhelpfully, as a making common, imparting, communicating. largitio et communicatio civitatis;” “quaedam societas et communicatio utilitatum,” “consilii communicatio, “communicatio sermonis,” criminis cum pluribus; “communicatio nominum, i. e. the like appellation of several objects; “juris; “damni; In rhetorics, communicatio, trading on the communis, a figure, translating Grecian ἀνακοίνωσις, in accordance with which the utterer turns to his addressee, and, as it were, allows him to take part in the inquiry. It seems to Grice, then, at least reasonable and possibly even emphatically mandatory, to treat the claim that a communication vehicle, such as this and that expression means that p, in this transferred, metaphoric, or meta-bolic use of means that as being reductively analysable in terms of this or that feature of this or that utterer, communicator, or user of this or that expression. The use of meaning that as applied to this or that expression is posterior to and explicable through the utterer-oriented, or utterer-relativised use, i.e. involving a reference to this or that communicator or user of this or that expression. More specifically, one should license a metaphorical use of mean, where one allows the claim that this or that expression means that p, provided that this or that utterer, in this or that standard fashion, means that p, i.e. in terms of this or that souly statee toward this or that propositional complexus this or that utterer ntends, in a standardly fashion, to produce by his uttering this or that utterance. That this or that expression means (in this metaphorical use) that p is thus explicable either in terms of this or that souly state which is standardly intended to produce in this or that addressee A by this or that utterer of this or that expression, or in this or that souly staken up by this or that utterer toward this or that activity or action of this or that utterer of this or that expression. Meaning was in the air in Oxfords linguistic turn. Everybody was talking meaning. Grice manages to quote from Hares early “Mind” essay on the difference between imperatives and indicatives, also Duncan-Jones on the fugitive proposition,  and of course his beloved Strawson. Grice was also concerned by the fact that in the manoeuvre of the typical ordinary-language philosopher, there is a constant abuse of mean. Surely Grice wants to stick with the utterers meaning as the primary use. Expressions mean only derivatively. To do that, he chose Peirce to see if he could clarify it with meaning that. Grice knew that the polemic was even stronger in London, with Ogden and Lady Viola Welby. In the more academic Oxford milieu, Grice knew that a proper examination of meaning, would lead him, via Kneale and his researches on the history of semantics, to the topic of signification that obsessed the modistae (and their modus significandi). For what does L and S say about about this? There is indeed an entry for signĭfĭcātĭo, f. significare. L and S render it, unhelpfully, as “a pointing out, indicating, denoting, signifying; an expression, indication, mark, sign, token, = indicium, signum, ἐπισημασία, etc., freq. and class. As with Stevenson’s ‘communico,’ Grice goes sraight to ‘signĭfĭco,’ also dep. “signĭfĭcor,” f. ‘significare,’ from signum-facere, to make sign, signum-facio, I make sign, which L and S render as to signify, which is perhaps not too helpful. Grice, if not the Grecians, knew that. Strictly, L and S render significare as to show by signs; to show, point out, express, publish, make known, indicate; to intimate, notify, signify, etc. Note that the cognate signify almost comes last, but not least, if not first. Enough to want to coin a word to do duty for them all. Which is what Grice (and the Grecians) can, but the old Romans cannot, with mean. If that above were not enough, L and S go on, also, to betoken, prognosticate, foreshow, portend, mean (syn. praedico), as in to betoken a change of weather (post-Aug.): “ventus Africus tempestatem significat, etc.,”cf. Grice on those dark clouds mean a storm is coming.  Short and Lewis go on, to say that significare may be rendered as to call, name; to mean, import, signify. Hence, ‘signĭfĭcans,’ in rhet. lang., of speech, full of meaning, expressive, significant; graphic, distinct, clear: adv.: signĭfĭcanter, clearly, distinctly, expressly, significantly, graphically: “breviter ac significanter ordinem rei protulisse;” “rem indicare (with proprie),”  “dicere (with ornate),”  “apertius, significantius dignitatem alicujus defendere,” “narrare,”“disponere,” “appellare aliquid (with consignatius);” “dicere (with probabilius).” If perhaps Grice was unhappy about the artificial flavour to saying that a word is a sign, Grice surely should have checked with all the Grecian-Roman cognates of mean, as in his favourite memorative-memorable distinction, and the many Grecian realisations, or with Old Roman mentire and mentare. Lewis and Short have “mentĭor,” f. mentire, L and S note, is prob. from root men-, whence mens and memini, q. v. The original meaning, they say, is to invent,  hence, but alla Umberto Eco with sign, mentire comes to mean in later use what Grice (if not the Grecians) holds is the opposite of mean. Short and Lewis render mentire as to lie, cheat, deceive, etc., to pretend, to declare falsely: mentior nisi or si mentior, a form of asseveration, I am a liar, if, etc.: But also, animistically (modest mentalism?) of things, as endowed with a mind. L and S go on: to deceive, impose upon, to deceive ones self, mistake, to lie or speak falsely about, to assert falsely, make a false promise about; to feign, counterfeit, imitate a shape, nature, etc.: to devise a falsehood,  to assume falsely,  to promise falsely, to invent, feign, of a poetical fiction: “ita mentitur (sc. Homerus),  Trop., of inanim. grammatical Subjects, as in Semel fac illud, mentitur tua quod subinde tussis, Do what your cough keeps falsely promising, i. e. die, Mart. 5, 39, 6. Do what your cough means! =imp. die!; hence, mentĭens,  a fallacy, sophism: quomodo mentientem, quem ψευδόμενον vocant, dissolvas;” mentītus, imitated, counterfeit, feigned (poet.): “mentita tela;” For “mentior,” indeed, there is a Griceian implicatum involving rational control. The rendition of mentire as to lie stems from a figurative shift from to be mindful, or inventive, to have second thoughts" to "to lie, conjure up". But Grice would also have a look at cognate “memini,” since this is also cognate with “mind,” “mens,” and covers subtler instances of mean, as in Latinate, “mention,” as in Grices “use-mention” distinction. mĕmĭni, cognate with "mean" and German "meinen," to think = Grecian ὑπομένειν, await (cf. Schiffer, "remnants of meaning," if I think, I hesitate, and therefore re-main, cf. Grecian μεν- in μένω, Μέντωρ; μαν- in μαίνομαι, μάντις; μνᾶ- in μιμνήσκω, etc.; cf.: maneo, or manere, as in remain. The idea, as Schiffer well knows or means, being that if you think, you hesitate, and therefore, wait and remain], moneo, reminiscor [cf. reminiscence], mens, Minerva, etc. which L and S render as “to remember, recollect, to think of, be mindful of a thing; not to have forgotten a person or thing, to bear in mind (syn.: reminiscor, recordor).” Surely with a relative clause, and to make mention of, to mention a thing, either in speaking or writing (rare but class.). Hence. mĕmĭnens, mindful And then Grice would have a look at moneo, as in adMONish, also cognate is “mŏnĕo,” monere, causative from the root "men;" whence memini, q. v., mens (mind), mentio (mention); lit. to cause to think, to re-mind, put in mind of, bring to ones recollection; to admonish, advise, warn, instruct, teach (syn.: hortor, suadeo, doceo). L and S are Griceian if not Grecian when they note that ‘monere’ can be used "without the accessory notion [implicatum or entanglement, that is] of reminding or admonishing, in gen., to teach, instruct, tell, inform, point out; also, to announce, predict, foretell, even if also to punish, chastise (only in Tacitus): “puerili verbere moneri.” And surely, since he loved to re-minisced, Grice would have allowed to just earlier on just minisced. Short and Lewis indeed have rĕmĭniscor, which, as they point out, features the root men; whence mens, memini; and which they compare to comminiscere, v. comminiscor, to recall to mind, recollect, remember (syn. recordor), often used by the Old Romans  with with Grices beloved that-clause, for sure. For what is the good of reminiscing or comminiscing, if you cannot reminisce that Austin always reminded Grice that skipping the dictionary was his big mistake! If Grice uses mention, cognate with mean, he loved commenting Aristotle. And commentare is, again, cognate with mean. As opposed to the development of the root in Grecian, or English, in Roman the root for mens is quite represented in many Latinate cognates. But a Roman, if not a Grecian, would perhaps be puzzled by a Grice claiming, by intuition, to retrieve the necessary and sufficient conditions for the use of this or that expression. When the Roman is told that the Griceian did it for fun, he understands, and joins in the fun! Indeed, hardly a natural kind in the architecture of the world, but one that fascinated Grice and the Grecian philosophers before him! Communication. This is Grice’s reply to popular Ogden. They want to know what the meaning of meaning is? Here is the Oxononian response by Grice, with a vengeance. Grice is not an animist nor a mentalist, even modest.  While he allows for natural phenomena to mean (smoke means fire), meaning is best ascribed to some utterer, where this meaning is nothing but the intentions behind his utterance. This is the fifth James lecture. Grice was careful enough to submit it to PR, since it is a strictly philosophical development of the views expressed in Meaning which Strawson had submitted on Grice’s behalf to the same Review and which had had a series of responses by various philosophers. Among these philosophers is Strawson himself in Intention and convention in the the theory of speech acts, also in PR. Grice quotes from very many other philosophers in this essay, including: Urmson, Stampe, Strawson, Schiffer, and Searle. Strawson is especially relevant since he started a series of alleged counter-examples with his infamous example of the rat-infested house. Grice particularly treasured Stampes alleged counter-example involving his beloved bridge! Avramides earns a D. Phil Oxon. on that, under Strawson! This is Grices occasion to address some of the criticisms ‒ in the form of alleged counter-examples, typically, as his later reflections on epagoge versus diagoge note  ‒ by Urmson, Strawson,and other philosophers associated with Oxford, such as Searle, Stampe, and Schiffer. The final analysandum is pretty complex (of the type that he did find his analysis of I am hearing a sound complex in Personal identity  ‒ hardly an obstacle for adopting it), it became yet another target of attack by especially New-World philosophers in the pages of Mind, Nous, and other journals, This is officially the fifth James lecture. Grice takes up the analysis of meaning he had presented way back at the Oxford Philosophical Society. Motivated mainly by the attack by Urmson and by Strawson in Intention and convention in speech acts, that offered an alleged counter-example to the sufficiency of Grices analysis, Grice ends up introducing so many intention that he almost trembled. He ends up seeing meaning as a value-paradeigmatic concept, perhaps never realisable in a sublunary way. But it is the analysis in this particular essay where he is at his formal best. He distinguishes between protreptic and exhibitive utterances, and also modes of correlation (iconic, conventional). He symbolises the utterer and the addressee, and generalises over the type of psychological state, attitude, or stance, meaning seems to range (notably indicative vs. imperative). He formalises the reflexive intention, and more importantly, the overtness of communication in terms of a self-referential recursive intention that disallows any sneaky intention to be brought into the picture of meaning-constitutive intentions. By uttering x the utterer U means that ψ_b-d p iff (Ǝφ) (Ǝf) (Ǝc): I. U utters x intending x to be such that anyone who has φ will think that (i) x has f  (ii) f is correlated in way c with ψ-ing that p (iii) (Ǝφ): U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ will think, via thinking (i) and (ii), that U ψ-s that p (iv) in view of (3), U ψ-s that p; and II (operative only for certain substituends for ψ_b-d) U utters x intending that, should there actually be anyone who has φ, he will, via thinking (iv), himself ψ that p; and III. It is not the case that, for some inference-element E, U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ will both (i) rely on E in coming to ψ (or think that U ψ-s) that p and (ii) think that (Ǝ φ): U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ will come to ψ (or think that U ψ-s) that p without relying on E. Grice thought he had dealt with Logic and conversation enough! So he feels of revising his Meaning. After all, Strawson had had the cheek to publish Meaning by Grice and then go on to criticize it in Intention and convention in speech acts. So this is Grices revenge, and he wins! He ends with the most elaborate theory of mean that an Oxonian could ever hope for. And to provoke the informalists such as Strawson (and his disciples at Oxford – led by Strawson) he pours existential quantifiers like the plague! He manages to quote from Urmson, whom he loved! No word on Peirce, though, who had originated all this! His implicature: Im not going to be reprimanted in informal discussion about my misreading Peirce at Harvard! The concluding note is about artificial substitutes for iconic representation, and meaning as a human institution. Very grand. This is Grices metabolical projection of utterers meaning to apply to anything OTHER than utterers meaning, notably a token of the utterers expression and a TYPE of the utterers expression, wholly or in part. Its not like he WANTS to do it, he NEEDS it to give an account of implicatum. The phrase utterer is meant to provoke. Grice thinks that speaker is too narrow. Surely you can mean by just uttering stuff! This is the sixth James lecture, as published in “Foundations of Language” (henceforth, “FL”), or “The foundations of language,” as he preferred. As it happens, it became a popular lecture, seeing that Searle selected this from the whole set for his Oxford reading in philosophy on the philosophy of language. It is also the essay cited by Chomsky in his influential Locke lectures. Chomsky takes Grice to be a behaviourist, even along Skinners lines, which provoked a reply by Suppes, repr. in PGRICE. In The New World, the H. P. is often given in a more simplified form. Grice wants to keep on playing. In Meaning, he had said x means that p is surely reducible to utterer U means that p. In this lecture, he lectures us as to how to proceed. In so doing he invents this or that procedure: some basic, some resultant. When Chomsky reads the reprint in Searles Philosophy of Language, he cries: Behaviourist! Skinnerian! It was Suppes who comes to Grices defence. Surely the way Grice uses expressions like resultant procedure are never meant in the strict behaviourist way. Suppes concludes that it is much fairer to characterise Grice as an intentionalist. Published in FL, ed. by Staal, Repr.in Searle, The Philosophy of Language, Oxford, the sixth James Lecture, FL, resultant procedure, basic procedure. Staal asked Grice to publish the sixth James lecture for a newish periodical publication of whose editorial board he was a member. The fun thing is Grice complied! This is Grices shaggy-dog story. He does not seem too concerned about resultant procedures. As he will ll later say, surely I can create Deutero-Esperanto and become its master! For Grice, the primacy is the idiosyncratic, particularized utterer in this or that occasion. He knows a philosopher craves for generality, so he provokes the generality-searcher with divisions and sub-divisions of mean. But his heart does not seem to be there, and he is just being overformalistic and technical for the sake of it. I am glad that Putnam, of all people, told me in an aside, you are being too formal, Grice. I stopped with symbolism since! Communication. This is Grice’s clearest anti-animist attack by Grice. He had joins Hume in mocking causing and willing: The decapitation of Charles I as willing Charles Is death. Language semantics alla Tarski. Grice know sees his former self. If he was obsessed, after Ayer, with mean, he now wants to see if his explanation of it (then based on his pre-theoretic intuition) is theoretically advisable in terms other than dealing with those pre-theoretical facts, i.e. how he deals with a lexeme like mean. This is a bit like Grice: implicatum, revisited. An axiological approach to meaning. Strictly a reprint of Grice, which should be the preferred citation. The date is given by Grice himself, and he knew! Grice also composed some notes on Remnants on meaning, by Schiffer. This is a bit like Grices meaning re-revisited. Schiffer had been Strawsons tutee at Oxford as a Rhode Scholar in the completion of his D. Phil. on Meaning, Clarendon. Eventually, Schiffer grew sceptic, and let Grice know about it! Grice did not find Schiffers arguments totally destructive, but saw the positive side to them. Schiffers arguments should remind any philosopher that the issues he is dealing are profound and bound to involve much elucidation before they are solved. This is a bit like Grice: implicatum, revisited. Meaning revisited (an ovious nod to Evelyn Waughs Yorkshire-set novel) is the title Grice chose for a contribution to a symposium at Brighton organised by Smith. Meaning revisited (although Grice has earlier drafts entitled Meaning and philosophical psychology) comprises three sections. In the first section, Grice is concerned with the application of his M. O. R., or Modified Occams Razor now to the very lexeme, mean. Cf. How many senses does sense have? Cohen: The Senses of Senses. In the second part, Grice explores an evolutionary model of creature construction reaching a stage of non-iconic representation. Finally, in the third section, motivated to solve what he calls a major problem ‒ versus the minor problem concerning the transition from the meaning by the utterer to the meaning by the expression. Grice attempts to construct meaning as a value-paradeigmatic notion. A version was indeed published in the proceedings of the Brighton symposium, by Croom Helm, London. Grice has a couple of other drafts with variants on this title: philosophical psychology and meaning, psychology and meaning. He keeps, meaningfully, changing the order. It is not arbitrary that the fascinating exploration by Grice is in three parts. In the first, where he applies his Modified Occams razor to mean, he is revisiting Stevenson. Smoke means fire and I mean love, dont need different senses of mean. Stevenson is right when using scare quotes for smoke ‘meaning’ fire utterance. Grice is very much aware that that, the rather obtuse terminology of senses, was exactly the terminology he had adopted in both Meaning and the relevant James lectures (V and VI) at Harvard! Now, its time to revisit and to echo Graves, say, goodbye to all that! In the second part he applies Pology. While he knows his audience is not philosophical ‒ it is not Oxford ‒ he thinks they still may get some entertainment! We have a P feeling pain, simulating it, and finally uttering, I am in pain. In the concluding section, Grice becomes Plato. He sees meaning as an optimum, i.e. a value-paradeigmatic notion introducing value in its guise of optimality. Much like Plato thought circle works in his idiolect. Grice played with various titles, in the Grice Collection. Theres philosophical psychology and meaning. The reason is obvious. The lecture is strictly divided in sections, and it is only natural that Grice kept drafts of this or that section in his collection. In WOW Grice notes that he re-visited his Meaning re-visited at a later stage, too! And he meant it! Surely, there is no way to understand the stages of Grice’s development of his ideas about meaning without Peirce! It is obvious here that Grice thought that mean two figurative or metabolical extensions of use. Smoke means fire and Smoke means smoke. The latter is a transferred use in that impenetrability means lets change the topic if Humpty-Dumpty m-intends that it and Alice are to change the topic. Why did Grice feel the need to add a retrospective epilogue? He loved to say that what the “way of words” contains is neither his first, nor his last word. So trust him to have some intermediate words to drop. He is at his most casual in the very last section of the epilogue. The first section is more of a very systematic justification for any mistake the reader may identify in the offer. The words in the epilogue are thus very guarded and qualificatory. Just one example about our focus: conversational implicate and conversation as rational co-operation. He goes back to Essay 2, but as he notes, this was hardly the first word on the principle of conversational helpfulness, nor indeed the first occasion where he actually used implicature. As regards co-operation, the retrospective epilogue allows him to expand on a causal phrasing in Essay 2, “purposive, indeed rational.” Seeing in retrospect how the idea of rationality was the one that appealed philosophers most – since it provides a rationale and justification for what is otherwise an arbitrary semantic proliferation. Grice then distinguishes between the thesis that conversation is purposive, and the thesis that conversation is rational. And, whats more, and in excellent Griceian phrasing, there are two theses here, too. One thing is to see conversation as rational, and another, to use his very phrasing, as rational co-operation! Therefore, when one discusses the secondary literature, one should be attentive to whether the author is referring to Grices qualifications in the Retrospective epilogue. Grice is careful to date some items. However, since he kept rewriting, one has to be careful. These seven folder contain the material for the compilation. Grice takes the opportunity of the compilation by Harvard of his WOW, representative of the mid-60s, i. e. past the heyday of ordinary-language philosophy, to review the idea of philosophical progress in terms of eight different strands which display, however, a consistent and distinctive unity. Grice keeps playing with valediction, valedictory, prospective and retrospective, and the different drafts are all kept in The Grice Papers. The Retrospective epilogue, is divided into two sections. In the first section, he provides input for his eight strands, which cover not just meaning, and the assertion-implication distinction to which he alludes to in the preface, but for more substantial philosophical issues like the philosophy of perception, and the defense of common sense realism versus the sceptial idealist. The concluding section tackles more directly a second theme he had idenfitied in the preface, which is a methodological one, and his long-standing defence of ordinary-language philosophy. The section involves a fine distinction between the Athenian dialectic and the Oxonian dialectic, and tells the tale about his fairy godmother, G*. As he notes, Grice had dropped a few words in the preface explaining the ordering of essays in the compilation. He mentions that he hesitated to follow a suggestion by Bennett that the ordering of the essays be thematic and chronological. Rather, Grice chooses to publish the whole set of seven James lectures, what he calls the centerpiece, as part I. II, the explorations in semantics and metaphysics, is organised more or less thematically, though. In the Retrospective epilogue, Grice takes up this observation in the preface that two ideas or themes underlie his Studies: that of meaning, and assertion vs. implication, and philosophical methodology. The Retrospective epilogue is thus an exploration on eight strands he identifies in his own philosophy. Grices choice of strand is careful. For Grice, philosophy, like virtue, is entire. All the strands belong to the same knit, and therefore display some latitudinal, and, he hopes, longitudinal unity, the latter made evidence by his drawing on the Athenian dialectic as a foreshadow of the Oxonian dialectic to come, in the heyday of the Oxford school of analysis, when an interest in the serious study of ordinary language had never been since and will never be seen again. By these two types of unity, Grice means the obvious fact that all branches of philosophy (philosophy of language, or semantics, philosophy of perception, philosophical psychology, metaphysics, axiology, etc.) interact and overlap, and that a historical regard for ones philosophical predecessors is a must, especially at Oxford. Why is Grice obsessed with asserting? He is more interested, technically, in the phrastic, or dictor. Grice sees a unity, indeed, equi-vocality, in the buletic-doxastic continuum. Asserting is usually associated with the doxastic. Since Grice is always ready to generalise his points to cover the buletic (recall his Meaning, “theres by now no reason to stick to informative cases,”), it is best to re-define his asserting in terms of the phrastic. This is enough of a strong point. As Hare would agree, for emotivists like Barnes, say, an utterance of buletic force may not have any content whatsoever. For Grice, there is always a content, the proposition which becomes true when the action is done and the desire is fulfilled or satisfied. Grice quotes from Bennett. Importantly, Grice focuses on the assertion/non-assertion distinction. He overlooks the fact that for this or that of his beloved imperative utterance, asserting is out of the question, but explicitly conveying that p is not.  He needs a dummy to stand for a psychological or souly state, stance, or attitude of either boule or doxa, to cover the field of the utterer mode-neutrally conveying explicitly that his addressee A is to entertain that p. The explicatum or explicitum sometimes does the trick, but sometimes it does not. It is interesting to review the Names index to the volume, as well as the Subjects index. This is a huge collection, comprising 14 folders. By contract, Grice was engaged with Harvard, since it is the President of the College that holds the copyrights for the James lectures. The title Grice eventually chooses for his compilation of essays, which goes far beyond the James, although keeping them as the centerpiece, is a tribute to Locke, who, although obsessed with his idealist and empiricist new way of ideas, leaves room for both the laymans and scientists realist way of things, and, more to the point, for this or that philosophical semiotician to offer this or that study in the way of words. Early in the linguistic turn minor revolution, the expression the new way of words, had been used derogatorily. WOW is organised in two parts: Logic and conversation and the somewhat pretentiously titled Explorations in semantics and metaphysics, which offers commentary around the centerpiece. It also includes a Preface and a very rich and inspired Retrospective epilogue. From part I, the James lectures, only three had not been previously published. The first unpublished lecture is Prolegomena, which really sets the scene, and makes one wonder what the few philosophers who quote from The logic of grammar could have made from the second James lecture taken in isolation. Grice explores Aristotle’s “to alethes”: “For the true and the false exist with respect to synthesis and division (peri gar synthesin kai diaireisin esti to pseudos kai to alethes).” Aristotle insists upon the com-positional form of truth in several texts: cf. De anima, 430b3 ff.: “in truth and falsity, there is a certain composition (en hois de kai to pseudos kai to alethes, synthesis tis)”; cf. also Met. 1027b19 ff.: the true and the false are with respect to (peri) composition and decomposition (synthesis kai diaresis).” It also shows that Grices style is meant for public delivery, rather than reading. The second unpublished lecture is Indicative conditionals. This had been used by a few philosophers, such as Gazdar, noting that there were many mistakes in the typescript, for which Grice is not to be blamed. The third is on some models for implicature. Since this Grice acknowledges is revised, a comparison with the original handwritten version of the final James lecture retrieves a few differences From Part II, a few essays had not been published before, but Grice, nodding to the longitudinal unity of philosophy, is very careful and proud to date them. Commentary on the individual essays is made under the appropriate dates. Philosophical correspondence is quite a genre. Hare would express in a letter to the Librarian for the Oxford Union, “Wiggins does not want to be understood,” or in a letter to Bennett that Williams is the worse offender of Kantianism! It was different with Grice. He did not type. And he wrote only very occasionally! These are four folders with general correspondence, mainly of the academic kind. At Oxford, Grice would hardly keep a correspondence, but it was different with the New World, where academia turns towards the bureaucracy. Grice is not precisely a good, or reliable, as The BA puts it, correspondent. In the Oxford manner, Grice prefers a face-to-face interaction, any day. He treasures his Saturday mornings under Austins guidance, and he himself leads the Play Group after Austins demise, which, as Owen reminisced, attained a kind of cult status. Oxford is different. As a tutorial fellow in philosophy, Grice was meant to tutor his students; as a University Lecturer he was supposed to lecture sometimes other fellowss tutees! Nothing about this reads: publish or perish! This is just one f. containing Grices own favourite Griceian references. To the historian of analytic philosophy, it is of particular interest. It shows which philosophers Grice respected the most, and which ones the least. As one might expect, even on the cold shores of Oxford, as one of Grices tutees put it, Grice is cited by various Oxford philosophers. Perhaps the first to cite Grice in print is his tutee Strawson, in “Logical Theory.” Early on, Hart quotes Grice on meaning in his review in The Philosophical Quarterly of Holloways Language and Intelligence before Meaning had been published. Obviously, once Grice and Strawson, In defense of a dogma and Grice, Meaning are published by The Philosophical Review, Grice is discussed profusely. References to the implicatum start to appear in the literature at Oxford in the mid-1960s, within the playgroup, as in Hare and Pears. It is particularly intriguing to explore those philosophers Grice picks up for dialogue, too, and perhaps arrange them alphabetically, from Austin to Warnock, say. And Griceian philosophical references, Oxonian or other, as they should, keep counting! The way to search the Grice Papers here is using alternate keywords, notably “meaning.” “Meaning” s. II, “Utterer’s meaning and intentions,” s. II, “Utterer’s meaning, sentence-meaning, and word meaning,” s. II, “Meaning revisited,” s. II. – but also “Meaning and psychology,” s. V, c.7-ff.  24-25. While Grice uses “signification,” and lectured on Peirce’s “signs,” “Peirce’s general theory of signs,” (s. V, c. 8-f. 29), he would avoid such pretentiously sounding expressions. Searching under ‘semantic’ and ‘semantics’ (“Grammar and semantics,” c. 7-f. 5; “Language semantics,” c. 7-f.20, “Basic Pirotese, sentence semantics and syntax,” c. 8-f. 30, “Semantics of children’s language,” c. 9-f. 10, “Sentence semantics” (c. 9-f. 11); “Sentence semantics and propositional complexes,” c. 9-f.12, “Syntax and semantics,” c. 9-ff. 17-18) may help, too. Folder on Schiffer (“Schiffer,” c. 9-f. 9), too.

commitment: Grice’s commitment to the 39 Articles. An utterer is committed to those and only those entities to which the bound variables of his utterance must be capable of referring in order that the utterance made be true.”

complexum: While Grice does have an essay on the ‘complexum,’ he is mostly being jocular. His dissection of the proposition proceds by considering ‘the a,’ and its denotatum, or reference, and ‘is the b,’ which involves then the predication. This is Grice’s shaggy-dog story. Once we have ‘the dog is shaggy,’ we have a ‘complexum,’ and we can say that the utterer means, by uttering ‘Fido is shaggy,’ that the dog is hairy-coated. Simple, right? It’s the jocular in Grice. He is joking on philosophers who look at those representative of the linguistic turn, and ask, “So what do you have to say about reference and predication,’ and Grice comes up with an extra-ordinary analysis of what is to believe that the dog is hairy-coat, and communicating it. In fact, the ‘communicating’ is secondary. Once Grice has gone to metabolitical extension of ‘mean’ to apply to the expression, communication becomes secondary in that it has to be understood in what Grice calls the ‘atenuated’ usage involving this or that ‘readiness’ to have this or that procedure, basic or resultant, in one’s repertoire! Bealer is one of Grices most brilliant tutees in the New World. The Grice collection contains a full f. of correspondence with Bealer. Bealer refers to Grice in his influential Clarendon essay on content. Bealer is concerned with how pragmatic inference may intrude in the ascription of a psychological, or souly, state, attitude, or stance. Bealer loves to quote from Grice on definite descriptions in Russell and in the vernacular, the implicature being that Russell is impenetrable! Bealers mentor is Grices close collaborator Myro, so he knows what he is talking about. Refs.: The main reference is in ‘Reply to Richards.’ But there is “Sentence semantics and propositional complexes,” c. 9-f. 12, BANC.

conditional: Grice lists ‘if’ as the third binary functor in his response to Strawson. The relations between “if” and “⊃” have already, but only in part, been discussed. 1 The sign “⊃” is called the Material Implication sign a name I shall consider later. Its meaning is given by the rule that any statement of the form ‘p⊃q’ is false in the case in which the first of its constituent statements is true and the second false, and is true in every other case considered in the system; i. e., the falsity of the first constituent statement or the truth of the second are, equally, sufficient conditions of the truth of a statement of material implication ; the combination of truth in the first with falsity in the second is the single, necessary and sufficient, condition (1 Ch. 2, S. 7) of its falsity. The standard or primary -- the importance of this qualifying phrase can scarcely be overemphasized. There are uses of “if … then … ”  which do not answer to the description given here,, or to any other descriptions given in this chapter -- use of an  “if … then …” sentence, on the other hand, we saw to be in circumstances where, not knowing whether some statement which could be made by the use of a sentence corresponding in a certain way to the first clause of the hypothetical is true or not, or believing it to be false, we nevertheless consider that a step in reasoning from that statement to a statement related in a similar way to the second clause would be a sound or reasonable step ; the second statement also being one of whose truth we are in doubt, or which we believe to be false. Even in such circumstances as these we may sometimes hesitate to apply the word ‘true’ to hypothetical statements (i.e., statements which could be made by the use of “if ... then …,” in its standard significance), preferring to call them reasonable or well-founded ; but if we apply ‘true’ to them at all, it will be in such circumstances as these. Now one of the sufficient conditions of the truth of a statement of material implication may very well be fulfilled without the conditions for the truth, or reasonableness, of the corresponding hypothetical statement being fulfilled ; i.e., a statement of the form ‘p⊃q’ does not entail the corresponding statement of the form “if p then q.” But if we are prepared to accept the hypothetical statement, we must in consistency be prepared to deny the conjunction of the statement corresponding to the first clause of the sentence used to make the hypothetical statement with the negation of the statement corresponding to its second clause ; i.e., a statement of the form “if p then q” does entail the corresponding statement of the form ‘p⊃q.’ The force of “corresponding” needs elucidation. Consider the three following very ordinary specimens of hypothetical sentences. If the Germans had invaded England in 1940, they would have won the war. If Jones were in charge, half the staff would have been dismissed. If it rains, the match will be cancelled. The sentences which could be used to make statements corresponding in the required sense to the subordinate clauses can be ascertained by considering what it is that the speaker of each hypothetical sentence must (in general) be assumed either to be in doubt about or to believe to be not the case. Thus, for (1) to (8), the corresponding pairs of sentences are as follows. The Germans invaded England in 1940; they won the war. Jones is in charge; half the staff has been dismissed. It will rain; the match will be cancelled. Sentences which could be used to make the statements of material implication corresponding to the hypothetical statements made by these sentences can now be framed from these pairs of sentences as follows. The Germans invaded England in 1940 ⊃ they won the war. Jones is in charge ⊃ half the staff has been, dismissed. It will rain ⊃ the match will be cancelled. The very fact that these verbal modifications are necessary, in order to obtain from the clauses of the hypothetical sentence the clauses of the corresponding material implication sentence is itself a symptom of the radical difference between hypothetical statements and truth-functional statements. Some detailed differences are also evident from these examples. The falsity of a statement made by the use of ‘The Germans invaded England in 1940 ' or ' Jones is in charge ' is a sufficient condition of the truth of the corresponding statements made by the use of (Ml) and (M2) ; but not, of course, of the corresponding statements made by the use of (1) and (2). Otherwise, there would normally be no point in using sentences like (1) and (2) at all; for these sentences would normally carry – but not necessarily: one may use the pluperfect or the imperfect subjunctive when one is simply working out the consequences of an hypothesis which one may be prepared eventually to accept -- in the tense or mood of the verb, an implication of the utterer's belief in the falsity of the statements corresponding to the clauses of the hypothetical. It is not raining is sufficient to verify a statement made by the use of (MS), but not a statement made by the use of (3). Its not raining Is also sufficient to verify a statement made by the use of “It will rain ⊃ the match will not be cancelled.” The formulae *j>⊃g* and 4 j>⊃ q' are consistent with one another, and the joint assertion of corresponding statements of these forms is equivalent to the assertion of the corresponding statement of the form * *-~p. But “If it rains, the match will be cancelled” is inconsistent with “If it rains, the match will not be cancelled,” and their joint assertion in the same context is self-contradictory. Suppose we call the statement corresponding to the first clause of a sentence used to make a hypothetical statement the antecedent of the hypothetical statement; and the statement corresponding to the second clause, its consequent. It is sometimes fancied that whereas the futility of identifying conditional statements with material implications is obvious in those cases where the implication of the falsity of the antecedent is normally carried by the mood or tense of the verb (e.g., (I) or (2)), there is something to be said for at least a partial identification in cases where no such implication is involved, i.e., where the possibility of the truth of both antecedent and consequent is left open (e.g., (3). In cases of the first kind (‘unfulfilled’ or ‘subjunctive’ conditionals) our attention is directed only to the last two lines of the truth-tables for * p ⊃ q ', where the antecedent has the truth-value, falsity; and the suggestion that ‘~p’ entails ‘if p, then q’ is felt to be obviously wrong. But in cases of the second kind we may inspect also the first two lines, for the possibility of the antecedent's being fulfilled is left open; and the suggestion that ‘p . q’ entails ‘if p, then q’ is not felt to be obviously wrong. This is an illusion, though engendered by a reality. The fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent of a hypothetical statement does not show that the man who made the hypothetical statement was right; for the consequent might be fulfilled as a result of factors unconnected with, or in spite of, rather than because of, the fulfilment of the antecedent. We should be prepared to say that the man who made the hypothetical statement was right only if we were also prepared to say that the fulfilment of the antecedent was, at least in part, the explanation of the fulfilment of the consequent. The reality behind the illusion is complex : en. 3 it is, partly, the fact that, in many cases, the fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent may provide confirmation for the view that the existence of states of affairs like those described by the antecedent is a good reason for expecting states of affairs like those described by the consequent ; and it is, partly, the fact that a man whosays, for example, 4 If it rains, the match will be cancelled * makes a prediction (viz.. that the match will be cancelled) under a proviso (viz., that it rains), and that the cancellation of the match because of the rain therefore leads us to say, not only that the reasonableness of the prediction was confirmed, but also that the prediction itself was confirmed. Because a statement of the form “p⊃q” does not entail the corresponding statement of the form ' if p, then q ' (in its standard employment), we shall expect to find, and have found, a divergence between the rules for '⊃' and the rules for ' if J (in its standard employment). Because ‘if p, then q’ does entail ‘p⊃q,’ we shall also expect to find some degree of parallelism between the rules; for whatever is entailed by ‘p "3 q’ will be entailed by * if p, then q ', though not everything which entails *p⊃g* will entail t if p, then q.’ Indeed, we find further parallels than those which follow simply from the facts that ‘if p, then q’ entails ‘p⊃q’ and that entailment is transitive. To laws (19)-(23) inclusive we find no parallels for ‘if.’ But for (15) (p⊃j).JJ⊃? (16) (P ⊃q).~qZ)~p (17) p'⊃q s ~q1)~p (18) (?⊃j).(? ⊃r) ⊃ (p⊃r) we find that, with certain reservations, 1 the following parallel laws hold good : (1 The reservations are important. For example, it is often impossible to apply entailment-rule (iii) directly without obtaining incorrect or absurd results. Some modification of the structure of the clauses of the hypothetical is commonly necessary. But formal logic gives us no guide as to which modifications are required. If we apply rule (iii) to our specimen hypothetical sentences, without modifying at all the tenses or moods of the individual clauses, we obtain expressions which are scarcely English. If we preserve as nearly as possible the tense-mood structure, in the simplest way consistent with grammatical requirements, we obtain the sentences : If the Germans had not won the war, they would not have invaded England in 1940.) If half the staff had not been dismissed, Jones would not be in charge. If the match is not cancelled, it will not rain. But these sentences, so far from being logically equivalent to the originals, have in each case a quite different sense. It is possible, at least in some such cases, to frame sentences of more or less the appropriate pattern for which one can imagine a use and which do stand in the required logical relationship to the original sentences (e.g., ‘If it is not the case that half the staff has been dismissed, then Jones can't be in charge;’ or ‘If the Germans did not win the war, it's only because they did not invade England in 1940;’ or even (should historical evidence become improbably scanty), ‘If the Germans did not win the war, it can't be true that they invaded England in 1940’). These changes reflect differences in the circumstances in which one might use these, as opposed to the original, sentences. Thus the sentence beginning ‘If Jones were in charge …’ would normally, though not necessarily, be used by a man who antecedently knows that Jones is not in charge : the sentence beginning ‘If it's not the case that half the staff has been dismissed …’ by a man who is working towards the conclusion that Jones is not in charge. To say that the sentences are nevertheless logically equivalent is to point to the fact that the grounds for accepting either, would, in different circumstances, have been grounds for accepting the soundness of the move from ‘Jones is in charge’ to ‘Half the staff has been dismissed.’)  (i) (if p, then q; and p)^q (ii) (if p, then qt and not-g) Dnot-j? (iii) (if p, then f) ⊃ (if not-0, then not-j?) (iv) (if p, then f ; and iff, then r) ⊃(if j>, then r) (One must remember that calling the formulae (i)-(iv) is the same as saying that, e.g., in the case of (iii), c if p, then q ' entails 4 if not-g, then not-j> '.) And similarly we find that, for some steps which would be invalid for 4 if ', there are corresponding steps that would be invalid for * ⊃ '. e. g.  (p^q).q :. p are invalid inference-patterns, and so are if p, then q ; and q /. p if p, then ; and not-j? /. not-f .The formal analogy here may be described by saying that neither * p 13 q ' nor * if j?, then q * is a simply convertible formula. We have found many laws (e.g., (19)-(23)) which hold for “⊃” and not for “if.” As an example of a law which holds for “if,”  but not for “⊃,” we may give the analytic formula “ ~[(if p, then q) * (if p, then not-g)]’. The corresponding formula 4 ~[(P 3 ?) * (j? 3 ~?}]’ is not analytic, but (el (28)) is equivalent to the contingent formula ‘~~p.’ The rules to the effect that formulae such as (19)-{23) are analytic are sometimes referred to as ‘paradoxes of implication.’ This is a misnomer. If ‘⊃’ is taken as identical either with ‘entails’ or, more widely, with ‘if  ... then …’ in its standard use, the rules are not paradoxical, but simply incorrect. If ‘⊃’ is given the meaning it has in the system of truth functions, the rules are not paradoxical, but simple and platitudinous consequences of the meaning given to the symbol. Throughout this section, I have spoken of a ‘primary or standard’ use of “if … then …,” or “if,” of which the main characteristics were: that for each hypothetical statement made by this use of “if,” there could be made just one statement which would be the antecedent of the hypothetical and just one statement which would be its consequent; that the hypothetical statement is acceptable (true, reasonable) if the antecedent statement, if made or accepted, would, in the circumstances, be a good ground or reason for accepting the consequent statement; and that the making of the hypothetical statement carries the implication either of uncertainty about, or of disbelief in, the fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent. (1 Not all uses of * if ', however, exhibit all these characteristics. In particular, there is a use which has an equal claim to rank as standard and which is closely connected with the use described, but which does not exhibit the first characteristic and for which the description of the remainder must consequently be modified. I have in mind what are sometimes called 'variable' or 'general’ hypothetical : e.g., ‘lf ice is left in the sun, it melts,’ ‘If the side of a triangle is produced, the exterior angle is equal to the sum of the two interior and opposite angles ' ; ' If a child is very strictly disciplined in the nursery, it will develop aggressive tendencies in adult life,’ and so on. To a statement made by the use of a sentence such as these there corresponds no single pair of statements which are, respectively, its antecedent and consequent. On the other 1 There is much more than this to be said about this way of using ‘if;’ in particular, about the meaning of the question whether the antecedent would be a good ground or reason for accepting the consequent and about the exact way in which this question is related to the question of whether the hypothetical is true {acceptable, reasonable) or not hand, for every such statement there is an indefinite number of non-general hypothetical statements which might be called exemplifications, applications, of the variable hypothetical; e.g., a statement made by the use of the sentence ‘If this piece of ice is left in the sun, it will melt.’ To the subject of variable hypothetical I may return later. 1 Two relatively uncommon uses of ‘if’ may be illustrated respectively by the sentences ‘If he felt embarrassed, he showed no signs of it’ and ‘If he has passed his exam, I’m a Dutchman (I'll eat my hat, &c.)’ The sufficient and necessary condition of the truth of a statement made by the first is that the man referred to showed no sign of embarrassment. Consequently, such a statement cannot be treated either as a standard hypothetical or as a material implication. Examples of the second kind are sometimes erroneously treated as evidence that ‘if’ does, after all, behave somewhat as ‘⊃’ behaves. The evidence for this is, presumably, the facts (i) that there is no connexion between antecedent and consequent; (ii) that the consequent is obviously not (or not to be) fulfilled ; (iii) that the intention of the speaker is plainly to give emphatic expression to the conviction that the antecedent is not fulfilled either ; and (iv) the fact that “(p ⊃ q) . ~q” entails “~p.” But this is a strange piece of logic. For, on any possible interpretation, “if p then q” has, in respect of (iv), the same logical powers as ‘p⊃q;’ and it is just these logical powers that we are jokingly (or fantastically) exploiting. It is the absence of connexion referred to in (i) that makes it a quirk, a verbal flourish, an odd use of ‘if.’ If hypothetical statements were material implications, the statements would be not a quirkish oddity, but a linguistic sobriety and a simple truth. Finally, we may note that ‘if’  can be employed not simply in making statements, but in, e.g., making provisional announcements of intention (e.g., ‘If it rains, I shall stay at home’) which, like unconditional announcements of intention, we do not call true or false but describe in some other way. If the man who utters the quoted sentence leaves home in spite of the rain, we do not say that what he said was false, though we might say that he lied (never really intended to stay in) ; or that he changed his mind. There are further uses of ‘if’ which I shall not discuss. 1 v. ch. 7, I. The safest way to read the material implication sign is, perhaps, ‘not both … and not …’ The material equivalence sign ‘≡’ has the meaning given by the following definition : *p ff'=⊃/'(p⊃ff).(sOj)' and the phrase with which it is sometimes identified, viz., ‘if and only if,’ has the meaning given by the following definition: ‘p if and only if q’ =df ‘if p then g, and if q then p.’ Consequently, the objections which hold against the identification of ‘p⊃q” with ‘if p then q’ hold with double force against the identification of “p≡q’ with ‘p if and only if q.’ ‘If’ is of particular interest to Grice. The interest in the ‘if’ is double in Grice. In doxastic contexts, he needs it for his analysis of ‘intending’ against an ‘if’-based dispositional (i.e. subjective-conditional) analysis. He is of course, later interested in how Strawson misinterpreted the ‘indicative’ conditional! It is later when he starts to focus on the ‘buletic’ mode marker, that he wants to reach to Paton’s categorical (i.e. non-hypothetical) imperative. And in so doing, he has to face the criticism of those Oxonian philosophers who were sceptical about the very idea of a conditional buletic (‘conditional command – what kind of a command is that?’. Grice would refere to the protasis, or antecedent, as a relativiser – where we go again to the ‘absolutum’-‘relativum’ distinction. The conditional is also paramount in Grice’s criticism of Ryle, where the keyword would rather be ‘disposition.’ Then ther eis the conditional and disposition. Grice is a philosophical psychologist. Does that make sense? So are Austin (Other Minds), Hampshire (Dispositions), Pears (Problems in philosophical psychology) and Urmson (Parentheticals). They are ALL against Ryle’s silly analysis in terms of single-track disposition" vs. "many-track disposition," and "semi-disposition." If I hum and walk, I can either hum or walk. But if I heed mindfully, while an IN-direct sensing may guide me to YOUR soul, a DIRECT sensing guides me to MY soul. When Ogden consider attacks to meaning, theres what he calls the psychological, which he ascribes to Locke Grices attitude towards Ryle is difficult to assess. His most favourable assessment comes from Retrospective epilogue, but then he is referring to Ryle’s fairy godmother. Initially, he mentions Ryle as a philosopher engaged in, and possibly dedicated to the practice of the prevailing Oxonian methodology, i.e. ordinary-language philosophy. Initially, then, Grice enlists Ryle in the regiment of ordinary-language philosophers. After introducing Athenian dialectic and Oxonian dialectic, Grice traces some parallelisms, which should not surprise. It is tempting to suppose that Oxonian dialectic reproduces some ideas of Athenian dialectic.  It would actually be surprising if there were no parallels. Ryle was, after all, a skilled and enthusiastic student of Grecian philosophy. Interestingly, Grice then has Ryles fairy godmother as proposing the idea that, far from being a basis for rejecting the analytic-synthetic distinction, opposition that there are initially two distinct bundles of statements, bearing the labels analytic and synthetic, lying around in the world of thought waiting to be noticed, provides us with the key to making the analytic-synthetic distinction acceptable. The essay has a verificationist ring to it. Recall Ayer and the verificationists trying to hold water with concepts like fragile and the problem of counterfactual conditionals vis-a-vis observational and theoretical concepts. Grices essay has two parts: one on disposition as such, and the second, the application to a type of psychological disposition, which would be phenomenalist in a way, or verificationist, in that it derives from introspection of, shall we say, empirical phenomena. Grice is going to analyse, I want a sandwich. One person wrote in his manuscript, there is something with the way Grice goes to work. Still. Grice says that I want a sandwich (or I will that I eat a sandwich) is problematic, for analysis, in that it seems to refer to experience that is essentially private and unverifiable. An analysis of intending that p in terms of being disposed that p is satisfied solves this. Smith wants a sandwich, or he wills that he eats a sandwich, much as Toby needs nuts, if Smith opens the fridge and gets one. Smith is disposed to act such that p is satisfied. This Grice opposes to the ‘special-episode’ analysis of intending that p. An utterance like I want a sandwich iff by uttering the utterance, the utterer is describing this or that private experience, this or that private sensation. This or that sensation may take the form of a highly specific souly sate, like what Grice calls a sandwich-wanting-feeling. But then, if he is not happy with the privacy special-episode analysis, Grice is also dismissive of Ryles behaviourism in The concept of mind, fresh from the press, which would describe the utterance in terms purely of this or that observable response, or behavioural output, provided this or that sensory input. Grice became friendlier with functionalism after Lewis taught him how.  The problem or crunch is with the first person. Surely, Grice claims, one does not need to wait to observe oneself heading for the fridge before one is in a position to know that he is hungry.  Grice poses a problem for the protocol-reporter. You see or observe someone else, Smith, that Smith wants a sandwich, or wills that he eats a sandwich. You ask for evidence. But when it is the agent himself who wants the sandwich, or wills that he eats a sandwich, Grice melodramatically puts it, I am not in the audience, not even in the front row of the stalls; I am on the stage. Genial, as you will agree. Grice then goes on to offer an analysis of intend, his basic and target attitude, which he has just used to analyse and rephrase Peirces mean and which does relies on this or that piece of dispositional evidence, without divorcing itself completely from the privileged status or access of first-person introspective knowledge. In “Uncertainty,” Grice weakens his reductive analysis of intending that, from neo-Stoutian, based on certainty, or assurance, to neo-Prichardian, based on predicting. All very Oxonian: Stout was the sometime Wilde reader in mental philosophy (a post usually held by a psychologist, rather than a philosopher ‒ Stouts favourite philosopher is psychologist James! ‒ and Prichard was Cliftonian and the proper White chair of moral philosophy. And while in “Uncertainty” he allows that willing that may receive a physicalist treatment, qua state, hell later turn a functionalist, discussed under ‘soul, below, in his “Method in philosophical psychology (from the banal to the bizarre” (henceforth, “Method”), in the Proceedings and Addresses of the American Philosophical Association, repr. in “Conception.” Grice can easily relate to Hamsphires "Thought and Action," a most influential essay in the Oxonian scene. Rather than Ryle! And Grice actually addresses further topics on intention drawing on Hampshire, Hart, and his joint collaboration with Pears. Refs.: The main reference is Grice’s early essay on disposition and intention, The H. P. Grice. Refs.: The main published source is Essay 4 in WOW, but there are essays on ‘ifs and cans,’ so ‘if’ is a good keyword, on ‘entailment,’ and for the connection with ‘intending,’ ‘disposition and intention,’ BANC.

conjunction: In traditional parlance, one ‘pars orationis.’ In the identification of ‘and’ with ‘Λ’ there is already a considerable distortion of the facts. ‘And’ can perform many jobs which ‘Λ’ cannot perform. It can, for instance, be used to couple nouns (“Tom and William arrived”), or adjectives (“He was hungry and thirsty”), or adverbs (“He walked slowly and painfully”); while ' . ' can be used only to couple expressions which could appear as separate sentences. One might be tempted to say that sentences in which “and” coupled words or phrases, were short for sentences in which “and” couples clauses; e.g., that “He was hungry and thirsty” was short for “He was hungry and he was thirsty.” But this is simply false. We do not say, of anyone who uses sentences like “Tom and William arrived,” that he is speaking elliptically, or using abbreviations. On the contrary, it is one of the functions of “and,” to which there is no counterpart In the case of “.,” to form plural subjects or compound predicates. Of course it is true of many statements of the forms “x and y” are/* or ' x is /and g \ that they are logically equivalent to corresponding statements of the" form * x Is /and yisf'oT^x is /and x is g \ But, first, this is a fact about the use, in certain contexts, of  “and,” to which there corresponds no rule for the use of * . '. And, second, there are countless contexts for which such an equivalence does not hold; e.g. “Tom and Mary made friends” is not equivalent to “Tom made friends and Mary made friends.” They mean, usually, quite different things. But notice that one could say “Tom and Mary made friends; but not with one another.” The implication of mutuality in the first phrase is not so strong but that it can be rejected without self-contradiction; but it is strong enough to make the rejection a slight shock, a literary effect. Nor does such an equivalence hold if we replace “made friends” by “met yesterday,” “were conversing,” “got married,” or “were playing chess.” Even “Tom and William arrived” does not mean the same as “Tom arrived and William arrived;” for the first suggests “together” and the second an order of arrival. It might be conceded that “and” has functions which “ .” has not (e.g., may carry in certain contexts an implication of mutuality which ‘.’  does not), and yet claimed that the rules which hold for “and,” where it is used to couple clauses, are the same as the rules which hold for “.” Even this is not true. By law (11), " p , q ' is logically equivalent to * q . p ' ; but “They got married and had a child” or “He set to work and found a job” are by no means logically equivalent to “They had a child and got married” or “He found a job and set to work.” One might try to avoid these difficulties by regarding ‘.’ as having the function, not of ' and ', but of what it looks like, namely a full stop. We should then have to desist from talking of statements of the forms ' p .q\ * p . J . r * &CM and talk of sets-of-statements of these forms instead. But this would not avoid all, though it would avoid some, of the difficulties. Even in a passage of prose consisting of several indicative sentences, the order of the sentences may be in general vital to the sense, and in particular, relevant (in a way ruled out by law (II)) to the truth-conditions of a set-of-statements made by such a passage. The fact is that, in general, in ordinary speech and writing, clauses and sentences do not contribute to the truthconditions of things said by the use of sentences and paragraphs in which they occur, in any such simple way as that pictured by the truth-tables for the binary connectives (' D ' * . ', 4 v ', 35 ') of the system, but in far more subtle, various, and complex ways. But it is precisely the simplicity of the way in which, by the definition of a truth-function, clauses joined by these connectives contribute to the truth-conditions of sentences resulting from the junctions, which makes possible the stylized, mechanical neatness of the logical system. It will not do to reproach the logician for his divorce from linguistic realities, any more than it will do to reproach the abstract painter for not being a representational artist; but one may justly reproach him if he claims to be a representational artist. An abstract painting may be, recognizably, a painting of something. And the identification of “.” with ‘and,’ or with a full stop, is not a simple mistake. There is a great deal of point in comparing them. The interpretation of, and rules for, “.”define a minimal linguistic operation, which we might call ‘simple conjunction’ and roughly describe as the joining together of two (or more) statements in the process of asserting them both (or all). And this is a part of what we often do with ' and ', and with the full stop. But we do not string together at random any assertions we consider true; we bring them together, in spoken or written sentences or paragraphs, only when there is some further reason for the rapprochement, e.g., when they record successive episodes in a single narrative. And that for the sake of which we conjoin may confer upon the sentences embodying the conjunction logical features at variance with the rules for “.” Thus we have seen that a statement of the form “p and q” may carry an implication of temporal order incompatible with that carried by the corresponding statement of the form “q and p.” This is not to deny that statements corresponding to these, but of the forms ‘pΛq’ and ‘qΛp’would be, if made, logically equivalent; for such statements would carry no implications, and therefore no incompatible implications, of temporal order. Nor is it to deny the point, and merit, of the comparison; the statement of the form ‘pΛq’ means at least a part of what is meant by the corresponding statement of the form ‘p and q.’ We might say:  the form ‘p q’ is an abstraction from the different uses of the form ‘p and q.’  Simple conjunction is a minimal element in colloquial conjunction. We may speak of ‘. ‘ as the conjunctive sign; and read it, for simplicity's sake, as “and” or “both … and … “I have already remarked that the divergence between the meanings given to the truth-functional constants and the meanings of the ordinary conjunctions with which they are commonly identified is at a minimum in the cases of ' ~ ' and ‘.’ We have seen, as well, that the remaining constants of the system can be defined in terms of these two. Other interdefinitions are equally possible. But since ^’ and ‘.’  are more nearly identifiable with ‘not’ and ‘and’ than any other constant with any other English word, I prefer to emphasize the definability of the remaining constants in terms of ‘ .’ and ‘~.’ It is useful to remember that every rule or law of the system can be expressed in terms of negation and simple conjunction. The system might, indeed, be called the System of Negation and Conjunction. Grice lists ‘and’ as the first binary functor in his response to Strawson. Grice’s conversationalist hypothesis applies to this central ‘connective.’ Interestingly, in his essay on Aristotle, and discussing, “French poet,” Grice distinguishes between conjunction and adjunction. “French” is adjuncted to ‘poet,’ unlike ‘fat’ in ‘fat philosopher.’  Refs.The main published source is “Studies in the Way of Words” (henceforth, “WOW”), I (especially Essays 1 and 4), “Presupposition and conversational implicature,” in P. Cole, and the two sets on ‘Logic and conversation,’ in The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

conversational benevolence: The type of rationality that Grice sees in conversational is one that sees conversation as ‘rational co-operation.’ So it is obvious that he has to invoke some level of benevolence. When tutoring his rather egoistic tutees he had to be careful, so he hastened to add a principle of conversational self-love. It was different when lecturing outside a tutorial! In fact ‘benevolence’ here is best understood as ‘altruism’. So, if there is a principle of conversational egoism, there is a correlative principle of conversational altruism. If Grice uses ‘self-love,’ there is nothing about ‘love,’ in ‘benevolence.’ Butler may have used ‘other-love’! Even if of course we must start with the Grecians! We must not forget that Plato and Aristotle despised "autophilia", the complacency and self-satisfaction making it into the opposite of "epimeleia heautou” in Plato’s Alcibiades. Similarly, to criticize Socratic ethics as a form of egoism in opposition to a selfless care of others is inappropriate. Neither a self-interested seeker of wisdom nor a dangerous teacher of self-love, Socrates, as the master of epimeleia heautou, is the hinge between the care of self and others. One has to be careful here. A folk-etymological connection between ‘foam’ may not be needed – when the Romans had to deal with Grecian ‘aphrodite.’ This requires that we look for another linguistic botany for Grecian ‘self-love’ that Grice opposes to ‘benevolentia.’ Hesiod derives Aphrodite from “ἀφρός,” ‘sea-foam,’ interpreting the name as "risen from the foam", but most modern scholars regard this as a spurious folk etymology. Early modern scholars of classical mythology attempted to argue that Aphrodite's name was of Griceain or Indo-European origin, but these efforts have now been mostly abandoned. Aphrodite's name is generally accepted to be of non-Greek, probably Semitic, origin, but its exact derivation cannot be determined. Scholars in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, accepting Hesiod's "foam" etymology as genuine, analyzed the second part of Aphrodite's name as -odítē "wanderer" or -dítē "bright". Janda, also accepting Hesiod's etymology, has argued in favor of the latter of these interpretations and claims the story of a birth from the foam as an Indo-European mytheme. Similarly, an Indo-European compound abʰor-, very" and dʰei- "to shine" have been proposed, also referring to Eos. Other have argued that these hypotheses are unlikely since Aphrodite's attributes are entirely different from those of both Eos and the Vedic deity Ushas.A number of improbable non-Greek etymologies have also been suggested. One Semitic etymology compares Aphrodite to the Assyrian ‘barīrītu,’ the name of a female demon that appears in Middle Babylonian and Late Babylonian texts. Hammarström looks to Etruscan, comparing eprϑni "lord", an Etruscan honorific loaned into Greek as πρύτανις.This would make the theonym in origin an honorific, "the lady".Most scholars reject this etymology as implausible, especially since Aphrodite actually appears in Etruscan in the borrowed form Apru (from Greek Aphrō, clipped form of Aphrodite). The medieval Etymologicum Magnum offers a highly contrived etymology, deriving Aphrodite from the compound habrodíaitos (ἁβροδίαιτος), "she who lives delicately", from habrós and díaita. The alteration from b to ph is explained as a "familiar" characteristic of Greek "obvious from the Macedonians". It is much easier with the Romans.  Lewis and Short have ‘ămor,’ old form “ămŏs,” “like honos, labos, colos, etc.’ obviously from ‘amare,’ and which they render as ‘love,’ as in Grice’s “conversational self-love.” Your tutor will reprimand you if you spend too much linguistic botany on ‘eros.’ “Go straight to ‘philos.’” But no. There are philosophical usages of ‘eros,’ especially when it comes to the Grecian philosophers Grice is interested in: Aristotle reading Plato, which becomes Ariskant reading Plathegel. So, Liddell and Scott have “ἔρως” which of course is from a verb, or two: “ἕραμαι,” “ἐράω,” and which they render as “love, mostly of the sexual passion, ““θηλυκρατὴς ἔ.,” “ἐρῶσ᾽ ἔρωτ᾽ ἔκδημον,” “ἔ. τινός love for one, S.Tr.433, “παίδων” E. Ion67, and “generally, love of a thing, desire for it,” ““πατρῴας γῆς” “δεινὸς εὐκλείας ἔ.” “ἔχειν ἔμφυτον ἔρωτα περί τι” Plato, Lg. 782e ; “πρὸς τοὺς λόγους” (love of law), “ἔρωτα σχὼν τῆς Ἑλλάδος τύραννος γενέσθαι” Hdt.5.32 ; ἔ. ἔχει με c. inf., A.Supp.521 ; “θανόντι κείνῳ συνθανεῖν ἔρως μ᾽ ἔχει” S.Fr.953 ; “αὐτοῖς ἦν ἔρως θρόνους ἐᾶσθαι” Id.OC367 ; ἔ. ἐμπίπτει μοι c. inf., A.Ag.341, cf. Th.6.24 ; εἰς ἔρωτά τινος ἀφικέσθαι, ἐλθεῖν, Antiph.212.3,Anaxil.21.5 : pl., loves, amours, “ἀλλοτρίων” Pi.N.3.30 ; “οὐχ ὅσιοι ἔ.” E.Hipp.765 (lyr.) ; “ἔρωτες ἐμᾶς πόλεως” Ar.Av.1316 (lyr.), etc. ; of dolphins, “πρὸς παῖδας” Arist.HA631a10 : generally, desires, S.Ant.617 (lyr.). 2. object of love or desire, “ἀπρόσικτοι ἔρωτες” Pi.N.11.48, cf. Luc.Tim.14. 3. passionate joy, S.Aj.693 (lyr.); the god of love, Anacr.65, Parm.13, E.Hipp.525 (lyr.), etc.“Έ. ἀνίκατε μάχαν” S.Ant.781 (lyr.) : in pl., Simon.184.3, etc. III. at Nicaea, a funeral wreath, EM379.54. IV. name of the κλῆρος Ἀφροδίτης, Cat.Cod.Astr.1.168 ; = third κλῆρος, Paul.Al.K.3; one of the τόποι, Vett.Val.69.16. And they’ll point to you that the Romans had ‘amor’ AND ‘cupidus’ (which they meant as a transliteration of epithumia). If for Kant and Grice it is the intention that matters, ill-will counts. If Smith does not want Jones have a job, Smith has ill-will towards Jones. This is all Kant and Grice need to call Smith a bad person. It means it is the ill-will that causes Joness not having a job. A conceptual elucidation. Interesting from a historical point of view seeing that Grice had introduced a principle of conversational benevolence (i.e. conversational goodwill) pretty early. Malevolentia was over-used by Cicero, translating the Grecian. Grice judges that if Jones fails to get the job that benevolent Smith promised, Smith may still be deemed, for Kant, if not Aristotle, to have given him the job. A similar elucidation was carried by Urmson with his idea of supererogation (heroism and sainthood). For a hero or saint, someones goodwill but not be good enough! Which does not mean it is ill, either! Refs.: The source is Grice’s seminar in the first set on ‘Logic and conversation.’ The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

conversational candour: it is all about confidence, you know. U expects A will find him confident. Thus we find in Short and Lewis, “confīdo,” wich they render as “to trust confidently in something,” and also, “confide in, rely firmly upon, to believe, be assured of,” as an enhancing of “sperare,” in Cicero’s Att. 6, 9, 1. Trust and rationality are pre-requisites of conversation. Urmson develops this. They phrase in Urmson is "implied claim." Whenever U makes a conversational contribution in a standard context, there is an implied claim to U being trustworthy and reasonable.  What do Grice and Urmson mean by an "implied claim"? It is obvious enough, but they both love to expand. Whenever U utters an expression which can be used to convey truth or falsehood there is an implied claim to trustworthiness by U, unless the situation shows that this is not so. U may be acting or reciting or incredulously echoing the remark of another, or flouting the expectation. This, Grice and Urmson think, may need an explanation.  Suppose that U utters, in an ordinary circumstance, ‘It will rain tomorrow,’ or ‘It rained yesterday,’ or ‘It is raining.’ This act carries with it the claim that U should be trusted and licenses A to believe that it will rain tomorrow. By this is meant that just as it is understood that no U will give an order unless he is entitled to give orders, so it is understood that no U will utter a sentence of a kind which can be used to make a statement unless U is willing to claim that that statement is true, and hence one would be acting in a misleading manner if one uttered the sentence if he was not willing to make that claim. Here, the predicate “implies that …,” Grice, Grant, Moore, Nowell-Smith, and Urmson hasten to add, is being used in such a way that, if there is a an expectation that a thing is done in Circumstance C, U implies that C holds if he does the thing. The point is often made if not always in the terms Grice uses, and it is, Urmson and Grice believe, in substance uncontroversial. Grice and Urmson wish to make the point that, when an utterer U deploys a hedge with an indicative sentence, there is not merely an implied claim that the whole statement is true but also that is true. This is surely obvious in some cases. Some examples: “I believe it will rain,” “He is, I regret, too fast;” “You intend, I gather, to refuse.” Grice and Urmson observe that a little thought shows that it is also true in the case of, say, “I hear that he is ill in bed,” or “He is, I hear, ill in bed.” An utterer would not say these things if he did not accept the report on which the statement is based, and, by saying it, U implies that he can be claimed to be trustworthy. Grice had been more careful than Urmson. But Grice is a modista. In the use favoured by Grice, and notably contra Moore, by uttering an expression explicitly conveying a primary buletic or doxastic claim, U crucially, not ceteris paribus, ‘expresses’ (and not merely ‘implies’) that U believes that p or desires that p be satisfied. The implied or expressed claim by the utterer to trustworthiness need not be very strong. The whole point of a hedge is to modify or weaken (if not, as Grice would have it, flout) the claim by U to full trustworthiness which would be implied by the unhedged assertion.  But even if U utters “He is, I suppose, at home;” or “I guess that the penny will come down heads," U expresses, or for Urmson plainly implies, with however little reason, that this is what U accepts as worth the trust by A. U often has an emotional attitude to the fact he states, or it is likely to arouse emotion in A.  To some extent, both by accident and by design, the manner, intonation and choice of expression betray the attitude of U, and prepares A.  But this is imprecise and uncertain, and, difficult to get right for all but the great stylist. Content and manner give some clue to A of how he is to understand the statement in relation to its context, but not infallibly.  Further, U makes his statement sometimes with good or adequate, sometimes with moderate, sometimes with poor evidence.  Which of these situations U is in need not be obvious to A, and it would be cumbersome always to convey explicitly.  It is the contention of Grice and Urmson that a hedge is just one of the sets of devices that U uses in order to deal with these matters, though not the only set.  By a hedge U primes A to see the emotional significance, the relevance, and the reliability of his statement.  This U does not by explicitly conveying to A how he is moved or how he should be moved by the statement, nor by explicitly conveying him how the statement fits into the context, nor by describing the evidential situation, but by the use of warning, priming or orientating signals.  The utterer shows and ‘expresses,’ rather than explicitly conveys.  This contention may be elaborated. Suppose that U goes to a mother in wartime as a messenger to inform her of the death of her son. U can, no doubt, merely say “Madam, your son is dead.” But this would be abrupt and harsh, and U would more probably say “Madam, I regret that your son is dead.” For anyone other than a great actor it is easier to steer a course between callousness and false sentiment as a stranger bearing news by the use of a hedge in this way than by means of intonation. Clearly the utterer is mainly bearing news, and the addition of "I regret,” not necessarily at the beginning of the sentence, shows, without it being explicitly conveyed that it is being offered, and will be received as, sad news. U is not being a hypocrite, even within the excusable, conventional, limits of hypocrisy, if he personally has no feelings on the matter at all. Messengers of that sort can rarely have much feeling in wartime about each case. If we turn to a less purely parenthetical use of the same verity we shall find that the essential point remains the same. As a friend of the family, U goes to the mother when the death is well known and says, “I much regret that your son is dead. He was a dear friend.” In the circumstance, no doubt, I am no longer bearing news. U is still not ‘describing’ his feelings. It is rather that the signal is being made for its own sake as an act of sympathy, the indicative clause giving the occasion of my sympathy. ‘Regret’ and ‘rejoice’ are two of the most obvious verbs which give emotional orientation when used parenthetically. Another set of these hedges is used to signal how the statement is to be taken as fitting logically into the discussion. “I admit that he is able” assigns the statement that he is able to the logical position of being support for the opposed position, or a part of the opposed position which will not be assailed one shows while saying that he is able that this is to be treated as an admission. In ‘Retrospective epilogue,’ Grice refers to this as a second-order meta-conversational device, a non-central speech act (oppose, object, add, contrast) rather than a central speech act reduced to ordering and stating.  One is forestalling a possible misapprehension.  But don’t you see, that is part of my point.  One is not reporting the occurrence of "a bit of admitting", whatever that may be supposed to be.  In “Smith is, I conclude, the murderer,” the hedge assigns to the statement the status of following from what has been said before, preventing it from being taken as, say, an additional fact to be taken into account. Cf. Grice on “Smith is an Englishman; he is, therefore, brave,” and the conventional implicatum, or colour, of "therefore".  There is no specific activity of "concluding". Other hedges which fulfil approximately similar tasks are “deduce,” “infer,” “presume,” “presuppose,” “confess,” “concede,” “maintain,” and “assume.” Another rough group is constituted by such hedges as “know,” “believe,” “guess,” “suppose,” “suspect,” “estimate,” and, in a metaphorical use, “feel.” Never sense but metaphorical use. Cf. Grice’s modified Occam’s razor, do not multiply senses beyond necessity, and Urmson’s having learned the lesson (v. his earlier, “On the two senses of ‘probable’"). This group is probably more controversial than the previous ones. This group is used to convey the evidential situation in which the statement is made (though not to ‘describe’ that situation), and hence to signal the degree of reliability is claimed for, and should be accorded to, the statement to which the hedged is conjoined.  Thus “I think that this is the right road to take” is a weaker way of conveying that this is the right road, and further conveying that U is just plumping and has no adequate evidence, so that the statement will be received with the right amount of caution. “I know,” on the other hand, shows that there is all the adequate evidence one could need. Some of these hedges can clearly be arranged in a scalar set showing the reliability of the conjoined statement according to the wealth of evidence. Such a scalar set may go: “know,” “believe,” “suspect,” “guess,” so that by uttering “I believe,” being on the weak side of the scale, U implies that it is the case that he know. An adverb can make the situation even plainer. “I strongly believe,” “I rather suspect,” and so on. U is, in fact, in a position where he can either make his statement neat, and leave it to the context and the general probabilities to show to A how much credence or trust or candour he should give to the statement; or, in addition to making the statement, U can actually describe the evidential situation in more or less detail; or U can give a warning such as, “Do not rely on this too implicitly, but…”, or U can employ the warning device of a parenthetical verb , “I believe it will rain.” If this is insufficient for any reason (perhaps it is an important matter), A can ask why and get the description of the evidential situation.  Usually, this or that adverb corresponds to this or that parenthetical verb. One cannot ‘weakly know.’ Grice and Urmson mention that a parenthetical verb is not the only device that U has for warning A how his statement is to be taken while making it. It will perhaps make it clearer how a parenthetical verb is used if one of these other devices is briefly outlined.  We are taught at school that an adverb modifies a verb. This is inaccurate. An adverb may quite as loosely attached to a whole expression, as a parenthetical verb does.  Examples are “luckily,” “happily,” “unfortunately,” “consequently,” “presumably,” “admittedly,” “certainly,” “undoubtedly,” “probably,” “possibly,” “otiosely,” and Speranza’s favourite “hopefully” (Speranza _means_ hope).  Note that the position of the adverb is variable in relation to the expression as in the case of a parenthetical verb.  One can say “Unfortunately, he is ill” or “He is, unfortunately, ill.”  If “modify” is to be used the adverb can perhaps be said to “modify” the whole expression to which it are attached.  But how does the adverb “modify” the expression? Surely by giving a warning how the adverb is to be understood. E. g., “Luckily,” “happily,” and “unfortunately” indicate the appropriate attitude to the statement. “Admittedly,” “consequently,” and “presumably,” among others, indicate how to take the statement in regard to the context. “Certainly,” “probably” and “possibly,” among others, show how much reliability is to be ascribed to the statement. No importance should be attached to this grouping of verbs and adverbs into three sets. It has been done purely for convenience in an outline exposition. There are differences between the members of each of the groups and the groups are not sharply divided. It is easy to think of a verb which might with equal reason be placed in either of two groups. The aim is to lay down general lines for the interpretation of a parenthetical, not to do full justice to any of them. Provided that it is not construed as a list of synonyms, we can couple an adverb with a parenthetical verb as follows: “Happily I rejoice,” “Unfortunately I regret,” “Consequently I deduce, or I infer, “Presumably, I presume,” “Admittedly I admit. “Certainly” compares to "I know, cf. “knowingly.” “Probably” compares to “I believe.” cf. “unbelievably,” and “believably.”This is not, Grice and Urmson repeat, a list of synonyms. Apart from questions of nuance of meaning, an adverb is more impersonal. "Admittedly" suggests that what is said would be regarded by anyone as an admission. “I admit” shows only the way that the statement is to be regarded here, by U. Also it is not possible to say that every adverb has a verb corresponding to it which has more or less the same import, or vice versa. But it does seem that an adverb and a parenthetical verb play much the same role and have much the same grammatical relation to the statements which they accompany, and that, therefore, the comparison is illuminating in both directions. Now Grice and Urmson meet an objection which is made by some philosophers to this comparison. Grice and Urmson intend to meet the objection by a fairly detailed examination of the example which they themselves would most likely choose. In doing this Grice and Urmson further explain the use of a parenthetical verb. The adverb is "probably" and the verb is “I believe.” To say, that something is probable, the imaginary objector will say, is to imply that it is reasonable to believe, that the evidence justifies a guarded claim for the trust or trustworthiness of U and the truth of the statement. But to say that someone else, a third person, believes something does not imply that it is reasonable for U or A to believe it, nor that the evidence justifies the guarded or implied claim to factivity or truth which U makes. Therefore, the objector continues, the difference between the use of “I believe” and “probably” is not, as Grice and Urmson suggest, merely one of nuance and degree of impersonality. In one case, “probably,” reasonableness is implied; in the other, “believe,” it is not. This objection is met by Grice and Urmson. They do so by making a general point. To use the rational-reasonable distinction in “Conversational implicature” and “Aspects,” there is an implied claim by U to reasonableness.  Further to an implied claim to trust whenever a sentence is uttered in a standard context, now Grice and Urmson add, to meet the sceptical objection about the contrast between “probably” and “I believe” that, whenever U makes a statement in a standard context there is an implied claim to reasonableness. This contention must be explained alla Kant. Cf. Strawson on the presumption of conversational relevance, and Austin, Moore, Nowell-Smith, Grant, and Warnock. To use Hart’s defeasibility, and Hall’s excluder, unless U is acting or story-telling, or preface his remarks with some such phrase as “I know Im being silly, but …” or, “I admit it is unreasonable, but …”  it is, Grice and Urmson think, a presupposition or expectation of communication or conversation that a communicator will not make a statement, thereby implying this trust, unless he has some  ground, however tenuous, for the statement. To utter “The King is visiting Oxford tomorrow,” or “The President of the BA has a corkscrew in his pocket,” and then, when asked why the utterer is uttering that, to answer “Oh, for no reason at all,” would be to sin, theologically, against the basic conventions governing the use of discourse. Grice goes on to provide a Kantian justification for that, hence his amusing talk of maxims and stuff.  Therefore, Urmson and Grice think there is an implied or expressed claim to  reasonableness  which goes with all our statements, i.e. there is a mutual expectation that a communicator will not make a statement unless he is prepared to claim and defend its reasonablenesss. This bears on the expression of desire/belief and desirability/probability. When U utters “I believe,” not “I know,” as in “I believe that Smith he is at home,” or “Smith is, I believe (but not know), at home,” the utterer implies (or expresses as Grice prefer, since this is the modus significandi of both the buletic and the doxastic mode) a guarded claim of U’s being trustworthy and reasonable re: the statement that Smith is at home.  Thus, if our sceptical objector points out that only “Probably he is at home,” but not “I believe he is at home,” implies, in the view of the utterer, the reasonableness and justifiability of the statement, Grice answers that this is equally true of “believe” in the first-person present, in such a form as “I believe that Smith is at home.” What the objector fails to do is to notice the vast array of situations in which “believe” is used. Grice singles out some, but only some, of these uses. First scenario: Jones says to Williams: “Smith is, I believe, at home.” Here Jones makes an implied guarded claim (that is the effect of adding “I believe”) to his being trustworthy (a maxim enjoining the ‘satisfactoriness value’), but also an implied claim to his being reasonable (a maxim enjoining the good grounds) re: the statement to the effect that Smith is at home. Now, second scenario. Williams, reports Jones and says to Roberts: “Smith is, Jones believes, at home,” or, to use the ‘that’-clause,” “Jones believes that Smith is at home.” This is oratio obliqua, reporting the parenthetical use of the verb by Jones. By uttering the sentence, Williams implies, and trust Roberts will assume, that both he and Jones are being trustworthy and reasonable re: the statement that Jones has made the statement that Smith is at home. Jones thereby implying its truth and reasonableness with the conventional warning signal about the evidential situation. A third scenario has Jones, who has discovered that there has been a sudden railway stoppage, sees Jones making his habitual morning dash to the station, and says, “Smith believes that the trains are working.” This is a new, and, however important, derivative, use of “believe.” Note that in this context Jones could not play with the position of the verb in the expression, and say, “The trains, Smith believes, are working.” But Jones can say: “The trains, if Smith is to be believed, are working.” Jones, who has probably not considered the matter at all, is behaving in the way that someone who is prepared to say “The trains are running” or “I believe that the trains are running” would behave. No doubt, he would be prepared to say one or other of these things if he considers the matter. We thus in a perfectly intelligible way, extend our use of “believe” to this third scenario in which a person behaves as a person who has considered the evidence and is willing to say “I believe” would consistently behave. In this case, but in this case alone, there is some point in saying, as Ryle would like, that “believe” is used ‘dispositionally,’ rather than reporting an occurrence of a soul. But note that ‘believe’ is so used with reference to another use of ‘believe.’ It is also noteworthy that ‘believe’ cannot be so used in the first-person present. To say “I believe” in this way is no more logically possible than to say “I am under the delusion that …” (cf. illusion, below). “I believe” is always used parenthetically, though not always purely so. If one does recognize that a belief that one has held is unreasonable, one either gives it up or is driven to saying “I cannot *help* believing.” This is psychological history, and carries with it no claim to truth or reasonableness. Thus we see that “Smith believes that p” does not imply the reasonableness of "p" any more than “It seems probable to Smith that p” does. On the other hand, both "Probably p" and “I believe that p” do imply or express the reasonableness of the U re: p. Thus, so far at least as we are concerned with the objection about reasonableness, the parallel between an adverb, “probably” (or “certainly”) and a verb, “I believe,” or “I know,”  stands the test without difficulty. Of old, since Plato, philosophers have tried to find a primary ‘occurrent,’ or ‘single episodic’ use of ‘intend’ and ‘believe’ as a psychological ‘description.’ Austin showed the conversational baffleness of this. But the philosopher need not resorts to a Ryle-inspired analysis of ‘intend’ or ‘believe’ in terms of ‘disposition.’ If it does not describe an occurrence or single episode, ‘intend’ or ‘believe’ must describe a tendency or disposition to an occurrence of an action or behaviour.  There is some point in the reply to this that ‘intend’ and ‘believe’ is here analysed as being the behaviour, if any, which would consistently accompany itself. The fact that in the analysis of ‘intend’ and ‘believe’ the primary use is not ‘descriptive,’ but ‘parenthetical use seems to illuminate if not resolve the dispute. This far from exhausts all the relevant considerations, but the aim of Grice and Urmson is not to examine any one parenthetical verb exhaustively. Rather, the aim is to shed new light on this or that verb related to the ‘soul,’ presenting them as a group. Grice and Urmson want to say the main things which may be said about this or that verb which are not normally considered together as an aid to the thorough examination of each which Grice or Urmson do not undertake. Individually, a verb like ‘intend’ or ‘believe’ cannot be exhaustively treated in its capacity or displaying a parenthetical use. Grice and Urmson must not be taken as suggesting that it can.  Further consideration of the third scenario above is required. “I guess” has a colloquial use in which its significance is, at the best, very indeterminate -- or as Speranza would prefer, "otiose". But in a stricter use, ‘guess’ serves to warn that what is being said is a hunch (Grice’s example, “I guess I’ll climb Everest”). Suppose that one is asked, “Do you know who called this afternoon?” One answers: “No, but I guess that it was Mrs. Smith.” Even here one is making an implied claim that it was Mrs. Smith who called and that this is a reasonable thing to say. If one had said, “I guess that it was Mr. Stalin,” one would have been making a clumsy joke and not really guessing at all. It seems to Urmson and Grice to be difficult that any philosopher should think that “guess” describes or reports a state or a tendency or disposition to behave in any special way (cf. ‘you know,’ or ‘you know what I mean,’ cf. Mura). “I guess” is put in to show that one is making one’s statement without any specific evidence, that it is, in fact, a hunch. What makes it a hunch need not be psychological state nor a disposition to behave in any way. If it is a hunch, the expression is conveyed without any specific evidence, and it is being potentially silly or lucky, not well-based or ill-supported. Grice and Urmson cannot see that there is any essential difference between “guess” on the one hand and “know,” “opine,” and “suspect,” for example, on the other – but cf. Grice on Group C in Prolegomena. The epistemological situation is more complicated in the latter set of cases, and this or that one may have this or that special quirk in its use, “know” being a notorious example, but that is all. Each is essentially the same sort of verb.  It might be worth while to compare this view of “know” with what Austin has in “Other minds,” repr. in Logic and Language).  Much of Grice’s and Urmson’s approach is provoked by the essay by Austin.  Among other, less immediately relevant, things, Austin distinguishes a class of performatory verbs and compares the use of ‘know’ with the use of these verbs.  In particular, Austin compares it with ‘assure,’ and ‘guarantee.’  But Austin is careful not to say that ‘know’ is a performatory verb.  Austin also points out important differences between ‘know’ and ‘assure,’ and ‘guarantee.’ Grice and Urmson agree that the comparison which Austin makes between ‘know’ and performatory verbs is just and illuminating. Performatory and parenthetical verbs have much in common as against this or that ordinary ‘descriptive’, occurrence or single-episode verb. Grice and Urmson are not therefore disagreeing with Austin in acknowledging the nuance, but trying to locate the verb in a class which it is not Austin’s purpose to consider. Grice and Urmson distinguish a set of parenthetical verbs and make some points about their parenthetical use in the first person of the present tense. Each occurs in the present *perfect*, not the continuous tense (cf. Grice, “Someone, viz, I, is not hearing a noise,” and “Someone, viz. I, is hearing a noise”, though its use is different from that of the present perfect tense of verbs which do have a present continuous tense.  Though a verb associated with the ‘soul,’ the verb is not ‘descriptive’ or the soul, even dispositionally. Each functions rather like an ‘ad-verb’ to orient A aright towards the statements with which each is associated. The ways in which the verb does this may be roughly indicated as being an aid to placing the statement aright against the emotional, social, logical, and evidential background.  There is, as when the conjoined statement is used alone, an implied claim for the trustworthiness and reasonableness of U re these associated statements. But a parenthetical verb is not always used parenthetically.  In the first person present, to which use we have so far confined practically all our attention. Grice feels like saying something about their other uses. We may consider the positive analogy. There is a positive analogy, though not a very tidy one.  The analogy seems to hold completely in the case of some verbs. One cannot say “I am intending,” or “He is intending,”“I was believing” or “he is believing,” “I was knowing,” or “he was knowing,” “I was suspecting,” or “He was suspecting.” In the case of some other parenthetical verbs, we find a rare and anomalous *Imperfect” periphrastic tense. One can, e.g. say that you were admitting something if you were interrupted in the middle of a statement which you were making as an admission. Or again, one can say that someone is deducing the consequences of a set of premisses, while he is stating a succession of things as deductions. But none of these is a genuine exception. In the case of another set of these verbs an *imperfect* periphrastic tense is not so strange. At the end of an argument which have been put forth, one might, e. g., say, “All the while you were assuming (presupposing, accepting) that so and so.” But this is not like the *imperfect* periphrastic tense of an ordinary verb which reports or describes an occurrence or single episode, or the continuance throughout a period of some occurrence. I was not throughout the period continuously doing an act of intention or belief or assumption which I carefully refrained from mentioning.  Rather, the utterer was arguing as a man would reasonably argue who was prepared to say, “I assume that so-and-so;” i. e., I was arguing in a way that required so and so as a premiss if the argument is to be valid. I ought, therefore, to be willing to state so-and-so as a premiss.  Thus here, too, the other use has to be understood in the light of the parenthetical use. We must also note that, in general, these verbs can throughout be used in parenthesis. We can say: “Smith was, Jones admitted, able,” or “Jones admitted that Smith was able.” This seems to be so whenever the use is either definite oratio obliqua or, at any rate, a fair paraphrase.  Some verbs, such as “deduce” and “admit,” seem always to be used in this way.  But others, including, as we have already seen “intend,” or the mere ‘will’ and ‘shall,’ or “assume,” “presuppose,” are used, not of a man who has said “I assume” or “I believe” or “I presuppose,” or words to that effect, but of a man who as a man reasonably would who was prepared to say that.  In such a use, which is a genuinely ‘descriptive’ use, the parenthetical insertion of the verb seems to some to be conceptually impossible. Continuing with the positive analogy, it seems to follow from the above that, except in some derivative use, a parenthetical verb is not used as a ‘description’ of a state or disposition of the soul, in other parts of their conjugation any more than in the first person present. And even in the derivative use, it seems to ‘describe,’ if that’s what it does, not a state of the soul, or a disposition to behave, but a general behaviour rather than to be specifically about the soul. The obvious negative analogy is, first, that the adverb can only be used to correspond to the first person. But this negative analogy is only so in a very limited way. If the adverb did correspond exactly to the whole conjugation of the verb, the conjugation would appear to be otiose. But the adverb can be systematically correlated with the whole conjugation of the parenthetical verb with the aid of the verb “to seem.” (“He seems to be intending…”). Cf. Grice’s desideratum of conversational candour, subsumed under the over-arching principle of conversational helpfulness (formerly conversational benevolence-cum-self-love). Grice thinks that the principle of conversational benevolence has to be weighed against the principle of conversational self-love. The result is the overarching principle of conversational helpfulness. Clarity gets in the picture. The desideratum of conversational clarity is a reasonable requirement for conversants to abide by. Grice follows some observations by Warnock. The logical grammar of “trust,” “candour,” “charity,” “sincerity,” “decency,” “honesty,” is subtle, especially when we are considering the two sub-goals of conversation: giving and receiving information/influencing and being influenced by others. In both sub-goals, trust is paramount. The explorations of trust has become an Oxonian hobby, with authors not such like Warnock, but Williams, and others. Grice’s essay is entitled, “Trust, metaphysics, value.” Trust as a corollary of the principle of conversational helpfulness. In a given conversational setting, assuming the principle of conversational helpfulness is operating, U is assumed by A to be trustworthy and candid. There are two modes of trust, which relate to the buletic sub-goal and the doxastic sub-goal which Grice assumes the principle of conversational helpfulness captures:  giving and receiving information, and influencing and being influenced by others. In both sub-goals, trust is key. In the doxastic realm, trust has to do, not so much or only, with truth (with which the expression is cognate), or satisfactoriness-value, but evidence and probability. In the buletic realm, there are the dimensions of satisfactoriness-value (‘good’ versus ‘true’), and ‘ground’ versus evidence, which becomes less crucial. But note that one is trustworthy regarding BOTH the buletic attitude and the doxastic attitude. Grice mentions this or that buletic attitudes which is not usually judged in terms of evidential support (“I vow to thee my country.”) However, in the buletic realm, U is be assumed as trustworthy if U has the buletic attitude he is expressing. The cheater, the insincere, the dishonest, the untrustworthy, for Grice is not irrational, just repugnant. How immoral is the idea that honesty is the best policy? Is Kant right in thinking there is no right to refrain from trust? Surely it is indecent. For Kant, there is no motivation or ‘motive,’ pure or impure, behind telling the truth – it’s just a right, and an obligation – an imperative. Being trustworthy for Kant is associated with a pure motive. Grice agrees. Decency comes into the picture. An indecent agent may still be rational, but in such a case, conversation may still be seen as rational (if not reasonable) and surely not be seen as rational helpfulness or co-operation, but rational adversarial competition, rather, a zero-sum game. Grice found the etymology of ‘decent’ too obscure. Short and Lewis have “dĕcet,” which they deem cognate with Sanscrit “dacas,” ‘fame,’ and Grecian “δοκέω,‘to seem,’ ‘to think,’ and with Latin ‘decus,’ ‘dingus.’ As an impersonal verb, Short and Lewis render it as ‘it is seemly, comely, becoming,; it beseems, behooves, is fitting, suitable, proper (for syn. v. debeo init.): decere quasi aptum esse consentaneumque tempori et personae, Cic. Or. 22, 74; cf. also nunc quid aptum sit, hoc est, quid maxime deceat in oratione videamus, id. de Or. 3, 55, 210 (very freq. and class.; not in Caesar). Grice’s idea of decency is connected to his explorations on rational and reasonable. To cheat may be neither unreasonable nor rational. It is just repulsive. Indecent, in other words. In all this, Grice is concerned with ordinary language, and treasures Austin questioning Warnock, when Warnock was pursuing a fellowship at Magdalen. “What would you say the difference is between ‘Smith plays cricket rather properly’ and ‘Smith plays cricket rather incorrectly’?” They spent the whole dinner over the subtlety. By desserts, Warnock was in love with Austin. Cf. Grice on his prim and proper Aunt Matilda. The exploration by Grice on trust is Warnockian in character, or vice versa. In “Object of morality,” Warnock has trust as key, as indeed, the very object of morality. Grice starts to focus on trust in an Oxford seminars on the implicatum. If there is a desideratum of conversational candour, and the goal of the principle of conversational helpfulness is that of giving and receiving information, and influencing and being influenced by others, ‘false’ ‘information’ is just no information – Since exhibiteness trumps protrepsis, this applies to the buletic, too. Grice loved that Latin dictum, “tuus candor.” He makes an early defence of this in his fatal objection to Malcolm. A philosopher cannot intentionally instill a falsehood in his tutee, such as “Decapitation willed the death of Charles I” (the alleged paraphrase of the paradoxical philosopher saying that ‘causing’ is ‘willing’ and rephrasing “Decapitation was the cause of the death of Charles I.” There is, for both Grice and Apel, a transcendental (if weak) justification, not just utilitarian (honesty as the best policy), as Stalnaker notes in his contribution to the Grice symposium for APA. Unlike Apel, the transcendental argument is a weak one in that Grice aims to show that conversation that did not abide by trust would be unreasonable, but surely still ‘possible.’ It is not a transcendental justification for the ‘existence’ of conversation simpliciter, but for the existence of ‘reasonable,’ decent conversation. If we approach charity in the first person, we trust ourselves that some of our beliefs have to be true, and that some of our desires have to be satisfactory valid, and we are equally trusted by our conversational partners. This is Grice’s conversational golden rule. What would otherwise be the point of holding that conversation is rational co-operation? What would be the point of conversation simpliciter? Urmson follows Austin, so Austin’s considerations on this, notably in “Other minds,” deserve careful examination. Urmson was of course a member of Grice’s play group, and these are the philosophers that we consider top priority. Another one was P. H. Nowell-Smith. At least two of his three rules deserve careful examination. Nowell-Smith notes that this or that ‘rule’ of contextual implication is not meant to be taken as a ‘rigid rule’. Unlike this or that rule of entailment, a conversational rule can be broken without the utterer being involved in self-contradiction or absurdity. When U uses an expression to make a statement, it is contextually implied that he believes it to be true. Similarly, when he uses it to perform any of the other jobs for which sentences are used, it is contextually implied that he is using it for one of the jobs that it normally does. This rule is often in fact broken. Anti-Kantian lying, Bernhard-type play-acting, Andersen-type story-telling, and Wildeian irony is each a case in which U breaks the rule, or flouts the expectation, either overtly or covertly. But each of these four cases is a secondary use, i.e. a use to which an expression cannot logically or conceptually be put unless, as Hart would have it, it has a primary use. There is no limit to the possible uses to which an expression may be put. In many cases a man makes his point by deliberately using an expression in a queer way or even using it in the ‘sense’ opposite to its unique normal one, as in irony (“He is a fine friend,” implying that he is a scoundrel). The distinction between a primary and a secondary use is important because many an argument used by a philosopher consists in pointing out some typical example of the way in which some expression E is used. Such an argument is always illegitimate if the example employed is an example of a secondary use, however common such a use may be. U contextually implies that he has what he himself believes to be good reasons for his statement. Once again, we often break this rule and we have special devices for indicating when we are breaking it. Phrases such as ‘speaking offhand …,’ 'I do not really know but …,’ and ‘I should be inclined to say that …,’ are used by scrupulous persons to warn his addressee that U has not got what seem to him good reasons for his statement. But unless one of these guarding phrases is used we are entitled to believe that U believes himself to have good reasons for his statement and we soon learn to *mistrust* people who habitually infringe this rule. It is, of course, a mistake to infer from what someone says categorically that he has in fact good reasons for what he says. If I tell you, or ‘inform’ to you, that the duck-billed platypus is a bird (because I ' remember ' reading this in a book) I am unreliable; but I am not using language improperly. But if I tell you this without using one of the guarding phrases and without having what I think good reasons, I am. What U says may be assumed to be relevant to the interests of his addressee. This is the most important of the three rules; unfortunately it is also the most frequently broken. Bores are more common than liars or careless talkers. This rule is particularly obvious in the case of answers to questions, since it is assumed that the answer is an answer. Not all statements are answers to questions; information may be volunteered. Nevertheless the publication of a text-book on trigonometry implies that the author believes that there are people who want to learn about trigonometry, and to give advice implies a belief that the advice is relevant to one’s addressee's problem. This rule is of the greatest importance for ethics. For the major problem of ethics is that of bridging the gap between a decisions, an ought-sentence, an injunction, and a sentence used to give advice on the one hand and the statements of *fact*, sometime regarding the U’s soul, that constitute the reasons for these on the other. It is in order to bridge these gaps that insight into necessary synthetic connexions is invoked. This rule of contextual implication may help us to show that there is no gap to be bridged because the reason-giving sentence must turn out to be also *practical* from the start and not a statement of *fact*, even concerning the state of the U’s soul, from which a practical sentence can somehow be deduced. This rule is, therefore, more than a rule of good manners; or rather it shows how, in matters of ordinary language, rules of good manners shade into logical rules. Unless we assume that it is being observed we cannot understand the connexions between decisions, advice, and appraisals and the reasons given in support of them. Refs.: The main reference is in the first set of ‘Logic and conversation.’ Many keywords are useful, not just ‘candour,’ but notably ‘trust.’ (“Rationality and trust,” c. 9-f. 5, “Trust, metaphysics, and value,” c. 9-f. 20, and “Aristotle and friendship, rationality, trust, and decency,” c. 6-f. 18), BANC.

conversational helpfulness: helpfulness is Grice’s favourite virtue. He dedicates a set of seven lectures to it, entitled as follows. Lecture 1, Prolegomena; Lecture 2: Logic and Conversation; Lecture 3: Further notes on logic and conversation; Lecture 4: Indicative conditionals; Lecture 5: Us meaning and intentions; Lecture 6: Us meaning, sentence-meaning, and word-meaning; and Lecture 7: Some models for implicature. I hope they dont expect me to lecture on James! Grice admired James, but not vice versa. Grice entitled the set as being Logic and Conversation. That is the title, also, of the second lecture. Grice keeps those titles seeing that it was way the whole set of lectures were frequently cited, and that the second lecture had been published under that title in Davidson and Harman, The Logic of Grammar. The content of each lecture is indicated below. In the first, Grice manages to quote from Witters. In the last, he didnt!  The original set consisted of seven lectures. To wit: Prolegomena, Logic and conversation, Further notes on logic and conversation, Indicative Conditionals, Us meaning and intentions, Us meaning, sentence-meaning, and word meaning, and Some models for implicature. They were pretty successful at Oxford. While the notion of an implicatum had been introduced by Grice at Oxford, even in connection with a principle of conversational helpfulness, he takes the occasion now to explore the type of rationality involved. Observation of the principle of conversational helpfulness is rational (reasonable) along the following lines: anyone who cares about the two central goals to conversation (give/receive information, influence/be influened) is expected to have an interest in participating in a conversation that is only going to be profitable given that it is conducted along the lines set by the principle of conversational helpfulness. In Prolegomena he lists Austin, Strawson, Hare, Hart, and himself, as victims of a disregard for the implicatum. In the third lecture he introduces his razor, Senses are not to be muliplied beyond necessity. In Indicative conditionals he tackles Strawson on if as not representing the horse-shoe of Whitehead and Russell. The next two lectures on the meaning by the utterer and intentions, and meaning by the utterer, sentence-meaning, and word-meaning refine his earlier, more austere, account of this particularly Peirceian phenomenon. He concludes the lectures with an exploration on the relevance of the implicatum to philosophical psychology. Grice was well aware that many philosophers had become enamoured with the s. and would love to give it a continuous perusal. The set is indeed grandiose. It starts with a Prolegomena to set the scene: He notably quotes himself in it, which helps, but also Strawson, which sort of justifies the general title. In the second lecture, Logic and Conversation, he expands on the principle of conversational helpfulness and the explicitum/implicatum distinction – all very rationalist! The third lecture is otiose in that he makes fun of Ockham: Senses are not to be multiplied beyond necessity. The fourth lecture, on Indicative conditionals, is indeed on MOST of the formal devices he had mentioned on Lecture II, notably the functors (rather than the quantifiers and the iota operator, with which he deals in Presupposition and conversational implicature, since, as he notes, they refer to reference). This lecture is the centrepiece of the set. In the fifth lecture, he plays with mean, and discovers that it is attached to the implicatum or the implicitum. In the sixth lecture, he becomes a nominalist, to use Bennetts phrase, as he deals with dog and shaggy in terms of this or that resultant procedure. Dont ask me what they are! Finally, in “Some models for implicature,” he attacks the charge of circularity, and refers to nineteenth-century explorations on the idea of thought without language alla Wundt. I dont think a set of James lectures had even been so comprehensive! Conversational helpfulness. This is Grice at his methodological best. He was aware that the type of philosophying he was about to criticise wass a bit dated, but whats wrong with being old-fashioned? While this may be seen as a development of his views on implicature at that seminal Oxford seminar, it may also be seen as Grice popularising the views for a New-World, non-Oxonian audience. A discussion of Oxonian philosophers of the play group of Grice, notably Austin, Hare, Hart, and Strawson. He adds himself for good measure (“Causal theory”). Philosophers, even at Oxford, have to be careful with the attention that is due to general principles of discourse. Grice quotes philosophers of an earlier generation, such as Ryle, and some interpreters or practitioners of Oxonian analysis, such as Benjamin and Searle. He even manages to quote from Witterss Philosophical investigations, on seeing a banana as a banana. There are further items in the Grice collection that address Austins manoeuvre, Austin on ifs and cans, Ifs and cans, : conditional, power.  Two of Grices favourites. He opposed Strawsons view on if. Grice thought that if was the horseshoe of Whitehead and Russell, provided we add an implicatum to an entailment. The can is merely dispositional, if not alla Ryle, alla Grice! Ifs and cans, intention, disposition. Austin had brought the topic to the fore as an exploration of free will. Pears had noted that conversational implicature may account for the conditional perfection (if yields iff). Cf. Ayers on Austin on if and can. Recall that for Grice the most idiomatic way to express a disposition is with the Subjectsive mode, the if, and the can ‒ The ice can break. Cf. the mistake: It is not the case that what you must do, you can do. The can-may distinction is one Grice played with too. As with will and shall, the attachment of one mode to one of the lexemes is pretty arbitrary and not etymologically justified ‒ pace Fowler on it being a privilege of this or that Southern Englishman as Fowler is. If he calls it Prolegomena, he is being jocular. Philosophers Mistakes would have been too provocative. Benjamin, or rather Broad, erred, and so did Ryle, and Ludwig Witters, and my friends, Austin (the mater that wobbled), and in order of seniority, Hart (I heard him defend this about carefully – stopping at every door in case a dog comes out at breakneck speed), Hare (To say good is to approve), and Strawson (“Logical theory”: To utter if p, q is to implicate some inferrability, To say true! is to endorse – Analysis). If he ends with Searle, he is being jocular. He quotes Searle from an essay in British philosophy in Lecture I, and from an essay in Philosophy in America in Lecture V. He loved Searle, and expands on the Texas oilmens club example! We may think of Grice as a linguistic botanizer or a meta-linguistic botanizer: his hobby was to collect philosophers mistakes, and he catalogued them. In Causal theory he produces his first list of seven. The pillar box seems red to me. One cannot see a dagger as a dagger. Moore didnt know that the objects before him were his own hands. What is actual is not also possible. For someone to be called responsible, his action should be condemnable. A cause must be given only of something abnormal or unusual (cf. ætiology). If you know it, you dont believe it. In the Prolegomena, the taxonomy is more complicated. Examples A (the use of an expression, by Austin, Benjamin, Grice, Hart, Ryle, Wittgenstein), Examples B (Strawson on and, or, and especially if), and Examples C (Strawson on true and Hare on good – the performative theories). But even if his taxonomy is more complicated, he makes it more SO by giving other examples as he goes on to discuss how to assess the philosophical mistake. Cf. his elaboration on trying, I saw Mrs. Smith cashing a cheque, Trying to cash a cheque, you mean. Or cf. his remarks on remember, and There is an analogy here with a case by Wittgenstein. In summary, he wants to say. Its the philosopher who makes his big mistake. He has detected, as Grice has it, some conversational nuance. Now he wants to exploit it. But before rushing ahead to exploit the conversational nuance he has detected, or identified, or collected in his exercise of linguistic botanising, the philosopher should let us know with clarity what type of a nuance it is. For Grice wants to know that the nuance depends on a general principle (of goal-directed behaviour in general, and most likely rational) governing discourse – that participants in a conversation should be aware of, and not on some minutiæ that has been identified by the philosopher making the mistake, unsystematically, and merely descriptively, and taxonomically, but without ONE drop of explanatory adequacy. The fact that he directs this to his junior Strawson is the sad thing. The rest are all Grices seniors! The point is of philosophical interest, rather than other. And he keeps citing philosophers, Tarski or Ramsey, in the third James leture, to elaborate the point about true in Prolegomena. He never seems interested in anything but an item being of philosophical interest, even if that means HIS and MINE! On top, he is being Oxonian: Only at Oxford my colleagues were so obsessed, as it has never been seen anywhere else, about the nuances of conversation. Only they were all making a big mistake in having no clue as to what the underlying theory of conversation as rational co-operation would simplify things for them – and how! If I introduce the explicatum as a concession, I shall hope I will be pardoned! Is Grices intention epagogic, or diagogic in Prolegomena? Is he trying to educate Strawson, or just delighting in proving Strawson wrong? We think the former. The fact that he quotes himself shows that Grice is concerned with something he still sees, and for the rest of his life will see, as a valid philosophical problem. If philosophy generated no problems it would be dead. Refs.: The main sources are the two sets on ‘logic and conversation.’ There are good paraphrases in other essays when he summarises his own views, as he did at Urbana. The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

conversational implicatum: Grice loved an implicatum. And an implicature. An elaboration of his Oxonian seminar on Logic and conversation. Theres a principle of conversational helpfulness, which includes a desideratum of conversational candour and a desideratum of conversational clarity, and the sub-principle of conversational self-interest clashing with the sub-principle of conversational benevolence. The whole point of the manoeuvre is to provide a rational basis for a conversational implicatum, as his term of art goes. Observation of the principle of conversational helpfulness is rational/reasonable along the following lines: anyone who is interested in the two goals conversation is supposed to serve ‒ give/receive information, influence/be influenced ‒ should only care to enter a conversation that will be only profitable under the assumption that it is conducted in accordance with the principle of conversational helfpulness, and attending desiderata and sub-principles. Grice takes special care in listing tests for the proof that an implicatum is conversational in this rather technical usage: a conversational implicatum is rationally calculable (it is the content of a psychological state, attitude or stance that the addressee assigns to the utterer on condition that he is being helpful), non-detachable, indeterminate, and very cancellable, thus never part of the sense and never an entailment of this or that piece of philosophical vocabulary, in Davidson and Harman, the logic of Grammar, also in Cole and Morgan, repr. in a revised form in Grice, logic and conversation, the second James lecture, : principle of conversational helpfulness, implicatum, cancellability. While the essay was also repr. by Cole and Morgan. Grice always cites it from the two-column reprint in The Logic of Grammar, ed. by Davidson and Harman. Most people without a philosophical background first encounter Grice through this essay. A philosopher usually gets first acquainted with his In defence of a dogma, or Meaning. In Logic and Conversation, Grice re-utilises the notion of an implicatum and the principle of conversational helpfulness that he introduced at Oxford to a more select audience. The idea Grice is that the observation of the principle of conversational helfpulness is rational (reasonable) along the following lines: anyone who is concerned with the two goals which are central to conversation (to give/receive information, to influence/be influenced) should be interested in participating in a conversation that is only going to be profitable on the assumption that it is conducted along the lines of the principle of conversational helfpulness. Grices point is methodological. He is not at all interested in conversational exchanges as such. Unfortunately, the essay starts in media res, and skips Grices careful list of Oxonian examples of disregard for the key idea of what a conversant implicates by the conversational move he makes. His concession is that there is an explicatum or explicitum (roughly, the logical form) which is beyond pragmatic constraints. This concession is easily explained in terms of his overarching irreverent, conservative, dissenting rationalism. This lecture alone had been read by a few philosophers leaving them confused. I do not know what Davidson and Harman were thinking when they reprinted just this in The logic of grammar. I mean: it is obviously in media res. Grice starts with the logical devices, and never again takes the topic up. Then he explores metaphor, irony, and hyperbole, and surely the philosopher who bought The logic of grammar must be left puzzled. He has to wait sometime to see the thing in full completion. Oxonian philosophers would, out of etiquette, hardly quote from unpublished material! Cohen had to rely on memory, and thats why he got all his Grice wrong! And so did Strawson in If and the horseshoe. Even Walker responding to Cohen is relying on memory. Few philosophers quote from The logic of grammar. At Oxford, everybody knew what Grice was up to. Hare was talking implicature in Mind, and Pears was talking conversational implicature in Ifs and cans. And Platts was dedicating a full chapter to “Causal Theory”. It seems the Oxonian etiquette was to quote from Causal Theory. It was obvious that Grices implication excursus had to read implicature! In a few dictionaries of philosophy, such as Hamlyns, under implication, a reference to Grices locus classicus Causal theory is made – Passmore quotes from Causal theory in Hundred years of philosophy. Very few Oxonians would care to buy a volume published in Encino. Not many Oxonian philosophers ever quoted The logic of grammar, though. At Oxford, Grices implicata remained part of the unwritten doctrines of a few. And philosophers would not cite a cajoled essay in the references. The implicatum allows a display of truth-functional Grice. For substitutional-quantificational Grice we have to wait for his treatment of the. In Prolegomena, Grice had quoted verbatim from Strawsons infamous idea that there is a sense of inferrability with if. While the lecture covers much more than if (He only said if; Oh, no, he said a great deal more than that! the title was never meant to be original. Grice in fact provides a rational justification for the three connectives (and, or, and if) and before that, the unary functor not. Embedding, Indicative conditionals: embedding, not and If, Sinton on Grice on denials of indicative conditionals, not, if. Strawson had elaborated on what he felt was a divergence between Whiteheads and Russells horseshoe, and if. Grice thought Strawsons observations could be understood in terms of entailment + implicatum (Robbing Peter to Pay Paul). But problems, as first noted to Grice, by Cohen, of Oxford, remain, when it comes to the scope of the implicatum within the operation of, say, negation. Analogous problems arise with implicata for the other earlier dyadic functors, and and or, and Grice looks for a single explanation of the phenomenon.  The qualification indicative is modal. Ordinary language allows for if utterances to be in modes other than the imperative. Counter-factual, if you need to be philosophical krypto-technical, Subjectsive is you are more of a classicist! Grice took a cavalier to the problem: Surely it wont do to say You couldnt have done that, since you were in Seattle, to someone who figuratively tells you hes spend the full summer cleaning the Aegean stables. This, to philosophers, is the centerpiece of the lectures. Grice takes good care of not, and, or, and concludes with the if of the title. For each, he finds a métier, alla Cook Wilson in Statement and Inference. And they all connect with rationality. So he is using material from his Oxford seminars on the principle of conversational helpfulness. Plus Cook Wilson makes more sense at Oxford than at Harvard! The last bit, citing Kripke and Dummett, is meant as jocular. What is important is the teleological approach to the operators, where a note should be made about dyadicity. In Prolegomena, when he introduces the topic, he omits not (about which he was almost obsessed!). He just gives an example for and (He went to bed and took off his dirty boots), one for or (the garden becomes Oxford and the kitchen becomes London, and the implicatum is in terms, oddly, of ignorance: My wife is either in town or country,making fun of Town and Country), and if. His favourite illustration for if is Cock Robin: If the Sparrow did not kill him, the Lark did! This is because Grice is serious about the erotetic, i.e. question/answer, format Cook Wilson gives to things, but he manages to bring Philonian and Megarian into the picture, just to impress! Most importantly, he introduces the square brackets! Hell use them again in Presupposition and Conversational Implicature and turns them into subscripts in Vacuous Namess. This is central. For he wants to impoverish the idea of the implicatum. The explicitum is minimal, and any divergence is syntactic-cum-pragmatic import. The scope devices are syntactic and eliminable, and as he knows: what the eye no longer sees, the heart no longer grieves for!  The modal implicatum. Since Grice uses indicative, for the title of his third James lecture (Indicative Conditionals) surely he implicates subjunctive  ‒ i.e. that someone might be thinking that he should give an account of indicative-cum-subjective. This relates to an example Grice gives in Causal theory, that he does not reproduce in Prolegomena. Grice states the philosophical mistake as follows. What is actual is not also possible. Grice seems to be suggesting that a subjective conditional would involve one or other of the modalities, he is not interested in exploring. On the other hand, Mackie has noted that Grices conversationalist hypothesis (Mackie quotes verbatim from Grices principle of conversational helpfulness) allows for an explanation of the Subjectsive if that does not involve Kripke-type paradoxes involving possible worlds, or other. In Causal Theory, Grice notes that the issue with which he has been mainly concerned may be thought rather a fine point, but it is certainly not an isolated one. There are several philosophical theses or dicta which would he thinks need to be examined in order to see whether or not they are sufficiently parallel to the thesis which Grice has been discussing to be amenable to treatment of the same general kind. An examples which occurs to me is the following. What is actual is not also possible. I must emphasise that I am not saying that this example is importantly similar to the thesis which I have been criticizing, only that, for all I know, it may be. To put the matter more generally, the position adopted by Grices objector seems to Grice to involve a type of manoeuvre which is characteristic of more than one contemporary mode of philosophizing. He is not condemning that kind of manoeuvre. He is merely suggesting that to embark on it without due caution is to risk collision with the facts. Before we rush ahead to exploit the linguistic nuances which we have detected, we should make sure that we are reasonably clear what sort of nuances they are. If was also of special interest to Grice for many other reasons. He defends a dispositional account of intending that in terms of ifs and cans. He considers akrasia conditionally. He explored the hypothetical-categorical distinction in the buletic mode. He was concerned with therefore as involved with the associated if of entailment. Refs.: “Implicatum” is introduced in Essay 2 in WoW – but there are scattered references elsewhere. He often uses the plural ‘implicata’ too, as in “Retrospective Epilogue,” The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. An implicatum requires a complexum. Frege was the topic of the explorations by Dummett. A tutee of Grices once brought Dummetts Frege to a tutorial and told Grice that he intended to explore this. Have you read it? No I havent, Grice answered. And after a pause, he went on: And I hope I will not. Hardly promising, the tutee thought. Some authors, including Grice, but alas, not Frege, have noted some similarities between Grices notion of a conventional implicature and Freges schematic and genial rambles on colouring. Aber Farbung, as Frege would state! Grice was more interested in the idea of a Fregeian sense, but he felt that if he had to play with Freges aber he should! One of Grices metaphysical construction-routines, the Humeian projection, is aimed at the generation of concepts, in most cases the rational reconstruction of an intuitive concept displayed in ordinary discourse. We arrive at something like a Fregeian sense. Grice exclaimed, with an intonation of Eureka, almost. And then he went back to Frege. Grices German was good, so he could read Frege, in the vernacular. For fun, he read Frege to his children (Grices, not Freges): In einem obliquen Kontext, Frege says, Grice says, kann ja z. B. die Ersetzung eines „aber durch ein „und, die in einem direkten Kontext keinen Unterschied des Wahrheitswerts ergibt, einen solchen Unterschied bewirken. Ill make that easy for you, darlings: und is and, and aber is but. But surely, Papa, aber is not cognate with but! Its not. That is Anglo-Saxon, for you. But is strictly Anglo-Saxon short for by-out; we lost aber when we sailed the North Sea. Grice went on: Damit wird eine Abgrenzung von Sinn und Färbung (oder Konnotationen) eines Satzes fragwürdig. I. e. he is saying that She was poor but she was honest only conventionally implicates that there is a contrast between her poverty and her honesty. I guess he heard the ditty during the War? Grice ignored that remark, and went on: Appell und Kundgabe wären ferner von Sinn und Färbung genauer zu unterscheiden. Ich weiß so auf interessante Bedeutungs Komponenten hin, bemüht sich aber nicht, sie genauer zu differenzieren, da er letztlich nur betonen will, daß sie in der Sprache der Logik keine Rolle spielen. They play a role in the lingo, that is! What do? Stuff like but. But surely they are not rational conversational implicata!? No, dear, just conventional tricks you can ignore on a nice summer day! Grice however was never interested in what he dismissively labels the conventional implicatum. He identifies it because he felt he must! Surely, the way some Oxonian philosophers learn to use stuff like, on the one hand, and on the other, (or how Grice learned how to use men and de in Grecian), or so, or therefore, or but versus and, is just to allow that he would still use imply in such cases. But surely he wants conversational to stick with rationality: conversational maxim and converational implicatum only apply to things which can be justified transcendentally, and not idiosyncrasies of usage! Grice follows Church in noting that Russell misreads Frege as being guilty of ignoring the use-mention distinction, when he doesnt. One thing that Grice minimises is that Freges assertion sign is composite. Tha is why Baker prefers to use the dot “.” as the doxastic correlative for the buletic sign ! which is NOT composite. The sign „├‟ is composite. Frege explains his Urteilstrich, the vertical component of his sign ├ as conveying assertoric force. The principal role of the horizontal component as such is to prevent the appearance of assertoric force belonging to a token of what does not express a thought (e.g. the expression 22). ─p expresses a thought even if p does not.) cf. Hares four sub-atomic particles: phrastic (dictum), neustic (dictor), tropic, and clistic. Cf. Grice on the radix controversy: We do not want the “.” in p to become a vanishing sign. Grices Frege, Frege, Words, and Sentences, Frege, Farbung, aber. Frege was one of Grices obsessions. A Fregeian sense is an explicatum, or implicitum, a concession to get his principle of conversational helpfulness working in the generation of conversational implicata, that can only mean progress for philosophy! Fregeian senses are not to be multiplied beyond necessity. The employment of the routine of Humeian projection may be expected to deliver for us, as its result, a concept – the concept(ion) of value, say, in something like a Fregeian sense, rather than an object. There is also a strong affinity between Freges treatment of colouring (of the German particle aber, say) and Grices idea of a convetional implicatum (She was poor, but she was honest,/and her parents were the same,/till she met a city feller,/and she lost her honest Names, as the vulgar Great War ditty went). Grice does not seem interested in providing a philosophical exploration of conventional implicata, and there is a reason for this. Conventional implicata are not essentially connected, as conversational implicata are, with rationality. Conventional implicata cannot be calculable. They have less of a philosophical interest, too, in that they are not cancellable. Grice sees cancellability as a way to prove some (contemporary to him, if dated) ordinary-language philosophers who analyse an expression in terms of sense and entailment, where a cancellable conversational implicatum is all there is (to it).  He mentions Benjamin in Prolegomena, and is very careful in noting how Benjamin misuses a Fregeian sense. In his Causal theory, Grice lists another mistake: What is known to be the case is not believed to be the case. Grice gives pretty few example of a conventional implicatum: therefore, as in the utterance by Jill: Jack is an Englishman; he is, therefore, brave. This is interesting because therefore compares to so which Strawson, in PGRICE, claims is the asserted counterpart to if. But Strawson is never associated with the type of linguistic botany that Grice is. Grice also mentions the idiom, on the one hand/on the other hand, in some detail in “Epilogue”: My aunt was a nurse in the Great War; my sister, on the other hand, lives on a peak at Darien. Grice thinks that Frege misuses the use-mention distinction but Russell corrects that. Grice bases this on Church. And of course he is obsessed with the assertion sign by Frege, which Grice thinks has one stroke tooo many. The main reference is give above for ‘complexum.’ Those without a philosophical background tend to ignore a joke by Grice. His echoing Kant in the James is a joke, in the sense that he is using Katns well-known to be pretty artificial quartet of ontological caegories to apply to a totally different phenomenon: the taxonomy of the maxims! In his earlier non-jocular attempts, he applied more philosophical concepts with a more serious rationale. His key concept, conversation as rational co-operation, underlies all his attempts. A pretty worked-out model is in terms then of this central, or overarching principle of conversational helpfulness (where conversation as cooperation need not be qualified as conversation as rational co-operation) and being structured by two contrasting sub-principles: the principle of conversational benevolence (which almost overlaps with the principle of conversational helpfulness) and the slightly more jocular principle of conversational self-love. There is something oxymoronic about self-love being conversational, and this is what leads to replace the two subprinciples by a principle of conversational helfpulness (as used in WoW:IV) simpliciter. His desideratum of conversational candour is key. The clash between the desideratum of conversational candour and the desideratum of conversational clarity (call them supermaxims) explains why I believe that p (less clear than p) shows the primacy of candour over clarity. The idea remains of an overarching principle and a set of more specific guidelines. Non-Oxonian philosophers would see Grices appeal to this or that guideline as ad hoc, but not his tutees! Grice finds inspiration in Joseph Butler’s sermon on benevolence and self-love, in his sermon 9, upon the love of our neighbour, preached on advent Sunday. And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying, Namesly, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, Romans xiii. 9. It is commonly observed, that there is a disposition in men to complain of the viciousness and corruption of the age in which they live, as greater than that of former ones: which is usually followed with this further observation, that mankind has been in that respect much the same in all times. Now, to determine whether this last be not contradicted by the accounts of history: thus much can scarce be doubted, that vice and folly takes different turns, and some particular kinds of it are more open and avowed in some ages than in others; and, I suppose, it may be spoken of as very much the distinction of the present, to profess a contracted spirit, and greater regards to self-interest, than appears to have been done formerly. Upon this account it seems worth while to inquire, whether private interest is likely to be promoted in proportion to the degree in which self-love engrosses us, and prevails over all other principles; "or whether the contracted affection may not possibly be so prevalent as to disappoint itself, and even contradict its own end, private good?" Repr. in revised form as WOW, I. Grice felt the need to go back to his explantion (cf. Fisher, Never contradict. Never explain) of the nuances about seem and cause (“Causal theory”.). Grice uses ‘My wife is in the kitchen or the bedroom,’ by Smith, as relying on a requirement of discourse. But there must be more to it. Variations on a theme by Grice. Make your contribution such as is required, at the stage at which it occurs, by the accepted purpose or direction of the talk exchange in which you are engaged. Variations on a theme by Grice. I wish to represent a certain subclass of non-conventional implicaturcs, which I shall call conversational implicaturcs, as being essentially connected with certain general features of discourse; so my next step is to try to say what these features are. The following may provide a first approximation to a general principle. Our talk exchanges do not normally consist of a succession of disconnected remarks, and would not be rational if they did. They are characteristically, to some degree at least, cooperative efforts; and each participant recognizes in them, to some extent, a common purpose or set of purposes, or at least a mutually accepted direction. This purpose or direction may be fixed from the start (e.g., by an initial proposal of a question for discussion), or it may evolve during the exchange; it may be fairly definite, or it may be so indefinite as to leave very considerable latitude to the participants, as in a casual conversation. But at each stage, some possible conversational moves would be excluded as conversationally unsuitable. We might then formulate a rough general principle which participants will be expected ceteris paribus to observe, viz.: Make your conversational contribution such as is required, at the stage at which it occurs, by the accepted purpose or direction of the talk exchange in which you are engaged. One might label this the co-operative principle. We might then formulate a rough general principle which participants will be expected ceteris paribus to observe, viz.:  Make your contribution such as is required, at the stage at which it occurs, by the accepted purpose or direction of the talk exchange in which you are engaged. One might label this the Cooperative Principle. Strictly, the principle itself is not co-operative: conversants are. Less literary variant: Make your move such as is required by the accepted goal of the conversation in which you are engaged. But why logic and conversation? Logica had been part of the trivium for ages ‒ Although they called it dialectica, then. Grice on the seven liberal arts. Moved by Strawsons treatment of the formal devices in “Introduction to logical theory” (henceforth, “Logical theory”), Grice targets these, in their ordinary-discourse counterparts. Strawson indeed characterizes Grice as his logic tutor – Strawson was following a PPE., and his approach to logic is practical. His philosophy tutor was Mabbott. For Grice, with a M. A. Lit. Hum. the situation is different. Grice knows that the Categoriae and De Int. of his beloved Aristotle are part of the Logical Organon which had been so influential in the history of philosophy. Grice attempts to reconcile Strawsons observations with the idea that the formal devices reproduce some sort of explicatum, or explicitum, as identified by Whitehead and Russell in Principia Mathematica. In the proceedings, Grice has to rely on some general features of discourse, or conversation as a rational co-operation. The alleged divergence between the ordinary-language operators and their formal counterparts is explained in terms of the conversational implicata, then. I.e. the content of the psychological attitude that the addressee A has to ascribe to the utterer U to account for any divergence between the formal device and its alleged ordinary-language counterpart, while still assuming that U is engaged in a co-operative transaction. The utterer and his addressee are seen as caring for the mutual goals of conversation  ‒ the exchange of information and the institution of decisions  ‒ and judging that conversation will only be profitable (and thus reasonable and rational) if conducted under some form of principle of conversational helpfulness. The observation of a principle of  conversational helpfulness is reasonable (rational) along the following lines: anyone who cares about the goals that are central to conversation/communication (such as giving and receiving information, influencing and being influenced by others) must be expected to have an interest, given suitable circumstances, in participating in a conversation that will be profitable ONLY on the assumption that it is conducted in general accordance with a principle of conversational helpfulness. In titling his seminar Logic and conversation, Grice is thinking Strawson. After all, in the seminal “Logical theory,” that every Oxonian student was reading, Strawson had the cheek to admit that he never ceased to learn logic from his tutor, Grice. Yet he elaborates a totally anti Griceian view of things. To be fair to Strawson, the only segment where he acknwoledges Grices difference of opinion is a brief footnote, concerning the strength or lack thereof, of this or that quantified utterance. Strawson uses an adjective that Grice will seldom do, pragmatic. On top, Strawson attributes the adjective to rule. For Grice, in Strawsons wording, there is this or that pragmatic rule to the effect that one should make a stronger rather than a weaker conversational move. Strawsons Introduction was published before Grice aired his views for the Aristotelian Society. In this seminar then Grice takes the opportunity to correct a few misunderstandings. Important in that it is Grices occasion to introduce the principle of conversational helpfulness as generating implicata under the assumption of rationality. The lecture makes it obvious that Grices interest is methodological, and not philological. He is not interest in conversation per se, but only as the source for his principle of conversational helpfulness and the notion of the conversational implicatum, which springs from the distinction between what an utterer implies and what his expression does, a distinction apparently denied by Witters and all too frequently ignored by Austin. Logic and conversation, an Oxford seminar, implicatum, principle of conversational helpfulness, eywords: conversational implicature, conversational implicatum. Conversational Implicature Grices main invention, one which trades on the distinction between what an utterer implies and what his expression does. A distinction apparently denied by Witters, and all too frequently ignored by, of all people, Austin. Grice is implicating that Austins sympathies were for the Subjectsification of Linguistic Nature. Grice remains an obdurate individualist, and never loses sight of the distinction that gives rise to the conversational implicatum, which can very well be hyper-contextualised, idiosyncratic, and perfectly particularized. His gives an Oxonian example. I can very well mean that my tutee is to bring me a philosophical essay next week by uttering It is raining.Grice notes that since the object of the present exercise, is to provide a bit of theory which will explain, for a certain family of cases, why is it that a particular implicature is present, I would suggest that the final test of the adequacy and utility of this model should be: can it be used to construct an explanation of the presence of such an implicature, and is it more comprehensive and more economical than any rival? is the no doubt pre-theoretical explanation which one would be prompted to give of such an implicature consistent with, or better still a favourable pointer towards the requirements involved in the model? cf. Sidonius: Far otherwise: whoever disputes with you will find those protagonists of heresy, the Stoics, Cynics, and Peripatetics, shattered with their own arms and their own engines; for their heathen followers, if they resist the doctrine and spirit of Christianity, will, under your teaching, be caught in their own familiar entanglements, and fall headlong into their own toils; the barbed syllogism of your arguments will hook the glib tongues of the casuists, and it is you who will tie up their slippery questions in categorical clews, after the manner of a clever physician, who, when compelled by reasoned thought, prepares antidotes for poison even from a serpent.qvin potivs experietvr qvisqve conflixerit stoicos cynicos peripateticos hæresiarchas propriis armis propriis qvoqve concvti machiNamesntis nam sectatores eorum Christiano dogmati ac sensvi si repvgnaverint mox te magistro ligati vernaculis implicaturis in retia sua præcipites implagabvntur syllogismis tuæ propositionis vncatis volvbilem tergiversantvm lingvam inhamantibvs dum spiris categoricis lubricas qvæstiones tv potivs innodas acrivm more medicorvm qui remedivm contra venena cum ratio compellit et de serpente conficivnt. If he lectured on Logic and Conversation on implicature, Grice must have thought that Strawsons area was central. Yet, as he had done in Causal theory and as he will at Harvard, Grice kept collecting philosophers mistakes. So its best to see Grice as a methodologist, and as using logic and conversation as an illustration of his favourite manoeuvre, indeed, central philosophical manoeuver that gave him a place in the history of philosophy. Restricting this manoeuvre to just an area minimises it. On the other hand, there has to be a balance: surely logic and conversation is a topic of intrinsic interest, and we cannot expect all philosophers – unless they are Griceians – to keep a broad unitarian view of philosophy as  a virtuous whole. Philosophy, like virtue, is entire. Destructive implicature to it: Mr. Puddle is our man in æsthetics implicates that he is not good at it. What is important to Grice is that the mistakes of these philosophers (notably Strawson!) arise from some linguistic phenomena, or, since we must use singular expressions this or that linguistic phenomenon. Or as Grice puts it, it is this or that linguistic phenomenon which provides the material for the philosopher to make his mistake! So, to solve it, his theory of conversation as rational co-operation is posited – technically, as a way to explain (never merely describe, which Grice found boring ‒ if English, cf. never explain, never apologise ‒ Jacky Fisher: Never contradict. Never explain.) these phenomena – his principle of conversational helpfulness and the idea of a conversational implicatum. The latter is based not so much on rationality per se, but on the implicit-explicit distinction that he constantly plays with, since his earlier semiotic-oriented explorations of Peirce. But back to this or that linguistic phenomenon, while he would make fun of Searle for providing this or that linguistic phenomenon that no philosopher would ever feel excited about, Grice himself was a bit of a master in illustrating this a philosophical point with this or that linguistic phenomenon that would not be necessarily connected with philosophy. Grice rarely quotes authors, but surely the section in “Causal theory,” where he lists seven philosophical theses (which are ripe for an implicatum treatment) would be familiar enough for anybody to be able to drop a names to attach to each. At Harvard, almost every example Grice gives of this or that linguistic phenomenon is UN-authored (and sometimes he expands on his own view of them, just to amuse his audience – and show how committed to this or that thesis he was), but some are not unauthored. And they all belong to the linguistic turn: In his three groups of examples, Grice quotes from Ryle (who thinks he knows about ordinary language), Witters, Austin (he quotes him in great detail, from Pretending, Plea of excuses, and No modification without aberration,), Strawson (in “Logical theory” and on Truth for Analysis), Hart (as I have heard him expand on this), Grice, Searle, and Benjamin. Grice implicates Hare on ‘good,’ etc. When we mention the explicit/implicit distinction as source for the implicatum, we are referring to Grices own wording in Retrospective epilogue where he mentions an utterer as conveying in some explicit fashion this or that, as opposed to a gentler, more (midland or southern) English, way, via implicature, or implIciture, if you mustnt. Cf. Fowler: As a southern Englishman, Ive stopped trying teaching a northern Englishman the distinction between ought and shall. He seems to get it always wrong. It may be worth exploring how this connects with rationality. His point would be that that an assumption that the rational principle of conversational helpfulness is in order allows P-1 not just to convey in a direct explicit fashion that p, but in an implicit fashion that q, where q is the implicatum. The principle of conversational helpfulness as generator of this or that implicata, to use Grices word (generate). Surely, He took off his boots and went to bed; I wont say in which order sounds hardly in the vein of conversational helpfulness – but provided Grice does not see it as logically incoherent, it is still a rational (if not reasonable) thing to say. The point may be difficult to discern, but you never know. The utterer may be conveying, Viva Boole. Grices point about rationality is mentioned in his later Prolegomena, on at least two occasions. Rational behaviour is the phrase he uses (as applied first to communication and then to discourse) and in stark opposition with a convention-based approach he rightly associates with Austin. Grice is here less interested here as he will be on rationality, but coooperation as such. Helpfulness as a reasonable expecation (normative?), a mutual one between decent chaps, as he puts it. His charming decent chap is so Oxonian. His tutee would expect no less ‒ and indeed no more! A rather obscure exploration on the connection of semiotics and philosophical psychology. Grice is aware that there is an allegation in the air about a possible vicious circle in trying to define category of expression in terms of a category of representation. He does not provide a solution to the problem which hell take up in his Method in philosophical psychology, in his role of President of the APA. It is the implicatum behind the lecture that matters, since Grice will go back to it, notably in the Retrospective Epilogue. For Grice, its all rational enough. Theres a P, in a situation, say of danger – a bull ‒. He perceives the bull. The bulls attack causes this perception. Bull! the P₁ G1 screams, and causes in P₂ G2 a rearguard movement. So where is the circularity? Some pedants would have it that Bull cannot be understood in a belief about a bull which is about a bull. Not Grice. It is nice that he brought back implicature, which had become obliterated in the lectures, back to title position! But it is also noteworthy, that these are not explicitly rationalist models for implicature. He had played with a model, and an explanatory one at that, for implicature, in his Oxford seminar, in terms of a principle of conversational helpfulness, a desideratum of conversational clarity, a desideratum of conversational candour, and two sub-principles: a principle of conversational benevolence, and a principle of conversational self-interest! Surely Harvard could be spared of the details! Implicature. Grice disliked a presupposition. BANC also contains a folder for Odd ends: Urbana and non-Urbana. Grice continues with the elaboration of a formal calculus. He originally baptised it System Q in honour of Quine. At a later stage, Myro will re-Names it System G, in a special version, System GHP, a highly powerful/hopefully plausible version of System G, in gratitude to Grice. Odd Ends: Urbana and Not Urbana, Odds and ends: Urbana and not Urbana, or not-Urbana, or Odds and ends: Urbana and non Urbana, or Oddents, urbane and not urbane, semantics, Urbana lectures. The Urbana lectures are on language and reality. Grice keeps revising them, as these items show. Language and reality, The University of Illinois at Urbana, The Urbana Lectures, Language and reference, language and reality, The Urbana lectures, University of Illinois at Urbana, language, reference, reality. Grice favours a transcendental approach to communication. A beliefs by a communicator worth communicating has to be true. An order by a communicator worth communicating has to be satisfactory. The fourth lecture is the one Grice dates in WOW . Smith has not ceased from beating his wife, presupposition and conversational implicature, in Radical pragmatics, ed. by R. Cole, repr. in a revised form in Grice, WOW, II, Explorations in semantics and metaphysics, essay, presupposition and implicature, presupposition, conversational implicature, implicature, Strawson. Grice: The loyalty examiner will not summon you, do not worry. The cancellation by Grice could be pretty subtle. Well, the loyalty examiner will not be summoning you at any rate. Grice goes back to the issue of negation and not. If, Grice notes, is is a matter of dispute whether the government has a very undercover person who interrogates those whose loyalty is suspect and who, if he existed, could be legitimately referred to as the loyalty examiner; and if, further, I am known to be very sceptical about the existence of such a person, I could perfectly well say to a plainly loyal person, Well, the loyalty examiner will not be summoning you at any rate, without, Grice  would think, being taken to imply that such a person exists. Further, if the utterer U is well known to disbelieve in the existence of such a person, though others are inclined to believe in him, when U finds a man who is apprised of Us position, but who is worried in case he is summoned, U may try to reassure him by uttering, The loyalty examiner will not summon you, do not worry. Then it would be clear that U uttered this because U is sure there is no such person. The lecture was variously reprinted, but the Urbana should remain the preferred citation. There are divergences in the various drafts, though. The original source of this exploration was a seminar. Grice is interested in re-conceptualising Strawsons manoeuvre regarding presupposition as involving what Grice disregards as a metaphysical concoction: the truth-value gap. In Grices view, based on a principle of conversational tailoring that falls under his principle of conversational helpfulness  ‒ indeed under the desideratum of conversational clarity (be perspicuous [sic]). The king of France is bald entails there is a king of France; while The king of France aint bald merely implicates it. Grice much preferred Collingwoods to Strawsons presuppositions! Grice thought, and rightly, too, that if his notion of the conversational implicatum was to gain Oxonian currency, it should supersede Strawsons idea of the præ-suppositum.  Strawson, in his attack to Russell, had been playing with Quines idea of a truth-value gap. Grice shows that neither the metaphysical concoction of a truth-value gap nor the philosophical tool of the præ-suppositum is needed. The king of France is bald entails that there is a king of France. It is part of what U is logically committed to by what he explicitly conveys. By uttering, The king of France is not bald on the other hand, U merely implicitly conveys or implicates that there is a king of France. A perfectly adequate, or impeccable, as Grice prefers, cancellation, abiding with the principle of conversational helpfulness is in the offing. The king of France ain’t bald. What made you think he is? For starters, he ain’t real! Grice credits Sluga for having pointed out to him the way to deal with the definite descriptor or definite article or the iota quantifier the formally. One thing Russell discovered is that the variable denoting function is to be deduced from the variable propositional function, and is not to be taken as an indefinable. Russell tries to do without the iota i as an indefinable, but fails. The success by Russell later, in On denoting, is the source of all his subsequent progress. The iota quantifier consists of an inverted iota to be read the individuum x, as in (℩x).F(x). Grice opts for the Whiteheadian-Russellian standard rendition, in terms of the iota operator. Grices take on Strawson is a strong one. The king of France is bald; entails there is a king of France, and what the utterer explicitly conveys is doxastically unsatisfactory. The king of France aint bald does not. By uttering The king of France aint bald U only implicates that there is a king of France, and what he explicitly conveys is doxastically satisfactory. Grice knew he was not exactly robbing Peter to pay Paul, or did he? It is worth placing the lecture in context. Soon after delivering in the New World his exploration on the implicatum, Grice has no better idea than to promote Strawsons philosophy in the New World. Strawson will later reflect on the colder shores of the Old World, so we know what Grice had in mind! Strawsons main claim to fame in the New World (and at least Oxford in the Old World) was his On referring, where he had had the cheek to say that by uttering, The king of France is not bald, the utterer implies that there is a king of France (if not that, as Grice has it, that what U explicitly conveys is doxastically satisfactory. Strawson later changed that to the utterer presupposes that there is a king of France. So Grice knows what and who he was dealing with. Grice and Strawson had entertained Quine at Oxford, and Strawson was particularly keen on that turn of phrase he learned from Quine, the truth-value gap. Grice, rather, found it pretty repulsive: Tertium exclusum! So, Grice goes on to argue that by uttering The king of France is bald, one entailment of what U explicitly conveys is indeed There is a king of France. However, in its negative co-relate, things change. By uttering The king of France aint bald, the utterer merely implicitly conveys or implicates (in a pretty cancellable format) that there is a king of France. The king of France aint bald: theres no king of France! The loyalty examiner is like the King of France, in ways! The piece is crucial for Grices re-introduction of the square-bracket device: [The king of France] is bald; [The king of France] aint bald. Whatever falls within the scope of the square brackets is to be read as having attained common-ground status and therefore, out of the question, to use Collingwoods jargon! Grice was very familiar with Collingwood on presupposition, meant as an attack on Ayer. Collingwoods reflections on presuppositions being either relative or absolute may well lie behind Grices metaphysical construction of absolute value! The earliest exploration by Grice on this is his infamous, Smith has not ceased from beating his wife, discussed by Ewing in Meaninglessness for Mind. Grice goes back to the example in the excursus on implying that in Causal Theory, and it is best to revisit this source. Note that in the reprint in WOW Grice does NOT go, one example of presupposition, which eventually is a type of conversational implicature. Grices antipathy to Strawsons presupposition is metaphysical: he dislikes the idea of a satisfactory-value-gap, as he notes in the second paragraph to Logic and conversation. And his antipathy crossed the buletic-doxastic divide! Using φ to represent a sentence in either mode, he stipulate that ~φ is satisfactory just in case ⌈φ⌉ is unsatisfactory. A crunch, as he puts it, becomes obvious:  ~ ⊢The king of France is bald may perhaps be treated as equivalent to ⊢~(The king of France is bald). But what about ~!Arrest the intruder? What do we say in cases like, perhaps, Let it be that I now put my hand on my head or Let it be that my bicycle faces north, in which (at least on occasion) it seems to be that neither !p nor !~p is either satisfactory or unsatisfactory? If !p is neither satisfactory nor unsatisfactory (if that make sense, which doesnt to me), does the philosopher assign a third buletically satisfactory value (0.5) to !p (buletically neuter, or indifferent). Or does the philosopher say that we have a buletically satisfactory value gap, as Strawson, following Quine, might prefer? This may require careful consideration; but I cannot see that the problem proves insoluble, any more than the analogous problem connected with Strawsons doxastic presupposition is insoluble. The difficulty is not so much to find a solution as to select the best solution from those which present themselves. The main reference is Essay 2 in WoW, but there are scattered references elsewhere. Refs.: The main sources are the two sets of ‘logic and conversation,’ in BANC, but there are scattered essays on ‘implicature’ simpliciter, too --  “Presupposition and conversational implicature,” c. 2-f. 25; and “Convesational implicature,” c. 4-f. 9, “Happiness, discipline, and implicatures,” c. 7-f. 6; “Presupposition and implicature,” c. 9-f. 3, The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.