Grice's Dictionary -- In Three Volumes, Vol. II.

demonstratum: ‘Rationality’ is one of those words Austin forbids to use. Grice would venture with ‘reason,’ and better, ‘reasons’ to make it countable, and good for botanising. Only in the New World, and when he started to get input from non-philosophers, did Grice explore ‘rationality’ itself. Oxonians philosophers take it for granted, and do not have to philosophise about it. Especially those who belong to Grice’s play group of ‘ordinary-language’ philosophers! Oxonian philosophers will quote from the Locke version! Obviously, while each of the four lectures credits their own entry below, it may do to reflect on Grices overall aim. Grice structures the lectures in the form of a philosophical dialogue with his audience. The first lecture is intended to provide a bit of linguistic botanising for reasonable, and rational. In later lectures, Grice tackles reason qua noun. The remaining lectures are meant to explore what he calls the Aequi-vocality thesis: must has only one Fregeian that crosses what he calls the buletic-doxastic divide. He is especially concerned ‒ this being the Kant lectures ‒ with Kants attempt to reduce the categorical imperative to a counsel of prudence (Ratschlag der Klugheit), where Kants prudence is Klugheit, versus skill, as in rule of skill, and even if Kant defines Klugheit as a skill to attain what is good for oneself ‒ itself divided into privatKlugheit and Weltklugheit. Kant re-introduces the Aristotelian idea of eudaimonia. While a further lecture on happiness as the pursuit of a system of ends is NOT strictly part of the either the Kant or the Locke lectures, it relates, since eudaemonia may be regarded as the goal involved in the relevant imperative. “Aspects”, Clarendon, Stanford, The Kant memorial Lectures, “Aspects,” Clarendon, Some aspects of reason, Stanford; reason, reasoning, reasons. The lectures were also delivered as the Locke lectures. Grice is concerned with the reduction of the categorical imperative to the hypothetical or suppositional imperative. His main thesis he calls the æqui-vocality thesis: must has one unique or singular sense, that crosses the buletic-boulomaic/doxastic divide. “Aspects,” Clarendon, Grice, “Aspects, Clarendon, Locke lecture notes: reason. On “Aspects”. Including extensive language botany on rational, reasonable, and indeed reason (justificatory, explanatory, and mixed). At this point, Grice notes that linguistic botany is indispensable towards the construction of a more systematic explanatory theory. It is an exploration of a range of uses of reason that leads him to his Aequi-vocality thesis that must has only one sense; also ‘Aspects of reason and reasoning,’ in Grice, “Aspects,” Clarendon, the Locke lectures, the Kant lectures, Stanford, reason, happiness. While Locke hardly mentions reason, his friend Burthogge does, and profusely! It was slightly ironic that Grice had delivered these lectures as the Rationalist Kant lectures at Stanford. He was honoured to be invited to Oxford. Officially, to be a Locke lecture you have to be *visiting* Oxford. While Grice was a fellow of St. Johns, he was still most welcome to give his set of lectures on reasoning at the Sub-Faculty of Philosophy. He quotes very many authors, including Locke! In his proemium, Grice notes that while he was rejected the Locke scholarship back in the day, he was extremely happy to be under Lockes ægis now! When preparing for his second lecture, he had occasion to revise some earlier drafts dated pretty early, on reasons, Grice, “Aspects,” Clarendon, reason, reasons. Linguistic analysis on justificatory, explanatory and mixed uses of reason. While Grice knows that the basic use of reason is qua verb (reasoner reasons from premise p to conclusion c), he spends some time in exploring reason as noun. Grice found it a bit of a roundabout way to approach rationality. However, his distinction between justificatory and explanatory reason is built upon his linguistic botany on the use of reason qua noun. Explanatory reason seems more basic for Grice than justificatory reason. Explanatory reason explains the behaviour of a rational agent. Grice is aware of Freud and his rationalizations. An agent may invoke some reason for his acting which is not legitimate. An agent may convince himself that he wants to move to Bournemouth because of the weather; when in fact, his reason to move to Bournemouth is to be closer to Cowes and join the yacht club there. Grice loved an enthymeme. Grices enthymeme. Grice, the implicit reasoner! As the title of the lecture implies, Grice takes the verb, to reason, as conceptually prior. A reasoner reasons, briefly, from a premise to a conclusion. There are types of reason: flat reason and gradual reason. He famously reports Shropshire, another tutee with Hardie, and his proof on the immortality of the human soul. Grice makes some remarks on akrasia as key, too. The first lecture is then dedicated to an elucidation, and indeed attempt at a conceptual analysis in terms of intentions and doxastic conditions reasoner R intends that premise P yields conclusion C and believes his intention will cause his entertaining of the conclusion from his entertaining the premise. One example of particular interest for a study of the use of conversational reason in Grice is that of the connection between implicatum and reasoning. Grice entitles the sub-section of the lecture as Too good to be reasoning, which is of course a joke. Cf. too much love will kill you, and Theres no such thing as too much of a good thing (Shakespeare, As you like it). Grice notes: I have so far been considering difficulties which may arise from the attempt to find, for all cases of actual reasoning, reconstructions of sequences of utterances or explicit thoughts which the reasoner might plausibly be supposed to think of as conforming to some set of canonical patterns of inference. Grice then turns to a different class of examples, with regard to which the problem is not that it is difficult to know how to connect them with canonical patterns, but rather that it is only too easy (or shall I say trivial) to make the connection. Like some children (not many), some cases of reasoning are too well behaved for their own good. Suppose someone says to Grice, and It is very interesting that Grice gives conversational examples. Jack has arrived, Grice replies, I conclude from that that Jack has arrived. Or he says Jack has arrived AND Jill has *also* arrived, And Grice replies, I conclude that Jill has arrived.(via Gentzens conjunction-elimination). Or he says, My wife is at home. And Grice replies, I reason from that that someone (viz. your wife) is at home. Is there not something very strange about the presence in my three replies of the verb conclude (in example I and II) and the verb reason (in the third example)? misleading, but doxastically fine, professor! It is true, of course, that if instead of my first reply I had said (vii) vii. So Jack has arrived, has he? the strangeness would have been removed. But here so serves not to indicate that an inference is being made, but rather as part of a not that otiose way of expressing surprise. One might just as well have said (viii). viii. Well, fancy that! Now, having spent a sizeable part of his life exploiting it, Grice is not unaware of the truly fine distinction between a statements being false (or axiologically satisfactory), and its being true (or axiologically satisfactory) but otherwise conversationally or pragmatically misleading or inappropriate or pointless, and, on that account and by such a fine distinction, a statement, or an utterance, or conversational move which it would be improper (in terms of the reasonable/rational principle of conversational helfpulness) in one way or another, to make. It is worth considering Grices reaction to his own distinction. Entailment is in sight! But Grice does not find himself lured by the idea of using that distinction here! Because Moores entailment, rather than Grices implicatum is entailed. Or because explicatu, rather than implicatum is involved. Suppose, again, that I were to break off the chapter at this point, and switch suddenly to this argument. ix. I have two hands (here is one hand and here is another). If had three more hands, I would have five. If I were to have double that number I would have ten, and if four of them were removed six would remain. So I would have four more hands than I have now. Is one happy to describe this performance as reasoning? Depends whos one and whats happy!? There is, however, little doubt that I have produced a canonically acceptable chain of statements. So surely that is reasoning, if only conversationally misleadingly called so. Or suppose that, instead of writing in my customary free and easy style, I had framed my remarks (or at least the argumentative portions of my remarks) as a verbal realization, so to speak, of sequences of steps in strict conformity with the rules of a natural-deduction system of first-order predicate logic. I give, that is to say, an updated analogue of a medieval disputation. Implicature. Gentzen is Ockham. Would those brave souls who continued to read be likely to think of my performance as the production of reasoning, or would they rather think of it as a crazy formalisation of reasoning conducted at some previous time? Depends on crazy or formalisation. One is reminded of Grice telling Strawson, If you cannot formalise, dont say it; Strawson: Oh, no! If I can formalise it, I shant say it! The points suggested by this stream of rhetorical questions may be summarized as follows. Whether the samples presented FAIL to achieve the title of reasoning, and thus be deemed reasoning, or whether the samples achieve the title, as we may figuratively put it, by the skin of their teeth, perhaps does not very greatly matter. For whichever way it is, the samples seem to offend against something (different things in different cases, Im sure) very central to our conception of reasoning. So central that Moore would call it entailment! A mechanical application of a ground rule of inference, or a concatenation thereof, is reluctantly (if at all) called reasoning. Such a mechanical application may perhaps legitimately enter into (i.e. form individual steps in) authentic reasonings, but they are not themselves reasonings, nor is a string of them. There is a demand that a reasoner should be, to a greater or lesser degree, the author of his reasonings. Parroted sequences are not reasonings when parroted, though the very same sequences might be reasoning if not parroted. Ped sequences are another matter. Some of the examples Grice gives are deficient because they are aimless or pointless. Reasoning is characteristically addressed to this or that problem: a small problem, a large problem, a problem within a problem, a clear problem, a hazy problem, a practical problem, an intellectual problem; but a problem! A mere flow of ideas minimally qualifies (or can be deemed) as reasoning, even if it happens to be logically respectable. But if it is directed, or even monitored (with intervention should it go astray, not only into fallacy or mistake, but also into such things as conversational irrelevance or otiosity!), that is another matter! Finicky over-elaboration of intervening steps is frowned upon, and in extreme cases runs the risk of forfeiting the title of reasoning. In conversation, such over-elaboration will offend against this or that conversational maxim, against (presumably) some suitably formulated maxim conjoining informativeness. As Grice noted with regard to ‘That pillar box seems red to me.’ That would be baffling if the addressee fails to detect the communication-point. An utterance is supposed to inform, and what is the above meant to inform its addressee? In thought, it will be branded as pedantry or neurotic caution. If a distinction between brooding and conversing is to be made! At first sight, perhaps, one would have been inclined to say that greater rather than lesser explicitnessness is a merit. Not that inexplicitness, or implicatum-status, as it were ‒ is bad, but that, other things being equal, the more explicitness the better. But now it looks as if proper explicitness (or explicatum-status) is an Aristotelian mean, or mesotes, and it would be good some time to enquire what determines where that mean lies. The burden of the foregoing observations seems to me to be that the provisional account of reasoning, which has been before us, leaves out something which is crucially important. What it leaves out is the conception of reasoning, as I like to see conversation, as a purposive activity, as something with goals and purposes. The account or picture leaves out, in short, the connection of reasoning with the will! Moreover, once we avail ourselves of the great family of additional ideas which the importation of this conception would give us, we shall be able to deal with the quandary which I laid before you a few minutes ago. For we could say e.g. that R reasons (informally) from p to c just in case R thinks that p and intends that, in thinking c, he should be thinking something which would be the conclusion of a formally valid argument the premisses of which are a supplementation of p. This will differ from merely thinking that there exists some formally valid supplementation of a transition from p to c, which I felt inclined NOT to count as (or deem) reasoning. I have some hopes that this appeal to the purposiveness or goal-oriented character of authentic reasoning or good reasoning might be sufficient to dispose of the quandary on which I have directed it. But I am by no means entirely confident that this is the case, and so I offer a second possible method of handling the quandary, one to which I shall return later when I shall attempt to place it in a larger context. We have available to us (let us suppose) what I might call a hard way of making inferential moves. We in fact employ this laborious, step-by-step procedure at least when we are in difficulties, when the course is not clear, when we have an awkward (or philosophical) audience, and so forth. An inferential judgement, however, is a normally desirable undertaking for us only because of its actual or hoped for destinations, and is therefore not desirable for its own sake (a respect in which, possibly, it may differ from an inferential capacity). Following the hard way consumes time and energy. These are in limited supply and it would, therefore, be desirable if occasions for employing the hard way were minimized. A substitute for the hard way, the quick way, which is made possible by habituation and intention, is available to us, and the capacity for it (which is sometimes called intelligence, and is known to be variable in degree) is a desirable quality. The possibility of making a good inferential step (there being one to be made), together with such items as a particular inferers reputation for inferential ability, may determine whether on a particular occasion we suppose a particular transition to be inferential (and so to be a case of reasoning) or not. On this account, it is not essential that there should be a single supplementation of an informal reasoning which is supposed to be what is overtly in the inferers mind, though quite often there may be special reasons for supposing this to be the case. So Botvinnik is properly credited with a case of reasoning, while Shropshire is not. Drawing from his recollections of an earlier linguistic botany on reason. Grice distinguishes between justificatory reason and explanatory reason. There is a special case of mixed reason, explanatory-cum-justificatory. The lecture can be seen as the way an exercise that Austin took as taxonomic can lead to explanatory adequacy, too! Bennett is an excellent correspondent. He holds a very interesting philosophical correspondence with Hare. This is just one f. with Grices correspondence with Bennett. Oxford don, Christchurh, NZ-born Bennett, of Magdalen, B. Phil. Oxon. Bennett has an essay on the interpretation of a formal system under Austin. It is interesting that Bennett was led to consider the interpretation of a formal system under Austins Play Group. Bennett attends Grices seminars. He is my favourite philosopher. Bennett quotes Grice in his Linguistic behaviour. In return, Grice quotes Bennett in the Preface toWOW. Bennett has an earlier essay on rationality, which evidences that the topic is key at Grices Oxford. Bennett has studied better than anyone the way Locke is Griceian. A word or expression does not just stand for idea, but for the intention of the utterer to stand for it! Grice also enjoyed construal by Bennett of Grice as a nominalist. Bennett makes a narrow use of the epithet. Since Grice does distinguish between an utterance-token (x) and an utterance-type, and considers that the attribution of meaning from token to type is metabolic, this makes Grice a nominalist. Bennett is one of the few to follow Kantotle and make him popular on the pages of the Times Literary Supplement, of all places. Refs.: The locus classicus is “Aspects,” Clarendon. But there are allusions on ‘reason’ and ‘rationality, in The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. de sensu implicatum: Peter Abelard, Kneale, Grice, Aristotle. Aquinas. de sensu implicatum. Ariskantian quessertions on de sensu implicate. “My sometimes mischievous friend Richard Grandy once said, in connection with some other occasion on which I was talking, that to represent my remarks, it would be necessary to introduce a new form of speech act, or a new operator, which was to be called the operator of quessertion. It is to be read as “It is perhaps possible that someone might assert that . . .” and is to be symbolized “?├”; possibly it might even be iterable […]. Everything I shall suggest here is highly quessertable.” Grice 1989:297. If Grice had one thing, he had linguistic creativity. Witness his ‘implicature,’ and his ‘implicatum,’ not to mention his ‘pirotologia.’Sometime, somewhere, in the history of philosophy, a need was felt by some Griceian philosopher, surely, for numbering intentions. The verb, denoting the activity, out of which this ‘intention’ sprang was Latin ‘intendere,’ and somewhere, sometime, the need was felt to keep the Latinate /t/ sound, and sometimes to make it sibilate, /s/. The source of it all seems to be Aristotle in Soph. Elen., 166a24–166a30, which was rendered twice om Grecian to Latin. In the second Latinisation, ‘de sensu’ comes into view. Abelard proposes to use ‘de rebus,’ or ‘de re,’ for what the previous translation had as ‘per divisionem.’ To make the distinction, he also proposes to use ‘de sensu’ for what the previous translation has as ‘per compositionem,’ and ‘per conjunctionem.’ But what did either mean? It was a subtle question, indeed. And trust Nicolai Hartmann, in his mediaevalist revival, to add numbers and a further distinction, now the ‘recte/’oblique’ distinction, and ‘intentio’ being ‘prima,’ ‘seconda,’ ‘tertia,’ and so on, ad infinitum. The proposal is clear. We need a way to conceptualise first-order propositions. But we also need to conceptualise ‘that’-clauses. The ‘that’-clause subordination is indeed open-ended. ‘mean.’ Grice’s motivation in the presentation at the Oxford Philosophical Society is to offer, as he calls it, a ‘proposal.’ In his words, notice the emphasis on the Latinate ‘intend,’ – where it occurs, as applied to an emissor, and as having as content, following that ‘that’-clause, an ‘intensional’ verb like ‘believe,’ which again, involves an ‘intentio tertia,’ now referring to a state back in the emissor expressed by yet another intensional verb – all long for, ‘you communicate that p if you want your addressee to realise that you hold this or that propositional attitude with content p.’ "A meantNN something by x" is (roughly) equivalent to "A intended the utterance of x to produce some effect in an audience by means of the recognition of this intention"; and we may add that to ask what A meant 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 . . ."). (Grice 1989: 220). Grice’s motivation is to ‘reduce’ “mean” to what has come to be known in the Griceian [sic] literature as a ‘Griceian’ [sic] ‘reflexive’ intention – he prefers M-intention -- which we will read as involving an intentio seconda, and indeed intentio tertia, and beyond, which makes its appearance explicitly in the second clause -- or ‘prong,’ as he’d prefer -- of his ‘reductive’ analysis. Prong 1 then corresponds to the intention prima or intention recta: Utterer U intends1 that Addressee A believes that Utterer U holds psychological state or attitude ψ with content “p.” Prong 2 corresponds to the intentio seconda or intentio obliqua: Utterer U intends2 that Addressee A believes (i) on the ‘rational,’ and not just ‘causal,’ basis of (ii), i.e. of the addressee A’s recognition of the utterer U’s intentio seconda or intentio obliqua i2, that Addressee A comes to believe that Utterer U holds psychological state or attitude ψ with content “p.” In Grice’s wording, “i2” acts as a ‘reason,’ and not merely a ‘cause’ for Addressee A’s coming to believe that U holds psychological state or attitude ψ with content “p”. Kemmerling has used “↝” to represent this ‘reason’ (i1 ↝ i2, Kemmerling in Grandy/Warner, 1986, cf. Petrus in Petrus 2010). Prong 3 is a closure prong, now involving a self-reflective third-order intention, there is no ‘covert’ higher-order intention involved in (i)-(iii). Meaning-constitutive intentions in utterer u’s meaning that p should be out there ‘in the open,’ or ‘above board,’ to count as having been ‘communicated.Grice quotes only one author in ‘Meaning’: C. L. Stevenson, who started his career with a degree in English from Yale. Willing to allow a ‘metabolical’ use of ‘mean’ he recognises, he scare quotes it: “There is a sense, to be sure, in which a groan “means“ something, just a reduced temperature may at times ”mean” convalescence.” Stevenson 1944:38). This remark will have Grice later attempting an ‘evolutionary’ model of how an ‘x’ causing ‘y’ may proceed from ‘natural’ to less natural ones. Consider ‘is in pain.’ A creature is physically hurt, and the expression of pain comes up naturally as an effect. But if the creature attains rational control over his expressive behaviour, and the creature is in pain (or expects his addressee A to think that he is in pain), U can now imitate or replicate, in a something like a Peirceian iconic mode, the natural behaviour manifested by a spontaneous response to a hurtful stimulus. The ‘simulated’ pain will be an ‘icon’ of the natural pain. Grice is getting Peirceian by the day, and he is not telling us! There are, Grice says, as if to simplify Peirce the most he can, two modes of representation. The primary one is now the explicitly Peirceian iconic one. The ‘risus naturaliter significat interiorem laetitiam’ of Occam. And then, there’s the derivative *non*-iconic representation, in that order. The first is, shall we say, ‘natural,’ and beyond the utterer U’s voluntary control (cf. Darwin on the expression of emotions in man and animals); the second is not. Grice is allowing for smoke representing fire, or if one must, alla Stevenson, ‘representing’ it. In Grice’s motivation to along the right lines, his psychologist austere views of his 1948 ‘Meaning,’ when he rather artificially disjoins a ‘natural’ “mean” and an ‘artificial’ “mean,” when merely different ‘uses’ stand for what he then thought were senses, he wants now to re-introduce into philosophical discourse the iconic natural representation or meaning that he had left aside.If this is part of what he calls a ‘myth,’ even if an evolutionary one, to account for the emergence of ‘systems of communication,’ it does starts with an utterer U expressing (very much alla Croce or Marty) a psychological state or attitude ψ by displaying some behavioural pattern in an unintentional way. Grice is being Wittgensteinian here, and quotes almost verbatim from Anscombe’s rendition, “No psychological concept except when backed in behaviour that manifests it.” If Ockham notes that “Risus naturaliter significat interiorem laetitiam,” Grice shows this will allow to avoid, also alla Ockham, a polysemy to ‘mean.’In Grice’s three clauses in his 1948 conceptual analysis of ‘meaning’ – the first clause of exhibitiveness, the second clause of intentio seconda or reflexivity, and the third clause of communicative overtness, voluntary control on the part of the utterer U is already in order. Since the utterer’s addressee A is intended to recognise this, no longer is it required any prior ‘iconic’ association between a simulated behaviour and the behaviour naturally displayed as a response to a stimulus. This amounts, for Grice to deeming the system of expression as having become a full system now of intention-based ‘communication.’‘know’’ Intentio seconda or intentio obliqua comes up nicely when Grice delivers the third William James Lecture, later reprinted as “Further notes on logic and conversation.” There, Grice targets one type of anti-Gettier scenario for the use of a factive psychological state or attitude expressed by a verb like “know,” again followed by a “that”-clause. Grice is criticisign Austin’s hasty attempt to analyse ‘know’ in terms of the ‘performatory’ ‘guarantee.’ As Grice puts it in “Prolegomena,” “to say ‘I know’ is to give a guarantee.” (Grice 1989:9) which can be traced back to Austin, although since, as Grice witnessed it, Austin ‘all too frequently ignored’ the real of emissor’s communicatum, one is never sure. In any case, Grice wants to overcome this ‘performatory’ fallacy, and he expands on the ‘suspect’ example of the Prolegomena in the Third lecture. Grice’s troubles with ‘know’ were long-dated. In Causal Theory he lists as the third philosophical mistake, “What is known by me to be the case is not also believed by me to be the case.” (1989: 237). Uncredited, but he may be having in mind Ryle’s odd characterisations with terms such as ‘occurrence,’ ‘episode,’ and so on. In the section on ‘stress,’ Grice asks us to assume that Grice knows that p. The question is whether this claim commits the philosopher to the further clause, ‘Grice knows that Grice knows that p, and so on, … to use the scholastic term we started this with, ad infinitum. It is not that Grice is adverse to a regressive analysis per se. This is, in effect, with what the third clause or prong in his analysis of ‘meaning’ does – ‘let all meaning-constitutive intentions be overt, including this one. Indeed, when it comes to meaning or knowing, we are talking optimal, we are talking ‘virtue.’ Both ‘meaning,’ ‘communicating, ‘and ‘knowing,’ represent an ‘ideal,’ value-paradeigmatic concept – where value, a favourite with Hartmann, appears under the guise of a noumenon in the topos ouranos that only realises imperfectly in the sub-lunary world. In the third William James lecture Grice cursorily dismisses these demanding or restrictive anti-Gettier scenarios as too stipulatory for the colloquial, ordinary, use – and thus ‘sense’ -- of ‘know.’ The approach Gettier is cricising ends up being too convoluted, seeing that conversationalists tend to make a rather loose use of the verb. Grice’s example illustrates linguistic botanising. So we have Grice bringing the examinee who does know that the battle of Waterloo was fought in 1815, with hardly conclusive evidence, or any ‘de sensu’ knowledge that the evidence (which he does not have) is conclusive. Grice grants that, in a specially emphatic utterance of ‘know,’ there might be a cancellable implicatum to the effect that the knower does have conclusive evidence for what he alleges to know. Grice’s explicit reference to this ‘regressive nature’ (p. 59) touches on the topic of intention de sensu. Grice is contesting the strong view, as represented, according to Gettier, by philosophers ranging from Plato’s Thaetetus to Ayer’s Problem of Empirical Knowledge (indeed the only two loci Gettier cares to cite in his short essay) that a claim, “Grice knows that p” entails a claim to the effect that there is conclusive evidence for p, and which gives Grice a feeling of subjective certainty, and that Grice knows that there is such conclusive evidence, and so on, ad infinitum. Grice casts doubts on the intentio de sensu as applied to the colloquial or ‘ordinary’ uses of ‘know’. If I know that p, must I know that I know that p? Having just introduced his “Modified Occam’s Razor” – ‘Senses are not to be multiplied beyond necessity’ --, Grice doesn’t think so. At this point, however, he adds a characteristic bracket: “(cf. causal theory).” With that bracket, Grice is allowing that the denotatum of “p,” qua content of U’s psychological state or attitude of ‘knowing,’ the state-of-affairs itself, as we may put it, should play something like a causal role in U’s knowing that p. Grice is open-minded as to what type of link or connection that is. It need not be strictly causal. He is merely suggesting the open-endness of ‘know in terms of these “further conditions” as to how Grice ‘comes’ to know that p, and refers to the ‘causal theory,’ as later developed by philosophers like E. F. Dretske and others. As a linguistic botanist, Grice is well aware that ‘know,’ like ‘see,’ is what the Kiparskys (whom Grice refers to) call a ‘factive.’An ascription of “Grice knows that p,” or, indeed, “Grice sees that p,” (unless Grice hallucinates) entails “p.” The defeating ‘hallucination’ scenario is key. It involves what Grice calls a dis-implicatum. The utterer is using ‘know’ or‘see’ in a loose way (and meaning less, rather than more than he explicitly conveys. Note incidentally, as Grice later noted in later seminars, how his analysis proves the philosopher’s adage wrong. Surely what is known by me to be the case is believed by me to be the case. Any divergence to the contrary is a matter of ‘implicatural’ stress – by which he means supra-segmentation.‘want’Soon after his delivering the William James lectures, Grice got involved in a project concerning an evaluation of Quine’s programme, where again he touches on issues of intentio seconda or intentio obliqua, and brings us back to Russell and ‘the author of Waverley.’ Grice’s presentation comes out in Words and Objections, edited by Davidson and Hintikka, a pun on Quine’s Word and Object. Grice’s contribution, ‘Vacuous Names,’ (later reprinted in part in Ostertag’s volume on Definite descriptions) concludes with an exploration of “the” phrases, and further on, with some intriguing remarks on the subtle issues surrounding the scope of an ascription of a predicate standing for a psychological state or attitude. Grice’s choice of an ascription now notably involves an ‘opaque’ (rather than ‘factive,’ like ‘know’) psychological state or attitude: ‘wanting,’ which he symbolizes as “W.” Grice considers a quartet of utterances: Jack wants someone to marry him; Jack wants someone or other to marry him; Jack wants a particular person to marry him, and There is someone whom Jack wants to marry him. Grice notes that “there are clearly at least *two* possible readings” of an utterance like our (i): a first reading “in which,” as Grice puts it, (i) might be paraphrased by (ii).” A second reading is one “in which it might be paraphrased by (iii) or by (iv).” Grice goes on to symbolize the phenomenon in his own version of a first-order predicate calculus. ‘Ja wants that p’ becomes ‘Wjap,’ where ‘ja’ stands for the individual constant “Jack” as a super-script attached to the predicate standing for Jack’s psychological state or attitude. Grice writes: “Using the apparatus of classical predicate logic, we might hope to represent,” respectively, the external reading and the internal reading (involving an intentio secunda or intentio obliqua) as ‘(Ǝx)WjaFxja’ and ‘Wja(Ǝx)Fxja.’ Grice then goes on to discuss a slightly more complex, or oblique, scenario involving this second internal reading, which is the one that interests us, as it involves an ‘intentio seconda.’ Grice notes: “But suppose that Jack wants a specific individual, Jill, to marry him, and this because Jack has been “*deceived* into thinking that his friend Joe has a highly delectable sister called Jill, though in fact Joe is an only child.” (The Jill Jack eventually goes up the hill with is, coincidentally, another Jill, possibly existent). Let us recall that Grice’s main focus of the whole essay is, as the title goes, ‘emptiness’! In these circumstances, one is inclined to say that (i) is true only on reading (vii),” where the existential quantifier occurs within the scope of the psychological-state or -attitude verb, “but we cannot now represent (ii) or (iii), with ‘Jill’ being vacuous, by (vi), where the existential quantifier (Ǝx) occurs outside the scope of the psychological-attitude verb, want, “since [well,] Jill does not really exist,” except as a figment of Jack’s imagination. In a manoeuver that I interpret as ‘purely intentionalist,’ and thus favouring by far Suppes’s over Chomsky’s characterisation of Grice as a mere ‘behaviourist,’ Grice hopes that “we should be provided with distinct representations for two familiar readings” of, now: Jack wants Jill to marry him; Jack wants ‘Jill’ to marry him. It is at this point that Grice applies a syntactic scope notation involving sub-scripted numerals, (ix) and (x), where the numeric values merely indicate the order of introduction of the symbol to which it is attached in a deductive schema for the predicate calculus in question. Only the first notation yields the internal de sensu reading (where ‘ji’ stands for ‘Jill’): ‘W2ja4F1ji3ja4’ and ‘W3ja4F2ji1ja4.’ Note that in the alternative external notation, the individual constant for “Jill,” ‘ji,’ is introduced prior to ‘want,’ – ‘ji’’s sub-script is 1, while ‘W’’s sub-script is the higher numerical value 3. If Russell could have avowed of this he would have had that the Prince Regents, by issuing the invitation, wants to confirm that ‘the author of Waverley’ isN Scott, already having confirmed that the author of Waverley =M the author of Waverley. Grice warns Quine. Given that Jill does not exist, only the internal reading “can be true,” or alethically satisfactory. Similarly, we might imagine an alternative scenario where the butler informs the Prince: ‘We are sorry to inform Your Majesty that your invitation was returned: apparently the author of Waverley does not SEEM to exist.’ Grice sums up his reflections on the representation of the opaqueness of a verb standing for a psychological state or attitude like that expressed by ‘wanting’ with one observation that further marks him as an intentionalist, almost of a Meinongian type. If he justified a loose use of ‘know,’ he is now is ready to allow for ‘existential’ phrases in cases of ‘vacuous’ designata, which however baffling, should not lead a philosopher to the wrong characterisation of the linguistic phenomena (as it led Austin with ‘know’). Provided such a descriptors occur within an opaque, intensional, de sensu, psychological-state or attitude verbs, Grice captures the nuances of ‘ordinary’ discourse, while keeping Quine happy. As Grice puts it, we should also have available to us also three neutral, yet distinct, (Ǝx)-quantificational forms (together with their isomorphs),” as a philosopher who thinks that Wittgenstein denies a distinction, craves for a generality! “Jill” now becomes “x”: ‘W4ja5Ǝx3F1x2ja5,’ ‘Ǝx5W2ja5F1x4ja3’, and ‘Ǝx5W3ja4F1x2ja4 .’ Since in (xii) the individual variable ‘x’ (ranging over ‘Jill’) “does not dominate the segment following the ‘(Ǝx)’ quantifier, the formulation does not display any ‘existential’ or de re, ‘force,’ and is suitable therefore for representing the internal readings (ii) or (iii), “if we have to allow, as we do have, if we want to faithfully represent ‘ordinary’ discourse, for the possibility of expressing the fact that a particular person, Jill, does not actually exist.” At least Grice does not write, “really,” for he knew that Austin detested a ‘trouser word.’ Grice concludes that (xi) and (xiii) are derivable from each of (ix) and (x), while (xii) will be “derivable only” from (ix).‘intend’By this time, Grice had been made a Fellow of the British Academy and it was about time for the delivery of the philosophical lecture that goes with it. It only took him six five years. Grice choses “Intention and uncertainty” as its topic. He was provoked by two members of his ‘playgroup’ at Oxford, Hart and Hampshire, who in an essay published in Mind, what Grice finds, again, as he did with the anti-Gettier cases of ‘know,’ as rather a too strong analysis of ‘intending.’ In his British-Academy lecture, Grice plays now with the psychological state or attitude, realised by the verbal form, ‘intend,’ when specifically followed by a ‘that’-clause, “intends that…,” as an echo of his dealing with “meaning to” as merely ‘natural.’ He calls himself a neo-Prichardian, reviving this ‘willing that’ which Urmson had popularised at Oxford, bringing to publication Prichard’s exploration of William James and his “I will that the distant chair slides over the floor towards me. It does not.”Grice’s ‘intending that…’ is notably a practical, boulemaic, or buletic, or desiderative, rather than alethic or doxastic, psychological state or attitude. It involves not just an itentum, but an intentum that involves both a desideratum AND a factum – for the ‘future indicative’ is conceptually involved. Grice claims that, if the conceptual analysis of “intending that…” is to represent ‘ordinary’ discourse, shows that it contains, as one of its prongs, in the final ‘neo-Prichardian’ version that Grice gives, also a ‘doxastic’ (rather than ‘factive’ and ‘epistemic’) psychological state or attitude, notably a belief on the part of the ‘intender’ that his willing that p has a probability greater than 0.5 to the effect that p be realised. Contra Hart and Hampshire, Grice acknowledges the investigations by the playgroup member Pears on this topic. Interestingly, a polemic arose elsewhere with Davidson, who trying to be more Griceian thatn Grice, sees this doxastic constraint as a mere cancellable implicatum. Grice grants it may be a dis-implicatum at most, as in loose cases of ‘know,’ or ‘see.’ Grice is adamant in regarding the doxastic component as a conceptual ‘entailment’ in the ‘ordinary’ use of ‘intend,’ unless the verb is used in a merely ‘disimplicatural,’ loose fashion. Grice’s example, ‘Jill intends to climb Everest next week,’ when the prohibitive conditions are all to evident to anyone concerned with such an utterance of (xv), perhaps Jill included, and ‘intends’ has to be read only ‘internally’ and hyperbolically. At this point, if in “Vacuous Names, he fights with Meinong while enjoying engaging in emptiness, it should be stressed that Grice gives as an illustration of a ‘disimplicature,’ along with a use of ‘see’ in a Shakespeareian context. ‘See,’ like ‘know,’ or ‘mean,’ exhibit what Grice calls diaphaneity. So it’s only natural Grice turns his attention to ‘see.’ Grice’s examples are ‘Macbeth saw Banquo’ and ‘Hamlet saw his father on the ramparts of Elsinore,’ and both involve hallucination! It is worth comparing the fortune of ‘disimplicature’ with that of ‘implicature.’ Grice coins ‘to dis-implicate’ as an active verb, for a case where the utterer does NOT, as in the case of implicature, mean MORE than he says, but LESS. Grice’s point is a subtle one. It involves his concession on something like an explicatum, but alsoo on something like Moore’s entailment. If the ‘doxastic condition’ is entailed by “intending that…,’ an utterer U may STILL use, in an ‘ordinary’ fashion, a strong ‘intending that…’ in a scenario where it is common ground between the utterer U and his addressee A that the probability of ‘p’ being realised is lower than 0.5. The expression of the psychological state or attitude is loose, since the utterer is, as it were, dropping an ‘entailment’ that applies in a use of ‘intending that’ where that ‘common-ground’ assumption is absent. One reason may be echoic. Jill may think that she can succeed in climbing Mt. Everest; she herself has used ‘intend.’ When that information is transmitted, the strong psychological verb is kept when the doxastic constraint is no longer shared by the utterer U and his addressee A (Like an implicatum, a disimplicatum has to be recognised as such to count as one. No such thing as an ‘unwanted’ disimplicatum.‘motivate’Sometimes, it would seem that, for Grice, the English philosopher of English ‘ordinary-language’ philosophy, English is not enough! Grice would amuse at Berkeley seminars, with things like, ‘A pirot potches o as fang, or potches o and o’ as F-id,’ just to attract his addressee’s attention. The full passage, in what Grice calls, after Carnap, pirotese, reads: “A pirot can be said to potch of some obble x as fang or feng; also to cotch of x, or some obble o, as fang or feng; or to cotch of one obble o and another obble o’ as being fid to one another.” Grice’s deciphering, with ‘pirot,” a tribute to Carnap – and Locke -- as any agent, and an ‘obble’ as an object. Grice borrows, but does not return, the ‘pirot’ from Carnap (for whom pirots karulise elatically – Carnap’s example of a syntactically well-formed formula in Introduction to Semantics). Grice uses ‘pirotese’ ‘to potch’ as a correlate for ‘perceive,’ such as the factive ‘see’ and ‘to cotch’ as a correlate for the similarly factive ‘know.’While ‘perceive’ strictly allows for a ‘that’-clause (as in Grice analysis of “I perceive that the pillar box is red” in “The causal theory of perception”), for simplificatory purposes, Grice is using ‘to potch’ as applying directly to an object, which Grice rephrases as an ‘obble.’ Since some perceptual feature or other is required in a predication of ‘perceiving’ and ‘potching,’ ‘feng’ is introduced as a perceptual predicate. And since pirots should also be allowed to perceive an ‘obble’ o in some relation with another ‘obble’ o2, Grice introduces the dyadic ‘relational’ feature ‘fid.’ Grice’s exegesis reads: “‘To potch’ is something like ‘to perceive,’ whereas ‘to cotch’ is something like ‘to think.’ ‘Feng’ and ‘fang’ are possible descriptions, much like our adjectives; ‘fid’ is a possible relation between ‘obbles.’”). At this point, Grice has been made, trans-territorially, the President of the American Philosophical Association, and is ready to give his Presidential Address (now reprinted in his Conception of Value, for Clarendon. He chooses ‘philosophical psychology’ It’s when Grice goes on to play now with the neo-Wittgensteinian issues of incorrigibility and privileged access, that issues of intentio seconda become prominent. For any psychological attitude ψ1, if U holds it, U holds, as a matter of what Grice calls ‘genitorial construction,’ a meta-psychological attitude, ψ2, a seconda intentio if ever there was one, -- Grice even uses the numeral ‘2’ -- that has, as its content followed the second ‘that’-clause, the very first psychological attitude ψ1. The general schema being given below, with an instance of specification: ‘ψup ⊃ ψuψup,’ and ‘if U wills that p, U wills that U wills that p.’ The interesting bit, from the perspective of our exploration of ‘intentio seconda,’ is that, if, alla Peano, we apply this to itself, as in the anti-Gettier cases Grice discussed earlier, we end with an ad-infinitum clause. It was Judith Baker, who earned her doctorate under Grice at Berkeley who sees this clearlier than everyone (She was a regular contributor to the Kant Society in Germany). Baker’s publications are, like those of her tutor, scarce. But in a delightful contribution to the Grice festschrift, “Do one’s motives have to be pure?” (in Grandy/Warner 1986), Baker explores the crucial importance of that ad-infinitum chain of intentiones secondæ as it applies to questions of not alethic but practical value or satisfactoriness. Consider ‘ought’. Grice would say that ‘must’ is aequi-vocal, i.e. it is not that ‘must’ has an alethic ‘sense’ and a practical ‘sense.’ Only “one” must, if one must! (As Grice jokes, “Who needs ichthyological necessity?”). Baker notes that the ad-infinitum chain may explain how ‘duty’ ‘cashes out’ in ‘interest.’ Both Grice and Baker are avowed Kantotelians. By allowing ‘duty’ to cash out in interest they are merging Aristotle’s utilitarian teleology with Kant’s deontology, and succeeding! It is possible to symbolize Grice’s and Baker’s proposal. If there is a “p” SUCH AS, at some point in the iteration of willing and intentiones secondæ, the agent is not willing to accept it, this blocks the potential Kantian universalizability of the content of a teleological attitude “p,” stripping “p” of any absolute value status that it may otherwise attain.In Grice’s reductive analysis of ‘mean,’ ‘know,’ ‘want,’ ‘intend,’ and ‘motivate,’ we witness the subtlety of his approach that is only made possible from the recognition of Aristotle’s insight back in “De Sophisticis Elenchis” to Kant’s explorations on the purity of motives. It should not surprise us. It’s Grice’s nod, no doubt, to an unjustly neglected philosopher, who should be neglected no more.ReferencesBlackburn, S. W. 1984. Spreading the words: groundings in the philosophy of language. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Darwin, Charles. 1872. The expression of emotions in man and animals. London: Murray. Grandy, R. E. and R. O. Warner 1986. Philosophical grounds of rationality: intentions, categories, ends. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Grice, H. P. 1948. Meaning, The Oxford Philosophical Society. Repr. in Grice 1989. Grice, H. P. 1961. The causal theory of perception, The Aristotelian Society. Repr. in Grice 1989. Grice, H. P. 1967. Logic and Conversation, The William James lectures. Repr. in a revised 1987 form in Grice 1989. Grice, H. P. 1969. Vacuous Names, in Davidson and Hintikka, Words and objections. Dordrecht: Reidel, pp. Grice, H. P. 1971. Intention and uncertainty, The British Academy. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Grice, H. P. 1975. How pirots karulise elatically: some simpler ways, The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC MSS 90/135c, The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. Grice, H. P. 1982. Meaning Revisited, in N. V. Smith, Mutual knowledge. London: Croom Helm, repr. in Grice 1989. Grice, H.P. 1987. Retrospective epilogue, in Studies in the Way of Words. Grice, H. P. 1989. Studies in the way of words. London and Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Hart, H. L. A. and S. N. Hampshire 1958. Intention, decision, and certainty, Mind, 67:1-12.Kemmerling, A. M. 1986. Utterer’s meaning revisited, in Grandy/Warner 1986. Kneale, W. C. and M. Kneale. 1966. The development of logic. Oxford: Oxford University Press.Pecocke, C. A. B. 1989. Transcendental Arguments in the Theory of Content: An Inaugural Lecture Delivered Before the University of Oxford on 16 May 1989. Oxford University Press. Prichard, H. A. 1968. Moral Obligation and Duty and Interest. Essays and Lectures, edited by W. D. Ross and J. O. Urmson. Oxford: Oxford University. Stevenson, C. L. 1944. Ethics and language. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press. Strawson, P. F. 1964 Intention and convention in speech acts, The Philosophical Review, repr. in Logico-Linguistic Papers, London, Methuen, 1971, pp. 149-169 as Blackburn puts it in his discussion of Grice in the intention-based chapter of his “Spreading the word: groundings in the philosophy of language.” Intentio seconda or obliqua bears heavily on Grice’s presentation for the Oxford Philosophical Society. The motivation behind Grice’s analysis pertains to philosophical methodology. Grice is legitimizing an ascription of ‘mean’ to a rational agent, such as … a philosopher. This very ascription Grice finds to be ‘seemingly denied by Wittgenstein’ (Grice 1986). As an exponent of what he would later and in jest dub “The Post-War Oxonian School of ‘Ordinary-Language’ Philosophy,” Grice engages in a bit of language botany, and dealing with the intricacies of ‘communicative’ uses of “mean.” Interestingly, and publicly – although a provision is in order here – Grice acknowledges emotivist Stevenson, who apparently taught Grice about ‘metabolic’ uses of “mean.” Stevenson, who read English as a minor at Yale, would not venture to apply ‘mean’ to moans! Realising it as a colloquial extension, he is allowed to use ‘mean,’ but in scare quotes only! (“Smith’s reduced temperature ‘means’ that he is is convalescent.” “There is a sense, to be sure, in which a groan “means“ something, just a reduced temperature may at times ”mean” convalescence.” Stevenson 1944:38). Close enough but no cigar. Stevenson has ‘groan,’ which at least rhymes with ‘moan.’ (As for the proviso, Grice never ‘meant’ to ‘publish’ his talk on ‘Meaning,’ but one of his tutees submitted for publication, and on acceptance, Grice allowed the publication). In “Meaning” Grice does not provide a conceptual analysis for, ‘by moaning, U means [simpliciter] that p.’ He will in his “Meaning Revisited” – the metabolical scare quotes are justified on two counts: ‘By moaning U means that p’ is legitimized on the basis of the generic ‘x ‘means’ y iff x is a consequence of y.’ But it is also justified on the basis that there is a continuum between U’s involuntarily moaning thereby meaning that he is in pain, and U’s voluntarily moaning, thereby ‘communicating’ that he is in pain. However, and more importantly for our exploration of the ‘intentum,’ Grice hastens to add that he does not agree with Stevenson’s purely ‘causal’ account. The main reason is not ‘anti-naturalistic.’ It is just that Grice sees Stevenson’s proposal as as involving a vicious circle. Typically, Grice extrapolates the relevant quote from Stevenson, slightly out of context. Grice refers to Stevenson’s appeal to "an elaborate process of conditioning attending … communication."Grice: “If we have to take seriously the second part of the qualifying phrase ("attending … communication"), Stevenson’s account of meaning is obviously circular. We might just as well say, "U means” if “U communicates,” which, though true, is not helpful. It MIGHT be helpful for Cicero translating from Grecian to Roman: ‘com-municatio’ indeed translates a Grecian turn of phrase involving ‘what is common.’ f. “con-” and root “mu-,” to bind; cf.: immunis, munus, moenia.’And the suggestion would be helpful if we say that to ‘communicate,’ or ‘mean,’ is just to bring some intentum to be allotted ‘common ground,’ because of the psi-transmission it is shared between the emissor and his intended addressee. This one hopes is both true AND ‘helpful.’ In any case, Grice’s tutee Strawson later found Grice’s elucidation of utterer’s meaning to be ‘objection-proof’ (Starwson and Wiggins, 2001) in terms of a set of necessary and sufficient conditions, of an utterer or emissor E meaning that p, by uttering ‘x,’ and appealing to primary and secondary intentionality. But is Grice’s intentionalism a sort of behaviourism? Grice denies that in “Method” calling ‘behaviourism’ ‘silly. Grice further explores intentio obliqua as it pertains to his remarks towards a general theory of “re-presentation.” The place where this excursus takes place is crucial. It is his Valediction to his compilation of essays, Studies in the Way of Words, posthumously published. At this stage, he must have felt that, what he once regarded krypto-technic in Peirce, is no more! Grice has already identified in that ‘Valediction’ many strands of his philosophical thought, and concludes his re-assessment of his ‘philosophy of language’ and semiotics with an attempt to provide some general remarks about ‘to represent’ in general, perhaps to counter the allegations of vicious circularity which his approach had received, seeing that “p” features, as a ‘gap-sign,’ as the content of both an ‘expression’ and a ‘psychological’ attitude. In trying to reconcile his austere views on “Meaning,” back in that evening at the Oxford Philosophical Society, where he distinguished two senses of ‘mean’ (“Smoke ‘means’ fire,” and ““Smoke” means ‘smoke’”). By focusing on the most general of verbs for a psychological state or attitude, ‘to represent,’ that even allows for a non-psychological reading, Grice wants to be seen as answering the challenge of an alleged vicious circle with which his intention-based approach is usually associated. The secondary-intentional non-iconic mode of representation rests on a prior iconic mode and can be understood as ‘pre-conventional,’ without any explicit recourse to the features we associate with a developed system of communication. Grice needs no ‘language of thought’ or sermo mentalis alla Ockham there. Grice allows that one can communicate fully without the need to use what more conventional philosophers call ‘a language.’ Artists do it all the time! The passage from intentio prima to full intentio seconda is, for Grice, gradual and complex. Grice means to adhere with ‘ordinary’ discourse, in its implicata and dis-implicaata. The passage also adhering to a functionalist approach qua ‘method in philosophical psychology,’ as he’d prefer, that needs not to postulate a full-blown ‘linguistic entity’ as the object of intentional thought. In this respect, it is worth mentioning the work of C. A. B. Peacocke, who knew Grice from his Oxford days and later joined his seminars at Berkeley, and who has developed this line of thought in a better fashion than less careful philosophers. Grice’s programme has occasionally, and justly, been compared with phenomenological approaches to expression and communication, such as Marty’s. It is hoped that the previous notes have shed some light on those aspects where this interface can further be elaborated. Even as we leave an intentio seconda to resume the discussion for a longer day. In his explorations on the embedding of intensional concepts, Grice should be inspirational to philosophers in more than one way, but especially in the one that he favoured most: the problematicity of it all. As he put it in another context, when defending absolute value. “Such a defence of absolute value is of course, bristling with unsolved or incompletely solved problems. I do not find this thought daunting. If philosophy generated no new problems it would be dead, because it would be finished; and if it recurrently regenerated the same old problems it would not be alive because it could never begin. So those who still look to philosophy for their bread-and-butter should pray that the supply of new problems never dries up.” (Grice 1991). In the Graeco-Roman tradition, philosophers started to use ‘intentio prima,’ ‘intentio secunda,’ ‘intentio tertia,’ and “… ad infinitum,” as they would put it. In post-war Oxford, English philosopher H. P. Grice felt the need. The formalist he was, he found subscribing numbers to embedded intentions has a strong appeal for him. Grice’s main motivation is in the philosophy of language, but as ancillary towards solving this or that problem concerning the ‘linguistic’ methodology of his day. To appreciate Grice’s contribution one need to abstract a little from his own historical circumstances, or rather, place them in the proper context, and connect it with the general history of philosophy. As a matter of history, ‘intentio prima,’ or ‘recta,’ as opposed to ‘obliqua,’ is part of Nicolai Hartmann’s ‘mediaeval revival,’ as a reaction to mediaevalism having made scorn by the likes of Rabelais that amused D. P. Henry. For the mediaeval philosopher, to use Grice’s symbolism, was concerned with whether a chimaera could eat ‘I2,’ a second intention. The mediaeval philosopher’s implicature seems to be that a chimaera can easily eat ‘I1.’ Such a ‘quaestio subtilissima,’ Rabelais jokes. If ‘I1,’ or, better, for simplificatory purposes, ‘IR¬’ is a specific state, stance, or attitude of the ‘soul,’ ‘ψ1’ or ‘ψ¬R’ directed towards its ‘de re’ ‘intentum,’ or ‘prae-sentatum,’ of the noumenon, ‘I¬O,’ ‘intentio obliqua,’ is a state, stance, or attitude of the ‘soul,’ of the same genus, ‘ψ2,’ or ‘ψS’ directed towards ‘ψ¬R,’ its ‘de sensu’ ‘intentum’ now ‘re-prae-sentatum’ of the phainomenon or ob-jectum (Abelard translates Aristotle’s ‘per divisionem’ as ‘de re’ and ‘per compositionem’ and ‘per conjunctionem’ by ‘de sensu,’ and ‘per Soph. Elen., Kneale and Kneale, 1966). Grice’s intentionalism has been widely discussed, but the defense he himself makes of intensionalism (versus extensionalism) has proved inspiring, as when he assumes as an attending commentary to his reductive analysis of the state of affairs by which the emissor communicates that p, that he is putting forward “the legitimacy of [the] application of [existential generalization] to a statement the expression of which contains such [an] "intensional" verb[…] as "intend" (Grice 1989: 116 ). The expression ‘de sensu’ is due to Abelard, but Russell likes it. While serving as Prince Regent of England in 1815, George IV casually remarks his wish to meet ‘the author of Waverley’ in the flesh. The Prince was being funny, you see. The prince would not know this, but when his press becomes embroiled in pecuniary difficulties, Scotts set out to write a cash-cow. The result is Waverley, a novel which did not name its author. It is a tale of the last Jacobite rebellion in England, the “Forty-Five.” The novel meets with considerable success. The next year, Scott. There follows a sequel, the same general vein. Mindful of his reputation, Scotts maintains the anonymous habit he displays with Waverley, and publishes the sequel under “the Author of Waverley.” The identity “Author of Waverley” = “Scott” is widely rumoured, and Scott is given the honour of dining with George, Prince Regent, who had wished to meet “Author of Waverley” in the flesh for a ‘snug little dinner’ at Carleton, on hearing ‘the author of Waverley’ was in town. The use of a descriptor may lead to the implicatum that His Majesty is p’rhaps not sure that ‘the author of Waverley’ has a name, and isR Scott. Lack of certainty is one thing, yet, to quote from Russell, “an interest in the law of identity can hardly be attributed to the first gentleman of Europe.” Grice admired Russell profusely and one of his essays is wittily entitled, “Definite descriptions in Russell and in the Vernacular,” so his explorations of ‘intentio’ ‘de sensu’ have an intrinsic interest. Keywords: H. Paul Grice, intentio seconda, implicature, intentionalism, intentum, intentum de sensu, ‘that’-clause, the recte-oblique distinction. Grice explored issues of intentum de sensu in various areas. First, ‘meaning.’ Second, ‘knowing.’ Third, ‘wanting.’ Fourth, ‘intending,’ Fifth, pirots, with incorrigibility and privileged access. Sixth, morality and the regressus. Seventh, the continuum and the unity. With Grice, it all starts, roughly, when Grice comes up with a topic for a talk at The Oxford Philosophical Society.The Society is holding one of those meetings, and Grice thinks of presenting a few conclusions he had reached at his seminars on C. S. Peirce.What’s the good of an Oxford don of keeping tidy lecture notes if you will not be able to lecture to a philosophical addressee? Peirce is the philosopher on whom Grice choses to lecture. In part, for “not being particularly popular on these shores,” and in part because Grice noted the ‘heretic’ in Peirce with which he could identify.Granted, at this stage, Grice disliked the un-Englishness of some of Peirce’s over-Latinate jargon, what Grice finds the ‘krypto-technic.’ ‘Sign,’ ‘symbol,’ ‘icon,’ and the rest of them!Instead, Grice thinks, initially for the sake of his tutees and students – he was university lecturer -- sticking with the simpler, ‘ordinary’, short English lexeme ‘mean.’A. M. Kemmerling, of all people, who wrote the obituary for Grice for Synthese, has precisely cast doubts on the ‘universal’ validity of Grice’s proposed conceptual reductive analysis, notably in his Ph.D dissertation on ‘Meinen.’ Note the irony in Kemmerling’s title: Was Grice mit "Meinen" meint - Eine Rekonstruktion der Griceschen Analyse rationaler Kommunikation.” Nothing jocular in the subtitle, for this indeed is a reconstruction of ‘rational’ communication. The funny bit is in “Was mit “Meinen” Grice meint”! In that very phrase, which is rhetorical, and allows for an answer, because ‘meinen’ is both mentioned and used, Kemmerling allows that he is ‘buying’ Grice’s idea that his reductive analysis of ‘mean’ applies to German ‘meinen.’ Kemmerling is also pointing to the ‘primacy’ (to use Suppes’s phrase) of ‘utterer’s’ or ‘emissor’s “communicatum” or ‘Meinung.” Kemmerling advertises his interest in exploring on what _Grice_ means – by uttering ‘meinen,’ almost! As Kemmerling notes, German ‘meinen,’ cognate via common Germanic with English ‘mean,’ (cf. Frisian ‘mein,’ – and Hazzlitt, “Bread, butter, and green cheese, very good English, very good cheese”) is none other than ‘mean’ that Grice means. And ‘Grice means’ is the only literal, i. e. non-metabolic use of the verb Grice allows – as applied to a rational agent, which features in the subtitle to Kemmerling’s dissertation. Thus one reads in Kluge, “Etymologische Wörterbuch der deutschen Sprache, 1881, of “meinen,” rendered by J. F. Davis as ‘to think, opine, mean,’ from a MHG used to indicate, in Davis’s rendition, ‘to direct one's thoughts to, have in view, aim at, be affected towards a person, love,’ OHG meinen, meinan, ‘to mean, think, say, declare.’ = OS mênian, Du. meenen, OE mœ̂nan, E mean (to this Anglo-Saxon mœ̂nan, cf. prob. moan – I know your meaning from your moaning), all from WGmc. meinen, mainjan, ‘mênjan,’ and cognate with ‘man,’ ‘to think’ (cf. ‘mahnen,’ ‘Mann,’ and ‘Minne’). Kemmerling is very apropos, because Grice engaged in philosophical discussion with him, as testified by his perceptive contribution to P. G. R. I. C. E. (Kemmerling, 1986). On top, in his presentation for the Oxford Philosophical Society, Grice wants to restrict the philosophical interest to ‘de sensu,’ the ‘that’-clause (cf. the recte-oblique distinction), viz. not just ‘what Grice means,’ if this is going to be expaned as ‘something wonderful.’ Not enough for Grice. It has to be expanded, for the thing to have philosophical interest into a ‘propositional clause,’, an ‘intensional’ context, i. e., ‘Grice means that…’ Grice cavalierly dismisses other use of ‘mean,’ – notably the ubiquitous, ‘mean to…’ – He will later explain his reason for this. It was after William James provoked Prichard. For William James uttered: “I will that the distant table slides on the floor toward me. It doesn’t’. Prichard turns this into the conceptual priority of ‘will that…’ for which Grice gives him the credit he deserved at a later lecture now on his being appointed a Fellow of The British Academy (Grice, 1971). Strictly, what Grice does in the Oxford Philosophical Socieety presentation is to distinguish between various ‘mean’ and end up focusing on ‘mean’ as followed by a ‘that’-clause. In the typical Oxonian fashion, that Grice borrows (but never returns) from J. C. Wilson, Grice has the IO as ‘meaning that so-and-so’ (Grice, 1989: 217). Grice explicitly displays the primacy of a reductive analysis of the conceptual circumstances involving an emissor (Anglo-Saxon ‘utterer’) who ‘means’ that p. It will be a longer ‘shaggy-dog’ story Grice tells when he crosses the divide from ‘propositional’ (p) to ‘predicative’ ascriptions (“By uttering ‘Fido is shaggy,’ Grice means that the dog is hairy-coated (Grice 1989). Grice notes that ‘metabolically,’ “mean,” at least in English, can be applied to various other things, sometimes even involving a ‘that’-clause. “By delivering his budget, the major means that we will have a hard year.’ Grice finds that ‘but we won’t’ turns him into a self-contradicter. In Grice’s usage, ‘x ‘means’ y’ iff ‘y is a consequence [consequentia] of x’ --. Quite a departure from Old Frisian. If Hume’s objection to the use of the verb ‘cause,’ is that it covers animistic beliefs (“Charles I’s decapitation willed his death”), English allows for disimplicated or loose ‘metabolic’ uses of ‘will’ (“It ‘will’ rain”) and ‘mean’ (Grice’s moaning means that he is in pain). desideratum: Grice makes a double use of this. It should be thus two entries. There’s the conversational desideratum, where a desideratum is like a maxim or an imperative – and then there are two specific desiderata: the desideratum of conversational clarity, and the desideratum of conversational candour. Grice was never sure what adjective to use for the ‘desiderative.’ He liked buletic. He liked desideratum because it has the co-relate ‘consideratum,’ for belief. He uses ‘deriderative’ and a few more! Of course what he means is a sub-psychological modality, or rather a ‘soul.’ So he would apply it ‘primarily’ to the soul, as Plato and Aristotle does. The ‘psyche’, or ‘anima’ is what is ‘desiderativa.’ The Grecians are pretty confused about this (but ‘boulemaic’ and ‘buletic’ are used), and the Romans didn’t help. Grice is concerned with a rational-desiderative, that takes a “that”-clause (or oratio obliqua), and qua constructivist, he is also concerned with a pre-rational desiderative (he has an essay on “Needs and Wants,” and his detailed example in “Method” is a squarrel (sic) who needs a nut. On top, while Grice suggest s that it goes both ways: the doxastic can be given a reductive analaysis in terms of the buletic, and the buletic in terms of the doxastic, he only cares to provide the former. Basically, an agent judges that p, if his willing that p correlates to a state of affairs that satisfies his desires. Since he does not provide a reductive analysis for Prichard’s willing-that, one is left wondering. Grice’s position is that ‘willing that…’ attains its ‘sense’ via the specification, as a theoretical concept, in some law in the folk-science that agents use to explain their behaviour. Grice gets subtler when he deals with mode-markers for the desiderative: for these are either utterer-oriented, or addressee-oriented, and they may involve a buletic attitude itself, or a doxastic attitude. When utterer-addressed, utterer wills that utterer wills that p. There is no closure here, and indeed, a regressus ad infinitum is what Grice wants, since this regressus allows him to get univeersabilisability, in terms of conceptual, formal, and applicational kinds of generality. In this he is being Kantian, and Hareian. While Grice praises Kantotle, Aristotle here would stay unashamedly ‘teleological,’ and giving priority to a will that may not be universalisable, since it’s the communitarian ‘good’ that matters. what does Grice have to say about our conversational practice? L and S have “πρᾶξις,” from “πράσσω,” and which they render as ‘moral action,’ oποίησις, τέχνη;” “oποιότης,” “ἤθη καὶ πάθη καὶ π.,” “oοἱ πολιτικοὶ λόγοι;” “ἔργῳ καὶ πράξεσιν, οὐχὶ λόγοις” Id.6.3; ἐν ταῖς πράξεσι ὄντα τε καὶ πραττόμενα, “exhibited in actual life,” action in drama, “oλόγος; “μία π. ὅλη καὶ τελεία.” With practical Grice means buletic. Praxis involves acting, and surely Grice presupposes acting. By uttering, i. e. by the act of uttering, expression x, U m-intends that p. Grice occasionally refers to action and behaviour as the thing which an ascription of a psychological state explains. Grice prefers the idiom of soul. Theres the ratiocinative soul. Within the ratiocinative, theres the executive soul and the merely administrative soul. Cicero had to translate Aristotle into prudentia, every time Aristotle talked of phronesis. Grice was aware that the terminology by Kant can be confusing. Kant used ‘pure’ reason for reason in the doxastic realm. The critique by Kant of practical reason is hardly symmetrical to his critique of doxastic reason. Grice, with his æqui-vocality thesis of must (must crosses the buletic-boulomaic/doxastic divide), Grice is being more of a symmetricalist. The buletic, boulomaic, or volitive, is a part of the soul, as is the doxatic or judicative. And judicative is a trick because there is such a thing as a value judgement, or an evaluative judgement, which is hardly doxastic. Grice plays with two co-relative operators: desirability versus probability. Grice invokes the exhibitive/protreptic distinction he had introduced in the fifth James lecture, now applied to psychological attitudes themselves. This Grice’s attempt is to tackle the Kantian problem in the Grundlegung: how to derive the categorical imperative from a counsel of prudence. Under the assumption that the protasis is Let the agent be happy, Grice does not find it obtuse at all to construct a universalisable imperative out of a mere motive-based counsel of prudence. Grice has an earlier paper on pleasure which relates. The derivation involves seven steps. Grice proposes seven steps in the derivation. 1. It is a fundamental law of psychology that, ceteris paribus, for any creature R, for any P and Q, if R wills P Λ judges if P, P as a result of Q, R wills Q. 2. Place this law within the scope of a "willing" operator: R wills for any P Λ Q, if R wills P Λ judges that if P, P as a result of Q, R wills Q. 3. wills turns to should. If rational, R will have to block unsatisfactory (literally) attitudes. R should (qua rational) judge for any P Λ Q, if it is satisfactory to will that P Λ it is satisfactory to judge that if P, P as a result of Q, it is sastisfactory to will that Q. 4. Marking the mode: R should (qua rational) judge for any P Λ Q, if it is satisfactory that !P Λ that if it .P, .P only as a result of Q, it is satisfactory that !Q. 5. via (p & q -> r) -> (p -> (q -> r)): R should (qua rational) judge for any P Λ Q, if it is satisfactory that if .P, .P only because Q, i is satisfactory that, if let it be that P, let it be that Q. 6. R should (qua rational) judge for any P Λ Q, if P, P only because p yields if let it be that P, let it be that Q. 7. For any P Λ Q if P, P only because Q yields if let it be that P, let it be that Q. Grice was well aware that a philosopher, at Oxford, needs to be a philosophical psychologist. So, wanting and needing have to be related to willing. A plant needs water. A floor needs sweeping. So need is too broad. So is want, a non-Anglo-Saxon root for God knows what. With willing things get closer to the rational soul. There is willing in the animal soul. But when it comes to rational willing, there must be, to echo Pritchard, a conjecture, some doxastic element. You cannot will to fly, or will that the distant chair slides over the floor toward you. So not all wants and needs are rational willings, but then nobody said they would. Grice is interested in emotion in his power structure of the soul. A need and a want may count as an emotion. Grice was never too interested in needing and wanting because they do not take a that-clause. He congratulates Urmson for having introduced him to the brilliant willing that … by Prichard. Why is it, Grice wonders, that many ascriptions of buletic states take to-clause, rather than a that-clause? Even mean, as ‘intend.’ In this Grice is quite different from Austin, who avoids the that-clause. The explanation by Austin is very obscure, like those of all grammars on the that’-clause, the ‘that’ of ‘oratio obliqua’ is not in every way similar to the ‘that’-clause in an explicit performative formula. Here the utterer is not reporting his own ‘oratio’ in the first person singular present indicative active. Incidentally, of course, it is not in the least necessary that an explicit performative verb should be followed by a ‘that’-clause. In important classes of cases it is followed by ‘to . . .,’ or by or nothing, e. g. ‘I apologize for…,’ ‘I salute you.’ Now many of these verbs appear to be quite satisfactory pure performatives. Irritating though it is to have them as such, linked with clauses that look like statements, true or false, e. g., when I say ‘I prophesy that …,’ ‘I concede that …’, ‘I postulate that …,’ the clause following normally looks just like a statement, but the verb itself seems to be pure performatives. One may distinguish the performative opening part, ‘I state that …,’ which makes clear how the utterance is to be taken, that it is a statement, as distinct from a prediction, etc.), from the bit in the that-clause which is required to be true or false. However, there are many cases which, as language stands at present, we are not able to split into two parts in this way, even though the utterance seems to have a sort of explicit performative in it. Thus, ‘I liken x to y,’ or ‘I analyse x as y.’ Here we both do the likening and assert that there is a likeness by means of one compendious phrase of at least a quasi-performative character. Just to spur us on our way, we may also mention ‘I know that …’, ‘I believe that …’, etc. How complicated are these examples? We cannot assume that they are purely descriptive, which has Grice talking of the pseudo-descriptive. Want etymologically means absence; need should be preferred. The squarrel (squirrel) Toby needs intake of nuts, and youll soon see gobbling them! There is not much philosophical bibliography on these two psychological states Grice is analysing. Their logic is interesting. Smith wants to play cricket. Smith needs to play cricket. Grice is concerned with the propositional content attached to the want and need predicate. Wants that sounds harsh; so does need that. Still, there are propositional attached to the pair above. Smith plays cricket. Grice took a very cavalier attitude to what linguists spend their lives analysing. He thought it was surely not the job of the philosopher, especially from a prestigious university such as Oxford, to deal with the arbitrariness of grammatical knots attached to this or that English verb. He rarely used English, but stuck with ordinary language. Surely, he saw himself in the tradition of Kantotle, and so, aiming at grand philosophical truths: not conventions of usage, even his own! 1. Squarrel Toby has a nut, N, in front of him. 2. Toby is short on squarrel food (observed or assumed), so, 3. Toby wills squarrel food (by postulate of Folk Pyschological Theory θ connecting willing with intake of N). 4. Toby prehends a nut as in front (from (1) by Postulate of Folk Psychological Theory θ, if it is assumed that nut and in front are familiar to Toby). 5. Toby joins squarrel food with gobbling, nut, and in front (i.e. Toby judges gobbling, on nut in front, for squarrel food (by Postulate of Folk Psychological Theory θ with the aid of prior observation. So, from 3, 4 and 5, 6. Tobby gobbles; and since a nut is in front of him, gobbles the nut in front of him. The system of values of the society to which the agent belongs forms the external standard for judging the relative importance of the commitments by the agent. There are three dimensions of value: universally human, cultural that vary with societies and times; and personal that vary with individuals. Each dimension has a standard for judging the adequacy of the relevant values. Human values are adequate if they satisfy basic needs; cultural values are adequate if they provide a system of values that sustains the allegiance of the inhabitants of a society; and personal values are adequate if the conceptions of well‐being formed out of them enable individuals to live satisfying lives. These values conflict and our well‐being requires some way of settling their conflicts, but there is no universal principle for settling the conflicts; it can only be done by attending to the concrete features of particular conflicts. These features vary with circumstances and values. Grice reads Porter.The idea of the value chain is based on the process view of organizations, the idea of seeing a manufacturing (or service) organization as a system, made up of subsystems each with inputs, transformation processes and outputs. Inputs, transformation processes, and outputs involve the acquisition and consumption of resources – money, labour, materials, equipment, buildings, land, administration and management. How value chain activities are carried out determines costs and affects profits.In his choice of value system and value sub-system, Grice is defending objectivity, since it is usually the axiological relativist who uses such a pretentious phrasing! More than a value may co-ordinate in a system. One such is eudæmonia (cf. system of ends). The problem for Kant is the reduction of the categorical imperative to the hypothetical or suppositional imperative. For Kant, a value tends towards the Subjectsive. Grice, rather, wants to offer a metaphysical defence of objective value. Grice called the manual of conversational maxims the Conversational Immanuel. The keyword to search the H. P. Grice is ‘will,’ and ‘volitional,’ even ‘ill-will,’ (“Metaphysics and ill-will,” s. V, c. 7-f. 28) and ‘benevolence’ (vide below under ‘conversational benevolence”). Also ‘desirability’: “Modality, desirability, and probability,” s. V, c. 8-ff. 14-15, and the conference lecture in a different series, “Probability, desirability, and mood operators,” s. II, c. 2-f.11). Grice makes systematic use of ‘practical’ to contrast with the ‘alethic,’ too (“Practical reason,” s. V, c. 9-f.1), The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. desideratum of conversational candour: tThis includes the maximin. It should be noted that candour is DESIRABLE. There is a desirability for candour. Candour is not a given. Ditto for clarity. See conversational desideratum, simpliciter. A rational desideratum is a desideratum by a rational agent and which he expects from another rational agent. One should make the strongest move, and on the other hand try not to mislead.Grice's Oxford "Conversation" Lectures, 1966Grice: Between Self-Love and Benevolence As I was saying (somewhere), Grice uses "self-love", charmingly qualified with capitals, as "Conversational Self-Love", and, less charmingly, "Conversational Benevolence", in lectures advertised at Oxford, as "Logic and Conversation" that he gave at Oxford in 1964 as "University Lecturer in Philosophy". He also gave seminars on "Conversational helpfulness." A number of the lectures by Grice include discussion of thetypes of behaviour people in general exhibit, and thereforethe types of expectations[cfr. owings]they might bring to a venture such as a conversation.Grice suggests that people in general both exhibitand EXPECT a certain degree of helpfulness [-- alla Rosenschein, epistemic/boulemaic:If A cognizes that B wills p, then A wills p.] "from OTHERS" [-- reciprocal vs. reflexive, etc.] usually on the understanding that such helpfulness does NOT get in the way of particular goals and does not involve undue effort cf. least effort? - cfr. Hobbes on self-love. It two people, even complete strangers,are going through a gate, the expectation isthat the FIRST ONE through will hold thegate open, or at least leave it open, for thesecond. The expectation is such that todo OTHERWISE without particular reasonwould be interpreted as RUDE. The type of helpfulness exhibited andexpected in conversation is more specificbecause of a particular, although not a unique feature of conversation.It is a COLLABORATIVE venture betweenthe participants.There is a SHARED aimGrice wonders. His words, Does "helpfulness in something WE ARE DOING TOGETHER” equate to 'cooperation'?He seems to have decided that it does. By the later lectures in the series, 'the principle of conversational helpfulness'has been rebranded the expectation of 'cooperation.' During the Oxford lectures, Grice develops his account of the precise nature of this cooperation. It can be seen as governed by certain regularities, or principles, detailing expected behaviour. The expression'maxim' to describe these regularities appears relatively late in the lectures.Grice's INITIAL choices of terms are 'objectives' and 'desiderata'.He was particularly fond of the latter. He was interested in detailing the desirable forms of behaviour for the purpose of achieving a joint goal of the conversation. Initially, Grice posits TWO such desiderata. Those relating to candour on the one hand and clarity on the other. The desideratum of candour contains his general PRINCIPLE of making the strongest (MAX) possible statement and, as a LIMITING (MAX) factor on this, the suggestion that speakers should try not to mislead. (Do not mislead). cfr. our"We are brothers"-- but not mutual."We are married to each other". "You _are_ a boor".----The desideratum of conversational clarity concerns the manner of expression. [His later reference to Modus or Mode as used by Kant as one of the four categories] for any conversational contribution. It includes the IMPORTANT expectations of relevance to understanding and also insists that the main import of an utterance be clear and explicit. (“Explicate!”) These two factors are constantly to be WEIGHED against two FUNDAMENTAL and SOMETIMES COMPETING DEMANDS. Contributions to a conversation are aimed towards the agreed current purposes by the PRINCIPLE of Conversational Benevolence. The principle of CONVERSATIONAL SELF-LOVE ensures the assumption on the part of both participants that neither will go to unnecessary trouble [LEAST EFFORT] in framing their contribution. This has been a topic of interest to Noh end. In "Conversational Immanuel" Grice tries different ways of making sense -- it is very easy to do so -- of Grice's distinctions that go over the head of some linguists I know! Reasonable versus rational for example. A Rawlsian distinction of sorts. Rational is too weak. We need 'reasonable'. So, what sort of reasonableness is that which results from this harmonious, we hope, clash of self-love and benevolence? Grice tried, wittily, to extend the purposes of conversation to involve MUTUALLY INFLUENCING EACH OTHER -- a reciprocal. (WoW, ii). And there's a mythical reconstruction of this in his "Meaning Revisited" which he contributed to this symposium organised by N. Smith on Mutua knowledge. But issues remains, we hope. The concept of ‘candour’is especially basic for Grice since it is constitutive of what it means to identify the ‘significatum.’ As he notes, ‘false’ information is no information. This is serious, because it has to do with the acceptum. A contribution which is not trustworthy is not deemed a contribution. It is conceptually impossible to intend to PROVIDE information if you are aware that you are not being trustworthy and not conveying it. As for the degree of explicitness, as Grice puts it. Since in communication in a certain fashion all must be public, if an idea or thesis is heavily obscured, it can no longer be regarded as having been propounded. This gives acceptum justification to the correlative desideratum of conversational clarity. On top, if there is a level of obscurity, the thing is not deemed to have been a communicatum or significatum. 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. 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. 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. 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. desideratum of conversational clarity. If mutual expectation not to mislead and produce the stronger contribution are characteristics of candour, expectation of mutual relevance to interests, and being explicit and clear in your point are two characteristics of this desideratum. “Candour” and “clarity’ are somewhat co-relative for Grice. He is interested in identifying this or that desideratum. By having two of them, he can play. So, how UNCLEAR can a conversationalist be provided he WANTS to be candid? Candour trumps clarity. But too much ‘unperspicuity’ may lead to something not being deemed an ‘implicatum’ at all. Grice is especially concerned with philosopher’s paradoxes. Why would Strawson say that the usage of ‘not,’ ‘and,’ ‘or,’ ‘if,’ ‘if and only if,’ ‘all,’ ‘some (at least one), ‘the,’ do not correspond to the logician’s use? Questions of candour and clarity interact. Grice’s first application, which he grants is not original, relates to “The pillar box seems red” versus “The pillar box is red.” “I would not like to give the false impression that the pillar box is not red” seems less clear than “The pillar box is red” – Yet the unperspicuous contributin is still ‘candid,’ in the sense that it expresses a truth. So one has to be careful. On top, philosophers like Lewis were using ‘clarity is not enough’ as a battle cry! Grice’s favourite formulations of the imperatives here are ‘self-contradictory,’ and for which he uses ‘[sic]’, notably: “Be perspicuous [sic]’ and “Be brief. Avoid unnecessary prolixity [sic].’ desirability: This Grice calls the Jeffrey operator. If Urmson likes ‘probably,’ Grice likes ‘desirably.’ This theorem is a corollary of the desirability axiom by Jeffrey, which is: "If prob XY = 0, for a prima facie PF(A V B) A (x E w)] = PFA A (x E w)] + PfB A (x El+ w)]. This is the account by Grice of the adaptability of a pirot to its changeable environs. Grice borrows the notion of probability (henceforth, “pr”) from Davidson, whose early claim to fame was to provide the logic of the notion. Grice abbreviates probability by Pr. and compares it to a buletic operator ‘pf,’ ‘for prima facie,’ attached to ‘De’ for desirability. A rational agent must calculate both the probability and the desirability of his action. For both probability and desirability, the degree is crucial. Grice symbolises this by d: probability in degree d; probability in degree d. The topic of life Grice relates to that of adaptation and surival, and connects with his genitorial programme of creature construction (Pology.): life as continued operancy. Grice was fascinated with life (Aristotle, bios) because bios is what provides for Aristotle the definition (not by genus) of psyche. The steps are as follows. Pf(p ⊃!q)/Pr(p ⊃ q); pf((p1 ^ p2) ⊃!q)/pr(p1 ^ p2 ⊃q); pf((p1 ^ p2 ^ p3) ⊃!q)/pr(p1 ^ p2 ^ p3 ^ p4 ⊃q); pf (all things before me ⊃!q)/pr (all things before me ⊃ q); pf (all things considered ⊃ !q)/pr(all things considered ⊃ q); !q/|- q; G wills !q/G judges q. Strictly, Grice avoids using the noun probability (other than for the title of this or that lecture). One has to use the sentence-modifier ‘probably,’ and ‘desirably.’ So the specific correlative to the buletic prima facie ‘desirably’ is the doxastic ‘probably.’ Grice liked the Roman sound to ‘prima facie,’ ‘at first sight’: “exceptio, quae prima facie justa videatur.” Refs.: The two main sources are “Probability, desirability, and mood operators,” c. 2-f. 11, and “Modality, desirability and probability,” c. 8-ff. 14-15. But most of the material is collected in “Aspects,” especially in the third and fourth lectures. The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. deutero-esperanto: Arbitrariness need not be a two-party thing. E communicates to himself that there is danger by drawing a skull. Grice genially opposed to the idea of a convention. He hated a convention. A language is not conventional. Meaning is not conventional. Communication is not conventional. He was even unhappy with the account of convention by Lewis in terms of an arbitrary co-ordination. While the co-ordination bit passes rational muster, the arbitrary element is deemed a necessary condition, and Grice hated that. For Grice there is natural, and iconic. When a representation ceases to be iconic and becomes, for lack of a better expression, non-iconic, things get, we may assume conventional. One form of correlation in his last definition of meaing allows for a conventional correlation. “Pain!,” the P cries. There is nothing in /pein/ that minimally resembles the pain the P is suffering. So from his involuntary “Ouch” to his simulated “Ouch,” he thinks he can say “Pain.” Bennett explored the stages after that. The dog is shaggy is Grices example. All sorts of resultant procedures are needed for reference and predication, which may be deemed conventional. One may refer nonconventionally, by ostension. It seems more difficult to predicate non-conventionally. But there may be iconic predication. Urquhart promises twelve parts of speech: each declinable in eleven cases, four numbers, eleven genders (including god, goddess, man, woman, animal, etc.); and conjugable in eleven tenses, seven moods, and four voices. The language will translate any idiom in any other language, without any alteration of the literal sense, but fully representing the intention. Later, one day, while lying in his bath, Grice designed deutero-esperanto. The obble is fang may be current only for Griceian members of the class of utterers. It is only this or that philosophers practice to utter The obble is fang in such-and-such circumstances. In this case, the utterer U does have a readiness to utter The obble is feng in such-and-such circumstances. There is also the scenario in which The obble is fang is may be conceived by the philosopher not to be deemed current at all, but the utterance of The obble is feng in such-and-such circumstances is part of some system of communication which the utterer U (Lockwith,, Urquart, Wilkins, Edmonds, Grice) has devised but which has never been put into operation, like the highway code which Grice invent another day again while lying in his bath. In that case, U does this or that basic or resultant procedure for the obble is feng in an attenuated but philosophically legitimate fashion. U has envisaged a possible system of practices which involve a readiness to utter Example by Grice that does NOT involve a convention in this usage. Surely Grice can as he indeed did, invent a language, call it Deutero-Esperanto, Griceish, or Pirotese, which nobody at Oxford ever uses to communicat. That makes Grice the authority - cf. arkhe, authority, government (in plural), "authorities" - and Grice can lay down, while lying in the tub, no doubt - what is proper. A P can be said to potch of some obble o as fang or as feng. Also to cotch of some obble o, as fang or feng; or to cotch of one obble o and another obble o as being fid to one another.” In symbols: (Ex)(Ey).Px ^ Oy ^ potch(x, y, fang) (Ex)(Ey).Px ^ Oy ^ potch(x, y, feng) (Ex)(Ey).Px ^ Oy ^ cotch(x, y, fang) (Ex)(Ey).Px ^ Ox ^ cotch(x, y, feng) (Ex)(Ey).Px ^ Oz ^ Oy ^ cotch(x, fid(y,z)). Let’s say that Ps (as Russell and Carnap conceived them) inhabit a world of obbles, material objects, or things. To potch is something like to perceive; to cotch something like to think. Feng and fang are possible descriptions, much like our adjectives. Fid is a possible relation between obbles. Grice provides a symbolisation for content internalisation. The perceiver or cognitive Subjects perceives or cognises two objects, x, y, as holding a relation of some type. There is a higher level that Ps can reach when the object of their potchings and cotchings is not so much objects but states of affairs. Its then that the truth-functional operators will be brought to existence “^”: cotch(p ^ q) “V”: cotch(p v q) “)”: )-cotch(p ) q) A P will be able to reject a content, refuse-thinking: ~. Cotch(~p). When P1 perceives P2, the reciprocals get more complicated. P2 cotches that P1!-judges that p. Grice uses ψ1 for potching and ψ2 for cotching. If P2 is co-operative, and abides by "The Ps Immanuel," P2 will honour, in a Kantian benevolent way, his partners goal by adopting temporarily his partners goal potch(x (portch(y, !p)) ⊃ potch(x, !p). But by then, its hardly simpler ways. Especially when the Ps outdo their progenitor Carnap as metaphysicians. The details are under “eschatology,” but the expressions are here “α izzes α.” This would be the principle of non-contradiction or identity. P1 applies it war, and utters War is war which yields a most peculiar implicature. “if α izzes β ∧ β izzes γ, α izz γ.” This is transitivity, which is crucial for Ps to overcome Berkeley’s counterexample to Locke, and define their identity over time. “if α hazzes β, α izzes β.” Or, what is accidental is not essential. A P may allow that what is essential is accidental while misleading, is boringly true. “α hazzes β iff α hazzes x ∧ x izzes β.” “If β is a katholou or universalium, β is an eidos or forma.” For surely Ps need not be stupid to fail to see squarrelhood. “if α hazzes β ∧ α izzes a particular, γ≠α ∧ α izz β.” “α izzes predicable of β iff ((β izzes α) ∨ (∃x)(β hazzes x ∧ x izzes α). “α izzes essentially predicable of β ⊃⊂ β izzes α α izzes non-essentially/accidentally predicable of β ⊃⊂ (∃x)(β hazzes x ∧ x izzes α). α = β iff α izzes β ∧ β izzes α. “α izzes an atomon, or individuum ⊃⊂ □(∀β)(β izzes α ⊃ α izzes β). “α izzes a particular ⊃⊂ □(∀β)(α izzes predicable of β ⊃ (α izzes β ∧ β izzes α)). α izzes a universalium ⊃⊂ ◊(∃β)(α izzes predicable of α ∧ ~(α izzes β ∧ β izzes α). α izzes some-thing ⊃ α izzes an individuum. α izzes an eidos or forma ⊃ (α izzes some-thing ∧ α izzes a universalium); α izzes predicable of β ⊃⊂ (β izzes α) ∨ (∃x)(β hazzes x ∧ x izzes α). “ α izzes essentially predicable of α α izzes accidentally predicable of β ⊃ α ≠ β. ~(α izzes accidentally predicable of β) ⊃ α ≠ β. α izzes an kathekaston or particular ⊃ α izzes an individuum; α izz a particular ⊃ ~(∃x)(x ≠ α ∧ x izz α). ~(∃x).(x izzes a particular ∧ x izzes a forma) ⊢ α izzes a forma ⊃ ~(∃x)(x ≠ α ∧ x izzes α). x izzes a particular ⊃ ~(∃β)(α izzes β); α izzes a forma ⊃ ((α izzes predicable of β ∧ α ≠ β) ⊃ β hazzes α); α izzes a forma ∧ β izzes a particular ⊃ (α izzes predicable of β ⊃⊂ β hazzes A); (α izzes a particular ∧ β izzes a universalium ∧ β izzes predicable of α) ⊃ (∃γ)(α ≠ γ ∧ γ izzes essentially predicable of α). (∃x) (∃y)(x izzes a particular ∧ y izzes a universalium ∧ y izzes predicable of x ⊃ ~(∀x)(x izzes a universalium ∧ x izzes some-thing). (∀β)(β izzes a universalium ⊃ β izzes some-thing). α izzes a particular) ⊃ ~∃β.(α ≠ β ∧ β izzes essentially predicable of α). (α izzes predicable of β ∧ α ≠ β) ⊃ α izzes non-essentially or accidentally predicable of β. Grice is following a Leibnizian tradition. A philosophical language is any constructed language that is constructed from first principles or certain ideologies. It is considered a type of engineered language. Philosophical languages were popular in Early Modern times, partly motivated by the goal of recovering the lost Adamic or Divine language. The term “ideal language” is sometimes used near-synonymously, though more modern philosophical languages such as “Toki Pona” are less likely to involve such an exalted claim of perfection. It may be known as a language of pure ideology. The axioms and grammars of the languages together differ from commonly spoken languages today. In most older philosophical languages, and some newer ones, words are constructed from a limited set of morphemes that are treated as "elemental" or fundamental. "Philosophical language" is sometimes used synonymously with "taxonomic language", though more recently there have been several conlangs constructed on philosophical principles which are not taxonomic. Vocabularies of oligo-synthetic communication-systems are made of compound expressions, which are coined from a small (theoretically minimal) set of morphemes; oligo-isolating communication-systems, such as Toki Pona, similarly use a limited set of root words but produce phrases which remain s. of distinct words. Toki Pona is based on minimalistic simplicity, incorporating elements of Taoism. Láadan is designed to lexicalize and grammaticalise the concepts and distinctions important to women, based on muted group theory. A priori languages are constructed languages where the vocabulary is invented directly, rather than being derived from other existing languages (as with Esperanto, or Grices Deutero-Esperanto, or Pirotese or Ido). It all starts when Carnap claims to know that pritos karulise elatically. Grice as engineer. Pirotese is the philosophers engaging in Pology. Actually, Pirotese is the lingo the Ps parrot. Ps karulise elatically. But not all of them. Grice finds that the Pological talk allows to start from zero. He is constructing a language, (basic) Pirotese, and the philosophical psychology and world that that language is supposed to represent or denote. An obble is a Ps object. Grice introduces potching and cotching. To potch, in Pirotese, is what a P does with an obble: he perceives it. To cotch is Pirotese for what a P can further do with an obble: know or cognise it. Cotching, unlike potching, is factive. Pirotese would not be the first language invented by a philosopher. Refs.: While the reference to “Deutero-Esperanto’ comes from “Meaning revisited,” other keywords are useful, notably “Pirotese” and “Symbolo.” Also keywords like “obble,” and “pirot.” The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. diagoge: Cf. Grice’s emphasis on the ‘argument’ involved in the conversational implciatum, though. To work out an impilcatum is to reach it ‘by argument.’ No argument, no conversational implicatum. But cf. argument in Emissor draws skull and communicates that there is danger. ARGUMENT involved in that Emissor intends his addressee WILL REASON. Can the lady communicate to the pigeons that she is selling ‘twopence a bag’ for their pleasure? Grice contrasted epagoge with diagoge. Cooperation with competition. Cooperative game with competitive game. But epagoge is induction, so here we’ll consider his views on probability and how it contrastds with diagoge. The diagoge is easy to identity: Grice is a social animal, with the BA, Philosophy, conferences, discussion, The American Philosophical Association, transcripts by Randall Parker, from the audio-tapes contained in c. 10 within the same s. IV miscellaneous, Beanfest, transcripts and audio-cassettes, s. IV, c. 6-f. 8, and f. 10, and s. V, c. 8-f. 4-8 Unfortunately, Parker typed carulise for karulise, or not. Re: probability, Grice loves to reminisce an anecdote concerning his tutor Hardie at Corpus when Hardie invoked Mills principles to prove that Hardie was not responsible for a traffic jam. In drafts on word play, Grice would speak of not bringing more Grice to your Mill. Mills System of Logic was part of the reading material for his degree in Lit. Hum.at Oxford, so he was very familiar with it. Mill represents the best of the English empiricist tradition. Grice kept an interest on inductive methodology. In his Life and opinions he mentions some obscure essays by Kneale and Keynes on the topic. Grice was interested in Kneales secondary induction, since Grice saw this as an application of a construction routine. He was also interested in Keyness notion of a generator property, which he found metaphysically intriguing. Induction. Induction ‒ Mill’s Induction, induction, deduction, abduction, Mill. More Grice to the Mill. Grice loved Hardies playing with Mill’s method of difference with an Oxford copper. He also quotes Kneale and Keynes on induction. Note that his seven-step derivation of akrasia relies on an inductive step! Grice was fortunate to associate with Davidson, whose initial work is on porbability. Grice borrows from Davidson the idea that inductive probability, or probable, attaches to the doxastic, while prima facie attaches to desirably, or desirability. Jeffreys notion of desirability is partition-invariant in that if a proposition, A, can be expressed as the disjoint disjunction of both {B1, B2, B3} and {C1, C2, C3}, ∑ Bi ∈ AProb (Bi ∣∣ A). Des (Bi) = ∑Ci ∈ A Prob (Ci ∣∣ A). Des (Ci). It follows that applying the rule of desirability maximization will always lead to the same recommendation, irrespective of how the decision problem is framed, while an alternative theory may recommend different courses of action, depending on how the decision problem is formulated. Here, then, is the analogue of Jeffreys desirability axiom (D), applied to sentences rather than propositions: (D) (prob(s and t) = 0 and prob(s or t) "# 0, ⊃ d ( ) prob(s)des(s)+ prob(t)des(t) es s or t =-"---- prob( s) + prob(t ) (Grice writes prob(s) for the Subjectsive probability of sand des(s) for the desirability or utility of s.) B. Jeffrey admits that "desirability" (his terms for evidential value) does not directly correspond to any single pre-theoretical notion of desire. Instead, it provides the best systematic explication of the decision theoretic idea, which is itself our best effort to make precise the intuitive idea of weighing options. As Jeffrey remarks, it is entirely possibly to desire someone’s love when you already have it. Therefore, as Grice would follow, Jeffrey has the desirability operator fall under the scope of the probability operator. The agents desire that p provided he judges that p does not obtain. Diagoge/epagoge, Grices audio-files, the audio-files, audio-files of various lectures and conferences, some seminars with Warner and J. Baker, audio files of various lectures and conferences. Subjects: epagoge, diagoge. A previous folder in the collection contains the transcripts. These are the audio-tapes themselves, obviously not in folder. The kind of metaphysical argument which I have in mind might be said, perhaps, to exemplify a dia-gogic or trans-ductive as opposed to epa-gogic or in-ductive approach to philosophical argumentation. Hence Short and Lewis have, for ‘diagoge,’ the cognates of ‘trādūco,’ f. transduco. Now, the more emphasis is placed on justification by elimination of the rival, the greater is the impetus given to refutation, whether of theses or of people. And perhaps a greater emphasis on a diagogic procedure, if it could be shown to be justifiable, would have an eirenic effect. Cf. Aristotle on diagoge, schole, otium. Liddell and Scott have “διαγωγή,” which they render as “literally carrying across,” -- “τριήρων” Polyaen.5.2.6, also as “carrying through,” and “hence fig.” “ἡ διὰ πάντων αὐτῶν δ., “taking a person through a subject by instruction, Pl. Ep.343; so, course of instruction, lectures, ἐν τῇ ἐνεστώσῃ δ. prob. in Phld. Piet.25; also passing of life, way or course of life, “δ. βίου” Pl. R.344e: abs., Id. Tht.177a, etc., way of passing time, amusement, “δ. μετὰ παιδιᾶς” Arist. EN 1127b34, cf. 1177a27; “δ. ἐλευθέριος” Id. Pol.1339b5; διαγωγαὶ τοῦ συζῆν public pastimes, ib.1280b37, cf. Plu.126b (pl.). also delay, D.C. 57.3. management, τῶν πραγμάτων δ. dispatch of business, Id.48.5. IV. station for ships, f. l. in Hdn.4.2.8. And there are other entries to consider: διαγωγάν: διαίρεσιν, διανομήν, διέλευσιν. Grice knew what he was talking about! Refs.: The main sources listed under ‘desirability,’ above. There is a specific essay on ‘probability and life.’ Good keywords, too, are epagoge and induction The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. Diaphaneity Grice unique in his subtlety. Strawson and Wiggins. 'the quality of being freely pervious to light; transparency', OED. This is a crucial concept for Grice. He applies it ‘see,’ which which, after joint endeavours with G. J. Warnock, he was obsessed! Grice considers the ascription, “Warnock sees that it is raining.” And then he adds, “And it is true, I see that it is raining, too.” What’s the diference. Then comes Strawson. “Strawson, you see that it is raining, right?” So we have an ascription in the first, second, and third persons. When it comes to the identification of a sense (like vision) via experience or qualia, we are at a problem, because ‘see,’ allowing for what Ryle calls a ‘conversational avowal,’ that nobody has an authority to distrust, is what Grice calls a ‘diaphanous’ predicate. More formally. That means that “Grice sees that it is raining,” in terms of experience, cannot really be expanded except by expanding into WHAT IS that Grice sees, viz. that it is raining. The same with “communicating that p,” and “meaning that p.” dictum: Cf. dictor, and dictivenss. Not necessarily involved with ‘say,’ but with ‘deixis,’ So a dictum is involved in Emissor E drawing a skull, communicating that there is danger. It is Hare who introduced ‘dictum’ in the Oxonian philosophical literature in his T. H. Green Essay. Hare distinguishes between the ‘dictum,’ that the cat is on the mat, from the ‘dictor,’ ‘I state that the cat is on the mat, yes.’ ‘Cat, on the mat, please.’ Grice often refers to Hare’s play with words, which he obviously enjoys. In “Epilogue,” Grice elaborates on the ‘dictum,’ and turns it into ‘dictivitas.’ How does he coin that word? He starts with Cicero, who has ‘dictivm,’ and creates an abstract noun to match. Grice needs a concept of a ‘dictum’ ambiguous as it is. Grice distinguishes between what an Utterer explicitly conveys, e. g. that Strawson took off his boots and went to bed. Then there’s what Grice implicitly conveys, to wit: that Strawson took off his boots and went to bed – in that order. Surely Grice has STATED that Strawson took off his boots and went to bed. Grice has ASSERTED that Strawson took off his boots and went to bed. But if Grice were to order Strawson: “Put on your parachute and jump!” the implicata may differ. By uttering that utterance, Grice has not asserted or stated anything. So Grice needs a dummy that will do for indicatives and imperatives. ‘Convey’ usually does – especially in the modality ‘explicitly’ convey. Because by uttering that utterance Grice has explicitly conveyed that Strawson is to put on his parachute and jump. Grice has implicitly conveyd that Strawson is to put on his parachute and THEN jump, surely. disgrice: In PGRICE, Kemmerling speaks of disgricing as the opposite of gricing. The first way to disgrice Kemmerling calls ‘strawsonising.’For Strawson, even the resemblance (for Grice, equivalence in terms of 'iff' -- cf. his account of what an syntactically structured non-complete expression) between (G) There is not a single volume in my uncle’s library which is not by an English author,’and the negatively existential form (LFG) ~ (Ex)(Ax . ~ Bx)’ is deceptive, ‘It is not the case that there exists an x such that x is a book in Grice’s uncle’s library and x is written by an Englishman. FIRST, 'There is not a single volume in uncle’s library which is not by an English author' -- as normally used, carries the presupposition -- or entails, for Grice -- (G2) Some (at least one) book is in Grice’s uncle’s library. SECOND, 'There is not a single volume in Grice’s uncle’s library which is not by an English author,’ is far from being 'entailed' by (G3e) It is not the case that there is some (at least one) book in my room. If we give ‘There not a single book in my room which is not by an English author’ the modernist logical form ‘~ (Ex)(Ax .~ Bx),’ we see that this is ENTAILED by the briefer, and indeed logicall stronger (in terms of entailments) ~ (Ex)Ax. So when Grice, with a solemn face, utters, ‘There is not a single foreign volume in my uncle’s library, to reveal later that the library is empty, Grice should expect his addressee to get some odd feeling. Surely not the feeling of having been lied to -- or been confronted with an initial false utterance --, because we have not. Strawson gets the feeling of having been made "the victim of a sort of communicative outrage." "What you say is outrageous!" This sounds stronger than it is. An outrage is believed to be an evil deed, offense, crime; affront, indignity, act not within established or reasonable limits," of food, drink, dress, speech, etc., from Old French outrage "harm, damage; insult; criminal behavior; presumption, insolence, overweening" (12c.), earlier oltrage (11c.), From Vulgar Latin ‘ultraticum,’ excess," from Latin ultra, beyond" (from suffixed form of PIE root *al- "beyond"). Etymologically, "the passing beyond reasonable bounds" in any sense. The meaning narrowed in English toward violent excesses because of folk etymology from out + rage. Of injuries to feelings, principles, etc., from outrage, v. outragen, "to go to excess, act immoderately," from outrage (n.) or from Old French oultrager. From 1580s with meaning "do violence to, attack, maltreat." Related: Outraged; outraging. But Strawson gets the feeling of having been made "the victim of a sort of communicative outrage.” When Grice was only trying to tutor him in The Organon. Of course it is not the case that Grice is explicitly conveying or expressing that there there is some (at least one) book in his uncle's room. Grice has not said anything false. Or rather, it is not the case that Grice utters an utterance which is not alethically or doxastically satisfactory. Yet what Grice gives Strawson the defeasible, cancellable, license to to assume that Grice thinks there is at least one book. Unless he goes on to cancel the implicature, Grice may be deemed to be misleading Strawson. What Grice explicitly conveys to be true (or false) it is necessary (though not sufficient) that there should at least one volume in his uncle’s library -- It is not the case that my uncle has a library and in that library all the books are autochthonous to England, i.e. it is not the case that Grice’s uncle has a library; for starters, it is not the case that Grice has a literate uncle. Of this SUBTLE, nuantic, or cloudy or foggy, "slight or delicate degree of difference in expression, feeling, opinion, etc.," from Fr. nuance "slight difference, shade of colour,” from nuer "to shade," from nue "cloud," from Gallo-Roman nuba, from Latin nubes "a cloud, mist, vapour," sneudh- "fog," source also of Avestan snaoda "clouds," Latin obnubere "to veil," Welsh nudd "fog," Greek nython, in Hesychius "dark, dusky") According to Klein, the French usage is a reference to "the different colours of the clouds,” in reference to color or tone, "a slight variation in shade; of music, as a French term in English -- 'sort' is the relation between ‘There is not a volume in my uncle's library which is not by an English author,’ and ‘My uncle's library is not empty. RE-ENTER GRICE. Grice suggested that Strawson see such a fine point such as that, which Grice had the kindness to call an 'implicatum', the result of an act of an ‘implicatura’ (they were both attending Kneale’s seminar on the growth and ungrowth of logic) is irrelevant to the issue of ‘entailment’. It is a 'merely pragmatic’ implicatum, Grice would say, bringing forward a couple of distinctions: logical/pragmatic point; logical/pragmatic inference; entailment/implicatum; conveying explicitly/conveying implicitly; stating/implicating; asserting/implying; what an utterer means/what the expression 'means' -- but cf. Nowell-Smith, who left Oxford after being overwhelmed by Grice, "this is how the rules of etiquette inform the rules of logic -- on the 'rule' of relevance in "Ethics," 1955. If to call such a point, as Grice does, as "irrelevant to logic" is vacuous in that it may be interpreted as saying that that such a fine foggy point is not considered in a modernist formal system of first-order predicate calculus with identity, this Strawson wishes not to dispute, but to emphasise. Call it his battle cry! But to 'logic' as concerned with this or that relation between this or that general class of statement occurring in ordinary use, and the attending general condition under which this or that statement is correctly called 'true' or 'false,' this fine foggy nice point would hardly be irrelevant. GRICE'S FORMALIST (MODERNIST) INTERPRETATION. Some 'pragmatic' consideration, or assumption, or expectation, a desideratum of conversational conduct obviously underlies and in fact 'explains' the implicatum, without having to change the ‘sense’ of Aristotle’s syllogistics in terms of the logical forms of A, E, I, and O. If we abide by an imperative of conversational helpfulness, enjoining the maximally giving and receiving of information and the influencing and being influenced by others in the institution of a decisions, the sub-imperative follows to the effect, ‘Thou shalt NOT make a weak move compared to the stronger one that thou canst truthfully make, and with equal or greater economy of means.’ Assume the form ‘There is not a single … which is not . . .,’ or ‘It is not the case that ... there is some (at least one) x that ... is not ... is introduced in ‘ordinary’ language with the same SENSE as the expression in the ‘ideal’ language, ~(Ex)(Ax and ~Bx). Then prohibition inhibits the utterance of the form where the utterer can truly and truthfully simply convey explicitly ‘There is not a single ..., i. e. ~(Ex)(Fx). It is defeasible prohibition which tends to confer on the overprolixic form ('it is not the case that ... there is some (at least one) x that is not ...') just that kind of an implicatum which Strawson identifies. But having detected a nuance in a conversational phenomenon is not the same thing as rushing ahead to try to explain it BEFORE exploring in some detail what kind of a nuance it is. The mistake is often commited by Austin, too (in "Other Minds," and "A Plea for Excuses"), and by Hart (on 'carefully'), and by Hare (on "good"), and by Strawson on 'true,' (Analysis), ‘the,’ and 'if -- just to restrict to the play group. Grice tries to respond to anti-sense-datum in "That pillar box seems red to me,” but Strawson was not listening. The overprolixic form in the ‘ordinary’ language, ‘It is not the case that there is some (at least one x) such that ... x is not ...’ would tend, if it does not remain otiose, to develop or generate just that baffling effect in one's addressee ('outrage!') that Strawson identifies, as opposed to the formal-device in the ‘ideal’ language with which the the ‘ordinary’ language counterpart is co-related. What weakens our resistance to the negatively existential analysis in this case more than in the case of the corresponding "All '-sentence is the powerful attraction of the negative opening phrase There is not …'. To avoid misunderstanding one may add a point about the neo-traditionalist interpretation of the forms of the traditional Aristotelian system. Strawson is not claiming that it faithfully represents this or that intention of the principal exponent of the Square of Opposition. Appuleius, who knows, was perhaps, more interested in formulating this or that theorem governing this or that logical relation of this or that more imposing general statement than this or that everyday general statement that Strawson considers. Appuleius, who knows, might have been interested, e. g., in the logical powers of this or that generalisation, or this or that sentence which approximates more closely to the desired conditions that if its utterance by anyone, at any time, at any place, results in a true statement, so does its utterance by anyone else, at any other time, at any other place. How far the account by the neo-traditionalist of this or that general sentence of 'ordinary' langauge is adequate for every generalization may well be under debate. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “In defence of Appuleius,” BANC. disimplicatum: the target is of course Davidson having the cheek to quote Grice’s Henriette Herz Trust lecture for the BA! Lewis and Short have ‘intendere’ under ‘in-tendo,’ which they render as ‘to stretch out or forth, extend, also to turn ones attention to, exert one’s self for, to purpose, endeavour,” and finaly as “intend”! “pergin, sceleste, intendere hanc arguere?” Plaut. Mil. 2, 4, 27 Grices tends towards claiming that you cannot extend what you dont intend. In the James lectures, Grice mentions the use of is to mean seem (The tie is red in this light), and see to mean hallucinate. The reductive analyses of being and seeing hold. We have here two cases of loose use (or disimplicature). Same now with his example in “Intention and Uncertainty” (henceforth, “Uncertainty”): Smith intends to climb Mt. Everest + [common-ground status: this is difficult]. Grices response to Davidsons pretty unfair use of Grices notion of conversational implicature in Davidsons analysis of intention caught a lot of interest. Pears loved Grices reply. Implicatum here is out of the question ‒ disimplicatum may not. Grice just saw that his theory of conversation is too social to be true when applied to intending. The doxastic condition is one of the entailments in an ascription of an intending. It cannot be cancelled as an implicatum can. If it can be cancelled, it is best seen as a disimplicatum, or a loose use by an utterer meaning less than what he says or explicitly conveys to more careful conversants. Grice and Davidson were members of The Grice and Davidson Mutual Admiration Society. Davidson, not being Oxonian, was perhaps not acquainted with Grices polemics at Oxford with Hart and Hampshire (where Grice sided with Pears, rather). Grice and Pears hold a minimalist approach to intending. On the other hand, Davidson makes what Grice sees as the same mistake again of building certainty into the concept. Grice finds that to apply the idea of a conversational implicatum at this point is too social to be true. Rather, Grice prefers to coin the conversational disimplicatum: Marmaduke Bloggs intends to climb Mt Everest on hands and knees. The utterance above, if merely reporting what Bloggs thinks, may involve a loose use of intends. The certainty on the agents part on the success of his enterprise is thus cast with doubt. Davidson was claiming that the agents belief in the probability of the object of the agents intention was a mere conversational implicatum on the utterers part. Grice responds that the ascription of such a belief is an entailment of a strict use of intend, even if, in cases where the utterer aims at a conversational disimplicatum, it can be dropped. The addressee will still regard the utterer as abiding by the principle of conversational helpfulness. Pears was especially interested in the Davidson-Grice polemic on intending, disimplicature, disimplicature. Strictly, a section of his reply to Davidson. If Grices claim to fame is implicature, he finds disimplicature an intriguing notion to capture those occasions when an utterer means LESS than he says. His examples include: a loose use of intending (without the entailment of the doxastic condition), the uses of see in Shakespeareian contexts (Macbeth saw Banquo, Hamlet saw his father on the ramparts of Elsinore) and the use of is to mean seems (That tie is blue under this light, but green otherwise, when both conversants know that a change of colour is out of the question. He plays with Youre the cream in my coffee being an utterance where the disimplicature (i.e. entailment dropping) is total. Disimplicature does not appeal to a new principle of conversational rationality. It is perfectly accountable by the principle of conversational helpfulness, in particular, the desideratum of conversational candour. In everyday explanation we exploit, as Grice notes, an immense richness in the family of expressions that might be thought of as the wanting family. This wanting family includes expressions like want, desire, would like to, is eager to, is anxious to, would mind not…, the idea of appeals to me, is thinking of, etc. As Grice remarks, The likeness and differences within this wanting family demand careful attention. In commenting on Davidsons treatment of wanting in Intending, Grice notes: It seems to Grice that the picture of the soul suggested by Davidsons treatment of wanting is remarkably tranquil and, one might almost say, computerized. It is the picture of an ideally decorous board meeting, at which the various heads of sections advance, from the standpoint of their particular provinces, the case for or against some proposed course of action. In the end the chairman passes judgement, effective for action; normally judiciously, though sometimes he is for one reason or another over-impressed with the presentation made by some particular member. Grices soul doesnt seem to him, a lot of the time, to be like that at all. It is more like a particularly unpleasant department meeting, in which some members shout, wont listen, and suborn other members to lie on their behalf; while the chairman, who is often himself under suspicion of cheating, endeavours to impose some kind of order; frequently to no effect, since sometimes the meeting breaks up in disorder, sometimes, though it appears to end comfortably, in reality all sorts of enduring lesions are set up, and sometimes, whatever the outcome of the meeting, individual members go off and do things unilaterally. Could it be that Davidson, of the New World, and Grice, of the Old World, have different idiolects regarding intend? Could well be! It is said that the New World is prone to hyperbole, so perhaps in Grices more cautious use, intend is restricted to the conditions HE wants it to restrict it too! Odd that for all the generosity he displays in Post-war Oxford philosophy (Surely I can help you analyse you concept of this or that, even if my use of the corresponding expression does not agree with yours), he goes to attack Davidson, and just for trying to be nice and apply the conversational implicatum to intend! Genial Grice! It is natural Davidson, with his naturalistic tendencies, would like to see intending as merely invoking in a weak fashion the idea of a strong psychological state as belief. And its natural that Grice hated that! Refs.: The source is Grice’s comment on Davidson on intending. The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. disjunctum: Strangely enough Ariskant thought disjunctum, but not conjunctum a categorial related to the category of ‘community’!Aulus Gellius (The Attic Nights, XVI, 8) tells us about this disjunction: “There also is ■ another type of a^twpa which the Greeks call and we call disjunctum, disjunctive sentence. Gellius notes that ‘or’ is by default ‘inclusive’: where one or several propositions may be simultaneously true, without ex- cluding one another, although they may also all be false. Gellius expands on the non-default reading of exclusive disjunction: pleasure is either good or bad or it is neither good nor bad (“Aut malum est voluplas, aut bonum, aul neque bonum, neque malum est”). All the elements of the exclusive disjunctive exclude one another, and their contradictory elements, Gr. avTtxs'-p.sva, are incompatible with one another”. “Ex omnibus quae disjunguntiir, unum esse verum debet, falsa cetera.”Grice lists ‘or’ as the second binary functor in his response to Strawson. But both Grice and Strawson agreed that the Oxonian expert on ‘or’ is Wood. Mitchell is good, too, though. The relations between “v” and “or” (or “either ... or …”) are, on the whole, less intimate than those between “.” and “and,” but less distant than those between “D” and “if.” Let us speak of a statement made by coupling two clauses by “or” as an alternative statement ; and let us speak of the first and second alternatesof such a statement, on analogy with our talk of the antecedent and consequent of a hypothetical statement. At a bus-stop, someone might say: “Either we catch this bus or we shall have to walk all the way home.” He might equally well have said “If we don't catch this bus, we shall have to walk all the way home.” It will be seen that the antecedent of the hypothetical statement he might have made is the negation of the first alternate of the alternative statement he did make. Obviously, we should not regard our catching the bus as a sufficient condition of the 'truth' of either statement; if it turns out that the bus we caught was not the last one, we should say that the man who had made the statement had been wrong. The truth of one of the alternates is no more a sufficient condition of the truth of the alternative statement than the falsity of the antecedent is a sufficient condition of the truth of the hypothetical statement. And since 'p"Dpyq' (and, equally, * q"3p v q ') is a law of the truth-functional system, this fact sufficiently shows a difference between at least one standard use of “or” and the meaning given to “v.” Now in all, or almost all, the cases where we are prepared to say something of the form “p or q,” we are also prepared to say something of the form 4 if not-p, then q \ And this fact may us to exaggerate the difference between “v” and “or” to think that, since in some cases, the fulfilment of one alternate is not a sufficient condition of the truth of the alternative statement of which It is an alternate, the fulfilment of one alternate is a sufficient condition of the truth of an alternative statement. And this is certainly an exaggeration. If someone says ; “Either it was John or it was Robert but I couldn't tell which,” we are satisfied of the truth of the alternative statement if either of the alternates turns out to be true; and we say that the speaker was wrong only if neither turns out to be true. Here we seem to have a puzzle ; for we seem to be saying that * Either it was John or it was Robert ' entails 4 If it wasn't John, it was Robert * and, at the same time, that ‘It was John’ entails the former, but not the latter. What we are suffering from here is perhaps a crudity in our notion of entailraent, a difficulty In applying this too undifferentiated concept to the facts of speech ; or, if we prefer it, an ambiguity in the notion of a sufficient condition. The statement that it was John entails the statement that it was either John or Robert in the sense thai it confirms it; when It turns out to have been John, the man who said that either It was John or it was Robert is shown to have been right. But the first statement does not entail the second in the sense that the step ‘It was John, so it was either John or Robert’ is a logically proper step, unless the person saying this means by it simply that the alternative statement made previously was correct, i.e., 'it was one of the two '. For the alternative statement carries the implication of the speaker's uncertainty as to which of the two it was, and this implication is inconsistent with the assertion that it was John. So in this sense of * sufficient condition ', the statement that it was John is no more a sufficient condition of (no more entails) the statement that it was either John or Robert than it is a sufficient condition of (entails) the statement that if it wasn't John, it was Robert. The further resemblance, which we have already noticed, between the alternative statement and the hypothetical statement, is that whatever knowledge or experience renders it reasonable to assert the alternative statement, also renders it reasonable to make the statement that (under the condition that it wasn't John) it was Robert. But we are less happy about saying that the hypothetical statement is confirmed by the discovery that it was John, than we are about saying that the alternative statement is confirmed by this discovery. For we are inclined to say that the question of confirmation of the hypothetical statement (as opposed to the question of its reasonableness or acceptability) arises only if the condition (that it wasn't John) turns out to be fulfilled. This shows an asymmetry, as regards confirmation, though not as regards acceptability, between 4 if not p, then q ' and * if not qy then p ' which is not mirrored in the forms ‘either p or q’ and ‘either q or p.’ This asymmetry is ignored in the rule that * if not p, then q ' and ‘if not q, then p’ are logically equivalent, for this rule regards acceptability rather than confirmation. And rightly. For we may often discuss the l truth ' of a subjunctive conditional, where the possibility of confirmation is suggested by the form of words employed to be not envisaged. It is a not unrelated difference between * if ' sentences and ‘or’ sentences that whereas, whenever we use one of the latter, we should also be prepared to use one of the former, the converse does not hold. The cases in which it does not generally hold are those of subjunctive conditionals. There is no ‘or’ sentence which would serve as a paraphrase of ‘If the Germans had invaded England in 1940, they would have won the war’ as this sentence would most commonly be used. And this is connected with the fact that c either . . . or . . .' is associated with situations involving choice or decision. 4 Either of these roads leads to Oxford ' does not mean the same as ' Either this road leads to Oxford or that road does’ ; but both confront us with the necessity of making a choice. This brings us to a feature of * or ' which, unlike those so far discussed, is commonly mentioned in discussion of its relation to * v ' ; the fact, namely, that in certain verbal contexts, ‘either … or …’ plainly carries the implication ‘and not both . . . and . . .', whereas in other contexts, it does not. These are sometimes spoken of as, respectively, the exclusive and inclusive senses of ‘or;’ and, plainly, if we are to identify 4 v’ with either, it must be the latter. The reason why, unlike others, this feature of the ordinary use of “or” is commonly mentioned, is that the difference can readily be accommodated (1 Cf. footnote to p. 86.In the symbolism of the truth-functional system: It is the difference between “(p y q) .~ (p . q)” (exclusive sense) and “p v q” (inclusive sense). “Or,” like “and,” is commonly used to join words and phrases as well as clauses. The 4 mutuality difficulties attending the general expansion of 4 x and y are/ 5 into * x is /and y is/' do not attend the expansion of 4 x or y isf into c r Is/or y is/ ? (This is not to say that the expansion can always correctly be made. We may call “v” the disjunctive sign and, being warned against taking the reading too seriously, may read it as ‘or.' While he never approached the topic separately, it’s easy to find remarks about disjunction in his oeuvre. A veritable genealogy of disjunction can be traced along Griceian lines. Refs.: Grice uses an illustration involving ‘or’ in the ‘implication’ excursus in “Causal Theory.” But the systematic account comes from WoW, especially essay 4. Distributum DISTRIBUTIO: undistributed middle: a logical fallacy in traditional syllogistic logic, resulting from the violation of the rule that the middle term (the term that appears twice in premises) must be distributed at least once in the premises. Any syllogism that commits this error is invalid. Consider “All philosophers are persons,” and “Some persons are bad.” No conclusion follows from these two premises because “persons” in the first premise is the predicate of an affirmative proposition, and in the second is the subject of a particular proposition. Neither of them is distributed. “If in a syllogism the middle term is distributed in neither premise, we are said to have a fallacy of undistributed middle.” Keynes, Formal Logic ditto: cf. verum. Grice disliked Strawson’s ditto theory in Analysis of ‘true’ as admittive performatory. 1620s, "in the month of the same name," Tuscan dialectal ditto "(in) the said (month or year)," literary Italian detto, past participle of dire "to say," from Latin dicere "speak, tell, say" (from PIE root *deik- "to show," also "pronounce solemnly"). Italian used the word to avoid repetition of month names in a series of dates, and in this sense it was picked up in English. Its generalized meaning of "the aforesaid, the same thing, same as above" is attested in English by 1670s. In early 19c. a suit of men's clothes of the same color and material through was ditto or dittoes (1755). Dittohead, self-description of followers of U.S. radio personality Rush Limbaugh, attested by 1995. dittoship is from 1869. dossier: Grice’s favourite vacuous name is ‘Bellerophon.’ ‘Vacuous names’ is an essay commissioned by Davison and Hintikka for Words and objections: essays on the work of W. V. Quine (henceforth, W and O) for Reidel, Dordrecht. “W and O” had appeared (without Grices contribution) as a special issue of Synthese. Grices contribution, along with Quines Reply to Grice, appeared only in the reprint of that special issue for Reidel in Dordrecht. Grice cites from various philosophers (and logicians ‒ this was the time when logic was starting to be taught outside philosophy departments, or sub-faculties), such as Mitchell, Myro, Mates, Donnellan, Strawson, Grice was particularly proud to be able to quote Mates by mouth or book. Grice takes the opportunity, in his tribute to Quine, to introduce one of two of his syntactical devices to allow for conversational implicata to be given maximal scope. The device in Vacuous Namess is a subscription device to indicate the ordering of introduction of this or that operation. Grice wants to give room for utterances of a special existential kind be deemed rational/reasonable, provided the principle of conversational helfpulness is thought of by the addressee to be followed by the utterer. Someone isnt attending the party organised by the Merseyside Geographical Society. That is Marmaduke Bloggs, who climbed Mt. Everest on hands and knees. But who, as it happened, turned out to be an invention of the journalists at the Merseyside Newsletter, “W and O,” vacuous name, identificatory use, non-identificatory use, subscript device. Davidson and Hintikka were well aware of the New-World impact of the Old-World ideas displayed by Grice and Strawson in their attack to Quine. Quine had indeed addressed Grices and Strawsons sophisticated version of the paradigm-case argument in Word and Object. Davidson and Hintikka arranged to publish a special issue for a periodical publication, to which Strawson had already contributed. It was only natural, when Davidson and Hintikka were informed by Reidel of their interest in turning the special issue into a separate volume, that they would approach the other infamous member of the dynamic duo! Commissioned by Davidson and Hintikka for “W and O.” Grice introduces a subscript device to account for implicata of utterances like Marmaduke Bloggs won’t be attending the party; he was invented by the journalists. In the later section, he explores identificatory and non identificatory uses of the without involving himself in the problems Donnellan did! Some philosophers, notably Ostertag, have found the latter section the most intriguing bit, and thus Ostertag cared to reprint the section on Descriptions for his edited MIT volume on the topic. The essay is structured very systematically with an initial section on a calculus alla Gentzen, followed by implicata of vacuous Namess such as Marmaduke Bloggs, to end with definite descriptions, repr. in Ostertag, and psychological predicates. It is best to focus on a few things here. First his imaginary dialogues on Marmaduke Bloggs, brilliant! Second, this as a preamble to his Presupposition and conversational implicature. There is a quantifier phrase, the, and two uses of it: one is an identificatory use (the haberdasher is clumsy, or THE haberdasher is clumsy, as Grice prefers) and then theres a derived, non-identificatory use: the haberdasher (whoever she was! to use Grices and Mitchells addendum) shows her clumsiness. The use of the numeric subscripts were complicated enough to delay the publication of this. The whole thing was a special issue of a journal. Grices contribution came when Reidel turned that into a volume. Grice later replaced his numeric subscript device by square brackets. Perhaps the square brackets are not subtle enough, though. Grices contribution, Vacuous Namess, later repr. in part “Definite descriptions,” ed. Ostertag, concludes with an exploration of the phrases, and further on, with some intriguing remarks on the subtle issues surrounding the scope of an ascription of a predicate standing for a psychological state or attitude. Grices choice of an ascription now notably involves an opaque (rather than factive, like know) psychological state or attitude: wanting, which he symbolizes as W. At least Grice does not write, really, for he knew that Austin detested a trouser word! Grice concludes that (xi) and (xiii) will be derivable from each of (ix) and (x), while (xii) will be derivable only from (ix).Grice had been Strawsons logic tutor at St. Johns (Mabbott was teaching the grand stuff!) and it shows! One topic that especially concerned Grice relates to the introduction and elimination rules, as he later searches for generic satisfactoriness. Grice wonders [W]hat should be said of Takeutis conjecture (roughly) that the nature of the introduction rule determines the character of the elimination rule? There seems to be no particular problem about allowing an introduction rule which tells us that, if it is established in Xs personalized system that φ, then it is necessary with respect to X that φ is true (establishable). The accompanying elimination rule is, however, slightly less promising. If we suppose such a rule to tell us that, if one is committed to the idea that it is necessary with respect to X that φ, then one is also committed to whatever is expressed by φ, we shall be in trouble; for such a rule is not acceptable; φ will be a volitive expression such as let it be that X eats his hat; and my commitment to the idea that Xs system requires him to eat his hat does not ipso facto involve me in accepting (buletically) let X eat his hat. But if we take the elimination rule rather as telling us that, if it is necessary with respect to X that let X eat his hat, then let X eat his hat possesses satisfactoriness-with-respect-to-X, the situation is easier; for this version of the rule seems inoffensive, even for Takeuti, we hope. A very interesting concept Grice introduces in the definite-descriptor section of Vacuous Namess is that of a conversational dossier, for which he uses δ for a definite descriptor. The key concept is that of conversational dossier overlap, common ground, or conversational pool. Let us say that an utterer U has a dossier for a definite description δ if there is a set of definite descriptions which include δ, all the members of which the utterer supposes to be satisfied by one and the same item and the utterer U intends his addressee A to think (via the recognition that A is so intended) that the utterer U has a dossier for the definite description δ which the utterer uses, and that the utterer U has specifically selected (or chosen, or picked) this specific δ from this dossier at least partly in the hope that his addressee A has his own dossier for δ which overlaps the utterers dossier for δ, viz. shares a substantial, or in some way specially favoured, su-bset with the utterers dossier. Its unfortunate that the idea of a dossier is not better known amog Oxonian philosophers. Unlike approaches to the phenomenon by other Oxonian philosophers like Grices tutee Strawson and his three principles (conversational relevance, presumption of conversational knowledge, and presumption of conversational ignorance) or Urmson and his, apter than Strawsons, principle of conversational appositeness (Mrs.Smiths husband just delivered a letter, You mean the postman!?), only Grice took to task the idea of formalising this in terms of set-theory and philosophical psychology ‒ note his charming reference to the utterers hope (never mind intention) that his choice of d from his dossier will overlap with some d in the dossier of his his addressee. The point of adding whoever he may be for the non-identificatory is made by Mitchell, of Worcester, in his Griceian textbook for Hutchinson. Refs.: The main reference is Grice’s “Vacuous names,” in “W and O” and its attending notes, BANC. E: the ‘universalis abdicative.’ Cf. Grice on the Square of Opposition. Grice, “Circling the square of Opposition.” Ǝ Ǝx. The existential quantifier. Cited by Grice as translatable by “some (at least one)”. Noting the divergence that Strawson identified but fails to identify as a conversational implicatum. economy: and effort. Grice would often refer to ‘no undue effort,’ ‘no unnecessary trouble,’ to go into the effort, ‘not worth the energy,’ and so on. These utilitarian criteria suggest he is more of a futilitarian than the avowed Kantian he says he is. This Grice also refers to as ‘maximum,’ ‘maximal,’ optimal. It is part of his principle of economy of rational effort. Grice leaves it open as how to formulate this. Notably in “Causal,” he allows that ‘The pillar box seems red” and “The pillar box is red” are difficult to formalise in terms in which we legitimize the claim or intuition that ‘The pillar box IS red” is ‘stronger’ than ‘The pillar box seems red.’ If this were so, it would provide a rational justification for going into the effort of uttering something STRONGER (and thus less economical, and more effortful) under the circumstances. As in “My wife is in the kitchen or in the bedroom, and the house has only two rooms (and no passages, etc.)” the reason why the conversational implicatum is standardly carried is to be found in the operation of some such general principle as that giving preference to the making of a STRONGER rather than a weaker statement in the absence of a reason for not so doing. The implicatum therefore is not of a part of the meaning of the expression “seems.” There is however A VERY IMPORTANT DIFFERENCE between the case of a ‘phenomenalist’ statement (Bar-Hillel it does not count as a statement) and that of disjunctives, such as “My wife is in the kitchen or ind the bedroom, and the house has only two rooms (and no passages, etc.).” A disjunctive is weaker than either of its disjuncts in a straightforward LOGICAL fashion, viz., a disjunctive is entailed (alla Moore) by, but does not entail, each of its disjuncts. The statement “The pillar box is red” is NOT STRONGER than the statement, if a statement it is, “The pillar box seems red,” in this way. Neither statement entails the other. Grice thinks that he has, neverthcless a strong inclination to regard the first of these statements as STRONGER than the second. But Grice leaves it open the ‘determination’ of in what fashion this might obtain. He suggests that there may be a way to provide a reductive analysis of ‘strength’ THAT YIELDS that “The pillar box is red” is a stronger conversational contribution than “The pillar box seems red.” Recourse to ‘informativeness’ may not do, since Grice is willing to generalise over the acceptum to cover informative and non-informative cases. While there is an element of ‘exhibition’ in his account of the communicatum, he might not be happy with the idea that it is the utterer’s INTENTION to INFORM his addressee that he, the utterer, INTENDS that his addressee will believe that he, the utterer, believes that it is raining. “Inform” seems to apply only to the content of the propositional complexum, and not to the attending ‘animata.’ egcrateia: or temperantia. Cfr mesotes. the geniality of Grice was to explore theoretical akrasia. Grice’s genius shows in seeing egcrateia and lack thereof as marks of virtue. “C hasn’t been to prison yet” He is potentially dishonest. But you cannot be HONEST if you are NOT potentially DISHONEST. Of course, it does not paint a good picture of the philosopher why he should be obsessed with ‘akrasia,’ when Aristotle actually opposed the notion to that of ‘enkrateia,’ or ‘continence.’ Surely a philosopher needs to provide a reductive analysis of ‘continence,’ first; and the reductive analysis of ‘incontinence’ will follow. Aristotle, as Grice well knew, is being a Platonist here, so by ‘continence,’ he meant a power structure of the soul, with the ‘rational’ soul containing the pre-rational or non-rational soul (animal soul, and vegetal soul). And right he was, too! So, Grice's twist is Έγκράτεια, sic in capitals! Liddell and Scott has it as ‘ἐγκράτεια’ [ρα^], which they render as “mastery over,” as used by Plato in The Republic: “ἐ. ἑαυτοῦ,” meaning ‘self-control’ (Pl. R.390b; ἐ. ἡδονῶν καὶ ἐπιθυμιῶν control over them, ib.430e, cf. X.Mem.2.1.1, Isoc.1.21; “περί τι” Arist.EN1149a21, al. Liddell and Scott go on to give a reference to Grice’s beloved “Eth. Nich.” (1145b8) II. abs., self-control, X. Mem.1.5.1, Isoc.3.44, Arist. EN. 1145b8, al., LXX Si.18.30, Act.Ap. 24.25, etc. Richards, an emotivist, as well as Collingwood (in “Language”) had made a stereotype of the physicist drawing a formula on the blackboard. “Full of emotion.” So the idea that there is an UN-emotional life is a fallacy. Emotion pervades the rational life, as does akrasia. Grice was particularly irritated by the fact that Davidson, who lacked a background in the humanities and the classics, could think of akrasia as “impossible”! Grice was never too interested in emotion (or feeling) because while we do say I feel that the cat is hungry, we also say, Im feeling byzantine. The concept of emotion needs a philosophical elucidation. Grice was curious about a linguistic botany for that! Akrasia for Grice covers both buletic-boulomaic and doxastic versions. The buletic-boulomaic version may be closer to the concept of an emotion. Grice quotes from Kennys essay on emotion. But Grice is looking for more of a linguistic botany. As it happens, Kennys essay has Griceian implicata. One problem Grice finds with emotion is that feel that sometimes behaves like thinks that Another is that there is no good Grecian word for emotio. Kenny, of St. Benets, completed his essay on emotion under Quinton (who would occasionally give seminars with Grice), and examined by two members of Grices Play Group: Pears and Gardiner. Kenny connects an emotion to a feeling, which brings us to Grice on feeling boringly byzantine! Grice proposes a derivation of akrasia in conditional steps for both buletic-boulomaic and doxastic akrasia. Liddell and Scott have “ἐπιθυμία,” which they render as desire, yearning, “ἐ. ἐκτελέσαι” Hdt.1.32; ἐπιθυμίᾳ by passion, oπρονοίᾳ, generally, appetite, αἱ κατὰ τὸ σῶμα ἐ. esp. sexual desire, lust, αἱ πρὸς τοὺς παῖδας ἐ.; longing after a thing, desire of or for it, ὕδατος, τοῦ πιεῖν;” “τοῦ πλέονος;” “τῆς τιμωρίας;” “τῆς μεθ᾽ ὑμῶν πολιτείας;’ “τῆς παρθενίας;’ “εἰς ἐ. τινὸς ἐλθεῖν;’ ἐν ἐ. “τινὸς εἶναι;’ “γεγονέναι;” “εἰς ἐ. τινὸς “ἀφικέσθαι θεάσασθαι;” “ἐ. τινὸς ἐμβαλεῖν τινί;” “ἐ. ἐμποιεῖν ἔς τινα an inclination towards;” =ἐπιθύμημα, object of desire, ἐπιθυμίας τυχεῖν;” “ἀνδρὸς ἐ., of woman, “πενήτων ἐ., of sleep. There must be more to emotion, such as philia, than epithumia! cf. Grice on Aristotle on philos. What is an emotion? Aristotle, Rhetoric II.1; Konstan “Pathos and Passion” R. Roberts, “Emotion”; W. Fortenbaugh, Aristotle on Emotion; Simo Knuuttila, Emotions in Ancient and Medieval Philosophy. Aristotle, Rhet. II.2-12; De An., Eth.N., and Top.; Emotions in Plato and Aristotle; Philosophy of Emotion; Aristotle and the Emotions, De An. II.12 and III 1-3; De Mem. 1; Rhet. II.5; Scheiter, “Images, Imagination, and Appearances, V. Caston, Why Aristotle Needs Imagination” M. Nussbaum, “Aristotle on Emotions and Rational Persuasion, J. Cooper, “An Aristotelian Theory of Emotion, G. Striker, Emotions in Context: Aristotles Treatment of the Passions in the Rhetoric and his Moral Psychology." Essays on Aristotles Rhetoric (J. Dow, Aristotles Theory of the Emotions, Moral Psychology and Human Action in Aristotle PLATO. Aristotle, Rhetoric I.10-11; Plato Philebus 31b-50e and Republic IV, D. Frede, Mixed feelings in Aristotles Rhetoric." Essays on Aristotles Rhetoric, J. Moss, “Pictures and Passions in Plato”; Protagoras 352b-c, Phaedo 83b-84a, Timaeus 69c STOICS The Hellenistic philosophers; “The Old Stoic Theory of Emotion” The Emotions in Hellenistic Philosophy, eEmotion and Peace of Mind: From Stoic Agitation to Christian Temptation, Sorabji, Chrysippus Posidonius Seneca: A High-Level Debate on Emotion. Nussbaum, The Therapy of Desire: Theory and Practice in Hellenistic Ethics M. Graver, Preface and Introduction to Cicero on Emotion: Tusculan Disputations 3 and 4 M. Graver, Stoicism and emotion. Tusculan Disputations 3 Recommended: Graver, Margaret. "Philo of Alexandria and the Origins of the Stoic Προπάθειαι." Phronesis. Tusculan Disputations; "The Stoic doctrine of the affections of the soul; The Stoic life: Emotions, duties, and fate”; Emotion and decision in stoic psychology, The stoics, individual emotions: anger, friendly feeling, and hatred. Aristotle Rhetoric II.2-3; Nicomachean Ethics IV.5; Topics 2.7 and 4.5; Konstan, Anger, Pearson, Aristotle on Desire; Scheiter, Review of Pearsons Aristotle on Desire; S. Leighton, Aristotles Account of Anger: Narcissism and Illusions of Self‐Sufficiency: The Complex Evaluative World of Aristotles Angry Man,” Valuing emotions. Aristotle Rhetoric II. 4; Konstan, “Hatred” Konstan "Aristotle on Anger and the Emotions: the Strategies of Status." Ancient Anger: Perspectives from Homer to Galen, C. Rapp, The emotional dimension of friendship: notes on Aristotles account of philia in Rhetoric II 4” Grice endeavours to give an answer to the question whether and to what extent philia (friendship), as it is treated by Aristotle in Rhet. II.4, can be considered a genuine emotion as, for example, fear and anger are. Three anomalies are identified in the definition and the account of philia (and of the associated verb philein), which suggest a negative response to the question. However, these anomalies are analysed and explained in terms of the specific notes of philia in order to show that Rhetoric II4 does allow for a consideration of friendship as a genuine emotion. Seneca, On Anger (De Ira) Seneca, On Anger Seneca, On Anger (62-96); K. Vogt, “Anger, Present Injustice, and Future Revenge in Senecas De Ira” FEAR Aristotle, Rhet. II.5; Nicomachean Ethics III.6-9 Aristotles Courageous Passions, Platos Laws; “Pleasure, Pain, and Anticipation in Platos Laws, Book I” Konstan, “Fear” PITY Aristotle, Rhetoric II. 8-9; Poetics, chs. 6, 9-19 ; Konstan, “Pity” E. Belfiore, Tragic pleasures: Aristotle on plot and emotion, Konstan, Aristotle on the Tragic Emotions, The Soul of Tragedy: Essays on Athenian Drama SHAME Aristotle, Rhet. II.6; Nicomachean Ethics IV.9 Konstan, Shame J. Moss, Shame, Pleasure, and the Divided Soul, B. Williams, Shame and Necessity. Aristotle investigates two character traits, continence and incontinence, that are not as blameworthy as the vices but not as praiseworthy as the virtues. The Grecian expressions are’enkrateia,’ continence, literally mastery, and krasia (“incontinence”; literally, lack of mastery. An akratic person goes against reason as a result of some pathos (emotion, feeling”). Like the akratic, an enkratic person experiences a feeling that is contrary to reason; but unlike the akratic, he acts in accordance with reason. His defect consists solely in the fact that, more than most people, he experiences passions that conflict with his rational choice. The akratic person has not only this defect, but has the further flaw that he gives in to feeling rather than reason more often than the average person. Aristotle distinguishes two kinds of akrasia: “propeteia,” or impetuosity and “astheneia, or weakness. The person who is weak goes through a process of deliberation and makes a choice; but rather than act in accordance with his reasoned choice, he acts under the influence of a passion. By contrast, the impetuous person does not go through a process of deliberation and does not make a reasoned choice; he simply acts under the influence of a passion. At the time of action, the impetuous person experiences no internal conflict. But once his act has been completed, he regrets what he has done. One could say that he deliberates, if deliberation were something that post-dated rather than preceded action; but the thought process he goes through after he acts comes too late to save him from error. It is important to bear in mind that when Aristotle talks about impetuosity and weakness, he is discussing chronic conditions. The impetuous person is someone who acts emotionally and fails to deliberate not just once or twice but with some frequency; he makes this error more than most people do. Because of this pattern in his actions, we would be justified in saying of the impetuous person that had his passions not prevented him from doing so, he would have deliberated and chosen an action different from the one he did perform. The two kinds of passions that Aristotle focuses on, in his treatment of akrasia, are the appetite for pleasure and anger. Either can lead to impetuosity and weakness. But Aristotle gives pride of place to the appetite for pleasure as the passion that undermines reason. He calls the kind of akrasia caused by an appetite for pleasure (hedone) “unqualified akrasia”—or, as we might say, akrasia simpliciter, “full stop.’ Akrasia caused by anger he considers a qualified form of akrasia and calls it akrasia ‘with respect to anger.’ We thus have these four forms of akrasia: impetuosity caused by pleasure, impetuosity caused by anger, weakness caused by pleasure, weakness caused by anger. It should be noticed that Aristotle’s treatment of akrasia is heavily influenced by Plato’s tripartite division of the soul. Plato holds that either the spirited part (which houses anger, as well as other emotions) or the appetitive part (which houses the desire for physical pleasures) can disrupt the dictates of reason and result in action contrary to reason. The same threefold division of the soul can be seen in Aristotles approach to this topic. Although Aristotle characterizes akrasia and enkrateia in terms of a conflict between reason and feeling, his detailed analysis of these states of mind shows that what takes place is best described in a more complicated way. For the feeling that undermines reason contains some thought, which may be implicitly general. As Aristotle says, anger “reasoning as it were that one must fight against such a thing, is immediately provoked. And although in the next sentence he denies that our appetite for pleasure works in this way, he earlier had said that there can be a syllogism that favors pursuing enjoyment: “Everything sweet is pleasant, and this is sweet” leads to the pursuit of a particular pleasure. Perhaps what he has in mind is that pleasure can operate in either way: it can prompt action unmediated by a general premise, or it can prompt us to act on such a syllogism. By contrast, anger always moves us by presenting itself as a bit of general, although hasty, reasoning. But of course Aristotle does not mean that a conflicted person has more than one faculty of reason. Rather his idea seems to be that in addition to our full-fledged reasoning capacity, we also have psychological mechanisms that are capable of a limited range of reasoning. When feeling conflicts with reason, what occurs is better described as a fight between feeling-allied-with-limited-reasoning and full-fledged reason. Part of us—reason—can remove itself from the distorting influence of feeling and consider all relevant factors, positive and negative. But another part of us—feeling or emotion—has a more limited field of reasoning—and sometimes it does not even make use of it. Although “passion” is sometimes used as a translation of Aristotles word pathos (other alternatives are emotion” and feeling), it is important to bear in mind that his term does not necessarily designate a strong psychological force. Anger is a pathos whether it is weak or strong; so too is the appetite for bodily pleasures. And he clearly indicates that it is possible for an akratic person to be defeated by a weak pathos—the kind that most people would easily be able to control. So the general explanation for the occurrence of akrasia cannot be that the strength of a passion overwhelms reason. Aristotle should therefore be acquitted of an accusation made against him by Austin in a well-known footnote to ‘A Plea For Excuses.’ Plato and Aristotle, Austin says, collapsed all succumbing to temptation into losing control of ourselves — a mistake illustrated by this example. I am very partial to ice cream, and a bombe is served divided into segments corresponding one to one with the persons at High Table. I am tempted to help myself to two segments and do so, thus succumbing to temptation and even conceivably (but why necessarily?) going against my principles. But do I lose control of myself? Do I raven, do I snatch the morsels from the dish and wolf them down, impervious to the consternation of my colleagues? Not a bit of it. We often succumb to temptation with calm and even with finesse. With this, Aristotle can agree. The pathos for the bombe can be a weak one, and in some people that will be enough to get them to act in a way that is disapproved by their reason at the very time of action. What is most remarkable about Aristotle’s discussion of akrasia is that he defends a position close to that of Socrates. When he first introduces the topic of akrasia, and surveys some of the problems involved in understanding this phenomenon, he says that Socrates held that there is no akrasia, and he describes this as a thesis that clearly conflicts with the appearances (phainomena). Since he says that his goal is to preserve as many of the appearances as possible, it may come as a surprise that when he analyzes the conflict between reason and feeling, he arrives at the conclusion that in a way Socrates was right after all. For, he says, the person who acts against reason does not have what is thought to be unqualified knowledge; in a way he has knowledge, but in a way does not. Aristotle explains what he has in mind by comparing akrasia to the condition of other people who might be described as knowing in a way, but not in an unqualified way. His examples are people who are asleep, mad, or drunk; he also compares the akratic to a student who has just begun to learn a Subjects, or an actor on the stage. All of these people, he says, can utter the very words used by those who have knowledge; but their talk does not prove that they really have knowledge, strictly speaking. These analogies can be taken to mean that the form of akrasia that Aristotle calls weakness rather than impetuosity always results from some diminution of cognitive or intellectual acuity at the moment of action. The akratic says, at the time of action, that he ought not to indulge in this particular pleasure at this time. But does he know or even believe that he should refrain? Aristotle might be taken to reply: yes and no. He has some degree of recognition that he must not do this now, but not full recognition. His feeling, even if it is weak, has to some degree prevented him from completely grasping or affirming the point that he should not do this. And so in a way Socrates was right. When reason remains unimpaired and unclouded, its dictates will carry us all the way to action, so long as we are able to act. But Aristotles agreement with Socrates is only partial, because he insists on the power of the emotions to rival, weaken or bypass reason. Emotion challenges reason in all three of these ways. In both the akratic and the enkratic, it competes with reason for control over action; even when reason wins, it faces the difficult task of having to struggle with an internal rival. Second, in the akratic, it temporarily robs reason of its full acuity, thus handicapping it as a competitor. It is not merely a rival force, in these cases; it is a force that keeps reason from fully exercising its power. And third, passion can make someone impetuous; here its victory over reason is so powerful that the latter does not even enter into the arena of conscious reflection until it is too late to influence action. That, at any rate, is one way of interpreting Aristotle’s statements. But it must be admitted that his remarks are obscure and leave room for alternative readings. It is possible that when he denies that the akratic has knowledge in the strict sense, he is simply insisting on the point that no one should be classified as having practical knowledge unless he actually acts in accordance with it. A practical knower is not someone who merely has knowledge of general premises; he must also have knowledge of particulars, and he must actually draw the conclusion of the syllogism. Perhaps drawing such a conclusion consists in nothing less than performing the action called for by the major and minor premises. Since this is something the akratic does not do, he lacks knowledge; his ignorance is constituted by his error in action. On this reading, there is no basis for attributing to Aristotle the thesis that the kind of akrasia he calls weakness is caused by a diminution of intellectual acuity. His explanation of akrasia is simply that pathos is sometimes a stronger motivational force than full-fledged reason. This is a difficult reading to defend, however, for Aristotle says that after someone experiences a bout of akrasia his ignorance is dissolved and he becomes a knower again. In context, that appears to be a remark about the form of akrasia Aristotle calls weakness rather than impetuosity. If so, he is saying that when an akratic person is Subjects to two conflicting influences—full-fledged reason versus the minimal rationality of emotion—his state of knowledge is somehow temporarily undone but is later restored. Here, knowledge cannot be constituted by the performance of an act, because that is not the sort of thing that can be restored at a later time. What can be restored is ones full recognition or affirmation of the fact that this act has a certain undesirable feature, or that it should not be performed. Aristotle’s analysis seems to be that both forms of akrasia — weakness and impetuosity —share a common structure: in each case, ones full affirmation or grasp of what one should do comes too late. The difference is that in the case of weakness but not impetuosity, the akratic act is preceded by a full-fledged rational cognition of what one should do right now. That recognition is briefly and temporarily diminished by the onset of a less than fully rational affect. There is one other way in which Aristotle’s treatment of akrasia is close to the Socratic thesis that what people call akrasia is really ignorance. Aristotle holds that if one is in the special mental condition that he calls practical wisdom, then one cannot be, nor will one ever become, an akratic person. For practical wisdom is present only in those who also possess the ethical virtues, and these qualities require complete emotional mastery. Anger and appetite are fully in harmony with reason, if one is practically wise, and so this intellectual virtue is incompatible with the sort of inner conflict experienced by the akratic person. Furthermore, one is called practically wise not merely on the basis of what one believes or knows, but also on the basis of what one does. Therefore, the sort of knowledge that is lost and regained during a bout of akrasia cannot be called practical wisdom. It is knowledge only in a loose sense. The low-level grasp of the ordinary person of what to do is precisely the sort of thing that can lose its acuity and motivating power, because it was never much of an intellectual accomplishment to begin with. That is what Aristotle is getting at when he compares it with the utterances of actors, students, sleepers, drunks, and madmen. Grice had witnessed how Hare had suffere to try and deal with how to combine the geniality that “The language of morals” is with his account of akrasia. Most Oxonians were unhappy with Hares account of akrasia. Its like, in deontic logic, you cannot actually deal with akrasia. You need buletics. You need the desiderative, so that you can oppose what is desired with the duty, even if both concepts are related. “Akrasia” has a nice Grecian touch about it, and Grice and Hare, as Lit. Hum., rejoiced in being able to explore what Aristotle had to say about it. They wouldnt go far beyond Aristotle. Plato and Aristotle were the only Greek philosophers studied for the Lit. Hum. To venture with the pre-socratics or the hellenistics (even if Aristotle is one) was not classy enough! Like Pears in Motivated irrationality, Grice allows that benevolentia may be deemed beneficentia. If Smith has the good will to give Jones a job, he may be deemed to have given Jones the job, even if Jones never get it. In buletic akrasia we must consider the conclusion to be desiring what is not best for the agents own good, never mind if he refrains from doing what is not best for his own good. Video meliora proboque deteriora sequor. We shouldnt be saying this, but we are saying it! Grice prefers akrasia, but he is happy to use the translation by Cicero, also negative, of this: incontinentia, as if continentia were a virtue! For Grice, the alleged paradox of akrasia, both alethic and practical, has to be accounted for by a theory of rationality from the start, and not be deemed a stumbling block. Grice is interested in both the common-or-garden buletic-boulomaic version of akrasia, involving the volitive soul ‒ in term of desirability ‒ and doxastic akrasia, involing the judicative soul proper ‒ in terms of probability. Grice considers buletic akrasia and doxastic akrasia ‒ the latter yet distinct from Moores paradox, p but I dont want to believe that p, in symbols p and ~ψb-dp. Akarsia, see egcrateia. Refs.: The main references here are in three folders in two different series. H. P. Grice, “Akrasia,” The H. P. Grice Papers, S. II, c. 2-ff. 22-23 and S. V, c. 6-f. 32, BANC. See index to all Grice’s books with index – the first three of them. Einheitswissenschaft: Used by Grice ironically. While he was totally ANTI-Einheitwisseschaft, he was ALL for einheitsphilosophie! The phrase is used by Grice in a more causal way. He uses the expression ‘unity of science’ vis-à-vis the topic of teleology. Note that ‘einheitswissenschaft,’ literally translates as unity-science – there is nothing about ‘making’ if one, which is what –fied implies. The reason why ‘einheitswissenschaft’ was transliterated as ‘unified science’ was that Neurath thought that ‘unity-science’ would be a yes-yes in New England, most New Englanders being Unitarians, but they would like to include Theology there, ‘into the bargain.’ “Die Einheit von Wissenschaft.” Die Einheit der Wissenschaft und die neopositivistische Theorie der „Einheitswissenschaft”. O. Neurath, „Einheit der Wissenschaft als Aufgabe“,Einheitswissenschaft oder Einheit der Wissenschaft? | Frank F Vierter Internationaler Kongress für Einheit der Wissenschaft, Cambridge 1938 ... Einheitswissenschaft als Basis der Wissenschaftsgeschichte (pp. positivists held that no essential differences in aim and method exist between the various branches of science. The scientists of all disciplines should collaborate closely with each other and should unify the vocabulary of sciences by logical analysis. According to this view, there is no sharp demarcation between natural sciences and social sciences. In particular, to establish universal laws in the social sciences may be difficult in practice, but it is not impossible in principle. Through Otto Neurath, this ideal of scientific unity became a program for logical positivists, who published a series of books in Vienna under the heading Unified Science. After the dissolution of the Vienna Circle, Neurath renamed the official journal Erkenntnis as The Journal of Unified Science, and planned to continue publication of a series of works in the United States under the general title The International Encyclopedia of Unified Science. He thought that the work would be similar in historical importance to the eighteenth-century French Encyclopédie under the direction of Diderot. Unfortunately, this work was never completed, although Carnap and Morris published some volumes originally prepared for it under the title Foundations of the Unity of Science. “We have repeatedly pointed out that the formation of the constructional system as a whole is the task of unified science.” Carnap, The Logical Structure of the World Emissor. Grice’s utterer, but turned Griceian, To emit, to translate some Gricism or other. Cf. proffer. emissor-emissum distinction. Frequently ignored by Austin. Grice usually formulates it ‘roughly.’ Strawson for some reason denied the reducibility of the emissum to the emissor. Vide his footnote in his Inaugural lecture at Oxford. it is a truth implicitly acknowledged by communication theorists themselves -- this acknowledgement is is certainly implicit in Grice's distinction between what speakers actually say, in a favored sense of 'say', and what they imply (see "Utterer's Meaning, SentenceMeaning and Word-Meaning," in Foundations of Language, 1968) -- that in almost all the things we should count as sentences there is a substantial central core of meaning which is explicable either in terms of truth-conditions or in terms of some related notion quite simply derivable from that of a truth-condition, for example the notion, as we might call it, of a compliance condition in the case of an imperative sentence or a fulfillment-condition in the case of an optative. If we suppose, therefore, that an account can be given of the notion of a truthcondition itself, an account which is indeed independent of reference to communicationintention, then we may reasonably think that the greater part of the task of a general theory of meaning has been accomplished without such reference. So let us see if we can rephrase the distinction for a one-off predicament. By drawing a skull, Blackburn communicates to his fellow Pembrokite that there is danger around. The proposition is ‘There is danger around’. Of the claims, one is literal; the other metabolical. Blackburn means that there is danger around. Blackburn communicates that there is danger around, possibly leading to death. The emissum, Blackburn’s drawing of the skull ‘means’ that there is danger around. Since the fact that Blackburn communicates that p is diaphanous, we have yet another way of posing the distinction: Blackburn communicates that there is danger around. What is communicated by Blackburn – his emissum – is true. Note that in this diaphanous change from ‘Blackburn communicates that there is danger around’ and ‘What Blackburn communicates, viz. that there is danger around, is true’ we have progressed quite a bit. There are ways of involving ‘true’ in the first stage. Blackburn communicates that there is danger around, and he communicates something true. In the classical languages, this is done in the accusative case. emit. A good verb used by Grice. It gives us ‘emitter, and it is more Graeco-Roman than his ‘utterer,’ which Cicero would think a barbarism. emotion: The emotum, the motum. Grice enjoyed a bit of history of philosophy. Cf. conatum. And Urmson’s company helped. Urmson produced a brilliant study of the ‘emotive’ theory of ethics, which is indeed linguistic and based on Ogden. Diog. Laert. of Zeno of Citium. πρὸς τὸν εἰπόντα, "πολλοί σου καταγελῶσιν," "ἀλλ ἐγώ," ἔφη, "οὐ κατα- γελῶμαι; to the question, who is a friend?, Zeno’s answer is, ‘a second self (alter ego). One direct way to approach friend is via emotion, as Aristotle did, and found it aporetic as did Grice. Aristotle discusses philia in Eth. Nich. but it is in Rhet. where he allows for phulia to be an emotion. Grice was very fortunate to have Hardie as his tutor. He overused Hardies lectures on Aristotle, too, and instilled them on his own tutees! Grice is concerned with the rather cryptic view by Aristotle of the friend (philos, amicus) as the alter ego. In Grices cooperative, concerted, view of things, a friend in need is a friend indeed! Grice is interested in Aristotle finding himself in an aporia. In Nicomachean Ethics IX.ix, Aristotle poses the question whether the happy man will need friends or not. Kosman correctly identifies this question as asking not whether friends are necessary in order to achieve eudæmonia, but why we require friends even when we are happy. The question is not why we need friends to become happy, but why we need friends when we are happy, since the eudæmon must be self-sufficient. Philia is required for the flourishing of the life of practical virtue. The solution by Aristotle to the aporia here, however, points to the requirement of friendships even for the philosopher, in his life of theoretical virtue. The olution by Aristotle to the aporia in Nicomachean Ethics IX.ix is opaque, and the corresponding passage in Eudeiman Ethics VII.xii is scarcely better. Aristotle thinks he has found the solution to this aporia. We must take two things into consideration, that life is desirable and also that the good is, and thence that it is desirable that such a nature should belong to oneself as it belongs to them. If then, of such a pair of corresponding s. there is always one s. of the desirable, and the known and the perceived are in general constituted by their participation in the nature of the determined, so that to wish to perceive ones self is to wish oneself to be of a certain definite character,—since, then we are not in ourselves possessed of each such characters, but only in participation in these qualities in perceiving and knowing—for the perceiver becomes perceived in that way in respect in which he first perceives, and according to the way in which and the object which he perceives; and the knower becomes known in the same way— therefore it is for this reason that one always desires to live, because one always desires to know; and this is because he himself wishes to be the object known. Refs.: There is an essay on “Emotions and akrasia,” but the topic is scattered in various places, such as Grice’s reply to Davidson on intending. Grice has an essay on ‘Kant and friendship,’ too, The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. entailment: “Paradoxes of entailment,” “Paradoxes of implication.” Philo and his teacher. Grice is not sure about ‘implicatum.’ The quote by Moore, 1919 being:"It might be suggested that we should say "p ent q" 'means' "p ) q AND this proposition is an instance of a formal implication, which is not merely true but self-evident, like the laws of formal logic." This proposed definitions would avoid the paradoxes involved in Strachey's definition, since such true formal implications as 'All the persons in this room are more than five years old' are certainly not self-evident; and, so far as I can see, it may state something which is in fact true of p and q, whenever and only whenp ent q. I do not myself think that it gives the meaning of 'p ent q,' since the kind of relation which I see to hold between the premises and a conclusion of a syllogism seems to me one which is purely 'objective' in the sense that no psychological term, such as is involved in the meaning of 'self-evident' is involved in its definition (it it has one). I am not, however, concerned to dispute that some such definition of "p ent q" as this may be true." --- and so on. So, it is apparently all Strachey's fault. This view as to what φA . ent . ψA means has, for instance, if I understand him rightly, been asserted by Mr. O. Strachey in Mind, N.S., 93; since he asserts that, in his opinion, this is what Professor C. I. Lewis means by “φA strictly implies ψA,” and undoubtedly what Professor Lewis means by this is what I mean by φA . ent . ψA. And the same view has been frequently suggested (though I do not know that he has actually asserted it) by Mr. Russell himself (e.g., Principia Mathematica, p. 21). I 1903 B. Russell Princ. Math. ii. 14 How far formal implication is definable in terms of implication simply, or material implication as it may be called, is a difficult question. Source : Principles : Chapter III. Implication and Formal Implication. – Source : Principia, page 7 : "When it is necessary explicitly to discriminate "implication" [i.e. "if p, then q" ] from "formal implication," it is called "material implication." – Source : Principia, page 20 : "When an implication, say ϕx.⊃.ψx, is said to hold always, i.e. when (x):ϕx.⊃.ψx, we shall say that ϕx formally implies ψx"Many logicians did use ‘implicatum’ not necessarily to mean ‘conversational implicatum,’ but as the result of ‘implicatio’. ‘Implicatio’ was often identified with the Megarian or Philonian ‘if.’ Why? thought that we probably did need an entailment. The symposium was held in New York with Dana Scott and R. K. Meyer. The notion had been mis-introduced (according to Strawson) in the philosophical literature by Moore. Grice is especially interested in the entailment + implicatum pair. A philosophical expression may be said to be co-related to an entailment (which is rendered in terms of a reductive analysis). However, the use of the expression may co-relate to this or that implicatum which is rendered reasonable in the light of the assumption by the addressee that the utterer is ultimately abiding by a principle of conversational helfpulness. Grice thinks many philosophers take an implicatum as an entailment when they surely shouldnt! Grice was more interested than Strawson was in the coinage by Moore of entailment for logical consequence. As an analyst, Grice knew that a true conceptual analysis needs to be reductive (if not reductionist). The prongs the analyst lists are thus entailments of the concept in question. Philosophers, however, may misidentify what is an entailment for an implicature, or vice versa. Initially, Grice was interested in the second family of cases. With his coinage of disimplicature, Grice expands his interest to cover the first family of cases, too. Grice remains a philosophical methodologist. He is not so much concerned with any area or discipline or philosophical concept per se (unless its rationality), but with the misuses of some tools in the philosophy of language as committed by some of his colleagues at Oxford. While entailment, was, for Strawson mis-introduced in the philosophical literature by Moore, entailment seems to be less involved in paradoxes than if is. Grice connects the two, as indeed his tutee Strawson did! As it happens, Strawsons Necessary propositions and entailment statements is his very first published essay, with Mind, a re-write of an unpublication unwritten elsewhere, and which Grice read. The relation of consequence may be considered a meta-conditional, where paradoxes arise. Grices Bootstrap is a principle designed to impoverish the metalanguage so that the philosopher can succeed in the business of pulling himself up by his own! Grice then takes a look at Strawsons very first publication (an unpublication he had written elsewhere). Grice finds Strawson thought he could provide a simple solution to the so-called paradoxes of entailment. At the time, Grice and Strawson were pretty sure that nobody then accepted, if indeed anyone ever did and did make, the identification of the relation symbolised by the horseshoe with the relation which Moore calls entailment, p⊃q, i. e. ~(pΛ~q) is rejected as an analysis of p entails q because it involves this or that allegedly paradoxical implicatum, as that any false proposition entails any proposition and any true proposition is entailed by any proposition. It is a commonplace that Lewiss amendment had consequences scarcely less paradoxical in terms of the implicata. For if p is impossible, i.e. self-contradictory, it is impossible that p and ~q. And if q is necessary, ~q is impossible and it is impossible that p and ~q; i. e., if p entails q means it is impossible that p and ~q any necessary proposition is entailed by any proposition and any self-contradictory proposition entails any proposition. On the other hand, Lewiss definition of entailment (i.e. of the relation which holds from p to q whenever q is deducible from p) obviously commends itself in some respects. Now, it is clear that the emphasis laid on the expression-mentioning character of the intensional contingent statement by writing pΛ~q is impossible instead of It is impossible that p and ~q does not avoid the alleged paradoxes of entailment. But it is equally clear that the addition of some provision does avoid them. One may proposes that one should use “entails” such that no necessary statement and no negation of a necessary statement can significantly be said to entail or be entailed by any statement; i. e. the function p entails q cannot take necessary or self-contradictory statements as arguments. The expression p entails q is to be used to mean p⊃q is necessary, and neither p nor q is either necessary or self-contradictory, or pΛ~q is impossible and neither p nor q, nor either of their contradictories, is necessary. Thus, the paradoxes are avoided. For let us assume that p1 expresses a contingent, and q1 a necessary, proposition. p1 and ~q1 is now impossible because ~q1 is impossible. But q1 is necessary. So, by that provision, p1 does not entail q1. We may avoid the paradoxical assertion that p1 entails q2 as merely falling into the equally paradoxical assertion that p1 entails q1 is necessary. For: If q is necessary, q is necessary is, though true, not necessary, but a contingent intensional (Latinate) statement. This becomes part of the philosophers lexicon: intensĭo, f. intendo, which L and S render as a stretching out, straining, effort. E. g. oculorum, Scrib. Comp. 255. Also an intensifying, increase. Calorem suum (sol) intensionibus ac remissionibus temperando fovet,” Sen. Q. N. 7, 1, 3. The tune: “gravis, media, acuta,” Censor. 12. Hence:~(q is necessary) is, though false, possible. Hence “p1Λ~(q1 is necessary)” is, though false, possible. Hence p1 does NOT entail q1 is necessary. Thus, by adopting the view that an entailment statement, and other intensional statements, are non-necessary, and that no necessary statement or its contradictory can entail or be entailed by any statement, Strawson thinks he can avoid the paradox that a necessary proposition is entailed by any proposition, and indeed all the other associated paradoxes of entailment. Grice objected that Strawsons cure was worse than Moores disease! The denial that a necessary proposition can entail or be entailed by any proposition, and, therefore, that necessary propositions can be related to each other by the entailment-relation, is too high a price to pay for the solution of the paradoxes. And here is where Grices implicature is meant to do the trick! Or not! When Levinson proposed + for conversationally implicature, he is thinking of contrasting it with ⊢. But things aint that easy. Even the grammar is more complicated: By uttering He is an adult, U explicitly conveys that he is an adult. What U explicitly conveys entails that he is not a child. What U implies is that he should be treated accordingly. Refs.: One good reference is the essay on “Paradoxes of entailment,” in the Grice papers; also his contribution to a symposium for the APA under a separate series, The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. eschatology: Why ontology is not enough. The philosopher needs to PLAY with cross-categorial barriers. He is an eschatologist. Socrates was. being and good, for Aristotle and Grice cover all. Good was a favourite of Moore and Hare, as Barnes was well aware! Like Barnes, Grice dislikes Prichards analysis of good. He leans towards the emotion-based approach by Ogden. If Grice, like Humpty Dumpty, opposes the Establishment with his meaning liberalism (what a word means is what I mean by uttering it), he certainly should be concerned with category shifts. Plus, Grice was a closet Platonist. As Plato once remarked, having the ability to see horses but not horsehood (ἱππότης) is a mark of stupidity – rendered by Liddell and Scott as “horse-nature, the concept of horse” (Antisth. et Pl. ap. Simp.in Cat.208.30,32, Sch.AristId.p.167F). Grice would endure the flinty experience of giving joint seminars at Oxford with Austin on the first two books of Aristotles Organon, Categoriae, and De Int. Grice finds the use of a category, κατηγορία, by Aristotle a bit of a geniality. Aristotle is using legalese, from kata, against, on, and agoreuô [ἀγορεύω], speak in public), and uses it to designate both the prosecution in a trial and the attribution in a logical proposition, i. e., the questions that must be asked with regard to a Subjects, and the answers that can be given. As a representative of the linguistic turn in philosophy, Grice is attracted to the idea that a category can thus be understood variously, as applying to the realm of reality (ontology), but also to the philosophy of language (category of expression) and to philosophical psychology (category of representation). Grice kept his explorations on categories under two very separate, shall we say, categories: his explorations with Austin (very serious), and those with Strawson (more congenial). Where is Smiths altruism? Nowhere to be seen. Should we say it is idle (otiose) to speak of altruism? No, it is just an attribute, which, via category shift, can be made the Subjects of your sentence, Strawson. It is not spatio-temporal, though, right. Not really. ‒ I do not particularly like your trouser words. The essay is easy to date since Grice notes that Strawson reproduced some of the details in his Individuals, which we can very well date. Grice thought Aristotle was the best! Or at any rate almost as good as Kantotle! Aristotle saw Categoriæ, along with De Int. as part of his Organon. However, philosophers of language tend to explore these topics without a consideration of the later parts of the Organon dealing with the syllogism, the tropes, and the topics ‒ the boring bits! The reason Grice is attracted to the Aristotelian category (as Austin and Strawson equally were) is that category allows for a linguistic-turn reading. Plus, its a nice, pretentious (in the Oxonian way) piece of philosophical jargon! Aristotle couldnt find category in the koine, so he had to coin it. While meant by Aristotle in a primarily ontological way, Oxonian philosophers hasten to add that a category of expression, as Grice puts it, is just as valid a topic for philosophical exploration. His tutee Strawson will actually publish a book on Subjects and predicate in grammar! (Trivial, Strawson!). Grice will later add an intermediary category, which is the Subjects of his philosophical psychology. As such, a category can be construed ontologically, or representationally: the latter involving philosophical psychological concepts, and expressions themselves. For Aristotle, as Grice and Austin, and Grice and Strawson, were well aware as they educated some of the poor at Oxford (Only the poor learn at Oxford ‒ Arnold), there are (at least ‒ at most?) ten categories. Grice doesnt (really) care about the number. But the first are important. Actually the very first: theres substantia prima, such as Grice. And then theres substantia secunda, such as Grices rationality. The essentia. Then there are various types of attributes. But, as Grice sharply notes, even substantia secunda may be regarded as an attribute. Grices favourite game with Strawson was indeed Category Shift, or Subjects-ification, as Strawson preferred. Essence may be introduced as a sub-type of an attribute. We would have substantia prima AND attribute, which in turn gets divided into essential, the izzing, and non-essential, the hazzing. While Austin is not so fun to play with, Strawson is. Smith is a very altruist person. Where is his altruism? Nowhere to be seen, really. Yet we may sensically speak of Smiths altruism. It is just a matter of a category shift. Grice scores. Grice is slightly disappointed, but he perfectly understands, that Strawson, who footnotes Grice as the tutor from whom I never ceased to learn about logic in Introduction to logical lheory, fails to acknowledge that most of the research in Strawsons Individuals: an essay in descriptive (not revisionary) metaphysics derives from the conclusions reached at his joint philosophical investigations at joint seminars with Grice. Grice later elaborates on this with Code, who is keen on Grices other game, the hazz and the hazz not, the izz. But then tutor from whom I never ceased to learn about metaphysics sounds slightlier clumsier, as far as the implicature goes. Categories, the Grice-Myro theory of identity, Relative identity, Grice on =, identity, notes, with Myro, metaphysics, philosophy, with Code, Grice izz Grice – or izz he? The idea that = is unqualified requires qualification. Whitehead and Russell ignored this. Grice and Myro didnt. Grice wants to allow for It is the case that a = b /t1 and it is not the case that a = b /t2. The idea is intuitive, but philosophers of a Leibnizian bent are too accustomed to deal with = as an absolute. Grice applies this to human vs. person. A human may be identical to a person, but cease to be so. Indeed, Grices earlier attempt to produce a reductive analsysis of I may be seen as remedying a circularity he detected in Locke about same. Cf. Wiggins, Sameness and substance. Grice makes Peano feel deeply Griceian, as Grice lists his = postulates, here for consideration. And if you wondered why Grice prefers Latinate individuum to the Grecian. The Grecian is “ἄτομον,” in logic, rendered by L and S as ‘individual, of terms,’ Pl. Sph. 229d; of the εἶδος or forma, Arist. Metaph.1034a8, de An. 414b27.2. individual, Id. APo. 96b11, al.: as a subst., τό ἄτομον, Id. Cat. 1b6, 3a38, Metaph.1058a18 (pl.), Plot. 6.2.2, al. subst.; latinised from Grecian. Lewis and Short have “indīvĭdŭum,” an atom, indivisible particle: ex illis individuis, unde omnia Democritus gigni affirmat, Cic. Ac. 2, 17 fin.: ne individuum quidem, nec quod dirimi distrahive non possit, id. N. D. 3, 12, 29. Note the use of individuum in alethic modalities for necessity and possibility, starting with (11). ⊢ (α izzes α). This would be the principle of non-contradiction or identity. Grice applies it to war: War is war, as yielding a most peculiar implicature. (α izzes β ∧ β izzes γ) ⊃ α izzes γ. This above is transitivity, which is crucial for Grices tackling of Reids counterexample to Locke (and which according to Flew in Locke on personal identity was predated by Berkeley. α hazzes β ⊃ ~(α izzes β). Or, what is accidental is not essential. Grice allows that what is essential is accidental is, while misleading, true. ⊢ α hazzes β ⊃⊂ (∃x)(α hazzes x ∧ x izzes β) ⊢ (∀β)(β izzes a universalium ⊃ β izzes a forma). This above defines a universalium as a forma, or eidos. (α hazzes β ∧ α izzes a particular) ⊃ (∃γ).(γ≠α ∧ α izzes β) ⊢ α izzes predicable of β ⊃⊂ ((β izzes α) ∨ (∃x)(β hazzes x ∧ x izzes α) ⊢ α izzes essentially predicable of β ⊃⊂ β izzes α ⊢ α izzes non-essentially/accidentally predicable of β ⊃⊂ (∃x)(β hazzes x ∧ x izzes α) α = β ⊃⊂ α izzes β ∧ β izzes α ⊢ α izzes an individuum ⊃⊂ □(∀β)(β izzes α ⊃ α izzes β) ⊢ α izzes a particular ⊃⊂ □(∀β)(α izzes predicable of β ⊃ (α izzes β ∧ β izzes α)); α izzes a universalium ⊃⊂ ◊(∃β)(α izzes predicable of α ∧ ~(α izzes β ∧ β izzes α) ⊢ α izzes some-thing ⊃ α izzes an individuum. ⊢ α izzes a forma ⊃ (α izzes some-thing ∧ α izzes a universalium) 16. ⊢ α izzes predicable of β ⊃⊂ (β izzes α) ∨ (∃x)(β hazzes x ∧ x izzes α) ⊢ α izzes essentially predicable of α ⊢ α izzes accidentally predicable of β ⊃ α ≠ β; ~(α izzes accidentally predicable of β) ⊃ α ≠ β 20. α izzes a particular ⊃ α izzes an individuum. ⊢ α izzes a particular ⊃ ~(∃x)(x ≠ α ∧ x izzes α) 22. ⊢~ (∃x).(x izzes a particular ∧ x izzes a forma) α izzes a forma ⊃ ~(∃x)(x ≠ α ∧ x izzes α) x izzes a particular ⊃ ~(∃β)(α izz β) ⊢ α izzes a forma ⊃ ((α izzes predicable of β ∧ α ≠ β) ⊃ β hazz α); α izzes a forma ∧ β izzes a particular ⊃ (α izzes predicable of β ⊃⊂ β hazz A) ⊢ (α izzes a particular ∧ β izzes a universalium ∧ β izzes predicable of α) ⊃ (∃γ)(α ≠ γ ∧ γ izzes essentially predicable of α) ⊢ (∃x) (∃y)(x izzes a particular ∧ y izzes a universalium ∧ y izzes predicable of x ⊃ ~(∀x)(x izzes a universalium ∧ x izzes some-thing); (∀β)(β izzes a universalium ⊃ β izzes some-thing) ⊢ α izzes a particular) ⊃ ~∃β.(α ≠ β ∧ β izzes essentially predicable of α); (α izzes predicable of β ∧ α ≠ β)⊃ α izzes non-essentially or accidentally predicable of β. The use of this or that doxastic modality, necessity and possibility, starting above, make this a good place to consider one philosophical mistake Grice mentions in “Causal theory.” What is actual is not also possible. Cf. What is essential is also accidental. He is criticising a contemporary, if possible considered dated in the New World, form of ordinary-language philosophy, where the philosopher detects a nuance, and embarks risking colliding with the facts, rushing ahead to exploit it before he can clarify it! Grice liked to see his explorations on = as belonging to metaphysics, as the s. on his Doctrines at the Grice Collection testifies. While Grice presupposes the use of = in his treatment of the king of France, he also explores a relativisation of =. His motivation was an essay by Wiggins, almost Aristotelian in spirit, against Strawsons criterion of space-time continuancy for the identification of the substantia prima. Grice wants to apply = to cases were the time continuancy is made explicit. This yields that a=b in scenario S, but that it may not be the case that a = b in a second scenario S. Myro had an occasion to expand on Grices views in his contribution on the topic for PGRICE. Myro mentions his System Ghp, a highly powerful/hopefully plausible version of Grices System Q, in gratitude to to Grice. Grice explored also the logic of izzing and hazzing with Code. Grice and Myro developed a Geach-type of qualified identity. The formal aspects were developed by Myro, and also by Code. Grice discussed Wigginss Sameness and substance, rather than Geach. Cf. Wiggins and Strawson on Grice for the BA. At Oxford, Grice was more or less given free rein to teach what he wanted. He found the New World slightly disconcerting at first. At Oxford, he expected his tutees to be willing to read the classics in the vernacular Greek. His approach to teaching was diagogic, as Socratess! Even in his details of izzing and hazzing. Greek enough to me!, as a student recalled! correspondence with Code, Grice sees in Code an excellent Aristotelian. They collaborated on an exploration of Aristotles underlying logic of essential and non-essential predication, for which they would freely use such verbal forms as izzing and hazing, izzing and hazzing, Code on the significance of the middle book in Aristotles Met. , Aristotle, metaphysics, the middle book. Very middle. Grice never knew what was middle for Aristotle, but admired Code too much to air this! The organisation of Aristotle’s metaphysics was a topic of much concern for Grice. With Code, Grice coined izzing and hazzing to refer to essential and non-essential attribution. Izzing and hazzing, “Aristotle on the multiplicity of being” (henceforth, “Aristotle”) PPQ, Aristotle on multiplicity, “The Pacific Philosophical Quarterly” (henceforth, “PPQ,” posthumously ed. by Loar, Aristotle, multiplicity, izzing, hazzing, being, good, Code. Grice offers a thorough discussion of Owens treatment of Aristotle as leading us to the snares of ontology. Grice distinguishes between izzing and hazzing, which he thinks help in clarifying, more axiomatico, what Aristotle is getting at with his remarks on essential versus non-essential predication. Surely, for Grice, being, nor indeed good, should not be multiplied beyond necessity, but izzing and hazzing are already multiplied. The Grice Papers contains drafts of the essay eventually submitted for publication by Loar in memoriam Grice. Note that the Grice Papers contains a typically Griceian un-publication, entitled Aristotle and multiplicity simpliciter. Rather than Aristotle on, as the title for the PPQ piece goes. Note also that, since its multiplicity simpliciter, it refers to Aristotle on two key ideas: being and the good. As Code notes in his contribution to PGRICE, Grice first presents his thoughts on izzing and hazzing publicly at Vancouver. Jones has developed the axiomatic treatment favoured by Grice. For Grice there is multiplicity in both being and good (ton agathon), both accountable in terms of conversational implicata, of course. If in Prolegomena, Grice was interested in criticising himself, in essays of historical nature like these, Grice is seeing Aristotles Athenian dialectic as a foreshadow of the Oxonian dialectic, and treating him as an equal. Grice is yielding his razor: senses are not to be multiplied beyond necessity. But then Aristotle is talking about the multiplicity of is and is good. Surely, there are ways to turn Aristotle into the monoguist he has to be! There is a further item in the Grice collection that combines Aristotle on being with Aristotle on good, which is relevant in connection with this. Aristotle on being and good (ἀγαθόν). Aristotle, being, good (agathon), ἀγαθός. As from this f., the essays are ordered alphabetically, starting with Aristotle, Grice will explore Aristotle on being or is and good (ἀγαθός) in explorations with Code. Grice comes up with izzing and hazzing as the two counterparts to Aristotles views on, respectively, essential and non-essential predication. Grices views on Aristotle on the good (strictly, there is no need to restrict Arisstotles use to the neuter form, since he employs ἀγαθός) connect with Grices Aristotelian idea of eudaemonia, that he explores elsewhere. Strictly: Aristotle on being and the good. If that had been Grices case, he would have used the definite article. Otherwise, good may well translate as masculine, ἀγαθός ‒the agathetic implicatum. He plays with Dodgson, cabbages and kings. For what is a good cabbage as opposed to a cabbage? It does not require very sharp eyes, but only our willingness to use the eyes one has, to see that speech is permeated with the notion of purpose. To say what a certain kind of thing is is only too frequently partly to say that it is for. This feature applies to talk of, e. g., ships, shoes, sailing wax, and kings; and, possibly and perhaps most excitingly, it extends even to cabbages! Although Grice suspects Urmson might disagree. v. Grice on Urmsons apples. Grice at his jocular best. If he is going to be a Kantian, he will. He uses Kantian jargon to present his theory of conversation. This he does only at Harvard. The implicature being that talking of vaguer assumptions of helpfulness would not sound too convincing. So he has the maxim, the super-maxim, and the sub-maxim. A principle and a maxim is Kantian enough. But when he actually echoes Kant, is when he introduces what he later calls the conversational categories – the keyword here is conversational category, as categoria is used by Aristotle and Kant ‒ or Kantotle. Grice surely knew that, say, his Category of Conversational Modality had nothing to do with the Kantian Category of Modality. Still, he stuck with the idea of four categories (versus Aristotles ten, eight or seven, as the text you consult may tell you): category of conversational quantity (which at Oxford he had formulated in much vaguer terms like strength and informativeness and entailment), the category of conversational quality (keyword: principle of conversational trust), and the category of conversational relation, where again Kants relation has nothing to do with the maxim Grice associates with this category. In any case, his Kantian joke may be helpful when considering the centrality of the concept category simpliciter that Grice had to fight with with his pupils at Oxford – he was lucky to have Austin and Strawson as co-lecturers! Grice was irritated by L and S defining kategoria as category. I guess I knew that. He agreed with their second shot, predicable. Ultimately, Grices concern with category is his concern with person, or prote ousia, as used by Aristotle, and as giving a rationale to Grices agency-based approach to the philosophical enterprise. Aristotle used kategorein in the sense of to predicate, assert something of something, and kategoria. The prote ousia is exemplified by o tis anthropos. It is obvious that Grice wants to approach Aristotles semantics and Aristotles metaphysics at one fell swoop. Grice reads Aristotles Met. , and finds it understandable. Consider the adjective French (which Aristotle does NOT consider) ‒ as it occurs in phrases such as Michel Foucault is a French citizen. Grice is not a French citizen. Michel Foucault once wrote a nice French poem. Urmson once wrote a nice French essay on pragmatics. Michel Foucault was a French professor. Michel Foucault is a French professor. Michel Foucault is a French professor of philosophy. The following features are perhaps significant. The appearance of the adjective French, or Byzantine, as the case might be ‒ cf. I’m feeling French tonight. In these phrases is what Grice has as adjunctive rather than conjunctive, or attributive. A French poem is not necessarily something which combines the separate features of being a poem and being French, as a tall philosopher would simply combine the features of being tall and of being a philosopher. French in French poem, occurs adverbially. French citizen standardly means citizen of France. French poem standardly means poem in French. But it is a mistake to suppose that this fact implies that there is this or that meaning, or, worse, this or that Fregeian sense, of the expression French. In any case, only metaphorically or metabolically can we say that French means this or that or has sense. An utterer means. An utterer makes sense. Cf. R. Pauls doubts about capitalizing major. French means, and figuratively at that, only one thing, viz. of or pertaining to France. And English only means of or pertaining to England. French may be what Grice (unfollowing his remarks on The general theory of context) call context-sensitive. One might indeed say, if you like, that while French means ‒ or means only this or that, or that its only sense is this or that, French still means, again figuratively, a variety of things. French means-in-context of or pertaining to France. Symbolise that as expression E means-in-context that p. Expression E means-in-context C2 that p2. Relative to Context C1 French means of France; as in the phrase French citizen. Relative to context C2, French means in the French language, as in the phrase, French poem ‒ whereas history does not behave, like this. Whether the focal item is a universal or a particular is, contra Aristotle, quite irrelevant to the question of what this or that related adjective means, or what its sense is. The medical art is no more what an utterer means when he utters the adjective medical, as is France what an utterer means by the adjective French. While the attachment of this or that context may suggest an interpretation in context of this or that expression as uttered by the utterer U, it need not be the case that such a suggestion is indefeasible. It might be e.g. that French poem would have to mean, poem composed in French, unless there were counter indications, that brings the utterer and the addressee to a different context C3. In which case, perhaps what the utterer means by French poem is poem composed by a French competitor in this or that competition. For French professor there would be two obvious things an utterer might mean. Disambiguation will depend on the wider expression-context or in the situational context attaching to the this or that circumstance of utterance. Eschatology. Some like Hegel, but Collingwoods *my* man! ‒ Grice. Grice participated in two consecutive evenings of the s. of programmes on metaphysics organised by Pears. Actually, charming Pears felt pretentious enough to label the meetings to be about the nature of metaphysics! Grice ends up discussing, as he should, Collingwood on presupposition. Met. remained a favourite topic for Grices philosophical explorations, as it is evident from his essay on Met. , Philosophical Eschatology, and Platos Republic, repr. in his WOW . Possibly Hardie is to blame, since he hardly tutored Grice on metaphysics! Grices two BBC lectures are typically dated in tone. It was the (good ole) days when philosophers thought they could educate the non-elite by dropping Namess like Collingwood and stuff! The Third Programme was extremely popular, especially among the uneducated ones at London, as Pears almost put it, as it was a way for Londoners to get to know what is going on down at Oxford, the only place an uneducated (or educated, for that matter) Londoner at the time was interested in displaying some interest about! I mean, Johnson is right: if a man is tired of the nature of metaphysics, he is tired of life! Since the authorship is Grice, Strawson, and Pears, Met. , in Pears, The Nature of Met., The BBC Third Programme, it is somewhat difficult to identify what paragraphs were actually read by Grice (and which ones by Pears and which ones by Strawson). But trust the sharp Griceian to detect the correct implicature! There are many (too many) other items covered by these two lectures: Kant, Aristotle, in no particular order. And in The Grice Collection, for that matter, that cover the field of metaphysics. In the New World, as a sort of tutor in the graduate programme, Grice was expected to cover the discipline at various seminars. Only I dislike discipline! Perhaps his clearest exposition is in the opening section of his Met. , philosophical eschatology, and Platos Republic, repr. in his WOW , where he states, bluntly that all you need is metaphysics! metaphysics, Miscellaneous, metaphysics notes, Grice would possible see metaphysics as a class – category figuring large. He was concerned with the methodological aspects of the metaphysical enterprise, since he was enough of a relativist to allow for one metaphysical scheme to apply to one area of discourse (one of Eddingtons tables) and another metaphysical scheme to apply to another (Eddingtons other table). In the third programme for the BBC Grice especially enjoyed criticising John Wisdoms innovative look at metaphysics as a bunch of self-evident falsehoods (Were all alone). Grice focuses on Wisdom on the knowledge of other minds. He also discusses Collingwoods presuppositions, and Bradley on the reality-appearance distinction. Grices reference to Wisdom was due to Ewings treatment of Wisdom on metaphysics. Grices main motivation here is defending metaphysics against Ayer. Ayer thought to win more Oxonian philosophers than he did at Oxford, but he was soon back in London. Post-war Oxford had become conservative and would not stand to the nonsense of Ayers claiming that metaphysics is nonsense, especially, as Ayers implicature also was, that philosophy is nonsense! Perhaps the best summary of Griceian metaphysics is his From Genesis to Revelations: a new discourse on metaphysics. It’s an ontological answer that one must give to Grices metabolic operation from utterers meaning to expression meaning, Grice had been interested in the methodology of metaphysics since his Oxford days. He counts as one memorable experience in the area his participation in two episodes for the BBC Third Programme on The nature of metaphysics with the organiser, Pears, and his former tutee, Strawson on the panel. Grice was particularly keen on Collingwoods views on metaphysical presuppositions, both absolute and relative! Grice also considers John Wisdoms view of the metaphysical proposition as a blatant falsehood. Grice considers Bradleys Hegelian metaphysics of the absolute, in Appearance and reality. Refs.: While Grice’s choice was ‘eschatology,’ as per WoW, Essay, other keywords are useful, notably “metaphysics,” “ontology,” “theorizing,” and “theory-theory,” in The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. explanation: Cr. Occam. M. O. R. the necessity is explanatory necessity. Senses or conventional implicatata (not reachable by ‘argument’) and Strawson do not explain. G. A. Paul does not explain. Unlike Austin, who was in love with a taxonomy, Grice loved an explanation. “Ἀρχὴν δὲ τῶν πάντων ὕδωρ ὑπεστήσατο, καὶ τὸν κόσμον ἔμψυχον καὶ δαιμόνων πλήρη. “Arkhen de ton panton hudor hupestesato.” Thales’s doctrine is that water is the universal primary substance, and that the world is animate and full of divinities. “Ἀλλὰ Θαλῆς μὲν ὁ τῆς τοιαύτης ἀρχηγὸς φιλοσοφίας ὕδωρ φησὶν εἶναι (διὸ καὶ τὴν γῆν ἐφ᾽ ὕδατος ἀπεφήνατο εἶναι), λαβὼν ἴσως τὴν ὑπόληψιν ταύτην ἐκ τοῦ πάντων ὁρᾶν τὴν τροφὴν ὑγρὰν οὖσαν καὶ αὐτὸ τὸ θερμὸν ἐκ τούτου γιγνόμενον καὶ τούτῳ ζῶν (τὸ δ᾽ ἐξ οὗ γίγνεται, τοῦτ᾽ ἐστὶν ἀρχὴ πάντων) – διά τε δὴ τοῦτο τὴν ὑπόληψιν λαβὼν ταύτην καὶ διὰ τὸ πάντων τὰ σπέρματα τὴν φύσιν ὑγρὰν ἔχειν, τὸ δ᾽ ὕδωρ ἀρχὴν τῆς φύσεως εἶναι τοῖς ὑγροῖς. εἰσὶ δέ τινες οἳ καὶ τοὺς παμπαλαίους καὶ πολὺ πρὸ τῆς νῦν γενέσεως καὶ πρώτους θεολογήσαντας οὕτως οἴονται περὶ τῆς φύσεως ὑπολαβεῖν‧ Ὠκεανόν τε γὰρ καὶ Τηθὺν ἐποίησαν τῆς γενέσεως πατέρας [Hom. Ξ 201], καὶ τὸν ὅρκον τῶν θεῶν ὕδωρ, τὴν καλουμένην ὑπ᾽ αὐτῶν Στύγα τῶν ποιητῶν‧ τιμιώτατον μὲν γὰρ τὸ πρεσβύτατον, ὅρκος δὲ τὸ τιμιώτατόν ἐστιν. εἰ μὲν οὖν [984a] ἀρχαία τις αὕτη καὶ παλαιὰ τετύχηκεν οὖσα περὶ τῆς φύσεως ἡ δόξα, τάχ᾽ ἂν ἄδηλον εἴη, Θαλῆς μέντοι λέγεται οὕτως ἀποφήνασθαι περὶ τῆς πρώτης αἰτίας. (Ἵππωνα γὰρ οὐκ ἄν τις ἀξιώσειε θεῖναι μετὰ τούτων διὰ τὴν εὐτέλειαν αὐτοῦ τῆς διανοίας)‧ Ἀναξιμένης δὲ ἀέρα καὶ Διογένης πρότερον ὕδατος καὶ μάλιστ᾽ ἀρχὴν τιθέασι τῶν ἁπλῶν σωμάτων.” De caelo: “Οἱ δ᾽ ἐφ᾽ ὕδατος κεῖσθαι [sc. τὴν γὴν]. τοῦτον γὰρ ἀρχαιότατον παρειλήφαμεν τὸν λόγον, ὅν φασιν εἰπεῖν Θαλῆν τὸν Μιλήσιον, ὡς διὰ τὸ πλωτὴν εἶναι μένουσαν ὥσπερ ξύλον ἤ τι τοιοῦτον ἕτερον (καὶ γὰρ τούτων ἐπ᾽ ἀέρος μὲν οὐθὲν πέφυκε μένειν, ἀλλ᾽ ἐφ᾽ ὕδατος), ὥσπερ οὐ τὸν αὐτὸν λόγον ὄντα περὶ τῆς γῆς καὶ τοῦ ὕδατος τοῦ ὀχοῦντος τὴν γῆν‧ οὐδὲ γὰρ τὸ ὕδωρ πέφυκε μένειν μετέωρον, ἀλλ᾽ ἐπί τινός [294b] ἐστιν. ἔτι δ᾽ ὥσπερ ἀὴρ ὕδατος κουφότερον, καὶ γῆς ὕδωρ‧ ὥστε πῶς οἷόν τε τὸ κουφότερον κατωτέρω κεῖσθαι τοῦ βαρυτέρου τὴν φύσιν; ἔτι δ᾽ εἴπερ ὅλη πέφυκε μένειν ἐφ᾽ ὕδατος, δῆλον ὅτι καὶ τῶν μορίων ἕκαστον [αὐτῆς]‧ νῦν δ᾽ οὐ φαίνεται τοῦτο γιγνόμενον, ἀλλὰ τὸ τυχὸν μόριον φέρεται εἰς βυθόν, καὶ θᾶττον τὸ μεῖζον. The problem of the nature of matter, and its transformation into the myriad things of which the universe is made, engaged the natural philosophers, commencing with Thales. For his hypothesis to be credible, it was essential that he could explain how all things could come into being from water, and return ultimately to the originating material. It is inherent in Thaless hypotheses that water had the potentiality to change to the myriad things of which the universe is made, the botanical, physiological, meteorological and geological states. In Timaeus, 49B-C, Plato had Timaeus relate a cyclic process. The passage commences with that which we now call “water” and describes a theory which was possibly that of Thales. Thales would have recognized evaporation, and have been familiar with traditional views, such as the nutritive capacity of mist and ancient theories about spontaneous generation, phenomena which he may have observed, just as Aristotle believed he, himself had, and about which Diodorus Siculus, Epicurus (ap. Censorinus, D.N. IV.9), Lucretius (De Rerum Natura) and Ovid (Met. I.416-437) wrote. When Aristotle reported Thales’s pronouncement that the primary principle is water, he made a precise statement: Thales says that it [the nature of things] is water, but he became tentative when he proposed reasons which might have justified Thaless decision. Thales’s supposition may have arisen from observation. It is Aristotle’s opinion that Thales may have observed, that the nurture of all creatures is moist, and that warmth itself is generated from moisture and lives by it; and that from which all things come to be is their first principle. Then, Aristotles tone changed towards greater confidence. He declared: Besides this, another reason for the supposition would be that the semina of all things have a moist nature. In continuing the criticism of Thales, Aristotle wrote: That from which all things come to be is their first principle (Metaph. 983 b25). Simple metallurgy had been practised long before Thales presented his hypotheses, so Thales knew that heat could return metals to a liquid state. Water exhibits sensible changes more obviously than any of the other so-called elements, and can readily be observed in the three states of liquid, vapour and ice. The understanding that water could generate into earth is basic to Thaless watery thesis. At Miletus it could readily be observed that water had the capacity to thicken into earth. Miletus stood on the Gulf of Lade through which the Maeander river emptied its waters. Within living memory, older Milesians had witnessed the island of Lade increasing in size within the Gulf, and the river banks encroaching into the river to such an extent that at Priene, across the gulf from Miletus the warehouses had to be rebuilt closer to the waters edge. The ruins of the once prosperous city-port of Miletus are now ten kilometres distant from the coast and the Island of Lade now forms part of a rich agricultural plain. There would have been opportunity to observe other areas where earth generated from water, for example, the deltas of the Halys, the Ister, about which Hesiod wrote (Theogony, 341), now called the Danube, the Tigris-Euphrates, and almost certainly the Nile. This coming-into-being of land would have provided substantiation of Thaless doctrine. To Thales water held the potentialities for the nourishment and generation of the entire cosmos. Aëtius attributed to Thales the concept that even the very fire of the sun and the stars, and indeed the cosmos itself is nourished by evaporation of the waters (Aëtius, Placita). It is not known how Thales explained his watery thesis, but Aristotle believed that the reasons he proposed were probably the persuasive factors in Thaless considerations. Thales gave no role to the Olympian gods. Belief in generation of earth from water was not proven to be wrong until A.D. 1769 following experiments of Antoine Lavoisier, and spontaneous generation was not disproved until the nineteenth century as a result of the work of Louis Pasteur.The first philosophical explanation of the world was speculative not practical. has its intelligibility in being identified with one of its parts (the world is water). First philosophical explanation for Universe human is rational and the world in independent; He said the arché is water; Monist: He believed reality is one Thales of Miletus, first philosophical explanation of the origin and nature of justice (and Why after all, did a Thales is Water.” Without the millions of species that make up the biosphere, and the billions of interactions between them that go on day by day,.Oddly, Grice had spent some time on x-questions in the Kant lectures. And why is an x-question. A philosophical explanation of conversation. A philosophical explanation of implicature. Description vs. explanation. Grice quotes from Fisher, Never contradict. Never explain. Taxonomy, is worse than explanation, always. Grice is exploring the taxonomy-description vs. explanation dichotomy. He would often criticise ordinary-language philosopher Austin for spending too much valuable time on linguistic botany, without an aim in his head. Instead, his inclination, a dissenting one, is to look for the big picture of it all, and disregard a piece-meal analysis. Conversation is a good example. While Austin would Subjectsify Language (Linguistic Nature), Grice rather places rationality squarely on the behaviour displayed by utterers as they make conversational moves that their addressees will judge as rational along specific lines. Observation of the principle of conversational helpfulness is rational (reasonable) along the following lines: anyone who cares about the two goals which are central to conversation, viz. giving and receiving information, and influencing and being influenced by others, is expected to have an interest in taking part in a conversation which will only be profitable (if not possible) under the assumption that it is conducted along the lines of the principle of conversational helpfulness. Grice is not interested in conversation per se, but as a basis for a theory that explains the mistakes ordinary-language philosophers are making. The case of What is known to be the case is not believed to be the case. Refs.: One good source is the “Prejudices and predilections.” Also the first set of ‘Logic and conversation.” There is also an essay on the ‘that’ versus the ‘why.’ The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. explication. A logical construction is an explication. A reductive analysis is an explication. Cf. Grice on Reductionism as a bete noire, sometimes misquoted as Reductivism. Grice used both ‘explanation’ and ‘explication’, so one has to be careful. When he said that he looked for a theory that would explain conversation or the implicatum, he did not mean explication. expressum: Darwin, Eckman. Drawing a skull meaning there is danger. cf. impressum. Inside out. Expression of Impressions. As an empiricist, Grice was into ‘impress.’ But it’s always good to have a correlatum. Grice liked an abbreviation, especially because he loved subscripts. So, he starts to analyse the ‘ordinary-language’ philosohper’s mistake by using a few symbols: there’s the phrase, or utterance, and there’s the expression, for which Grice uses ‘e’ for a ‘token,’ and ‘E’ for a type. So, suppose we are considering Hart’s use of ‘carefully.’ ‘Carefully’ would be the ‘expression,’ occurring within an utterance. Surely, since Grice uses ‘expression’ in that way, he also uses to say what Hart is doing, Hart is expressing. Grice notes that ‘expressing’ may be too strong. Hart is expressing the belief THAT if you utter an utterance containing the ‘expression’ ‘carefully,’ there is an implicatum to the effect that the agent referred to is taking RATIONAL steps towards something. IRRATIONAL behaviour does not count as ‘careful’ behaviour. Grice uses the same abbreviations in discussing philosophy as the ‘conceptual analysis’ of this or that expression. It is all different with Ogden, Collingwood, and Croce, that Collingwood loved! "Ideas, we may say generally, are symbols, as serving to express some actual moment or phase of experience and guiding towards fuller actualization of what is, or seems to be, involved in its existence or MEANING . That no idea is ever wholly adequate MEANS that the suggestiveness of experience is inexhaustible" Forsyth, English Philosophy, 1910, . Thus the significance of sound, the meaning of an utterance is here identical with the active response to surroundings and with the natural expression of emotions According to Husserl, the function of expression is only directly and immediately adapted to what is usually described as the meaning (Bedeutung) or the sense (Sinn) of the speech or parts of speech. Only because the meaning associated with a wordsowid expresses something, is that word-sound called 'expres- sion' (Ideen, p. 256 f). "Between the ,nearnng and the what is meant, or what it expresses, there exists an essential relation, because the meaning is the expression of the meant through its own content (Gehalt) What is meant (dieses Bedeutete) lies in the 'object' of the thought or speech. We must therefore distinguish these three-Word, Meaning, Object "1 Geyser, Gp cit p z8 PDF compression, OCR, web optimization using a watermarked evaluation copy of CVISION PDFCompresso These complexities are mentioned here to show how vague are most of the terms which are commonly thought satisfactory in this topic. Such a word as 'understand' is, unless specially treated, far too vague to serve except provisionally or at levels of discourse where a real understanding of the matter (in the reference sense) is not possible. The multiple functions of speech will be classified and discussed in the following chapter. There it will be seen that the expression of the speaker's intention is one of the five regular language functions. Grice hated Austin’s joke, the utteratum, “I use ‘utterance’ only as equivalent to 'utteratum;' for 'utteratio' I use ‘the issue of an utterance,’” so he needed something for ‘what is said’ in general, not just linguistic, ‘what is expressed,’ what is explicitly conveyed,’ ex-prĭmo , pressi, pressum, 3, v. a. premo. express (mostly poet. and in postAug. prose; “freq. in the elder Pliny): (faber) et ungues exprimet et molles imitabitur aere capillos,” Hor. A. P. 33; cf.: “alicujus furorem ... verecundiae ruborem,” Plin. 34, 14, 40, § 140: “expressa in cera ex anulo imago,” Plaut. Ps. 1, 1, 54: “imaginem hominis gypso e facie ipsa,” Plin. 35, 12, 44, § 153; cf.: “effigiem de signis,” id. ib.: “optime Herculem Delphis et Alexandrum, etc.,” id. 34, 8, 19, § 66 et saep.: “vestis stricta et singulos artus exprimens,” exhibiting, showing, Tac. G. 17: “pulcher aspectu sit athleta, cujus lacertos exercitatio expressit,” has well developed, made muscular, Quint. 8, 3, 10. find play – where Grice’s implicature finds play Strawson Wiggins p. 523 Freges Sättigung: Fregeian saturation. Grice was once at the Bodleian assisting Austin in his translation of Frege’s Grundlegung – and browsing through the old-style library fiches, Grice exclaims: “All these essays in German journals about Fregeian saturation can surely saturate one!’ Austin was not amused. Neben mathematischen und physikalischen Vorlesungen sowie einer in Philosophie hat Frege in Jena Vorlesungen in Chemie besucht und in diesem Fach auch an einem einsemestrigen Praktikum teilgenommen. In seiner wohlbekannten Rede über Bindung und Sättigung von Ausdrücken klingt davon noch etwas nach.Betrachten wir nun die Konsequenzen der Fregeschen Auffassung der prädikativen Natur der Begriffe. Hierfür ist es zunächst erforderlich, abschließend einige Besonderheiten anzumerken, die daraus folgen, daß auch Begriffsausdrücke bedeutungsvoll sein sollen. Zunächst hatten wir ja mit Hilfe der Analogie festgestellt, daß in einem Satz dasjenige, was Begriffsausdrücke bedeuten, denselben ontologischen Status haben muß wie das, was Eigennamen bedeuten. Insofern scheinen sowohl Eigennamen als auch Begriffsausdrücke jeweils bestimmte (wenn auch hinsichtlich ihrer Sättigung oder Bindungsfähigkeit unterschiedene) Entitäten als Bedeutung zu haben. Und Frege erklärt auch explizit „Begriff ist Bedeutung eines Prädikates“ [BG, 198]. Frege’s distinction between saturated expressions and unsaturated expressions corresponds to the distinction between objects and concepts. A saturated expression refers to an object or argument and has a complete sense in itself, while an unsaturated expression refers to a concept or function and does not have a complete sense. For example, in the sentence “Socrates is the teacher of Plato,” “Socrates” and “Plato” are proper names and are saturated, while “. . . is the teacher of . . .” is unsaturated, for it has empty spaces that must be filled with saturated expressions before it gains a complete sense. “Statements in general . . . can be imagined to be split up into two parts; one complete in itself, and the other in need of supplementation, or ‘unsaturated’.” Frege, “Function and Concept,” Philosophical Writings of Gottlob Frege. freedom: Like identity, crucial in philosophy in covering everything. E cannot communicate that p, unless E is FREE. An amoeba cannot communicate thatp. End setting, unweighed rationality, rationality about the ends, autonomy. Grice was especially concerned with Kants having brought back the old Greek idea of eleutheria for philosophical discussion. Refs.: the obvious keywords are “freedom” and “free,” but most of the material is in “Actions and events,” in PPQ, and below under ‘kantianism’ – The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.Bratman, of Stanford, much influenced by Grice (at Berkeley then) thanks to their Hands-Across-the-Bay programme, helps us to understand this Pological progression towards the idea of strong autonomy or freedom. Recall that Grices Ps combine Lockes very intelligent parrots with Russells and Carnaps nonsensical Ps of which nothing we are told other than they karulise elatically. Grices purpose is to give a little thought to a question. What are the general principles exemplified, in creature-construction, in progressing from one type of P to a higher type? What kinds of steps are being made? The kinds of step with which Grice deals are those which culminate in a licence to include, within the specification of the content of the psychological state of this or that type of P, a range of expressions which would be inappropriate with respect to this lower-type P. Such expressions include this or that connective, this or that quantifier, this or that temporal modifier, this or that mode indicator, this or that modal operator, and (importantly) this or that expression to refer to this or that souly state like … judges that … and … will that … This or that expression, that is, the availability of which leads to the structural enrichment of the specification of content. In general, these steps will be ones by which this or that item or idea which has, initially, a legitimate place outside the scope of this or that souly instantiable (or, if you will, the expressions for which occur legitimately outside the scope of this or that souly predicate) come to have a legitimate place within the scope of such an instantiable, a step by which, one might say, this or that item or ideas comes to be internalised. Grice is disposed to regard as prototypical the sort of natural disposition or propension which Hume attributes to a person, and which is very important to Hume, viz. the tendency of the soul to spread itself upon objects, i.e. to project into the world items which, properly or primitively considered, is a feature of this or that souly state. Grice sets out in stages the application of aspects of the genitorial programme. We then start with a zero-order, with a P equipped to satisfy unnested, or logically amorphous, judging and willing, i.e. whose contents do not involve judging or willing. We soon reach our first P, G1. It would be advantageous to a P0 if it could have this or that judging and this or that willing, which relate to its own judging or willing. Such G1 could be equipped to control or regulate its own judgings and willings. It will presumably be already constituted so as to conform to the law that, cæteris paribus, if it wills that p and judge that ~p, if it can, it makes it the case that p in its soul To give it some control over its judgings and willings, we need only extend the application of this law to the Ps judging and willing. We equip the P so that, cæteris paribus, if it wills that it is not the case that it wills that p and it judges that they do will that p, if it can, it makes it the case that it does not will that p. And we somehow ensure that sometimes it can do this. It may be that the installation of this kind of control would go hand in had with the installation of the capacity for evaluation. Now, unlike it is the case with a G1, a G2s intentional effort depends on the motivational strength of its considered desire at the time of action. There is a process by which this or that conflicting considered desire motivates action as a broadly causal process, a process that reveals motivational strength. But a G2 might itself try to weigh considerations provided by such a conflicting desire B1 and B2 in deliberation about this or that pro and this or that con of various alternatives. In the simplest case, such weighing treats each of the things desired as a prima facie justifying end. In the face of conflict, it weighs this and that desired end, where the weights correspond to the motivational strength of the associated considered desire. The outcome of such deliberation, Aristotle’s prohairesis, matches the outcome of the causal motivational process envisioned in the description of G2. But, since the weights it invokes in such deliberation correspond to the motivational strength of this or that relevant considered desire (though perhaps not to the motivational strength of this or that relevant considered desire), the resultant activitiy matches those of a corresponding G2 (each of whose desires, we are assuming, are considered). To be more realistic, we might limit ourselves to saying that a P2 has the capacity to make the transition from this or that unconsidered desire to this or that considered desire, but does not always do this. But it will keep the discussion more manageable to simplify and to suppose that each desire is considered. We shall not want this G2 to depend, in each will and act in ways that reveal the motivational strength of this or that considered desire at the time of action, but for a G3 it will also be the case that in this or that, though not each) case, it acts on the basis of how it weights this or that end favoured by this or that conflicting considered desire. This or that considered desire will concern matters that cannot be achieved simply by action at a single time. E. g. G3 may want to nurture a vegetable garden, or build a house. Such matters will require organized and coordinated action that extends over time. What the G3 does now will depend not only on what it now desires but also on what it now expects it will do later given what it does now. It needs a way of settling now what it will do later given what it does now. The point is even clearer when we remind ourselves that G3 is not alone. It is, we may assume, one of some number of G3; and in many cases it needs to coordinate what it does with what other G3 do so as to achieve ends desired by all participants, itself included. These costs are magnified for G4 whose various plans are interwoven so that a change in one element can have significant ripple effects that will need to be considered. Let us suppose that the general strategies G4 has for responding to new information about its circumstances are sensitive to these kinds of costs. Promoting in the long run the satisfaction of its considered desires and preferences. G4 is a somewhat sophisticated planning agent but it has a problem. It can expect that its desires and preferences may well change over time and undermine its efforts at organizing and coordinating its activities over time. Perhaps in many cases this is due to the kind of temporal discounting. So for example G4 may have a plan to exercise every day but may tend to prefer a sequence of not exercising on the present day but exercising all days in the future, to a uniform sequence the present day included. At the end of the day it returns to its earlier considered preference in favour of exercising on each and every day. Though G4, unlike G3, has the capacity to settle on prior plans or plaices concerning exercise, this capacity does not yet help in such a case. A creature whose plans were stable in ways in part shaped by such a no-regret principle would be more likely than G4 to resist temporary temptations. So let us build such a principle into the stability of the plans of a G5, whose plans and policies are not derived solely from facts about its limits of time, attention, and the like. It is also grounded in the central concerns of a planning agent with its own future, concerns that lend special significance to anticipated future regret. So let us add to G5 the capacity and disposition to arrive at such hierarchies of higher-order desires concerning its will. This gives us creature G6. There is a problem with G6, one that has been much discussed. It is not clear why a higher-order desire ‒ even a higher-order desire that a certain desire be ones will ‒ is not simply one more desire in the pool of desires (Berkeley Gods will problem). Why does it have the authority to constitute or ensure the agents (i. e. the creatures) endorsement or rejection of a first-order desire? Applied to G6 this is the question of whether, by virtue solely of its hierarchies of desires, it really does succeed in taking its own stand of endorsement or rejection of various first-order desires. Since it was the ability to take its own stand that we are trying to provide in the move to P6, we need some response to this challenge. The basic point is that G6 is not merely a time-slice agent. It is, rather, and understands itself to be, a temporally persisting planning agent, one who begins, and continues, and completes temporally extended projects. On a broadly Lockean view, its persistence over time consists in relevant psychological continuities (e.g., the persistence of attitudes of belief and intention) and connections (e.g., memory of a past event, or the later intentional execution of an intention formed earlier). Certain attitudes have as a primary role the constitution and support of such Lockean continuities and connections. In particular, policies that favour or reject various desires have it as their role to constitute and support various continuities both of ordinary desires and of the politicos themselves. For this reason such policies are not merely additional wiggles in the psychic stew. Instead, these policies have a claim to help determine where the agent ‒ i.e., the temporally persisting agent ‒ stands with respect to its desires, or so it seems to me reasonable to say. The psychology of G7 continues to have the hierarchical structure of pro-attitudes introduced with G6. The difference is that the higher-order pro-attitudes of G6 were simply characterized as desires in a broad, generic sense, and no appeal was made to the distinctive species of pro-attitude constituted by plan-like attitudes. That is the sense in which the psychology of G7 is an extension of the psychology of G6. Let us then give G7 such higher-order policies with the capacity to take a stand with respect to its desires by arriving at relevant higher-order policies concerning the functioning of those desires over time. G7 exhibits a merger of hierarchical and planning structures. Appealing to planning theory and ground in connection to the temporally extended structure of agency to be ones will. G7 has higher-order policies that favour or challenge motivational roles of its considered desires. When G7 engages in deliberative weighing of conflicting, desired ends it seems that the assigned weights should reflect the policies that determine where it stands with respect to relevant desires. But the policies we have so far appealed to ‒ policies concerning what desires are to be ones will ‒ do not quite address this concern. The problem is that one can in certain cases have policies concerning which desires are to motivate and yet these not be policies that accord what those desires are for a corresponding justifying role in deliberation. G8. A solution is to give our creature, G8, the capacity to arrive at policies that express its commitment to be motivated by a desire by way of its treatment of that desire as providing, in deliberation, a justifying end for action. G8 has policies for treating (or not treating) certain desires as providing justifying ends, as, in this way, reason-providing, in motivationally effective deliberation. Let us call such policies self-governing policies. We will suppose that these policies are mutually compatible and do not challenge each other. In this way G8 involves an extension of structures already present in G7. The grounds on which G8 arrives at (and on occasion revises) such self-governing policies will be many and varied. We can see these policies as crystallizing complex pressures and concerns, some of which are grounded in other policies or desires. These self-governing policies may be tentative and will normally not be immune to change. If we ask what G8 values in this case, the answer seems to be: what it values is constituted in part by its higher-order self-governing policies. In particular, it values exercise over nonexercise even right now, and even given that it has a considered, though temporary, preference to the contrary. Unlike lower Ps, what P8 now values is not simply a matter of its present, considered desires and preferences. Now this model of P8 seems in relevant aspects to be a partial) model of us, in our better moments, of course. So we arrive at the conjecture that one important kind of valuing of which we are capable involves, in the cited ways, both our first-order desires and our higher order self-governing policies. In an important sub-class of cases our valuing involves reflexive polices that are both first-order policies of action and higher-order policies to treat the first-order policy as reason providing in motivationally effective deliberation. This may seem odd. Valuing seems normally to be a first-order attitude. One values honesty, say. The proposal is that an important kind of valuing involves higher-order policies. Does this mean that, strictly speaking, what one values (in this sense) is itself a desire ‒ not honesty, say, but a desire for honesty? No, it does not. What I value in the present case is honesty; but, on the theory, my valuing honesty in art consists in certain higher-order self-governing policies. An agents reflective valuing involves a kind of higher-order willing. Freud challenged the power structure of the soul in Plato: it is the libido that takes control, not the logos. Grice takes up this polemic. Aristotle takes up Platos challenge, each type of soul is united to the next by the idea of life. The animal soul, between the vegetative and the rational, is not detachable. futurum indicativum: The future is essentially involved in “E communicates that p,” i. e. E, the emissor, intends that his addressee, in a time later than t, will come to believe this or that. Grice is especially concerned with the future for his analysis of the communicatum. “Close the door!” By uttering “Close the door!,” U means that A is to close the door – in the future. So Grice spends HOURS exploring how one can have justification to have an intention about a future event. Grice is aware of the ‘shall.’ Grice uses ‘shall’ in the first person to mean wha the calls ‘futurum indicativum.’ (He considers the case of the ‘shall’ in the second and third persons in his analysis of mode). What are the conditions for the use of “shall” in the first person. “I shall close the door” may be predictable. It is in the indicative mode. “Thou shalt close the door,” and “He shall close the door” are in the imperative mode, or rather they correspond to the ‘futurum intentionale.’ Since Grice is an analytic philosopher, he specifies the analysis in the third person (“U means that…”) one has to be careful. For ‘futurum indicativum’ we have ‘shall’ in the first person, and ‘will’ in the second and third persons. So for the first group, U means that he will go. In the second group, U means that his addressee or a third party shall go. Grice adopts a subscript variant, stick with ‘will,’ but add the mode afterwards: so will-ind. will be ‘futurum indicativum,’ and will-int. will be futurum intentionale. The OED has it as “shall,” and defines as a Germanic preterite-present strong verb. In Old English, it is “sceal,” and which the OED renders as “to owe (money,” 1425 Hoccleve Min. Poems, The leeste ferthyng þat y men shal. To owe (allegiance); 1649 And by that feyth I shal to god and yow; followed by an infinitive, without to. Except for a few instances of shall will, shall may (mowe), "shall conne" in the 15th c., the infinitive after shall is always either that of a principal verb or of have or be; The present tense shall; in general statements of what is right or becoming, = ought, superseded by the past subjunctive should; in OE. the subjunctive present sometimes occurs in this use; 1460 Fortescue Abs. and Lim. Mon. The king shall often times send his judges to punish rioters and risers. 1562 Legh Armory; Whether are Roundells of all suche coloures, as ye haue spoken of here before? or shall they be Namesd Roundelles of those coloures? In OE. and occas. in Middle English used to express necessity of various kinds. For the many shades of meaning in Old English see Bosworth and Toller), = must, "must needs", "have to", "am compelled to", etc.; in stating a necessary condition: = `will have to, `must (if something else is to happen). 1596 Shaks. Merch. V. i. i. 116 You shall seeke all day ere you finde them, & when you haue them they are not worth the search. 1605 Shaks. Lear. He that parts vs, shall bring a Brand from Heauen. c In hypothetical clause, accompanying the statement of a necessary condition: = `is to. 1612 Bacon Ess., Greatn. Kingd., Neither must they be too much broken of it, if they shall be preserued in vigor; ndicating what is appointed or settled to take place = the mod. `is to, `am to, etc. 1600 Shaks. A.Y.L. What is he that shall buy his flocke and pasture? 1625 in Ellis Orig. Lett. Ser. "Tomorrow His Majesty will be present to begin the Parliament which is thought shall be removed to Oxford; in commands or instructions; n the second person, “shall” is equivalent to an imperative. Chiefly in Biblical language, of divine commandments, rendering the jussive future of the Hebrew and Vulgate. In Old English the imperative mode is used in the ten commandments. 1382 Wyclif Exod. Thow shalt not tak the Names of the Lord thi God in veyn. So Coverdale, etc. b) In expositions: you shall understand, etc. (that). c) In the formula you shall excuse (pardon) me. (now "must"). 1595 Shaks. John. Your Grace shall pardon me, I will not backe. 1630 R. Johnsons Kingd. and Commw. 191 You shall excuse me, for I eat no flesh on Fridayes; n the *third* person. 1744 in Atkyns Chanc. Cases (1782) III. 166 The words shall and may in general acts of parliament, or in private constitutions, are to be construed imperatively, they must remove them; in the second and third persons, expressing the determination by the Griceian utterer to bring about some action, event, or state of things in the future, or (occasionally) to refrain from hindering what is otherwise certain to take place, or is intended by another person; n the second person. 1891 J. S. Winter Lumley. If you would rather not stay then, you shall go down to South Kensington Square then; in third person. 1591 Shaks. Two Gent. Verona shall not hold thee. 1604 Shaks. Oth. If there be any cunning Crueltie, That can torment him much, It shall be his. 1891 J. S. Winter Lumley xiv, `Oh, yes, sir, she shall come back, said the nurse. `Ill take care of that. `I will come back, said Vere; in special interrogative uses, a) in the *first* person, used in questions to which the expected answer is a command, direction, or counsel, or a resolve on the speakers own part. a) in questions introduced by an interrogative pronoun (in oblique case), adverb, or adverbial phrase. 1600 Fairfax Tasso. What shall we doe? shall we be gouernd still, By this false hand? 1865 Kingsley Herew. Where shall we stow the mare? b) in categorical questions, often expressing indignant reprobation of a suggested course of action, the implication (or implicature, or entailment) being that only a negative (or, with negative question an affirmative) answer is conceivable. 1611 Shaks. Wint. T. Shall I draw the Curtaine? 1802 Wordsw. To the Cuckoo i, O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice? 1891 J. S. Winter Lumley `Are you driving, or shall I call you a cab? `Oh, no; Im driving, thanks. c) In *ironical* affirmative in exclamatory sentence, equivalent to the above interrogative use, cf. Ger. soll. 1741 Richardson Pamela, A pretty thing truly! Here I, a poor helpless Girl, raised from Poverty and Distress, shall put on Lady-airs to a Gentlewoman born. d) to stand shall I, shall I (later shill I, shall I: v. shilly-shally), to be at shall I, shall I (not): to be vacillating, to shilly-shally. 1674 R. Godfrey Inj. and Ab. Physic Such Medicines. that will not stand shall I? shall I? but will fall to work on the Disease presently. b Similarly in the *third* person, where the Subjects represents or includes the utterer, or when the utterer is placing himself at anothers point of view. 1610 Shaks. Temp., Hast thou (which art but aire) a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not my selfe, One of their kinde be kindlier moud then thou art? In the second and third person, where the expected answer is a decision on the part of the utterer or of some person OTHER than the Subjects. The question often serves as an impassioned repudiation of a suggestion (or implicature) that something shall be permitted. 1450 Merlin `What shal be his Names? `I will, quod she, `that it haue Names after my fader. 1600 Shaks. A.Y.L.; What shall he haue that kild the Deare? 1737 Alexander Pope, translating Horaces Epistle, And say, to which shall our applause belong, this new court jargon, or the good old song? 1812 Crabbe Tales, Shall a wife complain? In indirect question. 1865 Kingsley Herew, Let her say what shall be done with it; as a mere auxiliary, forming, with present infinitive, the future, and (with perfect infinitive) the future perfect tense. In Old English, the notion of the future tense is ordinarily expressed by the present tense. To prevent ambiguity, wile (will) is not unfrequently used as a future auxiliary, sometimes retaining no trace of its initial usage, connected with the faculty of volition, and cognate indeed with volition. On the other hand, sceal (shall), even when rendering a Latin future, can hardly be said to have been ever a mere future tense-sign in Old English. It always expressed something of its original notion of obligation or necessity, so Hampshire is wrong in saying I shall climb Mt. Everest is predictable. In Middle English, the present early ceases to be commonly employed in futural usage, and the future is expressed by shall or will, the former being much more common. The usage as to the choice between the two auxiliaries, shall and will, has varied from time to time. Since the middle of the seventeenth century, with Wallis, mere predictable futurity is expressed in the *first* person by shall, in the second and third by will, and vice versa. In oratio obliqua, usage allows either the retention of the auxiliary actually used by the original utterer, or the substitution of that which is appropriate to the point of view of the uttering reporting; in Old English, ‘sceal,; while retaining its primary usage, serves as a tense-sign in announcing a future event as fated or divinely decreed, cf. Those spots mean measle. Hence shall has always been the auxiliary used, in all persons, for prophetic or oracular announcements of the future, and for solemn assertions of the certainty of a future event. 1577 in Allen Martyrdom Campion; The queene neither ever was, nor is, nor ever shall be the head of the Church of England. 1601 Shaks. Jul. C. Now do I Prophesie. A Curse shall light vpon the limbes of men. b In the first person, "shall" has, from the early ME. period, been the normal auxiliary for expressing mere futurity, without any adventitious notion. (a) Of events conceived as independent of the volition of the utterer. To use will in these cases is now a mark of, not public-school-educated Oxonian, but Scottish, Irish, provincial, or extra-British idiom. 1595 in Cath. Rec. Soc. Publ. V. 357 My frend, yow and I shall play no more at Tables now. 1605 Shaks. Macb. When shall we three meet againe? 1613 Shaks. Hen. VIII, Then wee shall haue em, Talke vs to silence. 1852 Mrs. Stowe Uncle Toms C.; `But what if you dont hit? `I shall hit, said George coolly; of voluntary action or its intended result. Here I shall or we shall is always admissible except where the notion of a present, as distinguished from a previous, decision or consent is to be expressed, in which case ‘will’ shall be used. Further, I shall often expresses a determination insisted on in spite of opposition. In the 16th c. and earlier, I shall often occurs where I will would now be used. 1559 W. Cunningham Cosmogr. Glasse, This now shall I alway kepe surely in memorye. 1601 Shaks. Alls Well; Informe him so tis our will he should.-I shall my liege. 1885 Ruskin On Old Road, note: Henceforward I shall continue to spell `Ryme without our wrongly added h. c In the *second* person, shall as a mere future auxiliary appears never to have been usual, but in categorical questions it is normal, e.g. Shall you miss your train? I am afraid you will. d In the *third* person, superseded by will, except when anothers statement or expectation respecting himself is reported in the third person, e.g. He conveys that he shall not have time to write. Even in this case will is still not uncommon, but in some contexts leads to serious ambiguity. It might be therefore preferable, to some, to use ‘he shall’ as the indirect rendering of ‘I shall.’ 1489 Caxton Sonnes of Aymon ii. 64 Yf your fader come agayn from the courte, he shall wyll yelde you to the kynge Charlemayne. 1799 J. Robertson Agric. Perth, The effect of the statute labour has always been, now is, and probably shall continue to be, less productive than it might. Down to the eighteenth century, shall, the auxiliary appropriate to the first person, is sometimes used when the utterer refers to himself in the third person. Cf. the formula: `And your petitioner shall ever pray. 1798 Kemble Let. in Pearsons Catal. Mr. Kemble presents his respectful compliments to the Proprietors of the `Monthly Mirror, and shall have great pleasure at being at all able to aid them; in negative, or virtually negative, and interrogative use, shall often = will be able to. 1600 Shaks. Sonn. lxv: How with this rage shall beautie hold a plea. g) Used after a hypothetical clause or an imperative sentence in a statementsof a result to be expected from some action or occurrence. Now (exc. in the *first* person) usually replaced by will. But shall survives in literary use. 1851 Dasent Jest and Earnest, Visit Rome and you shall find him [the Pope] mere carrion. h) In clause expressing the object of a promise, or of an expectation accompanied by hope or fear, now only where shall is the ordinary future auxiliary, but down to the nineteenth century shall is often preferred to will in the second and third persons. 1628 in Ellis Orig. Lett. Ser., He is confident that the blood of Christ shall wash away his sins. 1654 E. Nicholas in N. Papers, I hope neither your Cosen Wat. Montagu nor Walsingham shall be permitted to discourse with the D. of Gloucester; in impersonal phrases, "it shall be well, needful", etc. (to do so and so). (now "will"). j) shall be, added to a future date in clauses measuring time. 1617 Sir T. Wentworth in Fortescue Papers. To which purpose my late Lord Chancelour gave his direction about the 3. of Decembre shallbe-two-yeares; in the idiomatic use of the future to denote what ordinarily or occasionally occurs under specified conditions, shall was formerly the usual auxiliary. In the *second* and *third* persons, this is now somewhat formal or rhetorical. Ordinary language substitutes will or may. Often in antithetic statements coupled by an adversative conjunction or by and with adversative force. a in the first person. 1712 Steele Spect. In spite of all my Care, I shall every now and then have a saucy Rascal ride by reconnoitring under my Windows. b) in the *second* person. 1852 Spencer Ess. After knowing him for years, you shall suddenly discover that your friends nose is slightly awry. c) in the *third* person. 1793 W. Roberts Looker-On, One man shall approve the same thing that another man shall condemn. 1870 M. Arnold St. Paul and Prot. It may well happen that a man who lives and thrives under a monarchy shall yet theoretically disapprove the principle of monarchy. Usage No. 10: in hypothetical, relative, and temporal clauses denoting a future contingency, the future auxiliary is shall for all persons alike. Where no ambiguity results, however, the present tense is commonly used for the future, and the perfect for the future-perfect. The use of shall, when not required for clearness, is, Grice grants, apt to sound pedantic by non Oxonians. Formerly sometimes used to express the sense of a present subjunctive. a) in hypothetical clauses. (shall I = if I shall) 1680 New Hampsh. Prov. Papers, If any Christian shall speak contempteously of the Holy Scriptures, such person shall be punished. b) in relative clauses, where the antecedent denotes an as yet undetermined person or thing: 1811 Southey Let., The minister who shall first become a believer in that book will obtain a higher reputation than ever statesman did before him. 1874 R. Congreve Ess. We extend our sympathies to the unborn generations which shall follow us on this earth; in temporal clauses: 1830 Laws of Cricket in Nyren Yng. Cricketers Tutor, If in striking, or at any other time, while the ball shall be in play, both his feet be over the popping-crease; in clauses expressing the purposed result of some action, or the object of a desire, intention, command, or request, often admitting of being replaced by may. In Old English, and occasionally as late as the seventeenth century, the present subjunctive was used exactly as in Latin. a) in final clause usually introduced by that. In this use modern idiom prefers should (22 a): see quot. 1611 below, and the appended remarks. 1879 M. Pattison Milton At the age of nine and twenty, Milton has already determined that this lifework shall be an epic poem; in relative clause: 1599 Shaks. Hen. V, ii. iv. 40: As Gardeners doe with Ordure hide those Roots that shall first spring. The choice between should and would follows the same as shall and will as future auxiliaries, except that should must sometimes be avoided on account of liability to be misinterpreted as = `ought to. In present usage, should occurs mainly in the first person. In the other persons it follows the use of shall. III Elliptical and quasi-elliptical uses. Usage No. 24: with ellipsis of verb of motion: = `shall go; he use is common in OHG. and OS., and in later HG., LG., and Du. In the Scandinavian languages it is also common, and instances occur in MSw.] 1596 Shaks. 1 Hen. IV, That with our small coniunction we should on. 1598 Shaks. Merry W. If the bottome were as deepe as hell, I shold down; n questions, what shall = `what shall (it) profit, `what good shall (I) do. Usage No. 26: with the sense `is due, `is proper, `is to be given or applied. Cf. G. soll. Usage No. 27: a) with ellipsis of active infinitive to be supplied from the context. 1892 Mrs. H. Ward David Grieve, `No, indeed, I havnt got all I want, said Lucy `I never shall, neither; if I shall. Now dial. 1390 Gower Conf. II. 96: Doun knelende on mi kne I take leve, and if I schal, I kisse hire. 1390 Gower Conf., II. 96: I wolde kisse hire eftsones if I scholde. 1871 Earle Philol. Engl. Tongue 203: The familiar proposal to carry a basket, I will if I shall, that is, I am willing if you will command me; I will if so required. 1886 W. Somerset Word-bk. Ill warn our Tomll do it vor ee, nif he shall-i.e. if you wish. c) with generalized ellipsis in proverbial phrase: needs must that needs shall = `he must whom fate compels. Usage No. 28: a) with ellipsis of do (not occurring in the context). 1477 Norton Ord. Alch., O King that shall These Workes! b) the place of the inf. is sometimes supplied by that or so placed at the beginning of the sentence. The construction may be regarded as an ellipsis of "do". It is distinct from the use (belonging to 27) in which so has the sense of `thus, `likewise, or `also. In the latter there is usually inversion, as so shall I. 1888 J. S. Winter Bootles Childr. iv: I should like to see her now shes grown up. `So you shall. Usage No. 29: with ellipsis of be or passive inf., or with so in place of this (where the preceding context has is, was, etc.). 1615 J. Chamberlain in Crt. And Times Jas.; He is not yet executed, nor I hear not when he shall. Surely he may not will that he be executed. futurum intentionale: The future figures more prominently than anything because in “Emissor communicates that p” there is the FUTURE ESSENTIAL. The emissor intends that his addressee in a time later than the present will do this or that. While Grice is always looking to cross the credibility/desirability divide, there is a feature that is difficult to cross in the bridge of asses. This is the shall vs. will. Grice is aware that ‘will,’ in the FIRST person, is not a matter of prediction. When Grice says “I will go to Harborne,” that’s not a prediction. He firmly contrasts it with “I shall go to Harborne” which is a perfect prediction in the indicative mode. “I will go to Harborne” is in the ‘futurum intentionale.’ Grice is also aware that in the SECOND and THIRD persons, ‘will’ reports something that the utterer must judge unpredictable. An utterance like “Thou wilt go to London” and “He will go to London” is in the ‘futurum indicativus.’ This is one nuance that Prichard forgets in the analysis of ‘willing’ that Grice eventually adopts. Prichard uses ‘will’ derivatively, and followed by a ‘that’-clause. Prichard quotes from the New-World, where the dialect is slightly different. For William James had said, “I will that the distant table slides over the floor toward me. And it does not.” Since James is using ‘will’ in the first person, the utterance is indeed NOT in the indicative, but the ‘intentional’ mode. In the case of the ‘communicatum,’ things get complicated, since U intends that A will believe that… In which case, U’s intention (and thus will) is directed towards the ‘will’ of his addressee, too, even if it is merely to adopt a ‘belief.’ So what would be the primary uses of the ‘will.’ In the first person, “I will go to Harborne” is in the futurum intentionale. It is used to report the utterer’s will. In the second and third person – “Thou will go to Harborne” and “He will go to Harborne,” the utterer uses the futurum indicativum and utters a statement which is predictable. Since analytic philosophers specify the analysis in the third person (“U means that…”) one has to be careful. For ‘futurum intentionale’ we have ‘will’ in the first person, and ‘shall’ in the second and third persons. So for the first group, U means that he SHALL go. In the second group, U means that his addressee or a third party WILL go. Grice adopts a subscript variant, stick with ‘will,’ but add the mode afterwards: so will-ind. will be ‘futurum indicativum,’ and will-int. will be futurum intentionale. Grice distinguishes the ‘futurum imperativum.’ This may be seen as a sub-class of the ‘futurum intentionale,’ as applied to the second and third persons, to avoid the idea that one can issue a ‘self-command.’ Grice has a futurum imperativum, in Latin ending in -tō(te), used to request someone to do something, or if something else happens first. “Sī quid acciderit, scrībitō. If anything happens, write to me' (Cicero). ‘Ubi nōs lāverimus, lavātō.’ 'When*we* have finished washing, *you* get washed.’ (Terence). ‘Crūdam si edēs, in acētum intinguitō.’ ‘If you eat cabbage raw, dip it in vinegar.’ (Cato). ‘Rīdētō multum quī tē, Sextille, cinaedum dīxerit et digitum porrigitō medium.’ 'Laugh loudly at anyone who calls you camp, Sextillus, and stick up your middle finger at him.' (Martial). In Latin, some verbs have only a futurum imperativum, e. g., scītō 'know', mementō 'remember'. In Latin, there is also a third person imperative also ending in -tō, plural -ntō exists. It is used in very formal contexts such as laws. ‘Iūsta imperia suntō, īsque cīvēs pārentō.’ 'Orders must be just, and citizens must obey them' (Cicero). Other ways of expressing a command or request are made with expressions such as cūrā ut 'take care to...', fac ut 'see to it that...' or cavē nē 'be careful that you don't...' Cūrā ut valeās. 'Make sure you keep well' (Cicero). Oddly, in Roman, the futurum indicativum can be used for a polite commands. ‘Pīliae salūtem dīcēs et Atticae.’ 'Will you please give my regards to Pilia and Attica?' (Cicero. The OED has will, would. It is traced to Old English willan, pres.t. wille, willaþ, pa. t. wolde. Grice was especially interested to check Jamess and Prichards use of willing that, Prichards shall will and the will/shall distinction; the present tense will; transitive uses, with simple obj. or obj. clause; occas. intr. 1 trans. with simple obj.: desire, wish for, have a mind to, `want (something); sometimes implying also `intend, purpose. 1601 Shaks. (title) Twelfe Night, Or what you will. 1654 Whitlock Zootomia 44 Will what befalleth, and befall what will. 1734 tr. Rollins Anc. Hist. V. 31 He that can do what ever he will is in great danger of willing what he ought not. b intr. with well or ill, or trans. with sbs. of similar meaning (e.g. good, health), usually with dat. of person: Wish (or intend) well or ill (to some one), feel or cherish good-will or ill-will. Obs. (cf. will v.2 1 b). See also well-willing; to will well that: to be willing that. 1483 Caxton Gold. Leg. I wyl wel that thou say, and yf thou say ony good, thou shalt be pesybly herde. Usage No. 2: trans. with obj. clause (with vb. in pres. subj., or in periphrastic form with should), or acc. and inf.: Desire, wish; sometimes implying also `intend, purpose (that something be done or happen). 1548 Hutten Sum of Diuinitie K viij, God wylle all men to be saued; enoting expression (usually authoritative) of a wish or intention: Determine, decree, ordain, enjoin, give order (that something be done). 1528 Cromwell in Merriman Life and Lett. (1902) I. 320 His grace then wille that thellection of a new Dean shalbe emonges them of the colledge; spec. in a direction or instruction in ones will or testament; hence, to direct by will (that something be done). 1820 Giffords Compl. Engl. Lawyer. I do hereby will and direct that my executrix..do excuse and release the said sum of 100l. to him; figurative usage. of an abstract thing (e.g. reason, law): Demands, requires. 1597 Shaks. 2 Hen. IV, Our Battaile is more full of Namess then yours Then Reason will, our hearts should be as good. Usage No. 4 transf. (from 2). Intends to express, means; affirms, maintains. 1602 Dolman La Primaud. Fr. Acad. Hee will that this authority should be for a principle of demonstration. 2 With dependent infinitive (normally without "to"); desire to, wish to, have a mind to (do something); often also implying intention. 1697 Ctess DAunoys Trav. I will not write to you often, because I will always have a stock of News to tell you, which..is pretty long in picking up. 1704 Locke Hum. Und. The great Encomiasts of the Chineses, do all to a man agree and will convince us that the Sect of the Literati are Atheists. 6 In relation to anothers desire or requirement, or to an obligation of some kind: Am (is, are) disposed or willing to, consent to; †in early use sometimes = deign or condescend to.With the (rare and obs.) imper. use, as in quot. 1490, cf. b and the corresponding negative use in 12 b. 1921 Times Lit. Suppl. 10 Feb. 88/3 Literature thrives where people will read what they do not agree with, if it is good. b In 2nd person, interrog., or in a dependent clause after beg or the like, expressing a request (usually courteous; with emphasis, impatient). 1599 Shaks. Hen. V, ii. i. 47 Will you shogge off? 1605 1878 Hardy Ret. Native v. iii, O, O, O,..O, will you have done! Usage No. 7 Expressing voluntary action, or conscious intention directed to the doing of what is expressed by the principal verb (without temporal reference as in 11, and without emphasis as in 10): = choose to (choose v. B. 3 a). The proper word for this idea, which cannot be so precisely expressed by any other. 1685 Baxter Paraphr., When God will tell us we shall know. Usage No. 8 Expressing natural disposition to do something, and hence habitual action: Has the habit, or `a way, of --ing; is addicted or accustomed to --ing; habitually does; sometimes connoting `may be expected to (cf. 15). 1865 Ruskin Sesame, Men, by their nature, are prone to fight; they will fight for any cause, or for none; expressing potentiality, capacity, or sufficiency: Can, may, is able to, is capable of --ing; is (large) enough or sufficient to.†it will not be: it cannot be done or brought to pass; it is all in vain. So, †will it not be? 1833 N. Arnott Physics, The heart will beat after removal from the body. Usage No. 10 As a strengthening of sense 7, expressing determination, persistence, and the like (without temporal reference as in 11); purposes to, is determined to. 1539 Bible (Great) Isa. lxvi. 6, I heare ye voyce of the Lorde, that wyll rewarde, etc; recompence his enemyes; emphatically. Is fully determined to; insists on or persists in --ing: sometimes with mixture of sense 8. (In 1st pers. with implication of futurity, as a strengthening of sense 11 a. Also fig. = must inevitably, is sure to. 1892 E. Reeves Homeward Bound viii. 239, I have spent 6,000 francs to come here..and I will see it! c In phr. of ironical or critical force referring to anothers assertion or opinion. Now arch. exc. in will have it; 1591 Shaks. 1 Hen. VI, This is a Riddling Merchant for the nonce, He will be here, and yet he is not here. 1728 Chambers Cycl., Honey, Some naturalists will have honey to be of a different quality, according to the difference of the flowers..the bees suck it from. Also, as auxiliary of the future tense with implication (entailment rather than cancellable implicatum) of intention, thus distinguished from ‘shall,’ v. B. 8, where see note); in 1st person: sometimes in slightly stronger sense = intend to, mean to. 1600 Shaks. A.Y.L., To morrow will we be married. 1607 Shaks. Cor., Ile run away Till I am bigger, but then Ile fight. 1777 Clara Reeve Champion of Virtue, Never fear it..I will speak to Joseph about it. b In 2nd and 3rd pers., in questions or indirect statements. 1839 Lane Arab. Nts., I will cure thee without giving thee to drink any potion When King Yoonán heard his words, he..said.., How wilt thou do this? c will do (with omission of "I"): an expression of willingness to carry out a request. Cf. wilco. colloq. 1967 L. White Crimshaw Memorandum, `And find out where the bastard was `Will do, Jim said. 13 In 1st pers., expressing immediate intention: "I will" = `I am now going to, `I proceed at once to. 1885 Mrs. Alexander At Bay, Very well; I will wish you good-evening. b In 1st pers. pl., expressing a proposal: we will (†wule we) = `let us. 1798 Coleridge Nightingale 4 Come, we will rest on this old mossy bridge!, c figurative, as in It will rain, (in 3rd pers.) of a thing: Is ready to, is on the point of --ing. 1225 Ancr. R. A treou þet wule uallen, me underset hit mid on oðer treou. 14 In 2nd and 3rd pers., as auxiliary expressing mere futurity, forming (with pres. inf.) the future, and (with pf. inf.) the future pf. tense: corresponding to "shall" in the 1st pers. (see note s.v. shall v. B. 8). 1847 Tennyson Princess iii. 12 Rest, rest, on mothers breast, Father will come to thee soon. b As auxiliary of future substituted for the imper. in mild injunctions or requests. 1876 Ruskin St. Marks Rest. That they should use their own balances, weights, and measures; (not by any means false ones, you will please to observe). 15 As auxiliary of future expressing a contingent event, or a result to be expected, in a supposed case or under particular conditions (with the condition expressed by a conditional, temporal, or imper. clause, or otherwise implied). 1861 M. Pattison Ess. The lover of the Elizabethan drama will readily recal many such allusions; b with pers.sSubjects (usually 1st pers. sing.), expressing a voluntary act or choice in a supposed case, or a conditional promise or undertaking: esp. in asseverations, e.g. I will die sooner than, I’ll be hanged if, etc.). 1898 H. S. Merriman Rodens Corner. But I will be hanged if I see what it all means, now; xpressing a determinate or necessary consequence (without the notion of futurity). 1887 Fowler Deductive Logic, From what has been said it will be seen that I do not agree with Mr. Mill. Mod. If, in a syllogism, the middle term be not distributed in either premiss, there will be no conclusion; ith the notion of futurity obscured or lost: = will prove or turn out to, will be found on inquiry to; may be supposed to, presumably does. Hence (chiefly Sc. and north. dial.) in estimates of amount, or in uncertain or approximate statements, the future becoming equivalent to a present with qualification: e.g. it will be = `I think it is or `it is about; what will that be? = `what do you think that is? 1584 Hornby Priory in Craven Gloss. Where on 40 Acres there will be xiij.s. iv.d. per acre yerely for rent. 1791 Grose Olio (1792) 106, I believe he will be an Irishman. 1791 Grose Olio. C. How far is it to Dumfries? W. It will be twenty miles. 1812 Brackenridge Views Louisiana, The agriculture of this territory will be very similar to that of Kentucky. 1876 Whitby Gloss. sThis word we have only once heard, and that will be twenty years ago. 16 Used where "shall" is now the normal auxiliary, chiefly in expressing mere futurity: since 17th c. almost exclusively in Scottish, Irish, provincial, or extra-British use (see shall. 1602 Shaks. Ham. I will win for him if I can: if not, Ile gaine nothing but my shame, and the odde hits. 1825 Scott in Lockhart Ballantyne-humbug. I expect we will have some good singing. 1875 E. H. Dering Sherborne. `Will I start, sir? asked the Irish groom. Usage No. 3 Elliptical and quasi-elliptical uses; n absol. use, or with ellipsis of obj. clause as in 2: in meaning corresponding to senses 5-7.if you will is sometimes used parenthetically to qualify a word or phrase: = `if you wish it to be so called, `if you choose or prefer to call it so. 1696 Whiston The. Earth. Gravity depends entirely on the constant and efficacious, and, if you will, the supernatural and miraculous Influence of Almighty God. 1876 Ruskin St. Marks Rest. Very savage! monstrous! if you will. b In parenthetic phr. if God will (†also will God, rarely God will), God willing: if it be the will of God, `D.V.In OE. Gode willi&asg.ende (will v.2) = L. Deo volente. 1716 Strype in Thoresbys Lett. Next week, God willing, I take my journey to my Rectory in Sussex; fig. Demands, requires (absol. or ellipt. use of 3 c). 1511 Reg. Privy Seal Scot. That na seculare personis have intrometting with thaim uther wais than law will; I will well: I assent, `I should think so indeed. (Cf. F. je veux bien.) Usage No. 18: with ellipsis of a vb. of motion. 1885 Bridges Eros and Psyche Aug. I will to thee oer the stream afloat. Usage No. 19: with ellipsis of active inf. to be supplied from the context. 1836 Dickens Sk. Boz, Steam Excurs., `Will you go on deck? `No, I will not. This was said with a most determined air. 1853 Dickens Bleak Ho. lii, I cant believe it. Its not that I dont or I wont. I cant! 1885 Mrs. Alexander Valeries Fate vi, `Do you know that all the people in the house will think it very shocking of me to walk with you?.. `The deuce they will!; With generalized ellipsis, esp. in proverbial saying (now usually as in quot. 1562, with will for would). 1639 J. Clarke Paroem. 237 He that may and will not, when he would he shall not. c With so or that substituted for the omitted inf. phr.: now usually placed at the beginning of the sentence. 1596 Shaks. Tam. Shr. Hor. I promist we would beare his charge of wooing Gremio. And so we wil. d Idiomatically used in a qualifying phr. with relative, equivalent to a phr. with indef. relative in -ever; often with a thing as subj., becoming a mere synonym of may: e.g. shout as loud as you will = `however loud you (choose to) shout; come what will = `whatever may come; be that as it will = `however that may be. 1732 Pope Mor. Ess. The ruling Passion, be it what it will, The ruling Passion conquers Reason still. 20 With ellipsis of pass. inf. A. 1774 Goldsm. Surv. Exp. Philos. The airs force is compounded of its swiftness and density, and as these are encreased, so will the force of the wind; in const. where the ellipsis may be either of an obj. clause or of an inf. a In a disjunctive qualifying clause or phr. usually parenthetic, as whether he will or no, will he or not, (with pron. omitted) will or no, (with or omitted) will he will he not, will he nill he (see VI. below and willy-nilly), etc.In quot. 1592 vaguely = `one way or another, `in any case. For the distinction between should and would, v. note s.v. shall; in a noun-clause expressing the object of desire, advice, or request, usually with a person as subj., implying voluntary action as the desired end: thus distinguished from should, which may be used when the persons will is not in view. Also (almost always after wish) with a thing as Subjects, in which case should can never be substituted because it would suggest the idea of command or compulsion instead of mere desire. Cf. shall; will; willest; willeth; wills; willed (wIld); also: willian, willi, wyll, wille, wil, will, willode, will, wyllede, wylled, willyd, ied, -it, -id, willed; wijld, wilde, wild, willid, -yd, wylled,willet, willed; willd(e, wild., OE. willian wk. vb. = German “willen.” f. will sb.1, 1 trans. to wish, desire; sometimes with implication of intention: = will. 1400 Lat. and Eng. Prov. He þt a lytul me 3euyth to me wyllyth optat longe lyffe. 1548 Udall, etc. Erasm. Par. Matt. v. 21-24 Who so euer hath gotten to hymselfe the charitie of the gospell, whyche wylleth wel to them that wylleth yll. 1581 A. Hall Iliad, By Mineruas helpe, who willes you all the ill she may. A. 1875 Tennyson Q. Mary i. iv, A great party in the state Wills me to wed her; To assert, affirm: = will v.1 B. 4. 1614 Selden Titles Hon. None of this excludes Vnction before, but only wils him the first annointed by the Pope. 2 a to direct by ones will or testament (that something be done, or something to be done); to dispose of by will; to bequeath or devise; to determine by the will; to attempt to cause, aim at effecting by exercise of will; to set the mind with conscious intention to the performance or occurrence of something; to choose or decide to do something, or that something shall be done or happen. Const. with simple obj., acc. and inf., simple inf. (now always with to), or obj. clause; also absol. or intr. (with as or so). Nearly coinciding in meaning with will v.1 7, but with more explicit reference to the mental process of volition. 1630 Prynne Anti-Armin. 119 He had onely a power, not to fall into sinne vnlesse he willed it. 1667 Milton P.L. So absolute she seems..that what she wills to do or say, Seems wisest. 1710 J. Clarke tr. Rohaults Nat. Philos. If I will to move my Arm, it is presently moved. 1712 Berkeley Pass. Obed. He that willeth the end, doth will the necessary means conducive to that end. 1837 Carlyle Fr. Rev. All shall be as God wills. 1880 Meredith Tragic Com. So great, heroical, giant-like, that what he wills must be. 1896 Housman Shropsh. Lad xxx, Others, I am not the first, Have willed more mischief than they durst; intr. to exercise the will; to perform the mental act of volition. 1594 Hooker Eccl. Pol. To will, is to bend our soules to the hauing or doing of that which they see to be good. 1830 Mackintosh Eth. Philos. Wks.. But what could induce such a being to will or to act? 1867 A. P. Forbes Explan. Is this infinitely powerful and intelligent Being free? wills He? loves He? c trans. To bring or get (into, out of, etc.) by exercise of will. 1850 L. Hunt Table-t. (1882) 184 Victims of opium have been known to be unable to will themselves out of the chair in which they were sitting. d To control (another person), or induce (another) to do something, by the mere exercise of ones will, as in hypnotism. 1882 Proc. Soc. Psych. Research I. The one to be `willed would go to the other end of the house, if desired, whilst we agreed upon the thing to be done. 1886 19th Cent. They are what is called `willed to do certain things desired by the ladies or gentlemen who have hold of them. 1897 A. Lang Dreams & Ghosts iii. 59 A young lady, who believed that she could play the `willing game successfully without touching the person `willed; to express or communicate ones will or wish with regard to something, with various shades of meaning, cf. will, v.1 3., specifically: a to enjoin, order; to decree, ordain, a) with personal obj., usually with inf. or clause. 1481 Cov. Leet Bk. 496 We desire and also will you that vnto oure seid seruaunt ye yeue your aid. 1547 Edw. VI in Rymer Foedera, We Wyll and Commaunde yowe to Procede in the seid Matters. 1568 Grafton Chron., Their sute was smally regarded, and shortly after they were willed to silence. 1588 Lambarde Eiren. If a man do lie in awaite to rob me, and (drawing his sword upon me) he willeth me to deliver my money. 1591 Shaks. 1 Hen. VI We doe no otherwise then wee are willd. 1596 Nashe Saffron Walden P 4, Vp he was had and.willed to deliuer vp his weapon. 1656 Hales Gold. Rem. The King in the Gospel, that made a Feast, and..willed his servants to go out to the high-ways side. 1799 Nelson in Nicolas Disp., Willing and requiring all Officers and men to obey you; 1565 Cooper Thesaurus s.v. Classicum, By sounde of trumpet to will scilence. 1612 Bacon Ess., Of Empire. It is common with Princes (saith Tacitus) to will contradictories. 1697 Dryden Æneis i. 112 Tis yours, O Queen! to will The Work, which Duty binds me to fulfil. 1877 Tennyson Harold vi. i, Get thou into thy cloister as the king Willd it.; to pray, request, entreat; = desire v. 6. 1454 Paston Lett. Suppl. As for the questyon that ye wylled me to aske my lord, I fond hym yet at no good leyser. 1564 Haward tr. Eutropius. The Romaines sent ambassadoures to him, to wyll him to cease from battayle. 1581 A. Hall Iliad, His errand done, as he was willde, he toke his flight from thence. 1631 [Mabbe] Celestina. Did I not will you I should not be wakened? 1690 Dryden Amphitryon i. i, He has sent me to will and require you to make a swinging long Night for him; fig. of a thing, to require, demand; also, to induce, persuade a person to do something. 1445 in Anglia. Constaunce willeth also that thou doo noughte with weyke corage. Cable and Baugh note that one important s. of prescriptions that now form part of all our grammars -- that governing the use of will and shall -- has its origin in this period. Previous to 1622 no grammar recognized any distinction between will and shall. In 1653 Wallis in his Grammatica Linguae Anglicanae states in Latin and for the benefit of Europeans that Subjectsive intention is expressed by will in the first person, by shall in the second and third, while simple factual indicative predictable futurity is expressed by shall in the first person, by will in the second and third. It is not until the second half of the eighteenth century that the use in questions and subordinate clauses is explicitly defined. In 1755 Johnson, in his Dictionary, states the rule for questions, and in 1765 William Ward, in his Grammar, draws up for the first time the full set of prescriptions that underlies, with individual variations, the rules found in later tracts. Wards pronouncements are not followed generally by other grammarians until Lindley Murray gives them greater currency in 1795. Since about 1825 they have often been repeated in grammars, v. Fries, The periphrastic future with will and shall. Will qua modal auxiliary never had an s. The absence of conjugation is a very old common Germanic phenomenon. OE 3rd person present indicative of willan (and of the preterite-present verbs) is not distinct from the 1st person present indicative. That dates back at least to CGmc, or further if one looks just as the forms and ignore tense and/or mood). Re: Prichard: "Prichard wills that he go to London. This is Prichards example, admired by Grice ("but I expect not pleasing to Maucaulays ears"). The -s is introduced to indicate a difference between the modal and main verb use (as in Prichard and Grice) of will. In fact, will, qua modal, has never been used with a to-infinitive. OE uses present-tense forms to refer to future events as well as willan and sculan. willan would give a volitional nuance; sculan, an obligational nuance. Its difficult to find an example of weorthan used to express the future, but that doesnt mean it didnt happen. In insensitive utterers, will has very little of volition about it, unless one follows Walliss observation for for I will vs. I shall. Most probably use ll, or be going to for the future. grammar: Odly, Oxonians, who rarely go to grammar schools, see ‘grammar’ as a divinity, and talk of the logical grammar of a Ryleian agitation, say. It sounds high class because there is the irony that an Oxonian philosopher is surely not a common-or-garden grammarian, involved in the grammar of, say, “Die Deutsche Sprache.” The Oxonian is into the logical grammar. It is more of a ‘linguistic turn’ expression than the duller ‘conceptual analysis,’ or ‘linguistic philosophy.’ cf. logical form, and Russell, “grammar is a pretty good guide to logical form.” while philosophers would use grammar jocularly, Chomsky didnt. The problem, as Grice notes, is that Chomsky never tells us where grammar ends (“or begins for that matter.”) “Consider the P, karulising elatically.” When Carnap introduces the P, he talks syntax, not grammar. But philosophers always took semiotics more seriously than others. So Carnap is well aware of Morriss triad of the syntactics, the semantics, and the pragmatics. Philosophers always disliked grammar, because back in the days of Aelfric, philosophia was supposed to embrace dialectica and grammatica, and rhetorica. “It is all part of philosophy.” Truth-conditional semantics and implicata. Refs.: One source is an essay on ‘grammar’ in the H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. Grice’s handwave. A sort of handwave can mean in a one-off act of communication something. It’s the example he uses. By a sort of handwave, the emissor communicates either that he knows the route or that he is about to leave the addressee. Grice’s myth. This is G. R. Grice, of the social-contract fame. Cf. Strawson and Wiggins comparing Grice’s myth with Plato’s, and they know what they are talking about. Grice’s predicament. S draws a pic- "one-off predicament"). ... Clarendon, 1976); and Simon Blackburn, Spreading the Word (Oxford: Clarendon, 1984) ... But there is an obvious way of emending the account, as Grice points out. ... Blackburn helpfully suggests that we can cut through much of this complexity by ... The above account is intended to capture the notion of one-off meaning. Walking in a forest, having gone some way ahead of the rest of the party, I draw an arrow at a fork of a path, meaning that those who are following me should go straight on. Gricean considerations may be safely ignored. Only when trying to communicate by nonconventional means ("one-off predicament," Blackburn, 1984, chap. Blackburn's mission is to promote the philosophy of language as a pivotal enquiry ... and dismissed; the Gricean model might be suitable to explain one-off acts. The Gricean mechanism with its complex communicative intentions has a clear point in what Blackburn calls “a one-off predicament” - a situation in which an ... gricism.. In analogy with Grecism, we have a Gricism, a Griceian cliché. Cf. a ‘grice’ and ‘griceful’ in ‘philosopher’s lexicon.’ grecianism: why was Grice obsessed with Socrates’s convesations? He does not say. But he implicates it. For the Athenian dialecticians, it is all a matter of ta legomena. Ditto for the Oxonian dialecticians. Ta legomena becomes ordinary language. And the task of the philosopher is to provide reductive analysis of this or that concept in terms of necessary and sufficient conditions. Cf. Hospers. Grices review of the history of philosophy (Philosophy is but footnotes to Zeno.). Grice enjoyed Zenos answer, What is a friend? Alter ego, Allego. ("Only it was the other Zeno." Grice tried to apply the Socratic method during his tutorials. "Nothing like a heartfelt dedication to the Socratic art of mid-wifery, seeking to bring forth error and to strangle it at birth.” μαιεύομαι (A.“μαῖα”), ‘to serve as a midwife, act a; “ἡ Ἄρτεμις μ.” Luc. D Deor.26.2. 2. cause delivery to take place, “ἱκανὴ ἔκπληξις μαιεύσασθαι πρὸ τῆς ὥρας” Philostr. VA1.5. 3. c. acc., bring to the birth, Marin.Procl.6; ὄρνιθας μ. hatch chickens, Anon. ap. Suid.; αἰετὸν κάνθαρος μαιεύσομαι, prov. of taking vengeance on a powerful enemy, Ar. Lys.695 (cf. Sch.). 4. deliver a woman, esp. metaph. in Pl. of the Socratic method, Tht. 149b. II. Act., Poll. 4.208, Sch. OH.4.506. Pass., τὰ ὑπ᾽ ἐμοῦ μαιευθέντα brought into the world by me, Pl. Tht. 150e, cf. Philostr.VA5.13. Refs.: the obvious references are Grice’s allusions to Aristotle, Plato, Socrates, Zeno, The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. hazzing: under conjunctum, we see that the terminology is varied. There is the copulatum. But Grice prefers to restrict to use of the copulatum to izzing and hazzing. Oddly Grice sees hazzing as a predicate which he formalizes as Hxy. To be read x hazzes y, although sometimes he uses ‘x hazz y.’ Vide ‘accidentia.’ For Grice the role of métier is basic since it shows finality in nature. Homo sapiens, qua pirot, is to be rational. hint hinting. Grice spends quite a long section in “Retrospective epilogue” to elucidate “Emissor E communicates that p via a hint,” versus “Emissor E communicates that p via a suggestion.” Some level of explicitness (vide candour) is necessary. If it is too obscure it cannot be held to have been ‘communicated’ in the first place! Cf. Holdcroft, “Some forms of indirect communication” for the Journal of Rhetoric. Grice had to do a bit of linguistic botany for his “E implicates that p”: To do duty for ‘imply,’ suggest, indicate, hint, mean, -- “etc.” indirectly or implicitly convey. heterological: Grice and Thomson go heterological. Grice was fascinated by Baron Russell’s remarks on heterological and its implicate. Grice is particularly interested in Russell’s philosophy because of the usual Oxonian antipathy towards his type of philosophising. Being an irreverent conservative rationalist, Grice found in Russell a good point for dissent! If paradoxes were always sets of propositions or arguments or conclusions, they would always be meaningful. But some paradoxes are semantically flawed and some have answers that are backed by a pseudo-argument employing a defective lemma that lacks a truth-value. Grellings paradox, for instance, opens with a distinction between autological and heterological words. An autological word describes itself, e.g., polysyllabic is polysllabic, English is English, noun is a noun, etc. A heterological word does not describe itself, e.g., monosyllabic is not monosyllabic, Chinese is not Chinese, verb is not a verb, etc. Now for the riddle: Is heterological heterological or autological? If heterological is heterological, since it describes itself, it is autological. But if heterological is autological, since it is a word that does not describe itself, it is heterological. The common solution to this puzzle is that heterological, as defined by Grelling, is not what Grice a genuine predicate ‒ Gricing is!In other words, Is heterological heterological? is without meaning. That does not mean that an utterer, such as Baron Russell, may implicate that he is being very witty by uttering the Grelling paradox! There can be no predicate that applies to all and only those predicates it does not apply to for the same reason that there can be no barber who shaves all and only those people who do not shave themselves. Grice seems to be relying on his friend at Christ Church, Thomson in On Some Paradoxes, in the same volume where Grice published his Remarks about the senses, Analytical Philosophy, Butler (ed.), Blackwell, Oxford, 104–119. Grice thought that Thomson was a genius, if ever there is one! Plus, Grice thought that, after St. Johns, Christ Church was the second most beautiful venue in the city of dreaming spires. On top, it is what makes Oxford a city, and not, as villagers call it, a town. Refs.: the main source is Grice’s essay on ‘heterologicality,’ but the keyword ‘paradox’ is useful, too, especially as applied to Grice’s own paradox and to what, after Moore, Grice refers to as the philosopher’s paradoxes. The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. I: particularis dedicativa.. See Grice, “Circling the Square of Opposition. Ichthyological necessity: topic-neutral: Originally, Ryle’s term for logical constants, such as “of ” “not,” “every.” They are not endowed with special meanings, and are applicable to discourse about any subject-matter. They do not refer to any external object but function to organize meaningful discourse. J. J. C. Smart calls a term topic-neutral if it is noncommittal about designating something mental or something physical. Instead, it simply describes an event without judging the question of its intrinsic nature. In his central-state theory of mind, Smart develops a topic-neutral analysis of mental expressions and argues that it is possible to account for the situations described by mental concepts in purely physical and topic-neutral terms. “In this respect, statements like ‘I am thinking now’ are, as J. J. C. Smart puts it, topic-neutral. They say that something is going on within us, something apt for the causing of certain sorts of behaviour, but they say nothing of the nature of this process.” D. Armstrong, A Materialist Theory of the Mind ideationalism. Alston calls Grice an ideationalist, and Grice takes it as a term of abuse. Grice would occasionally use ‘mental.’ Short and Lewis have "mens.” “terra corpus est, at mentis ignis est;” so too, “istic est de sole sumptus; isque totus mentis est;” f. from the root ‘men,’ whence ‘memini,’ and ‘comminiscor.’ Lewis and Short render ‘mens’ as ‘the mind, disposition; the heart, soul.’ Lewis and Short have ‘commĭniscor,’ originally conminiscor ), mentus, from ‘miniscor,’ whence also ‘reminiscor,’ stem ‘men,’ whence ‘mens’ and ‘memini,’ cf. Varro, Lingua Latina 6, § 44. Lewis and Short render the verb as, literally, ‘to ponder carefully, to reflect upon;’ ‘hence, as a result of reflection; cf. 1. commentor, II.), to devise something by careful thought, to contrive, invent, feign. Myro is perhaps unaware of the implicata of ‘mental’ when he qualifies his -ism with ‘modest.’ Grice would seldom use mind (Grecian nous) or mental (Grecian noetikos vs. æsthetikos). His sympathies go for more over-arching Grecian terms like the very Aristotelian soul, the anima, i. e. the psyche and the psychological. Grice discusses G. Myro’s essay, ‘In defence of a modal mentalism,’ with attending commentary by R. Albritton and S. Cavell. Grice himself would hardly use mental, mentalist, or mentalism himself, but perhaps psychologism. Grice would use mental, on occasion, but his Grecianism was deeply rooted, unlike Myro’s. At Clifton and under Hardie (let us recall he came up to Oxford under a classics scholarship to enrol in the Lit. Hum.) he knows that mental translates mentalis translates nous, only ONE part, one third, actually, of the soul, and even then it may not include the ‘practical rational’ one! Cf. below on ‘telementational.’ Refs.: The reference to mentalism in the essay on ‘modest mentalism,’ after Myro, in The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. ideatum. Quite used by Grice. Cf. Conceptum. Sub-perceptual. idem A key philosophical notion that encompasses linguistic, logic, and metaphysical issues, and also epistemology. Possibly the central question in philosophy. Vide the principle of ‘identity.’ amicus est tamquam alter idem,” a second self, Identicum. Grecian ‘tautotes.’ late L. identitās (Martianus Capella, c425), peculiarly formed from ident(i)-, for L. idem ‘same’ + -tās, -tātem: see -ty. Various suggestions have been offered as to the formation. Need was evidently felt of a noun of condition or quality from idem to express the notion of ‘sameness’, side by side with those of ‘likeness’ and ‘oneness’ expressed by similitās and ūnitās: hence the form of the suffix. But idem had no combining stem. Some have thought that ident(i)- was taken from the L. adv. "identidem" ‘over and over again, repeatedly’, connexion with which appears to be suggested by Du Cange's explanation of identitās as ‘quævis actio repetita’. Meyer-Lübke suggests that in the formation there was present some association between idem and id ens ‘that being’, whence "identitās" like "entitās." But assimilation to "entitās" may have been merely to avoid the solecism of *idemitās or *idemtās. sameness. However originated, "ident(i)-" (either from adverb "identidem" or an assimilation of "id ens," "id ens," that being, "id entitas" "that entity") became the combining stem of idem, and the series ūnitās, ūnicus, ūnificus, ūnificāre, was paralleled by identitās, identicus, identificus, identificāre: see identic, identific, identify above.] to OED 3rd: identity, n. Pronunciation: Brit./ʌɪˈdɛntᵻti/ , U.S. /aɪˈdɛn(t)ədi/ Forms: 15 idemptitie, 15 ydemptyte, 15–16 identitie, 15– identity, 16 idemptity. Etymology: < Middle French identité, ydemtité, ydemptité, ydentité (French identité) quality or condition of being the same (a1310; 1756 in sense ‘individuality, personality’, 1801 in sense ‘distinct impression of a single person or thing presented to or perceived by others’) and its etymon post-classical Latin identitat-, identitas quality of being the same (4th cent.), condition or fact that a person or thing is itself and not something else (8th cent. in a British source), fact of being the same (from 12th cent. in British sources), continual sameness, lack of variety, monotony (from 12th cent. in British sources; 14th cent. in a continental source) < classical Latin idem same (see idem n.) + -tās (see -ty suffix1) [sameness], after post-classical Latin essentitas ‘being’ (4th cent.).The Latin word was formed to provide a translation equivalent for ancient Greek ταὐτότης (tautotes) identity. identity: identity was a key concept for Grice. Under identity, he views both identity simpliciter and personal identity. Grice advocates psychological or soul criterianism. Psychological or soul criterianism has been advocated, in one form or another, by philosophers such as Locke, Butler, Duncan-Jones, Berkeley, Gallie, Grice, Flew, Haugeland, Jones, Perry, Shoemaker and Parfit, and Quinton. What all of these theories have in common is the idea that, even if it is the case that some kind of physical states are necessary for being a person, it is the unity of consciousness which is of decisive importance for personal identity over time. In this sense, person is a term which picks out a psychological, or mental, "thing". In claiming this, all Psychological Criterianists entail the view that personal identity consists in the continuity of psychological features. It is interesting that Flew has an earlier "Selves," earlier than his essay on Locke on personal identity. The first, for Mind, criticising Jones, "The self in sensory cognition"; the second for Philosophy. Surely under the tutelage of Grice. Cf. Jones, Selves: A reply to Flew, Philosophy. The stronger thesis asserts that there is no conceivable situation in which bodily identity would be necessary, some other conditions being always both necessary and sufficient. Grice takes it that Locke’s theory (II, 27) is an example of this latter type. To say "Grice remembers that he heard a noise", without irony or inverted commas, is to imply that Grice did hear a noise. In this respect remember is like, know, a factive. It does not follow from this, nor is it true, that each claim to remember, any more than each claim to know, is alethic or veridical; or, not everything one seems to remember is something one really remembers. So much is obvious, although Locke -- although admittedly referring only to the memory of actions, section 13 -- is forced to invoke the providence of God to deny the latter. These points have been emphasised by Flew in his discussion of Locke’s views on personal identity. In formulating Locke’ thesis, however, Flew makes a mistake; for he offers Lockes thesis in the form if Grice can remember Hardies doing such-and-such, Grice and Hardie are the same person. But this obviously will not do, even for Locke, for we constantly say things like I remember my brother Derek joining the army without implying that I and my brother are the same person. So if we are to formulate such a criterion, it looks as though we have to say something like the following. If Derek Grice remembers joining my, he is the person who did that thing. But since remembers doing means remembers himself doing, this is trivially tautologous, and moreover lends colour to Butlers famous objection that memory, so far from constituting personal identity, presupposes it. As Butler puts it, one should really think it self-evident that consciousness of personal identity presupposes, and therefore cannot constitute, personal identity; any more than knowledge, in any other case, can constitute truth, which it presupposes. Butler then asserts that Locke’s misstep stems from his methodology. This wonderful mistake may possibly have arisen from hence; that to be endued with consciousness is inseparable from the idea of a person, or intelligent being. For this might be expressed inaccurately thus, that consciousness makes personality: and from hence it might be concluded to make personal identity. One of the points that Locke emphasizes—that persistence conditions are determined via defining kind terms—is what, according to Butler, leads Locke astray. Butler additionally makes the point that memory is not required for personal persistence. But though present consciousness of what we at present do and feel is necessary to our being the persons we now are; yet present consciousness of past actions or feelings is not necessary to our being the same persons who performed those actions, or had those feelings. This is a point that others develop when they assert that Lockes view results in contradiction. Hence the criterion should rather run as follows. If Derek Grice claims to remember joining the army. We must then ask how such a criterion might be used. Grices example is: I remember I smelled a smell. He needs two experiences to use same. I heard a noise and I smelled a smell.The singular defines the hearing of a noise is the object of some consciousness. The pair defines, "The hearing of a noise and the smelling of a smell are objects of the same -- cognate with self as in I hurt me self, -- consciousness. The standard form of an identity question is Is this x the same x as that x which E and in the simpler situation we are at least presented with just the materials for constructing such a question; but in the more complicated situation we are baffled even in asking the question, since both the transformed persons are equally good candidates for being its Subjects, and the question Are these two xs the same (x?) as the x which E is not a recognizable form of identity question. Thus, it might be argued, the fact that we could not speak of identity in the latter situation is no kind of proof that we could not do so in the former. Certainly it is not a proof, as Strawson points out to Grice. This is not to say that they are identical at all. The only case in which identity and exact similarity could be distinguished, as we have just seen, is that of the body, same body and exactly similar body really do mark a difference. Thus one may claim that the omission of the body takes away all content from the idea of personal identity, as Pears pointed out to Grice. Leaving aside memory, which only partially applies to the case, character and attainments are quite clearly general things. Joness character is, in a sense, a particular; just because Jones’s character refers to the instantiation of certain properties by a particular (and bodily) man, as Strawson points out to Grice (Particular and general). If in ‘Negation and privation,’ Grice tackles Aristotle, he now tackles Locke. Indeed, seeing that Grice went years later to the topic as motivated by, of all people, Haugeland, rather than perhaps the more academic milieu that Perry offers, Grice became obsessed with Hume’s sceptical doubts! Hume writes in the Appendix that when he turns his reflection on himself, Hume never can perceive this self without some one or more perceptions. Nor can Hume ever perceive any thing but the perceptions. It is the composition of these, therefore, which forms the self, Hume thinks. Hume grants that one can conceive a thinking being to have either many or few perceptions. Suppose, says Hume, the mind to be reduced even below the life of an oyster. Suppose the oyster to have only one perception, as of thirst or hunger. Consider the oyster in that situation. Does the oyster conceive any thing but merely that perception? Has the oyster any notion of, to use Gallies pretentious Aristotelian jargon, self or substance? If not, the addition of this or other perception can never give the oyster that notion. The annihilation, which this or that philosopher, including Grices first post-war tutee, Flew, supposes to follow upon death, and which entirely destroys the oysters self, is nothing but an extinction of all particular perceptions; love and hatred, pain and pleasure, thought and sensation. These therefore must be the same with self; since the one cannot survive the other. Is self the same with substance? If it be, how can that question have place, concerning the subsistence of self, under a change of substance? If they be distinct, what is the difference betwixt them? For his part, Hume claims, he has a notion of neither, when conceived distinct from this or that particular perception. However extraordinary Hume’s conclusion may seem, it need not surprise us. Most philosophers, such as Locke, seems inclined to think, that personal identity arises from consciousness. But consciousness is nothing but a reflected thought or perception, Hume suggests. This is Grices quandary about personal identity and its implicata. Some philosophers have taken Grice as trying to provide an exegesis of Locke. However, their approaches surely differ. What works for Grice may not work for Locke. For Grice it is analytically true that it is not the case that Person1 and Person may have the same experience. Grice explicitly states that he thinks that his logical-construction theory is a modification of Locke’s theory. Grice does not seem terribly interested to find why it may not, even if the York-based Locke Society might! Rather than introjecting into Lockes shoes, Grices strategy seems to dismiss Locke, shoes and all. Specifically, it not clear to Grice what Lockes answer in the Essay would be to Grices question about this or that I utterance that he sets his analysis with. Admittedly, Grice does quote, albeit briefly, directly from Lockes Essay. As far as any intelligent being can repeat the idea of any past action with the same consciousness it had of it at first, and with the same consciousness it has of any present action, Locke claims, so far the being is the same personal self. Grice tackles Lockes claim with four objections. These are important to consider since Grice sees as improving on Locke. A first objection concerns icircularity, with which Grice easily disposes by following Hume and appealing to the experience of memory or introspection. A second objection is Reid’s alleged counterexample about the long-term memory of the admiral who cannot remember that he was flogged as a boy. Grice dismisses this as involving too long-term of a memory. A third objection concerns Locke’s vagueness about the aboutness of consciousness, a point made by Hume in the Appendix. A fourth objection concerns again circularity, this time in Locke’s use of same in the definiens ‒ cf. Wiggins, Sameness and substance. It’s extraordinary that Wiggins is philosophising on anything Griceian. Grice is concerned with the implicatum involved in the use of the first person singular. I will be fighting soon. Grice means in body and soul. The utterance also indicates that this is Grices pre-war days at Oxford. No wonder his choice of an example. What else could he have in his soul? The topic of personal identity, which label Hume and Austin found pretentious, and preferred to talk about the illocutionary force of I, has a special Oxonian pedigree, perhaps as motivated by Humes challenge, that Grice has occasion to study and explore for his M. A. Lit. Hum. with Locke’s Essay as mandatory reading. Locke, a philosopher with whom Oxford identifies most, infamously defends this memory-based account of I. Up in Scotland, Reid reads it and concocts this alleged counter-example. Hume, or Home, if you must, enjoys it. In fact, while in the Mind essay he is not too specific about Hume, Grice will, due mainly to his joint investigations with Haugeland, approach, introjecting into the shoes of Hume ‒ who is idolised in The New World ‒ in ways he does not introject into Lockes. But Grices quandary is Hume’s quandary, too. In his own approach to I, the Cartesian ego, made transcendental and apperceptive by Kant, Grice updates the time-honoured empiricist mnemonic analysis by Locke. The first update is in style. Grice embraces, as he does with negation, a logical construction, alla Russell, via Broad, of this or that “I” (first-person) utterance, ending up with an analysis of a “someone,” third-person, less informative, utterance. Grices immediate source is Gallie’s essay on self and substance in Mind. Mind is still a review of psychology and philosophy, so poor Grice has not much choice. In fact, Grice is being heterodoxical or heretic enough to use Broad’s taxonomy, straight from the other place of I utterances. The logical-construction theory is a third proposal, next to the Bradleyian idealist pure-ego theory and the misleading covert-description theory. Grice deals with the Reids alleged counterexample of the brave officer. Suppose, Reid says, and Grice quotes verbatim, a brave officer to have been flogged when a boy at school, for robbing an orchard, to have taken a standard from the enemy in his first campaign, and to have been made a general in advanced life. Suppose also, which must be admitted to be possible, that when he2 took the standard, he2 was conscious of his having been flogged at school, and that, when made a general, he3 was conscious of his2 taking the standard, but had absolutely lost the consciousness of his1 flogging. These things being supposed, it follows, from Lockes doctrine, that he1 who is flogged at school is the same person as him2 who later takes the standard, and that he2 who later takes the standard is the same person as him3 who is still later made a general. When it follows, if there be any truth in logic, that the general is the same person with him1 who is flogged at school. But the general’s consciousness does emphatically not reach so far back as his1 flogging. Therefore, according to Locke’s doctrine, he3 is emphatically not the same person as him1 who is flogged. Therefore, we can say about the general that he3 is, and at the same time, that he3 is not the same person as him1 who was flogged at school. Grice, wholl later add a temporal suffix to =t yielding, by transitivity. The flogged boy =t1 the brave officer. And the brave officer =t2 the admiral. But the admiral ≠t3 the flogged boy. In Mind, Grice tackles the basic analysans, and comes up with a rather elaborate analysans for a simple I or Someone statement. Grice just turns to a generic affirmative variant of the utterance he had used in Negation. It is now someone, viz. I, who hears that the bell tolls. It is the affirmative counterpart of the focus of his earlier essay on negation, I do not hear that the bell tolls. Grice dismisses what, in the other place, was referred to as privileged-access, and the indexicality of I, an approach that will be made popular by Perry, who however reprints Grices essay in his influential collection for the University of California Press. By allowing for someone, viz. I, Grice seems to be relying on a piece of reasoning which hell later, in his first Locke lecture, refer to as too good. I hear that the bell tolls; therefore, someone hears that the bell tolls. Grice attempts to reduce this or that I utterance (Someone, viz. I, hears that the bell tolls) is in terms of a chain or sequence of mnemonic states. It poses a few quandaries itself. While quoting from this or that recent philosopher such as Gallie and Broad, it is a good thing that Grice has occasion to go back to, or revisit, Locke and contest this or that infamous and alleged counterexample presented by Reid and Hume. Grice adds a methodological note to his proposed logical-construction theory of personal identity. There is some intricacy of his reductive analysis, indeed logical construction, for an apparently simple and harmless utterance (cf. his earlier essay on I do not hear that the bell tolls). But this intricacy does not prove the analysis wrong. Only that Grice is too subtle. If the reductive analysis of not is in terms of each state which I am experiencing is incompatible with phi), that should not be a minus, or drawback, but a plus, and an advantage in terms of philosophical progress. The same holds here in terms of the concept of a temporary state. Much later, Grice reconsiders, or revisits, indeed, Broads remark and re-titles his approach as the (or a) logical-construction theory of personal identity. And, with Haugeland, Grice re-considers Humes own vagaries, or quandary, with personal identity. Unlike the more conservative Locke that Grice favours in the pages of Mind, eliminationist Hume sees ‘I’ as a conceptual muddle, indeed a metaphysical chimæra. Hume presses the point for an empiricist verificationist account of I. For, as Russell would rhetorically ask, ‘What can be more direct that the experience of myself?’ The Hume Society should take notice of Grices simplification of Hume’s implicatum on I, if The Locke Society won’t. As a matter of fact, Grice calls one of his metaphysical construction routines the Humeian projection, so it is not too adventurous to think that Grice considers I as an intuitive concept that needs to be metaphysically re-constructed and be given a legitimate Fregeian sense. Why that label for a construction routine? Grice calls this metaphysical construction routine Humeian projection, since the mind (or soul) as it were, spreads over its objects. But, by mind, Hume does not necessarily mean the I. Cf. The minds I. Grice is especially concerned with the poverty and weaknesses of Humes criticism to Lockes account of personal identity. Grice opts to revisit the Lockeian memory-based of this or that someone, viz. I utterance that Hume rather regards as vague, and confusing. Unlike Humes, neither Lockes nor Grices reductive analysis of personal identity is reductionist and eliminationist. The reductive-reductionist distinction Grice draws in Retrospective epilogue as he responds to Rountree-Jack on this or that alleged wrong on meaning that. It is only natural that Grice would be sympathetic to Locke. Grice explores these issues with Haugeland mainly at seminars. One may wonder why Grice spends so much time in a philosopher such as Hume, with whom he agreed almost on nothing! The answer is Humes influence in the Third World that forced Grice to focus on this or that philosopher. Surely Locke is less popular in the New World than Hume is. One supposes Grice is trying to save Hume at the implicatum level, at least. The phrase or term of art, logical construction is Russells and Broads, but Grice loved it. Rational reconstruction is not too dissimilar. Grice prefers Russells and Broads more conservative label. This is more than a terminological point. If Hume is right and there is NO intuitive concept behind I, one cannot strictly re-construct it, only construct it. Ultimately, Grice shows that, if only at the implicatum level, we are able to provide an analysandum for this or that someone, viz. I utterance without using I, by implicating only this or that mnemonic concept, which belongs, naturally, as his theory of negation does, in a theory of philosophical psychology, and again a lower branch of it, dealing with memory. The topic of personal identity unites various interests of Grice. The first is identity “=” simpliciter. Instead of talking of the meaning of I, as, say, Anscombe would, Grice sticks to the traditional category, or keyword, for this, i. e. the theory-laden, personal identity, or even personal sameness. Personal identity is a type of identity, but personal adds something to it. Surely Hume was stretching person a bit when using the example of a soul with a life lower than an oyster. Since Grice follows Aristotles De Anima, he enjoys Hume’s choice, though. It may be argued that personal adds Locke’s consciousness, and rational agency. Grice plays with the body-soul distinction. I, viz someone or somebody, fell from the stairs, perhaps differs from I will be fighting soon. This or that someone, viz. I utterance may be purely bodily. Grice would think that the idea that his soul fell from the stairs sounds, as it would to Berkeley, harsh. But then theres this or that one may be mixed utterance. Someone, viz. I, plays cricket, where surely your bodily mechanisms require some sort of control by the soul. Finally, this or that may be purely souly ‒ the one Grice ends up analysing, Someone, viz. I, hear that the bell tolls. At the time of his Mind essay, Grice may have been unaware of the complications that the concept of a person may bring as attached in adjective form to identity. Ayer did, and Strawson and Wiggins will, and Grice learns much from Strawson. Since Parfit, this has become a common-place topic for analysis at Oxford. A person as a complexum of a body-soul spatio-temporal continuant substance. Ultimately, Grice finds a theoretical counterpart here. A P may become a human, which Grice understands physiologically. That is not enough. A P must aspire, via meteousis, to become a person. Thus, person becomes a technical term in Grices grand metaphysical scheme of things. Someone, viz. I, hear that the bell is tolls is analysed as ≡df, or if and only if, a hearing that the bell tolls is a part of a total temporary tn souly state S1 which is one in a s. such that any state Sn, given this or that condition, contains as a part a memory Mn of the experience of hearing that the bell tolls, which is a component in some pre-sequent t1n item, or contains an experience of hearing that the bell tolls a memory M of which would, given this or that condition, occur as a component in some sub-sequent t2>tn item, there being no sub-set of items which is independent of the rest. Grice simplifies the reductive analysans. Someone, viz. I, hears that the bell tolls iff a hearing that the bell tolls is a component in an item of an interlocking s. with emphasis on lock, s. of this or that memorable and memorative total temporary tn state S1. Is Grice’s Personal identity ever referred to in the Oxonian philosophical literature? Indeeed. Parfit mentions, which makes it especially memorable and memorative. P. Edwards includes a reference to Grices Mind essay in the entry for Personal identity, as a reference to Grice et al on Met. , is referenced in Edwardss encyclopædia entry for metaphysics. Grice does not attribute privileged access or incorrigibility to I or the first person. He always hastens to add that I can always be substituted, salva veritate (if baffling your addressee A) by someone or other, if not some-body or other, a colloquialism Grice especially detested. Grices agency-based approach requires that. I am rational provided thou art, too. If, by explicitly saying he is a Lockeian, Grice surely does not wish us to see him as trying to be original, or the first to consider this or that problem about I; i.e. someone. Still, Grice is the philosopher who explores most deeply the reductive analysis of I, i.e. someone. Grice needs the reductive analysis because human agency (philosophically, rather than psychologically interpreted) is key for his approach to things. By uttering The bell tolls, U means that someone, viz. himself, hears that the bell tolls, or even, by uttering I, hear, viz. someone hears, that the bell tolls, U means that the experience of a hearing that the bell tolls is a component in a total temporary state which is a member of a s. such that each member would, given certain conditions, contain as an component one memory of an experience which is a component in a pre-sequent member, or contains as a component some experience a memory of which would, given certain conditions, occur as a component in a post-sequent member; there being no sub-set of members which is independent of the rest. Thanks, the addressee might reply. I didnt know that! The reductive bit to Grices analysis needs to be emphasised. For Grice, a person, and consequently, a someone, viz. I utterance, is, simpliciter, a logical construction out of this or that Humeian experience. Whereas in Russell, as Broad notes, a logical construction of this or that philosophical concept, in this case personal identity, or cf. Grices earlier reductive analysis of not, is thought of as an improved, rationally reconstructed conception. Neither Russell nor Broad need maintain that the logical construction preserves the original meaning of the analysandum someone, viz. I, hears that the bell tolls, or I do not hear that the bell tolls ‒ hence their paradox of reductionist analysis. This change of Subjects does not apply to Grice. Grice emphatically intends to be make explicit, if rationally reconstructed (if that is not an improvement) through reductive (if not reductionist) analysis, the concept Grice already claims to have. One particular development to consider is within Grices play group, that of Quinton. Grice and Quinton seem to have been the only two philosophers in Austins play group who showed any interest on someone, viz. I. Or not. The fact that Quinton entitles his thing “The soul” did not help. Note that Woozley was at the time editing Reid on “Identity,” Cf. Duncan-Jones on mans mortality. Note that Quintons immediate trigger is Shoemaker. Grice writes that he is not “merely a series of perceptions,” for he is “conscious of a permanent self, an I who experiences these perceptions and who is now identical with the I who experienced perceptions yesterday.” So, leaving aside that he is using I with the third person verb, but surely this is no use-mention fallacy, it is this puzzle that provoked his thoughts on temporal-relative “=” later on. As Grice notes, Butler argued that consciousness of experience can contribute to identity but not define it. Grice will use Butler in his elaboration of conversational benevolence versus conversational self-interest. Better than Quinton, it is better to consider Flew in Philosophy, 96, on Locke and the problem of personal identity, obviously suggested as a term paper by Grice! Wiggins cites Flew. Flew actually notes that Berkeley saw Lockes problem earlier than Reid, which concerns the transitiveness of =. Recall that Wigginss tutor at Oxford was a tutee by Grice, Ackrill. Refs.: The main references covering identity simpliciter are in “Vacuous Names,” and his joint work on metaphysics with G. Myro. The main references relating to the second group, of personal identity, are his “Mind” essay, an essay on ‘the logical-construction theory of personal identity,’ and a second set of essays on Hume’s quandary, The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. illatum, f. illātĭo (inl- ), ōnis, f. infero, a logical inference, conclusion: “vel illativum rogamentum. quod ex acceptionibus colligitur et infertur,” App. Dogm. Plat. 3, pp. 34, 15. – infero: to conclude, infer, draw an inference, Cic. Inv. 1, 47, 87; Quint. 5, 11, 27. illusion: cf. veridical memories, who needs them? hallucination is Grice’s topic.Malcolm argues in Dreaming and Skepticism and in his Dreaming that the notion of a dream qua conscious experience that occurs at a definite time and has definite duration during sleep, is unintelligible. This contradicts the views of philosophers like Descartes (and indeed Moore!), who, Malcolm holds, assume that a human being may have a conscious thought and a conscious experience during sleep. Descartes claims that he had been deceived during sleep. Malcolms point is that ordinary language contrasts consciousness and sleep. The claim that one is conscious while one is sleep-walking is stretching the use of the term. Malcolm rejects the alleged counter-examples based on sleepwalking or sleep-talking, e.g. dreaming that one is climbing stairs while one is actually doing so is not a counter-example because, in such a case, the individual is not sound asleep after all. If a person is in any state of consciousness, it logically follows that he is not sound asleep. The concept of dreaming is based on our descriptions of dreams after we have awakened in telling a dream. Thus, to have dreamt that one has a thought during sleep is not to have a thought any more than to have dreamt that one has climbed Everest is to have climbed Everest. Since one cannot have an experience during sleep, one cannot have a mistaken experience during sleep, thereby undermining the sort of scepticism based on the idea that our experience might be wrong because we might be dreaming. Malcolm further argues that a report of a conscious state during sleep is unverifiable. If Grice claims that he and Strawson saw a big-foot in charge of the reserve desk at the Bodleian library, one can verify that this took place by talking to Strawson and gathering forensic evidence from the library. However, there is no way to verify Grices claim that he dreamed that he and Strawson saw a big-foot working at the Bodleian. Grices only basis for his claim that he dreamt this is that Grice says so after he wakes up. How does one distinguish the case where Grice dreamed that he saw a big-foot working at The Bodleian and the case in which he dreamed that he saw a person in a big-foot suit working at the library but, after awakening, mis-remembered that person in a big-foot suit as a big-foot proper? If Grice should admit that he had earlier mis-reported his dream and that he had actually dreamed he saw a person in a big-foot suit at The Bodleian, there is no more independent verification for this new claim than there was for the original one. Thus, there is, for Malcolm, no sense to the idea of mis-remembering ones dreams. Malcolm here applies one of Witters ideas from his private language argument. One would like to say: whatever is going to seem right to me is right. And that only means that here we cannot talk about right. For a similar reason, Malcolm challenges the idea that one can assign a definite duration or time of occurrence to a dream. If Grice claims that he ran the mile in 3.4 minutes, one could verify this in the usual ways. If, however, Grice says he dreamt that he ran the mile in 3.4 minutes, how is one to measure the duration of his dreamt run? If Grice says he was wearing a stopwatch in the dream and clocked his run at 3.4 minutes, how can one know that the dreamt stopwatch is not running at half speed (so that he really dreamt that he ran the mile in 6.8 minutes)? Grice might argue that a dream report does not carry such a conversational implicata. But Malcolm would say that just admits the point. The ordinary criteria one uses for determining temporal duration do not apply to dreamt events. The problem in both these cases (Grice dreaming one saw a bigfoot working at The Bodleian and dreaming that he ran the mile in 3.4 minutes) is that there is no way to verify the truth of these dreamt events — no direct way to access that dreamt inner experience, that mysterious glow of consciousness inside the mind of Grice lying comatose on the couch, in order to determine the facts of the matter. This is because, for Malcolm, there are no facts of the matter apart from the report by the dreamer of the dream upon awakening. Malcolm claims that the empirical evidence does not enable one to decide between the view that a dream experience occurs during sleep and the view that they are generated upon the moment of waking up. Dennett agrees with Malcolm that nothing supports the received view that a dream involves a conscious experience while one is asleep but holds that such issues might be settled empirically. Malcolm also argues against the attempt to provide a physiological mark of the duration of a dream, for example, the view that the dream lasted as long as the rapid eye movements. Malcolm replies that there can only be as much precision in that common concept of dreaming as is provided by the common criterion of dreaming. These scientific researchers are misled by the assumption that the provision for the duration of a dream is already there, only somewhat obscured and in need of being made more precise. However, Malcolm claims, it is not already there (in the ordinary concept of dreaming). These scientific views are making radical conceptual changes in the concept of dreaming, not further explaining our ordinary concept of dreaming. Malcolm admits, however, that it might be natural to adopt such scientific views about REM sleep as a convention. Malcolm points out, however, that if REM sleep is adopted as a criterion for the occurrence of a dream, people would have to be informed upon waking up that they had dreamed or not. As Pears observes, Malcolm does not mean to deny that people have dreams in favour of the view that they only have waking dream-behaviour. Of course it is no misuse of language to speak of remembering a dream. His point is that since the concept of dreaming is so closely tied to our concept of waking report of a dreams, one cannot form a coherent concept of this alleged inner (private) something that occurs with a definite duration during sleep. Malcolm rejects a certain philosophical conception of dreaming, not the ordinary concept of dreaming, which, he holds, is neither a hidden private something nor mere outward behaviour.The account of dreaming by Malcolm has come in for considerable criticism. Some argue that Malcolms claim that occurrences in dreams cannot be verified by others does not require the strict criteria that Malcolm proposes but can be justified by appeal to the simplicity, plausibility, and predictive adequacy of an explanatory system as a whole. Some argue that Malcolms account of the sentence I am awake is inconsistent. A comprehensive programme in considerable detail has been offered for an empirical scientific investigation of dreaming of the sort that Malcolm rejects. Others have proposed various counterexamples and counter arguments against dreaming by Malcolm. Grices emphasis is in Malcolms easy way out with statements to the effect that implicata do or do not operate in dream reports. They do in mine! Grice considers, I may be dreaming in the two essays opening the Part II: Explorations on semantics and metaphysics in WOW. Cf. Urmson on ‘delusion’ in ‘Parentheticals’ as ‘conceptually impossible.’ Refs.: The main reference is Grice’s essay on ‘Dreaming,’ but there are scattered references in his treatment of Descartes, and “The causal theory of perception” (henceforth, “Causal theory”), The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. imperative mode: At one point, Grice loved the “psi,” Actions are alright, but we need to stop at the psi level. The emissor communicates that the addressee thinks that the emissor has propositional attitude psi. No need to get into the logical form of action. One can just do with the logical form of a ‘that’-clause in the ascription of a state of the soul. This should usually INVOLVE an action, as in Hare, “The door is shut, please.” like Hare, Grice loves an imperative. In this essay, Grice attempts an exploration of the logical form of Kant’s concoction. Grice is especially irritated by the ‘the.’ ‘They speak of Kant’s categorical imperative, when he cared to formulate a few versions of it!” Grice lists them all in Abbott’s version. There are nine of them! Grice is interested in the conceptual connection of the categorical imperative with the hypothetical or suppositional imperative, in terms of the type of connection between the protasis and the apodosis. Grice spends the full second Carus lecture on the conception of value on this. Grice is aware that the topic is central to Oxonian philosophers such as Hare, a member of Austin’s Play Group, too, who regard the universability of an imperative as a mark of its categoricity, and indeed, moral status. Grice chose some of the Kantian terminology on purpose.Grice would refer to this or that ‘conversational maxim.’A ‘conversational maxim’ contributes to what Grice jocularly refers to as the ‘conversational immanuel.’But there is an admission test.The ‘conversational maxim’ has to be shown that, qua items under an overarching principle of conversational helpfulness, the maxim displays a quality associated with conceptual, formal, and applicational generality. Grice never understood what Kant meant by the categoric imperative. But for Grice, from the acceptability of the the immanuel you can deduce the acceptability of this or that maxim, and from the acceptability of the conversational immanuel, be conversationally helpful, you can deduce the acceptability of this or that convesational maxim. Grice hardly considered Kants approach to the categoric imperative other than via the universability of this or that maxim. This or that conversational maxim, provided by Grice, may be said to be universalisable if and only if it displays what Grice sees as these three types of generality: conceptual, formal, and applicational. He does the same for general maxims of conduct. The results are compiled in a manual of universalisable maxims, the conversational immanuel, an appendix to the general immanuel. The other justification by Kant of the categoric imperative involve an approach other than the genitorial justification, and an invocation of autonomy and freedom. It is the use by Plato of imperative as per categoric imperative that has Grice expanding on modes other than the doxastic, to bring in the buletic, where the categoric imperative resides. Note that in the end Kant DOES formulate the categoric imperative, as Grice notes, as a real imperative, rather than a command, etc. Grice loved Kant, but he loved Kantotle best. In the last Kant lecture, he proposes to define the categorical imperative as a counsel of prudence, with a protasis Let Grice be happy. The derivation involves eight stages! Grice found out that out of his play-group activities with this or that linguistic nuance he had arrived at the principle, or imperative of conversational helpfulness, indeed formulated as an imperative: Make your contribution such as is required, at the stage at which it occurs, by the accepted purpose of the conversation in which you are engaged. He notes that the rationality behind the idea of conversation as rational co-operation does not preclude seeing rationality in conversation as other than cooperation. The fact that he chooses maxim, and explicitly echoes Kant, indicates where Grice is leading! An exploration on Paton on the categorical imperative. Grice had previously explored the logical form of hypothetical or suppositional imperatives in the Kant (and later Locke) lectures, notably in Lecture IV, Further remarks on practical and alethic reasons. Here he considers topics related to Hares tropic-clistic neustic-phrastic quartet. What does it mean to say that a command is conditional? The two successors of Grices post as Tutorial Fellow at St. Johns, Baker Hacker, will tackle the same issue with humour, in Sense and nonsense, published by Blackwell (too irreverent to be published by the Clarendon). Is the logical form of a maxim, .p⊃!q, or !(.p ⊃.q), etc. Kant thought that there is a special sub-class of hypothetical or suppositional imperative (which he called a counsels of prudence) which is like his class of technical imperative, except in that the end specified in a full specfication of the imperative is the special end of eudæmonia (the agents eudæmonia). For Grice, understanding Kant’s first version of the categorical imperative involves understanding what a maxim is supposed to be. Grice explores at some length four alternative interpretations of an iffy buletic (as opposed to a non-iffy buletic): three formal, one material. The first interpretation is the horseshoe interpretation. A blind logical nose might lead us or be led to the assumption of a link between a buletically iffy utterance and a doxastically iffy utterance. Such a link no doubt exists, but the most obvious version of it is plainly inadequate. At least one other philosopher besides Grice has noticed that If he torments the cat, have him arrested! is unlikely to express an buletically iffy utterance, and that even if one restricts oneself to this or that case in which the protasis specifies a will, we find pairs of examples like If you will to go to Oxford, travel by AA via Richmond! or If you will to go to Cambridge, see a psychiatrist! where it is plain that one is, and the other is not, the expression of a buletically iffy utterance. For fun, Grice does not tell which! A less easily eliminable suggestion, yet one which would still interprets the notion of a buletically iffy utterance in terms of that particular logical form to which if, hypothetical or suppositional and conditional attach, would be the following. Let us assume that it is established, or conceded, as legitimate to formulate an if utterance in which not only the apodosis is couched in some mode other than the doxastic, as in this or that conditional command. If you see the whites of their eyes, shoot fire! but also the protasis or some part (clause) of them. In which case all of the following might be admissible conditionals. Thus, we might have a doxastic protasis (If the cat is sick, take it to the vet), or a mixed (buletic-cum-doxastic protasis (If you are to take the cat to the vet and theres no cage available, put it on Marthas lap!), and buletic protasis (If you are to take the cat to the vet, put it in a cage!). If this suggestion seems rebarbative, think of this or that quaint if utterance (when it is quaint) as conditionalised versions of this or that therefore-sequence, such as: buletic-cum-doxastic premises (Take the cat to the vet! There isnt a cage. Therefore; Put the cat on Marthas lap!), buletic premise (Take the cat to the vet! Put it in a cage!). And then, maybe, the discomfort is reduced. Grice next considers a second formal interpretation or approach to the buletically iffy/non-iffy utterance. Among if utterances with a buletic apodosis some will have, then, a mixed doxastic-cum buletic protasis (partly doxastic, partly buletic), and some will have a purely doxastic protasis (If the cat is sick, take him to the vet!). Grice proposes a definition of the iffy/non-iffy distinction. A buletically iffy utterance is an iffy utterance the apodosis of which is buletic and the protasis of which is buletic or mixed (buletic-cum-dxastic) or it is an elliptical version of such an iffy utterance. A buletically non-iffy utterance is a buletic utterance which is not iffy or else, if it is iffy, has a purely doxastic protasis. Grice makes three quick comments on this second interpretation. First, re: a real imperative. The structures which are being offered as a way of interpreting an iffy and a non-iffy imperative do not, as they stand, offer any room for the appearance this or that buletic modality like ought and should which are so prominently visible in the standard examples of those kinds of imperatives. The imperatives suggested by Grice are explicit imperatives. An explicit buletic utterance is Do such-and-such! and not You ought to do such and such or, worse, One ought to do such and such. Grice thinks, however, that one can modify this suggestion to meet the demand for the appearance or occurrence of ought (etc) if such occurrence is needed. Second, it would remain to be decided how close the preferred reading of Grices deviant conditional imperatives would be to the accepted interpretation of standard hypothetical or suppositional imperatives. But even if there were some divergence that might be acceptable if the new interpretation turns out to embody a more precise notion than the standard conception. Then theres the neustical versus tropical protases. There are, Grice thinks, serious doubts of the admissibility of conditionals with a NON-doxastic protasis, which are for Grice connected with the very difficult question whether the doxastic and the buletic modes are co-ordinate or whether the doxastic mode is in some crucial fashion (but not in other) prior (to use Suppess qualification) to the buletic. Grice confesses he does not know the answer to that question. A third formal interpretation links the iffy/non-iffy distinction to the absolute-relative value distinction. An iffy imperatives would be end-relative and might be analogous to an evidence-relative probability. A non-iffy imperatives would not be end-relative. Finally, a fourth Interpretation is not formal, but material. This is close to part of what Kant says on the topic. It is a distinction between an imperative being escapable (iffy), through the absence of a particular will and its not being escapable (non-iffy). If we understand the idea of escabability sufficiently widely, the following imperatives are all escapable, even though their logical form is not in every case the same: Give up popcorn!, To get slim, give up popcorn!, If you will to get slim, give up popcorn! Suppose Grice has no will to get slim. One might say that the first imperative (Give up popcorn!) is escaped, provided giving up popcorn has nothing else to recommend it, by falsifying You should give up popcorn. The second and the third imperatives (To get slim, give up pocorn! and If you will to get slim, give up popcorn!) would not, perhaps, involve falsification but they would, in the circumstances, be inapplicable to Grice – and inapplicability, too, counts, as escape. A non-iffy imperative however, is in no way escapable. Re: the Dynamics of Imperatives in Discourse, Grice then gives three examples which he had discussed in “Aspects,” which concern arguments (or therefore-chains). This we may see as an elucidation to grasp the logical form of buletically iffy utterance (elided by the therefore, which is an if in the metalanguage) in its dynamics in argumentation. We should, Grice suggests, consider not merely imperatives of each sort, together with the range of possible characterisations, but also the possible forms of argument into which_particular_ hypothetical or suppositional imperatives might enter. Consider: Defend the Philosophy Department! If you are to defend the philosophy department, learn to use bows and arrows! Therefore, learn to use bows and arrows! Grice says he is using the dichotomy of original-derived value. In this example, in the first premise, it is not specified whether the will is original or derived, the second premise specifies conducive to (means), and the conclusion would involve a derived will, provided the second premise is doxastically satisfactory. Another example would be: Fight for your country! If you are to fight for your country, join up one of the services! Therefore, join up! Here, the first premise and the conclusion do not specify the protasis. If the conclusion did, it would repeat the second premise. Then theres Increase your holdings in oil shares! If you visit your father, hell give you some oil shares. Therefore, visit your father! This argument (purportedly) transmits value. Let us explore these characterisations by Grice with the aid of Hares distinctions. For Hare in a hypothetical or suppositional imperative, the protasis contains a neustic-cum-tropic. A distinction may be made between this or that hypothetical or suppositional imperative and a term used by Grice in his first interpretation of the hypothetical or suppositional imperative, that of conditional command (If you see the whites of their eyes, shoot fire!). A hypothetical or suppositional imperative can be distinguished from a conditional imperative (If you want to make bread, use yeast! If you see anything suspicious, telephone the police!) by the fact that modus ponens is not valid for it. One may use hypothetical, suppositional or conditional imperative for a buletic utterance which features if, and reserve conditional command for a command which is expressed by an imperative, and which is conditional on the satisfaction of the protasis. Thus, on this view, treating the major premise of an argument as a hypothetical or suppositional imperative turns the therefore-chain invalid. Consider the sequence with the major premise as a hypothetical or suppositional imperative. If you will to make someone mad, give him drug D! You will to make Peter mad; therefore, give Peter drug D! By uttering this hypothetical or suppositional imperative, the utterer tells his addressee A only what means to adopt to achieve a given end in a way which does not necessarily endorse the adoption of that end, and hence of the means to it. Someone might similarly say, if you will to make someone mad, give him drug D! But, of course, even if you will to do that, you must not try to do so. On the other hand, the following is arguably valid because the major premise is a conditional imperative and not a mere hypothetical or suppositional one. We have a case of major premise as a conditional imperative: You will to make someone mad, give him drug D! Make Peter mad! Therefore, give Peter drug D!. We can explain this in terms of the presence of the neustic in the antecedent of the imperative working as the major premise. The supposition that the protasis of a hypothetical or suppositional imperative contains a clause in the buletic mode neatly explains why the argument with the major premise as a hypothetical or suppositional imperative is not valid. But the argument with the major premise as a conditional imperative is, as well as helping to differentiate a suppositional or hypothetical or suppositional iffy imperative from a conditional iffy imperative. For, if the protasis of the major premise in the hypothetical or suppositional imperative is volitival, the mere fact that you will to make Peter mad does not license the inference of the imperative to give him the drug; but this _can_ be inferred from the major premise of the hypothetical or suppositional imperative together with an imperative, the minor premise in the conditional imperative, to make Peter mad. Whether the subordinate clause contains a neustic thus does have have a consequence as to the validity of inferences into which the complex sentence enters. Then theres an alleged principle of mode constancy in buletic and and doxastic inference. One may tries to elucidate Grices ideas on the logical form of the hypothetical or suppositional imperative proper. His suggestion is, admittedly, rather tentative. But it might be argued, in the spirit of it, that an iffy imperative is of the form ((!p⊃!q) Λ .p)) ∴ !q But this violates a principle of mode constancy. A phrastic must remain in the same mode (within the scope of the same tropic) throughout an argument. A conditional imperative does not violate the principle of Modal Constancy, since it is of the form ((p⊃!q) Λ !p)) ∴ !q The question of the logical form of the hypothetical or suppositional imperative is too obscure to base much on arguments concerning it. There is an alternative to Grices account of the validity of an argument featuring a conditional imperative. This is to treat the major premise of a conditional imperative, as some have urged it should be as a doxastic utterance tantamount to In order to make someone mad, you have to give him drug D. Then an utterer who explicitly conveys or asserts the major premise of a conditional imperative and commands the second premise is in consistency committed to commanding the conclusion. If does not always connect phrastic with phrastic but sometimes connects two expressions consisting of a phrastic and a tropic. Consider: If you walk past the post office, post the letter! The antecedent of this imperative states, it seems, the condition under which the imperative expressed becomes operative, and so can not be construed buletically, since by uttering a buletic utterance, an utterer cannot explicitly convey or assert that a condition obtains. Hence, the protasis ought not be within the scope of the buletic !, and whatever we take to represent the form of the utterance above we must not take !(if p, q) to do so. One way out. On certain interpretation of the isomorphism or æqui-vocality Thesis between Indicative and Imperative Inference the utterance has to be construed as an imperative (in the generic reading) to make the doxasatic conditional If you will walk past the post office, you will post the letter satisfactory. Leaving aside issues of the implicature of if, that the utterance can not be so construed seems to be shown by the fact that the imperative to make the associated doxastically iffy utterance satisfactory is conformed with by one who does not walk past the post office. But it seems strange at best to say that the utterance is conformed with in the same circumstances. This strangeness or bafflingliness, as Grice prefers, is aptly explained away in terms of the implicatum. At Oxford, Dummett is endorsing this idea that a conditional imperative be construed as an imperative to make an indicative if utterance true. Dummett urges to divide conditional imperatives into those whose antecedent is within the power of the addressee, like the utterance in question, and those in which it is not. Consider: If you go out, wear your coat! One may be not so much concerned with how to escape this, as Grice is, but how to conform it. A child may choose not to go out in order to comply with the imperative. For an imperative whose protasis is_not_ within the power of the addressee (If anyone tries to escape, shoot him!) it is indifferent whether we treat it as a conditional imperative or not, so why bother. A small caveat here. If no one tries to escape, the imperative is *not violated*. One might ask, might there not be an important practical difference bewteen saying that an imperative has not been violated and that it has been complied with? Dummett ignores this distinction. One may feel think there is much of a practical difference there. Is Grice an intuitionist? Suppose that you are a frontier guard and the antecedent has remained unfulfilled. Then, whether we say that you complied with it, or simply did not *violate* it will make a great deal of difference if you appear before a war crimes tribunal. For Dummett, the fact that in the case of an imperative expressed by a conditional imperative in which the antecedent is not within the agents power, we should *not* say that the agent had obeyed just on the ground that the protassi is false, is no ground for construing an imperative as expressing a conditional command: for there is no question of fixing what shall constitute obedience independently of the determination of what shall constitute disobedience. This complicates the issues. One may with Grice (and Hare, and Edgley) defend imperative inference against other Oxonian philosophers, such as Kenny or Williams. What is questioned by the sceptics about imperative inference is whether if each one of a set of imperatives is used with the force of a command, one can infer a _further_ imperative with that force from them. Cf. Wiggins on Aristotle on the practical syllogism. One may be more conservative than Hare, if not Grice. Consider If you stand by Jane, dont look at her! You stand by Jane; therefore, dont look at her! This is valid. However, the following, obtained by anti-logism, is not: If you stand by Jane, dont look at her! Look at her! Therefore, you dont stand by Jane. It may seem more reasonable to some to deny Kants thesis, and maintain that anti-logism is valid in imperative inference than it is to hold onto Kants thesis and deny that antilogism is valid in the case in question. Then theres the question of the implicata involved in the ordering of modes. Consider: Varnish every piece of furniture you make! You are going to make a table; therefore, varnish it! This is prima facie valid. The following, however, switching the order of the modes in the premises is not. You are going to varnish every piece of furniture that you make. Make a table! Therefore; varnish it! The connection between the if and the therefore is metalinguistic, obviously – the validity of the therefore chain is proved by the associated if that takes the premise as, literally, the protasis and the consequence as the apodosis. Conversational Implicature at the Rescue. Problems with or: Consider Rosss infamous example: Post the letter! Therefore, post the letter or burn it! as invalid, Ross – and endorsed at Oxford by Williams. To permit to do p or q is to permit to do p and to permit to do q. Similarly, to give permission to do something is to lift a prohibition against doing it. Admittedly, Williams does not need this so we are stating his claim more strongly than he does. One may review Grices way out (defense of the validity of the utterance above in terms of the implicatum. Grice claims that in Rosss infamous example (valid, for Grice), whilst (to state it roughly) the premises permissive presupposition (to use the rather clumsy term introduced by Williams) is entailed by it, the conclusions is only conversationally implicated. Typically for an isomorphist, Grice says this is something shared by indicative inferences. If, being absent-minded, Grice asks his wife, What have I done with the letter? And she replies, You have posted it or burnt it, she conversationally implicates that she is not in a position to say which Grice has done. She also conversationally implicates that Grice may not have post it, so long as he has burnt it. Similarly, the future tense indicative, You are going to post the letter has the conversational implicature You may be not going to post the letter so long as you are going to burn it. But this surely does not validate the introduction rule for OR, to wit: p; therefore, p or q. One can similarly, say: Eclipse will win. He may not, of course, if it rains. And I *know* it will *not* rain. Problems with and. Consider: Put on your parachute AND jump out! Therefore, jump out! Someone who _only_ jumps out of an æroplane does not fulfil Put on your parachute and jump out! He has done only what is necessary, but not sufficient to fulfil it. Imperatives do not differ from indicatives in this respect, except that fulfilment takes the place of belief or doxa, which is the form of acceptance apprpriate to a doxasatic utterance, as the Names implies. Someone who is told Smith put on his parachute AND jumped out is entitled to believe that Smith jumped out. But if he believes that this is _all_ Smith did he is in error (Cf. Edgley). One may discuss Grices test of cancellability in the case of the transport officer who says: Go via Coldstream or Berwick! It seems the transport officers way of expressing himself is extremely eccentric, or conversationally baffling, as Grice prefers – yet validly. If the transport officer is not sure if a storm may block one of the routes, what he should say is _Prepare_ to go via Coldstream or Berwick! As for the application of Grices test of explicit cancellation here, it yield, in the circumstances, the transport officer uttering Go either via Coldstream or Berwick! But you may not go via Coldstream if you do not go via Berwick, and you may not go via Berwick if you do not go via Coldstream. Such qualifications ‒ what Grice calls explicit cancellation of the implicature ‒ seem to the addressee to empty the buletic mode of utterance of all content and is thus reminiscent of Henry Fords utterance to the effect that people can choose what colour car they like provided it is black. But then Grice doesnt think Ford is being illogical, only Griceian and implicatural! Refs.: There is at least one essay just about the categorical imperative, but there are scattered references wherever Grice considers the mood markers, The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. Implicatum, or Grice’s implication. It was only a few years Grice was interacting philosophically with Austin and was reading some material by Witters, when Grice comes with this criticism and complaint. Austin ignores “all too frequently” a distinction that Witters apparently dnies. This is a distinction between what an emissor communicates (e. g. that p), which can be either explicitly (that p1) or implicitly (that p2) and what, metabolically, and derivatively, the emissum ‘communictates’ (explicitly or implicitly). At the Oxford Philosophical Society, he is considering Moore’s ‘entailment.’ This is not a vernacular expression, but a borrowing from a Romance language. But basically, Moore’s idea is that ‘p’ may be said to ‘entail’ q iff at least two conditions follow. Surely ‘entail’ has only one sense. In this metabolically usage where it is a ‘p’ that ‘entails’ the conditions are that there is a property and that there is a limitation. Now suppose Grice is discussing with Austin or reading Witters. Grice wants to distinguish various things: what the emissor communicates (explicitly or implicitly) and the attending diaphanous but metabolical, what WHAT THE EMSSOR COMMUNICATES (explicitly or implicitly) ENTAILS, AND the purely metabolical what the emissum ‘entails’ (explicitly or implicitly). This is Grice’s wording:“If we can elucidate the meaning of "A meantNN by x that p (on a particular occasion)," this might reasonably be expected to help us with the explication of "entails.”The second important occasion is in the interlude or excursus of his Aristotelian Society talk. How does he introduce the topic of ‘implication’? At that time there was a lot being written about ‘contextual’ or ‘pragmatic’ implication – even within Grice’s circle – as in D. K. Grant’s essay on pragmatic implication for Philosophy, and even earlier Nowell-Smith’s on ‘contextual implication’ in “Ethics,” and even earlier, and this is perhaps Grice’s main trigger, P. F. Strawson’s criticism of Whitehead and Russell, with Strawson having that, by uttering ‘The king of France is not bald,’ the emissor IMPLIES that there is a king of France (Strawson later changes the idiom from ‘imply,’ and the attending ‘implication, to ‘presuppose,’ but he keeps ‘imply’ in all the reprints of his earlier essays). In “Causal Theory,” Grice surely cannot just ‘break’ the narrative and start with ‘implication’ in an excursus. So the first stage is to explore the use of ‘implication’ or related concepts in the first part of “Causal Theory” LEADING to the excursus for which need he felt. The first use appears in section 2. The use is the noun, ‘implication.’ And Grice is reporting the view of an objector, so does not care to be to careful himself.“the OBJECTION MIGHT run as follows.” “… When someone makes a remark such as “The pillar box seems red” A CERTAIN IMPLICATION IS CARRIED.” He goes on “This implication is “DISJUNCTIVE IN FORM,” which should not concerns us here. Since we are considering the status of the implication, as seen by the objector as reported by Grice. He does not give a source, so we may assume G. A. Paul reading Witters, and trying to indoctrinate a few Oxonians into Wittgensteinianism (Grice notes that besides the playgroup there was Ryle’s group at Oxford and a THIRD, “perhaps more disciplined” group, that tended towards Witters.Grice goes on:“It IS implied that…” p. Again, he expands it, and obviously shows that he doesn’t care to be careful. And he is being ironic, because the implication is pretty lengthy! Yet he says, typically:“This may not be an absolutely EXACT or complete characterisation of the implication, but it is, perhaps, good ENOUGH to be going with!” Grice goes on to have his objector a Strawsonian, i. e. as REFUSING TO ASSIGN A TRUTH-VALUE to the utterance, while Grice would have that it is ‘uninterestingly true. In view of this it may to explore the affirmative and negative versions. Because the truth-values may change:In Grice’s view: “The pillar box seems red to me” IS “UNINTERESTINGLY TRUE,” in spite of the implication.As for “It is not the case that the pillar box seems red,” this is more of a trick. In “Negation,” Grice has a similar example. “That pillar box is red; therefore, it is not blue.”He is concerned with “The pillar box is not blue,” or “It is not the case that the pillar box is blue.”What about the truth-value now of the utterance in connection with the implication attached to it?Surely, Grice would like, unless accepting ‘illogical’ conversationalists (who want to make that something is UNASSERTIBLE or MISLEADING by adding ‘not’), the utterance ‘It is not the case that the pillar box seems red to me’ is FALSE in the scenario where the emissor would be truthful in uttering ‘The pillar box seems red to me.” Since Grice allows that the affirmative is ‘uninterestingly true,’ he is committed to having ‘It is not the case that the pillar box seems red’ as FALSE.For the Strawsonian Wittgensteinian, or truth-value gap theorist, the situation is easier to characterise. Both ‘The pillar box seems red to me” and its negation, “The pillar box does not seem red to me” lack a truth value, or in Grice’s word, as applied to the affirmative, “far from being uninterestingly true, is neither true nor false,” i. e. ‘neuter.’ It wold not be true but it would not be false either – breakdown of bivalence. Grice’s case is a complicated one because he distinguishes between the sub-perceptual “The pillar box seems red” from the perceptual ‘vision’ statement, “Grice sees that the pillar box is red.” So the truth of “The pillar box seems red” is a necessary condition for the statement about ‘seeing.’ This is itself controversial. Some philosophers have claimed that “Grice knows that p” does NOT entail “Grice believes that p,” for example. But for the causal theory Grice is thinking of an analysis of “Grice sees that the pillar box is red” in terms of three conditions: First, the pillar box seems red to Grice. Second, the pillar box is red. And third, it is the pillar box being red that causes it seeming red to Grice. Grice goes to reformulate the idea that “The pillar box seems red” being true. But now not “uninterestingly true,” but “true (under certain conditions),” or as he puts it “(subject to certain qualifications) true.” He may be having in mind a clown in a circus confronted with the blue pillar box and making a joke about it. Those ‘certain qualifications’ would not apply to the circus case. Grice goes on to change the adverb, it’s ‘boringly true,’ or ‘highly boringly true.’ He adds ‘suggestio falsi,’ which seems alright but which would not please the Wittgensteinian who would also reject the ‘false.’ We need a ‘suggestio neutri.’ In this second section, he gives the theoretical explanation. The “implication” arises “in virtue of a GENERAL FEATURE OR PRINCIPLE” of conversation, or pertaining to a system put in ‘communication,’ or a general feature or principle governing an emissor communicating that p. Note that ‘feature’ and ‘principle’ are appropriately ‘vague.’ “Feature” can be descriptive. “Principle” is Aristotelian. Boethius’s translation for Aristotle’s ‘arche.’ It can be descriptive. The first use of ‘principle’ in a ‘moral’ or ‘practical’ context seems to post-date its use in, say, geometry – Euclid’s axioms as ‘principia mathematica,’ or Newton’s “Principia.” Grice may be having in mind Moore’s ‘paradox’ (true, surely) when Grice adds ‘it is raining.’Grice’s careful wording is worth exploring. “The mistake [incorrectness, falsehood] of supposing the implication to constitute a "part of the meaning [sense]” of "The Alpha seems Beta" is somewhat similar to, though MORE INSIDUOUS …”[moral implication here: 1540s, from Middle French insidieux "insidious" (15c.) or directly from Latin insidiosus "deceitful, cunning, artful, treacherous," from insidiae (plural) "plot, snare, ambush," from insidere "sit on, occupy," from in- "in" (from PIE root *en "in") + sedere "to sit," from PIE root *sed- (1) "to sit." Figurative, usually with a suggestion of lying in wait and the intent to entrap. Related: Insidiously; insidiousness]“than, the mistake which one IF one supposes that the SO-CALLED [‘pragmatic’ or ‘contextual – implicatum, “as I would not,” and indeed he does not – he prefers “expresses” here, not the weak ‘imply’] “implication” that one believes it to be raining is "a part of the meaning [or sense]" of the expression [or emissum] "It is raining.”Grice allows that no philosopher may have made this mistake. He will later reject the view that one conversationally implicates that one believes that it is raining by uttering ‘It is raining.’ But again he does not give sources. In these case, while without the paraphernalia about the ‘a part of the ‘sense’” bit, can be ascribed at Oxford to Nowell-Smith and Grant (but not, we hope to Strawson). Nowell-Smith is clear that it is a contextual implication, but one would not think he would make the mistake of bringing in ‘sense’ into the bargain. Grice goes on:“The short and literally inaccurate reply to such a supposition [mistake] might be that the so-called “implication” attaches because the expression (or emissum) is a PROPOSITIONAL one [expressable by a ‘that so-and-so’ clause] not because it is the particular propositional expression which it happens to be.”By ‘long,’ Grice implicates: “And it is part of the function of the informative mode that you utter an utterance in the informative mode if you express your belief in the content of the propositonal expression.”Grice goes on to analyse ‘implication’ in terms of ‘petitio principii.’ This is very interesting and requires exploration. Grice claims that his success the implicature in the field of the philosophy of perception led his efforts against Strawson on the syncategoremata.But here we see Grice dealing what will be his success.One might, for example, suggest that it is open to the champion of sense_data to lay down that the sense-datum sentence " I have a pink sense-datum " should express truth if and only if the facts are as they would have to be for it to be true, if it were in order, to say .. Something looks pink to me ", even though it may not actually be in ordei to say this (because the D-or-D condition is unfulfilled). But this attempt to by-pass the objector's position would be met by the reply that it begs the question; for it assumes that there is some way of specifying the facts in isolation from the implication standardly carried by such a specification; and this is precisely what the objector is denying.Rephrasing that:“One might, for example, suggest that it is open to the champion of sense_data to lay down that the sense-datum sentence "The pillar box seems red” is TRUE if and only if the facts are as the facts WOULD HAVE to be for “The pillar box seems red” to be true, IF (or provided that) it were IN ORDER [i. e. conversationally appropriate], to utter or ‘state’ or explicitly convey that the pillar box seems red, even though it may NOT actually be in order [conversationally appropriate] to explicitly convey that the pillar box seems red (because the condition specified in the implication is unfulfilled).”“But this attempt to by-pass the objector's position would be met by a charge of ‘petitio principia,’ i. e. the reply that it begs the question.”“Such a manoeuvre is invalid in that it assumes that there IS some way of providing a SPECIFICATION of the facts of the matter in isolation from, or without recourse to, the implication that is standardly carried by such a specification.”“This is precisely what the objector is denying, i. e. the objector believes it is NOT the case that there is a way of giving a specification of the scenario without bringing in the implication.”Grice refers to the above as one of the “frustrations,” implicating that the above, the ‘petitio principia,’ is just one of the trials Grice underwent before coming with the explanation in terms of the general feature of communication, or as he will late express, in terms of ‘what the hell’ the ‘communication-function’ of “The pillar seems red to me” might be when the implicatum is not meant – and you have to go on and cancel it (“That pillar box seems red; mind, I’m not suggesting that it’s not – I’m practicing my sub-perceptual proficiency.”).Grice goes on to note the generality he saw in the idea of the ‘implication.’ Even if “The pillar box seems red” was his FIRST attack, the reason he was willing to do the attacking was that the neo-Wittgensteinian was saying things that went against THE TENOR OF THE THINGS GRICE would say with regard to other ‘linguistic philosophical’ cases OTHER than in the philosophy of perception, notably his explorations were against Malcolm reading of Moore, about Moore ‘misusing’ “know.”Grice:“I was inclined to rule against my objector, partly because his opponent's position was more in line with the kind of thing I was inclined to say about other linguistic phenomena which are in some degree comparable.”Rephrase:“My natural inclination was to oppose the objector.”“And that was because his opponent's position is more “in line” with the kind of thing Grice is inclined to say – or thesis he is willing to put forward-- about OTHER phenomena involving this or that ‘communication-function’ of this or that philosophical adage, which are in some degree comparable to “The pillar box seems red.””So just before the ‘excursus,’ or ‘discursus,’ as he has it – which is then not numbered – but subtitlted (‘Implication’), he embark on a discursus about “certain ASPECTS of the concept OR CONCEPTS of implication.”He interestingly adds: “using some more or less well-worn examples.” This is not just a reference to Strawson, Grant, Moore, Hungerland and Nowell-Smith, but to the scholastics and the idea of the ‘suppositio’ as an ‘implicatio,’: “Tu non cessas edere ferrum.” Grice says he will consider only four aspects or FOUR IDEAS (used each as a ‘catalyst’) in particular illustrations.“Smith has not ceased beating his wife.”“Smith’s girlfriend is poor, but honest.”“Smith’s handwriting is beautiful”“Smith’s wife is in the kitchen or in the bathroom.”Each is a case, as Grice puts it, “in which in ordinary parlance, or at least in Oxonian philosophical parlance, something might be said to be ‘implied’ (hopefully by the emissor) -- as distinct from being ‘stated,’ or ‘explicitly put.’One first illustrationEXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “Smith has not ceased beating his wife.” IMPLICITLY CONVEYED, but cancellable: “Smith has been beating his wife.”CANCELLATION: “Smith has not ceased beating his wife; he never started.”APPLY THREE OTHER IDEAS.A second illustrationEXPLICITLY CONVEYED:“Smith’s girlfriend is poor, but honest.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “There is some contrast between Smith’s girlfriend’s honesty and her poverty; and possibly between Smith and the utterer.”CANCELLATION: “I’m sorry, I cannot cancel that.”TRY OTHER THREE IDEAS.A third illustrationEXPLICITLY CONVEYED “Smith’s handwriting is beautiful” – “Or “If only his outbursts were more angelic.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “He possibly cannot read Hegel in German.”CANCELLATION: “Smith’s handwriting is beautiful; on top, he reads Hegel in German.”TRY THREEOTHER IDEASA fourth illustration:EXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “Smith’s wife is in the kitchen or in the bathroom.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “It is not the case that I have truth-functional grounds to express disjunct D1, and it is not the case that I have truth-functional grounds to express disjunct D2; therefore, I am introducting the disjunction EITHER than by the way favoured by Gentzen.” (Grice actually focuses on the specific ‘doxastic’ condition: emissor believes …CANCELLATION: “I know perfectly well where she is, but I want you to find out for yourself.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEAS.Within the discursus he gives SIX (a sextet) other examples, of the philosophical type, because he is implicating the above are NOT of the really of philosophical type, hence his reference to ‘ordinary parlance.’ He points out that he has no doubt there are other candidates besides his sextet.FIRST IN THE SEXTETEXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “You cannot see a knife as a knife, though you may see what is not a knife as a knife.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “”AS” REQUIRES A GESTALT.”CANCELLATION: “I see the horse as a horse, because my gestalt is mine.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEASSECOND IN THE SEXTET:EXPLICITLY CONVEYED:“When Moore said he knew that the objects before him were human hands, he was guilty of misusing the word "know".”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “You can only use ‘know’ for ‘difficult cases.’CANCELLATION: “If I know that p iff I believe that p, p, and p causes my belief in p, I know that the objects before me are human hands.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEAS.THIRD IN THE SEXTETEXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “For an occurrence to be properly said to have a ‘cause,’ the occurrence must be something abnormal or unusual.”IMPLICILTY CONVEYED: “Refrain from using ‘cause’ when the thing is normal and usual.”CANCELLATION: “If I see that the pillar box is red iff the pillar box seems red, the pillar box is red, and the pillar box being red causes the pillar box seeming red, the cause of the pillar box seeming red is that the pillar box is red.”TRY OTHER THREE IDEAS.FOURTH IN THE SEXTET: EXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “For an action to be properly described as one for which the agent is responsible, it must be the sort of action for which people are condemned.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “Refrain ascribing ‘responsibility’ to Timmy having cleaned up his bedroom.”CANCELLATION: “Timmy is very responsible. He engages in an action for which people are not condemned.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEAS.FIFTH IN THE SEXTET:EXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “What is actual is not also possible.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “There is a realm of possibilities which does not overlap with the realm of actualities.”CANCELLATION: “If p is actual iff p obtains in world w1, and p is possible iff p obtains in any world wn which includes w1, p is possible.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEAS.SIXTH IN THE SEXTETEXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “What is known by me to be the case is not also believed by me to be the case.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “To know is magical!”CANCELLATION: “If I know that p iff I believe that p, p, and p causes my believing that p, then what is known by me to be the case is also believed by me to be the case.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEAS.CASE IN QUESTION:EXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “The pillar box seems red.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “One will doubt it is.”CANCELLATION: “The pillar box seems red and I hope no one doubt it is.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEAS. THAT LISTING became commonplace for Grice. In ProlegomenaGROUP A: EXAMPLE I: RYLE on ‘voluntarily’ and “involuntarily” in “The Concept of Mind.” RYLE WAS LISTENING! BUT GRICE WAS without reach! Grice would nothavecriticised Ryle at a shorter distance.EXAMPLE II: MALCOLM IN “Defending common sense” in the Philosophical Review, on Moore’s misuse of ‘know’ – also in Causal, above, as second in the sextet.EXPLICITLY CONVEYED:“When Moore said he knew that the objects before him were human hands, he was guilty of misusing the word "know".REPHRASE IN “PROLEGOMENA.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “You can only use ‘know’ for ‘difficult cases.’CANCELLATION: “If I know that p iff I believe that p, p, and p causes my belief in p, I know that the objects before me are human hands.”EXAMPLE III: BENJAMIN ON BROAD ON THE “SENSE” OF “REMEMBERING”EXPLICITLY CONVEYED;IMPLICITLY CONVEYEDCANCELLATIONEXAMPLES, GROUP A, CLASS IV: philosophy of perception FIRST EXAMPLE: Witters on ‘seeing as’ in Philosophical InvestigationsEXPLICITLY CONVEYEDIMPLICITLY CONVEYEDCANCELLATION.Previously used in Causal as first in the sextet: FIRST IN THE SEXTETEXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “You cannot see a knife as a knife, though you may see what is not a knife as a knife.”Rephrased in Prolegomena. IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “”AS” REQUIRES A GESTALT.”CANCELLATION: “I see the horse as a horse, because my gestalt is mine.”GROUP A – CLASS IV – PHILOSOPHY OF PERCEPTIONEXAMPLE II – “The pillar box seems red to me.”Used in“Causal”EXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “The pillar box seems red.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “One will doubt it is.”CANCELLATION: “The pillar box seems red and I hope no one doubt it is.”GROUP A – CLASS V – PHILOSOPHY OF ACTION – Here unlike Class IV, he uses (a), etc.EXAMPLE A: WITTERS AND OTHERS on ‘trying’ EXPLICITLY CONVEYEDIMPLICITLY CONVEYED:CANCELLATIONGROUP A – CLASS V – “ACTION,” not ‘philosophy of action’ – cf. ‘ordinary parlance.’EXAMPLE B: Hart on ‘carefully.’EXPLICITLY CONVEYEDIMPLICITLY CONVEYEDCANCELLATION GROUP A – CLASS V – ACTIONEXAMPLE C: Austin in “A plea for excuses” on ‘voluntarily’ and ‘involuntarily’ – a refinement on Ryle above – using variable “Mly” – Grice would not have criticised Austin in the play group. He rather took it against his tutee, Strawson.EXPLICITLY CONVEYED IMPLICITLY CONVEYEDCANCELLATIONGROUP B: syncategorema – not lettered butFIRST EXAMPLE: “AND” (not ‘not’)SECOND EXAMPLE: “OR”THIRD EXAMPLE: “IF” – particularly relevant under ‘implication.’ STRAWSON, Introduction to logical theory.GRICE’S PHRASING: “if p, q” ENTAILS ‘p horseshoe q.’ The reverse does not hold: it is not the case that ‘p horseshoe q’ ENTAILS ‘if p, q’. Odd way of putting it, but it was all from Strawson. It may be argued that ‘entail’ belongs in a system, and ‘p horseshoe q’ and ‘if p, q’ are DISPARATE. Grice quotes verbatim from Strawson: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 onestatement 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 implicationeither of uncertainty about, or of disbelief in, the fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent.Grice rephrases that by stating that for Grice “a primary or standard use of ‘if, then’” is characterised as follows:“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.”Grice rephrases the characterisation as from “each” and eliding a middle part, but Grice does not care to add the fastidious “[…],” or quote, unquote.“each hypothetical ‘statement’ made by this use of “if” 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 thehypothetical statement carries the implication either of uncertainty about, or of disbelief in, the fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent. “A hypothetical, or conditional ‘statement’ or composite proposition such as “If it is day, I talk”is acceptable (or TRUE, or ‘reasonable’) if (but not only if), first, the antecedent ‘statement,’ ‘It is day,’ IF made on its own, or accepted on its own, i. e. simpliciter, would, in the circumstances, be a good ground or ‘reason’ for accepting the consequent ‘statement,’ to wit: “I talk;” and, second, that the making of the conditional proposition or hypothetical ‘statement’ carries the implication, or rather the emissor of the emissum IMPLIES, either it is not the case that the emissor is CERTAIN about or that it is day and CERTAIN about or that he talks, or BELIEVES that it is day and BELIEVES that he talks.”More or less Grice’s denial or doubt. Or rather ‘doubt’ (Strawson’s ‘uncertainty about’) or denial (‘disbelief in’). But it will do at this point to explore the argument by Strawson to which Grice is responding. First two comments. Strawson has occasion to respond to Grice’s response in more than one opportunity. But Grice never took up the issue again in a detailed fashion – after dedicating a full lecture to it. One occasion was Strawson’s review of the reprint of Grice in 1989. Another is in the BA memorial. The crucial one is repr. by Strawson (in a rather otiose way) in his compilation, straight from PGRICE. This is an essay which Strawson composed soon after the delivery by Grice of the lecture without consulting. Once Stawson is aware of Grice’s terminology, he is ready to frame his view in Grice’s terms: for Strawson, there IS an implicature, but it is a conventional one. His analogy is with the ‘asserted’ “therefore” or “so.” Since this for Grice was at least the second exemplar of his manoeuvre, it will do to revise the argument from which Grice extracts the passage in “Prolegomena.” In the body of the full lecture IV, Grice does not care to mention Strawson at all; in fact, he makes rather hasty commentaries generalising on both parties of the debate: the formalists, who are now ‘blue-collared practitioners of the sciences,” i. e. not philosophers like Grice and Strawson; and the informalists or ‘traditionalists’ like Strawson who feel offended by the interlopers to the tranquil Elysium of philosophy. Grice confesses a sympathy for the latter, of course. So here is straight from the tranquil Elysium of philosophy. For Strawson, the relations between “if” and “⊃” have already, but only in part, been discussed (Ch. 2, S. 7).” So one may need to review those passages. But now he has a special section that finishes up the discussion which has been so far only partial. So Strawson resumes the points of the previous partial discussion and comes up with the ‘traditionalist’ tenet. The sign “⊃” is called the material implication sign. Only by Whitehead and Russell, that is, ‘blue-collared practitioners of the sciences,’ in Grice’s wording. Whitehead and Russell think that ‘material’ is a nice opposite to ‘formal,’ and ‘formal implication’ is something pretty complex that only they know to which it refers! Strawson goes on to explain, and this is a reminder of his “Introduction” to his “Philosophical Logic” where he reprints Grice’s Meaning (for some reason). There Strawson has a footnote quoting from Quine’s “Methods of Logic,” where the phrasing is indeed about the rough phrase, ‘the meaning of ‘if’’ – cf. Grice’s laughter at philosophers talking of ‘the sense of ‘or’’ – “Why, one must should as well talk of the ‘sense’ of ‘to,’ or ‘of’!’ – Grice’s implicature is to O. P. Wood, whose claim to fame is for having turned Oxford into the place where ‘the sense of ‘or’’ was the key issue with which philosophers were engaged. Strawson goes on to say that 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 of its falsity. The standard or primary -- the importance of this qualifying phrase, ‘primary,’ can scarcely be overemphasized – Grice omits this bracket when he expolates the quote. The bracket continues. The place where Strawson opens the bracket is a curious one: it is obvious he is talking about the primary use of ‘if’. So here he continues the bracket with the observation that there are uses of “if” which do not answer to the description given here, or to any other descriptions given in this [essay] -- use of “if” sentence, on the other hand [these are Strawson’s two hands], are seen 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 sub-ordinated clause of the utterance is true or not, or believing it to be false, the emissor nevertheless considers that a step in reasoning from THAT statement to a statement related in a similar way to the main clause would be a sound or reasonable step [a reasonable reasoning, that is]; this statement related to the main clause also being one of whose truth the emissor is in doubt, or which the emissor believes to be false. Even in such circumstances as these a philosopher may sometimes hesitate to apply ‘true’ to a conditional or hypothetical statement, i.e., a statement which could be made by the use of “if ”(Philo’s ‘ei,’ Cicero’s ‘si’) in its standard significance, preferring to call a conditional statement reasonable or well-founded. But if the philosopher does apply ‘true’ to an ‘if’ utterance at all, it will be in such circumstances as these. Now one of the sufficient conditions of the truth of a ‘statement’ or formula of material implication may very well be fulfilled without the conditions for the truth, or reasonableness, of the corresponding hypothetical or conditional statement being fulfilled. A statement of the form ‘p ⊃ q’ (where the horseshoe is meant to represent an inverted ‘c’ for ‘contentum’ or ‘consequutum’ -- does not entail the corresponding statement of the ‘form’ “if p, q.” But if the emissor is prepared to accept the hypothetical statement, he must in consistency be prepared to deny the conjunction of the statement corresponding to the sub-ordinated clause of the sentence used to make the hypothetical statement with the negation of the statement corresponding to its main or super-ordinated clause. A statement of the ‘form’ “if p, q” does entail the corresponding statement of the form ‘p ⊃ q.’ The force of “corresponding” may need some elucidation. Consider the following very ‘ordinary’ or ‘natural’ specimens of a hypothetical sentence. Strawson starts with a totally unordinary subjective counterfactual ‘if,’ an abyss with Philo, “If it’s day, I talk.” Strawson surely involves The Hun. ‘If the Germans had invaded England in 1940, they, viz. the Germans, would have won the war.’ Because for the Germans, invading England MEANT winning the war. They never cared much for Wales or Scotland, never mind Northern Ireland. Possibly ‘invaded London’ would suffice. Strawson’s second instantiation again is the odd subjective counter-factual ‘if,’ an abyss or chasm from Philo, ‘If it’s day, I talk.’ “If Smith were in charge, half the staff would have been dismissed.’ Strawson is thinking Noel Coward, who used to make fun of the music-hall artist Wade. “If you WERE the only girl in the world, and I WAS the only boy…’. The use of ‘were’ is Oxonian. A Cockney is forbidden to use it, using ‘was’ instead. The rationale is Philonian. ‘was’ is indicative. “If Smith were in charge, half the staff would have been dismissed.’ Strawson’s third instantiation is, at last, more or less Philonian, a plain indicative ‘weather’ protasis, etc. “If it rains, the match will be cancelled.” The only reservation Philo would have is ‘will’. Matches do not have ‘will,’ and the sea battle may never take place – the world may be destroyed by then. “If it rains, the match will be cancelled.” Or “If it rains, the match is cancelled – but there is a ‘rain date.’” The sentence which could be used to make a statement corresponding in the required ‘sense’ to the sub-ordinate clause can be ascertained by considering what it is that the emissor of each hypothetical sentence must (in general) be assumed either to be in doubt about or to believe to be not the case. Thus, the corresponding sentences. ‘The Germans invaded England in 1940.’ Or ‘The Germans invade England’ – historical present -- ‘The Germans won the war.’ Or ‘The Germans win the war’ – historical present. ‘Smith is in charge.’ ‘Half the staff has been dismissed.’ Or ‘Half the staff is dismissed.’ ‘It will rain.’ Or ‘It rains.’‘The match will be cancelled.’ Or ‘The match is cancelled.’ A sentence could be used to make a statement of material implication corresponding to the hypothetical statement made by the sentence is framed, in each case, from these pairs of sentences as follows. ‘The Germans invaded England in 1940 ⊃ they won the war.’ Or in the historical present,’The Germans invade London ⊃ The Germans win the war. ‘ ‘Smith is in charge ⊃ half the staff has been, dismissed.’ Or in the present tense, ‘Smith is in charge ⊃ half the staff is dismissed.’ ‘ It will rain ⊃ the match will be cancelled.’ Or in the present ‘It rains ⊃ the match is cancelled.’ The very fact that a few verbal modifications are necessary to please the Oxonian ear, 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 a hypothetical statement and a truth-functional statement. Some detailed differences are also evident from these instantiations. The falsity of a statement made by the use of ‘The Germans invade London in 1940’ or ‘Smith is in charge’ is a sufficient condition of the truth of the corresponding statements made by the use of the ⊃-utterances. But not, of course, of the corresponding statement made by the use of the ‘if’ utterance. Otherwise, there would normally be no point in using an ‘if’ sentence at all.An ‘if’ sentence 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 mode of the verb, an implication (or implicature) of the emissor’s belief in the FALSITY of the statements corresponding to the clauses of the hypothetical.That it is not the case that it rains is sufficient to verify (or truth-functionally confirm) a statement made by the use of “⊃,” but not a statement made by the use of ‘if.’ That it is not the case that it rains is also sufficient to verify (or truth-functionally confirm) a statement made by the use of ‘It will rain ⊃ the match will not be cancelled.’ Or ‘It rains ⊃ the match is cancelled.’ The formulae ‘p ⊃ q’ and ‘p ⊃ ~ q' are consistent with one another.The joint assertion of corresponding statements of these forms is equivalent to the assertion of the corresponding statement of the form ‘~ p.’ But, and here is one of Philo’s ‘paradoxes’: “If it rains, the match will be cancelled” (or ‘If it rains, the match is cancelled’) seems (or sounds) inconsistent with “If it rains, the match will not be cancelled,’ or ‘If it rains, it is not the case that the match is cancelled.’But here we add ‘not,’ so Philo explains the paradox away by noting that his account is meant for ‘pure’ uses of “ei,” or “si.”Their joint assertion in the same context sounds self-contradictory. But cf. Philo, who wisely said of ‘If it is day, it is night’ “is true only at night.” (Diog. Laert. Repr. in Long, The Hellenistic Philosophers). Suppose we call the statement corresponding to the sub-ordinated clause of a sentence used to make a hypothetical statement the antecedent of the hypothetical statement; and the statement corresponding to the super-ordinated clause, its consequent. It is sometimes fancied that, whereas the futility of identifying a conditional ‘if’ statement with material implication is obvious in those cases where the implication of the falsity of the antecedent is normally carried by the mode or tense of the verb – as in “If the Germans invade London in 1940, they, viz. the Germans, win the war’ and ‘If Smith is in charge, half the staff is dismissed’ -- 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 – as in ‘If it rains, the match is cancelled.’ In cases of the first kind (an ‘unfulfilled,’ counterfactual, or ‘subjunctive’ conditional) the intended addressee’s attention is directed, as Grice taught J. L. Mackie, in terms of the principle of conversational helpfulness, ONLY TO THE LAST TWO ROWS of the truth-tables for ‘ p ⊃ q,’ where the antecedent has the truth-value, falsity. Th suggestion that ‘~p’ ‘entails’ ‘if p, q’ is felt or to be or ‘sounds’ – if not to Philo’s or Grice’s ears -- obviously wrong. But in cases of the second kind one inspects also the first two ROWS. The possibility of the antecedent's being fulfilled is left open. It is claimed that it is NOT the case that the suggestion that ‘p ⊃ q’ ‘entails’ ‘if p, q’ is felt to be or sound obviously wrong, to ANYBODY, not just the bodies of Grice and Philo. This Strawson calls, to infuriate Grice, ‘an illusion,’ ‘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 is right. It is not the case that the man would be right, Strawson claims, if the consequent is made true as a result of this or that factor unconnected with, or in spite of, rather than ‘because’ of, the fulfilment of the antecedent. E. g. if Grice’s unmissable match is missed because the Germans invade – and not because of the ‘weather.’ – but cf. “The weather in the streets.” Strawson is prepared to say that the man (e. g., Grice, or Philo) who makes the hypothetical statement is right only if Strawson is also prepared to say that the antecedent being true is, at least in part, the ‘explanation’ of the consequent being true. The reality behind the illusion Strawson naturally finds ‘complex,’ for surely there ain’t one! Strawson thinks that this is due to two phenomena. First, Strawson claims, in many cases, the fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent provides confirmation for the view that the existence of states of affairs like those described by the antecedent IS a good ‘reason’ for expecting (alla Hume, assuming the uniformity of nature, etc.) a states of affair like that described by the consequent. Second, Starwson claims, a man (e. g. Philo, or Grice) who (with a straight Grecian or Griceian face) says, e. g. ‘If it rains, the match is cancelled’ makes a bit of a prediction, assuming the ‘consequent’ to be referring to t2>t1 – but cf. if he is reporting an event taking place at THE OTHER PLACE. The prediction Strawson takes it to be ‘The match is cancelled.’And the man is making the prediction ONLY under what Strawson aptly calls a “proviso,” or “caveat,” – first used by Boethius to translate Aristotle -- “It rains.” Boethius’s terminology later taken up by the lawyers in Genoa. mid-15c., from Medieval Latin proviso (quod) "provided (that)," phrase at the beginning of clauses in legal documents (mid-14c.), from Latin proviso "it being provided," ablative neuter of provisus, past participle of providere (see provide). Related: Provisory. 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 it is not the case that a statement of the form ‘ p ⊃ q’ entails the corresponding statement of the form ' if p, q ' (in its standard employment), Strawson thinks he can find a divergence between this or that ‘rule’ for '⊃' and this or that ‘rule’ for '’if ,’ in its standard employment. Because ‘if p, q’ does entail ‘p ⊃ q,’ we shall also expect to find some degree of parallelism between the rules. For whatever is entailed by ‘p ⊃ q’ is entailed by ‘if p, q,’ though not everything which entails ‘p ⊃ q’ does Strawson claims, entail ‘if p, q.’ Indeed, we find further parallels than those which follow simply from the facts that ‘if p, q’ entails ‘p ⊃ q’ and that entailment is transitive. To some laws for ‘⊃,’ Strawson finds no parallels for ‘if.’ Strawson notes that for at least four laws for ‘⊃,’ we find that parallel laws ‘hold’ good for ‘if. The first law is mentioned by Grice, modus ponendo ponens, as elimination of ‘⊃.’ Strawson does not consider the introduction of the horseshoe, where p an q forms a collection of all active assumptions previously introduced which could have been used in the deduction of ‘if p, q.’ When inferring ‘if p, q’ one is allowed to discharge assumptions of the form p. The fact that after deduction of ‘if p, q’ this assumption is discharged (not active is pointed out by using [ ] in vertical notation, and by deletion from the set of assumptions in horizontal notation. The latter notation shows better the character of the rule; one deduction is transformed into the other. It shows also that the rule for the introduction of ‘if’ corresponds to an important metatheorem, the Deduction Theorem, which has to be proved in axiomatic formalizations of logic. But back to the elimination of ‘if’. Modus ponendo ponens. ‘‘((p ⊃ q).p) ⊃ q.’ For some reason, Strawson here mixes horseshoes and ifs as if Boethius is alive! Grice calls these “half-natural, half-artificial.’ Chomsky prefers ‘semi-native.’ ‘(If p, q, and p) ⊃q.’ Surely what Strawson wants is a purely ‘if’ one, such as ‘If, if p, q, and p, q.’ Some conversational implicature! As Grice notes: “Strawson thinks that one can converse using his converses, but we hardly.’ The second law. Modus tollendo tollens. ‘((p⊃q). ~ q)) ⊃ (~ p).’ Again, Strawson uses a ‘mixed’ formula: (if p, q, and it is not the case that q) ⊃ it is not the case that p. Purely unartificial: If, if p, q, and it is not the case that q, it is not the case that p. The third law, which Strawson finds problematic, and involves an operator that Grice does not even consider. ‘(p ⊃ q) ≡ (~ q ⊃ ~ p). Mixed version, Strawson simplifies ‘iff’ to ‘if’ (in any case, as Pears notes, ‘if’ IMPLICATES ‘iff.’). (If p, q) ⊃ if it is not the case that q, it is not the case that p. Unartificial: If, if p, q, it is not the case that if q, it is not the case that p. The fourth law. ((p ⊃ q).(q ⊃ r)) ⊃ (p ⊃ r). Mixed: (if p, q, and if q, r) ⊃ (if p, r). Unartificial: ‘If, if p, q, and if q, r, if p, r.’ Try to say that to Mrs. Grice! (Grice: “It’s VERY SURPRISING that Strawson think we can converse in his lingo!”). Now Strawson displays this or that ‘reservation.’ Mainly it is an appeal to J. Austen and J. Austin. Strawson’s implicature is that Philo, in Megara, has hardly a right to unquiet the tranquil Elysium. This or that ‘reservation’ by Strawson takes TWO pages of his essay. Strawson claims that the reservations are important. It is, e. g., 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. Alas, Whitehead and Russell give us little 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 Austin would not call ‘ordinary language,’ or Austen, for that matter, if not Macaulay. If we preserve as nearly as possible the tense-mode structure, in the simplest way consistent with grammatical requirements, we obtain this or that sentence. TOLLENDO TOLLENS. ‘If it is not the case that the Germans win the war, it is not the case that they, viz. the Germans, invade England in 1940.’ ‘If it is not the case that half the staff is dismissed, it is not the case that Smith is in charge.’ ‘If it is not the case that the match is cancelled, it is not the case that it rains.’ But, Strawson claims, these sentences, so far from SOUNDING or seeming logically equivalent to the originals, have in each case a quite different ‘sense.’ It is possible, at least in some cases, to frame, via tollendo tollens a target setence of more or less the appropriate pattern for which one can imagine a use and which DOES stand in the required relationship to the source sentence. ‘If it is not the case that the Germans win the war, (trust) it is not the case that they, viz. the Germans, invade England in 1940,’ with the attending imlicatum: “only because they did not invade England in 1940.’ or even, should historical evidence be scanty). ‘If it is not the case that the Germans win the war, it SURELY is not the case that they, viz. the Germans, invade London in 1940.’ ‘If it is not the case that half the staff is dismissed, it surely is not the case that Smith is in charge.’ These changes reflect differences in the circumstances in which one might use these, as opposed to the original, sentences. The sentence beginning ‘If Smith is in charge …’ is normally, though not necessarily, used by a man who antecedently knows that it is not the case that Smith is in charge. The sentence beginning ‘If it is not the case that half the staff is dismissed …’ is normally, though not necessarily, used by by a man who is, as Cook Wilson would put it, ‘working’ towards the ‘consequent’ conclusion that Smith is not in charge. To say that the sentences are nevertheless truth-functionally equivalent seems to point to the fact that, given the introduction rule for ‘if,’ the grounds for accepting the original ‘if’-utterance AND the ‘tollendo tollens’ correlatum, would, in two different scenarios, have been grounds for accepting the soundness or validity of the passage or move from a premise ‘Smith is in charge’ to its ‘consequentia’ ‘consequutum,’ or ‘conclusion,’ ‘Half the staff is dismissed.’ One must remember that calling each formula (i)-(iv) a LAW or a THEOREM is the same as saying that, e.g., in the case of (iii), ‘If p, q’ ‘ENTAILS’ ‘If it is not the case that q, it is not the case that p.’ Similarly, Strawson thinks, for some steps which would be invalid for ‘if,’ there are corresponding steps that would be invalid for ‘⊃.’ He gives two example using a symbol Grice does not consider, for ‘therefore,’ or ‘ergo,’ and lists a fallacy. First example. ‘(p ⊃ q).q ∴ p.’ Second example of a fallacy:‘(p ⊃ q). ~p ∴ ~q.’ These are invalid inference-patterns, and so are the correlative patterns with ‘if’: ‘If p, q; and q ∴ p’ ‘If p, q; and it is not the case that p ∴ it is not the case that q. The formal analogy here may be described by saying that neither ‘p ⊃ q’ nor ‘if p, q’ is a simply convertible (“nor hardly conversable” – Grice) formula. Strawson thinks, and we are getting closer to Philo’s paradoxes, revisied, that there may be this or that laws which holds for ‘p ⊃ q’ and not for ‘If p, q.’ As an example of a law which holds for ‘if’ but not for ‘⊃,’ one may give an analytic formula. ~[(if p, q) . (if p, it is not the case that q)]’. The corresponding formula with the horseshoe is not analytic. ‘~[(p ⊃ q) . (p ⊃ ~q)]’ is not analytic, and is equivalent to the contingent formula ‘~ ~p.’ The rules to the effect that this or that formula is analytic is referred to by Johnson, in the other place, as the ‘paradox of implication.’ This Strawson finds a Cantabrigian misnomer. If Whitehead’s and Russell’s ‘⊃’ is taken as identical either with Moore’s ‘entails’ or, more widely, with Aelfric’s‘if’ – as in his “Poem to the If,” MSS Northumberland – “If” meant trouble in Anglo-Saxon -- in its standard use, the rules that yield this or that so-called ‘paradox’ -- are not, for Strawson, “just paradoxical.” With an attitude, he adds. “They are simply incorrect.”This is slightly illogical.“That’s not paradoxical; that’s incorrect.”Cf. Grice, “What is paradoxical is not also incorrect.” And cf. Grice: “Philo defines a ‘paradox’ as something that surprises _his father_.’ He is ‘using’ “father,” metaphorically, to refer to his tutor. His father was unknown (to him). On the other hand (vide Strawson’s Two Hands), with signs you can introduce alla Peirce and Johnson by way of ostensive definition any way you wish! If ‘⊃’ is given the meaning it is given by what Grice calls the ‘truth-table definition,’ or ‘stipulation’ in the system of truth functions, the rules and the statements they represent, may be informally dubbed ‘paradoxical,’ in that they don’t agree with the ‘man in the street,’ or ‘the man on High.’ The so-called ‘paradox’ would be a simple and platitudinous consequence of the meaning given to the symbol. Strawson had expanded on the paradoxes in an essay he compiled while away from Oxford. On his return to Oxford, he submitted it to “Mind,” under the editorship by G. Ryle, where it was published. The essay concerns the ‘paradoxes’ of ‘entailment’ in detail, and mentions Moore and C. I. Lewis. He makes use of modal operators, nec. and poss. to render the ‘necessity’ behind ‘entail.’ He thinks the paradoxes of ‘entailment’ arise from inattention to this modality. At the time, Grice and Strawson were pretty sure that nobody then accepted, if indeed anyone ever did and did make, the identification of the relation symbolised by the horseshoe, ⊃, with the relation which Moore calls ‘entailment,’ p⊃q, i. e. The mere truth-functional ‘if,’ as in ‘p ⊃ q,’ ‘~(pΛ~q)’ is rejected as an analysis of the meta-linguistic ‘p entails q.’ Strawson thinks that the identification is rejected because ‘p ⊃ q’ involves this or that allegedly paradoxical implicatum.Starwson explicitly mentions ‘ex falso quodlibeet.’ Any FALSE proposition entails any proposition, true or false. And any TRUE proposition is entailed by any proposition, true or falso (consequentia mirabilis). It is a commonplace that Lewis, whom Grice calls a ‘blue-collared practioner of the sciences,’ Strawson thinks, hardly solved the thing. The amendment by Lewis, for Strawson, has consequences scarcely less paradoxical in terms of the implicata. For if p is impossible, i.e. self-contradictory, it is impossible that p and ~q. And if q is necessary, ~q is impossible and it is impossible that p and ~q; i. e., if p entails q means it is impossible that p and ~q any necessary proposition is entailed by any proposition and any self-contradictory proposition entails any proposition. On the other hand, the definition by Lewis of ‘strict’ implication or entailment (i.e. of the relation which holds from p to q whenever q is deducible from p), Strawson thinks, obviously commends itself in some respects. Now, it is clear that the emphasis laid on the expression-mentioning character of the intensional contingent statement by writing ‘ ‘pΛ~q’ is impossible instead’ of ‘It is impossible that p and ~q’ does not avoid the alleged paradoxes of entailment. But, Starwson optimistically thinks, it is equally clear that the addition of some provision does avoid them. Strawson proposes that one should use “p entails q” such that no necessary statement and no negation of a necessary statement can significantly be said to “entail” or be entailed by any statement; i. e. the function “p entails q” cannot take necessary or self-contradictory statements as arguments. The expression “p entails q” is to be used to mean “ ‘p ⊃ q’ is necessary, and neither ‘p’ nor ‘q’ is either necessary or self-contradictory.” Alternatively, “p entails q” should be used only to mean “ ‘pΛ~q’ is impossible and neither ‘p’ nor ‘q,’ nor either of their contradictories, is necessary. In this way, Strawson thinks the paradoxes are avoided. Strawson’s proof. Let us assume that p1 expresses a contingent, and q1 a necessary, proposition. p1 and ~q1 is now impossible because ~q1 is impossible. But q1 is necessary. So, by that provision, p1 does not entail q1. We may avoid the paradoxical assertion “p1 entails q2” as merely falling into the equally paradoxical assertion “ “p1 entails q1” is necessary.” For: If ‘q’ is necessary, ‘q is necessary’ is, though true, not necessary, but a CONTINGENT INTENSIONAL (Latinate) statement. This becomes part of the philosophers lexicon: intensĭo, f. intendo, which L and S render as a stretching out, straining, effort. E. g. oculorum, Scrib. Comp. 255. Also an intensifying, increase. Calorem suum (sol) intensionibus ac remissionibus temperando fovet,” Sen. Q. N. 7, 1, 3. The tune: “gravis, media, acuta,” Censor. 12. Hence: ‘~ (‘q’ is necessary)’ is, though false, possible. Hence “p1 Λ ~ (q1 is necessary)” is, though false, possible. Hence ‘p1’ does NOT entail ‘q1 is necessary.’ Thus, by adopting the view that an entailment statement, and other intensional statements, are contingent, viz. non-necessary, and that no necessary statement or its contradictory can entail or be entailed by any statement, Strawson thinks he can avoid the paradox that a necessary proposition is entailed by any proposition, and indeed all the other associated paradoxes of entailment. Grice objects that the alleged cure by Strawson is worse than disease of Moore! The denial that a necessary proposition can entail or be entailed by any proposition, and, therefore, that necessary propositions can be related to each other by the entailment relation, is too high a price to pay for the solution of the paradoxes, which are perfectly true utterances with only this or that attending cancellable implicature. Strawson’s introduction of ‘acc.’ makes sense. Which makes sense in that Philo first supplied his truth-functional account of ‘if’ to criticise his tutor Diodorus on modality. Philo reported to Diodorus something he had heard from Neptune. In dreams, Neptune appeared to Philo and told him: “I saw down deep in the waters a wooden trunk of a plant that only grows under weather – algae -- The trunk can burn!” Neptune said.Awakening, Philo ran to Diodorus: “A wooden trunk deep down in the ocean can burn.” Throughout this section, Strawson refers to a ‘primary or standard’ use of ‘if,’ of which the main characteristics are various. First, 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. Second, 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. Third, the making of the hypothetical statement carries the implication either of uncertainty about, or of disbelief in, the fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent.’ This above is the passage extrapolated by Grice. Grice does not care to report the platitudionous ‘first’ ‘characteristic’ as Strawson rather verbosely puts it. The way Grice reports it, it is not clear Strawson is listing THREE characteristics. Notably, from the extrapolated quote, it would seem as if Grice wishes his addressee to believe that Strawson thinks that characteristic 2 and characteristic 3 mix. On top, Grice omits a caveat immediately after the passage he extrapolates. Strawso notes: “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.’ Grice does not care to include a caveat by Strawson: “Not all uses of ‘if ,’ however, exhibit all these three characteristics.” In particular, there is a use which has an equal claim to rank as standard ‘if’ 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. Strawson has in mind what is sometimes called a ‘formal’ (by Whitehead and Russell) or 'variable' or 'general’ or ‘generic’ hypothetical. Strawson gives three examples. The first example is ‘lf ice is left in the sun, it melts.’ This is Kantian. Cf. Grice on indicative conditionals in the last Immanuel Kant Lecture. Grice: "It should be, given that it is the case that one smears one's skin with peanut butter before retiring and that it is the case that one has a relatively insensitive skin, that it is the case that one preserves a youthful complexion." More generally, there is some plausibility to the idea that an exemplar of the form 'Should (! E, ⊢F; ! G)' is true just in case a corresponding examplar of the form 'Should (⊢ F, ⊢G; ⊢E)' is true. Before proceeding further, I will attempt to deal briefly with a possible objection which might be raised at this point. I can end imagine an ardent descriptivist, who first complains, in the face of someone who wishes to allow a legitimate autonomous status to practical acceptability generalizations, that truth-conditions for such generalizations are not available, and perhaps are in principle not available; so such generalizations are not to be taken seriously. We then point out to him that, at least for a class of such cases, truth-conditions are available, and that they are to be found in related alethic generalizations, a kind of generalization he accepts. He then complains that, if finding truth-conditions involves representing the practical acceptability generalizations as being true just in case related alethic generalizations are true, then practical acceptability generalizations are simply reducible to alethic generalizations, and so are not to be taken seriously for another reason, namely, that they are simply transformations of alethic generalizations, and we could perfectly well get on without them. Maybe some of you have heard some ardent descriptivists arguing in a style not so very different from this. Now a deep reply to such an objection would involve (I think) a display of the need for a system of reasoning in which the value to be transmitted by acceptable inference is not truth but practical value, together with a demonstration of the role of practical acceptability generalizations in such a system. I suspect that such a reply could be constructed, but I do not have it at my fingertips (or tongue-tip), so I shall not try to produce it. An interim reply, however, might take the following form: even though it may be true (which is by no means certain) that certain practical acceptability generalizations have the same truth-conditions as certain corresponding alethic generalizations, it is not to be supposed that the former generalizations are simply reducible to the latter (in some disrespectful sense of 'reducible'). For though both kinds of generalization are defeasible, they are not defeasible in the same way; more exactly, what is a defeating condition for a given practical generalization is not a defeating condition for its alethic counterpart. A generalization of the form 'should (! E, ⊢F; ! G)' may have, as a defeating condition, 'E*'; that is to say, consistently with the truth of this generalization, it may be true that 'should (! E & ! E*, ⊢F; ! G*)' where 'G*' is inconsistent with 'G'. But since, in the alethic counterpart generalization 'should (⊢ F, ⊢G; ⊢E)', 'E' does not occur in the antecedent, 'E*' cannot be a defeating end p.92 condition for this generalization. And, since liability to defeat by a certain range of defeating conditions is essential to the role which acceptability generalizations play in reasoning, this difference between a practical generalization and its alethic counterpart is sufficient to eliminate the reducibility of the former to the latter. To return to the main theme of this section. If, without further ado, we were to accept at this point the suggestion that 'should (! E, ⊢F; ! G)' is true just in case 'should (⊢ F, ⊢G; ⊢E)' is true, we should be accepting it simply on the basis of intuition (including, of course, linguistic or logical intuition under the head of 'intuition'). If the suggestion is correct then we should attain, at the same time, a stronger assurance that it is correct and a better theoretical understanding of the alethic and practical acceptability, if we could show why it is correct by deriving it from some general principle(s). Kant, in fact, for reasons not unlike these, sought to show the validity of a different but fairly closely related Technical Imperative by just such a method. The form which he selects is one which, in my terms, would be represented by "It is fully acceptable, given let it be that B, that let it be that A" or "It is necessary, given let it be that B, that let it be that A". Applying this to the one fully stated technical imperative given in Grundlegung, we get Kant’s hypothetical which is of the type Strawson calls ‘variable,’ formal, ‘generic,’ or ‘generic.’ Kant: “It is necessary, given let it be that one bisect a line on an unerring principle, that let it be that I draw from its extremities two intersecting arcs". Call this statement, (α). Though he does not express himself very clearly, I am certain that his claim is that this imperative is validated in virtue of the fact that it is, analytically, a consequence of an indicative statement which is true and, in the present context, unproblematic, namely, the statement vouched for by geometry, that if one bisects a line on an unerring principle, then one does so only as a result of having drawn from its extremities two intersecting arcs. Call this statement, (β). His argument seems to be expressible as follows. (1) It is analytic that he who wills the end (so far as reason decides his conduct), wills the indispensable means thereto. (2) So it is analytic that (so far as one is rational) if one wills that A, and judges that if A, then A as a result of B, then one wills that B. end p.93 (3) So it is analytic that (so far as one is rational) if one judges that if A, then A as a result of B, then if one wills that A then one wills that B. (4) So it is analytic that, if it is true that if A, then A as a result of B, then if let it be that A, then it must be that let it be that B. From which, by substitution, we derive (5): it is analytic that if β then α. Now it seems to me to be meritorious, on Kant's part, first that he saw a need to justify hypothetical imperatives of this sort, which it is only too easy to take for granted, and second that he invoked the principle that "he who wills the end, wills the means"; intuitively, this invocation seems right. Unfortunately, however, the step from (3) to (4) seems open to dispute on two different counts. (1) It looks as if an unwarranted 'must' has appeared in the consequent of the conditional which is claimed, in (4), as analytic; the most that, to all appearances, could be claimed as being true of the antecedent is that 'if let it be that A then let it be that B'. (2) (Perhaps more serious.) It is by no means clear by what right the psychological verbs 'judge' and 'will', which appear in (3), are omitted in (4); how does an (alleged) analytic connection between (i) judging that if A, A as a result of B and (ii) its being the case that if one wills that A then one wills that B yield an analytic connection between (i) it's being the case that if A, A as a result of B and (ii) the 'proposition' that if let it be that A then let it be that B? Can the presence in (3) of the phrase "in so far as one is rational" legitimize this step? I do not know what remedy to propose for the first of these two difficulties; but I will attempt a reconstruction of Kant's line of argument which might provide relief from the second. It might, indeed, even be an expansion of Kant's actual thinking; but whether or not this is so, I am a very long way from being confident in its adequacy. Back to Strawson. First example: ‘lf ice is left in the sun, it melts.’Or “If apple goes up, apple goes down.” – Newton, “Principia Mathematica.” “If ice is left in the sun, it, viz. ice, melts.” Strawson’s second example of a formal, variable, generic, or general ‘if’ ‘If the side of a triangle is produced, the exterior angle is equal to the sum of the two interior and opposite angles.’ Cf. Kant: “If a line on an unerring principle is bisected, two intersecting arcs are drawn from its extremities.” Synthetical propositions must no doubt be employed in defining the means to a proposed end; but they do not concern the principle, the act of the will, but the object and its realization. E.g., that in order to bisect a line on an unerring principle I must draw from its extremities two intersecting arcs; this no doubt is taught by mathematics only in synthetical propositions; but if I know that it is only by this process that the intended operation can be performed, then to say that, if I fully will the operation, I also will the action required for it, is an analytical proposition; for it is one and the same thing to conceive something as an effect which I can produce in a certain way, and to conceive myself as acting in this way. Strawson’s third example: ‘If a child is very strictly disciplined in the nursery, it, viz. the child, that should be seen but not heard, will develop aggressive tendencies in adult life.’ 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 hand, for every such statement there is an indefinite number of NON-general, or not generic, 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, viz. this piece, melts.’Strawson, about to finish his section on “ ‘⊃’ and ‘if’,” – the expression, ‘’ ⊃’ and ‘if’” only occurs in the “Table of Contents,” on p. viii, not in the body of the essay, as found redundant – it is also the same title Strawson used for his essay which circulated (or ‘made the rounds’) soon after Grice delivered his attack on Strawson, and which Strawson had, first, the cheek to present it to PGRICE, and then, voiding the idea of a festschrift, reprint it in his own compilation of essays. -- from which Grice extracted the quote for “Prolegomena,” notes that there are two ‘relatively uncommon uses of ‘if.’‘If he felt embarrassed, he showed no signs of it.’It is this example that Grice is having in mind in the fourth lecture on ‘indicative conditionals.’ “he didn’t show it.”Grice is giving an instantiation of an IMPLICIT, or as he prefers, ‘contextual,’ cancellation of the implicatum of ‘if.’ He does this to show that even if the implicatum of ‘if’ is a ‘generalised,’ not ‘generic,’ or ‘general,’ one, it need not obtain or be present in every PARTICULAR case. “That is why I use the weakened form ‘generalISED, not general. It’s all ceteris paribus always with me).” The example Grice gives corresponds to the one Strawson listed as one of the two ‘relatively uncommon’ uses of ‘if.’ By sticking with the biscuit conditional, Grice is showing Strawson that this use is ‘relatively uncommon’ because it is absolutely otiose! “If he was surprised, he didn’t show it.”Or cf. AustinIf you are hungry, there are. Variants by Grice on his own example:“If Strawson was surprised, he did not show it.”“If he was surprised, it is not the case that Strawson showed it, viz. that he was surprised.”Grice (on the phone with Strawson’s friend) in front of Strawson – present tense version:“If he IS surprised, it is not th case that he, Strawson, is showing it, viz. the clause that he is surprised. Are you implicating he SHOULD?”and a second group:‘If Rembrandt passes the exam at the Koninklijke Academie van Beeldende Kunsten, I am a Dutchman.’‘If the Mad Hatter is not mad, I'll eat my hat.’(as opposed to ‘If the Mad Hatter IS mad, I’ll eat HIS hat.’)Hats were made at Oxford in a previous generation, by mad ‘hatters.’ “To eat one’s hat,” at Oxford, became synonymous with ‘I’ll poison myself and die.’ The reason of the prevalence of Oxonian ‘lunatic’ hatters is chemical. Strawson is referring to what he calls an ‘old wives’ tale’As every grandmother at Oxford knows, the chemicals used in hat-making include mercurious nitrate, which is used in ‘curing’ felt. Now exposure to the mercury vapours cause mercury poisoning. Or, to use an ‘if’: “If Kant is exposed to mercury vapour, Kant gets poisoned. A poisoned victim develops a severe and uncontrollable muscular tremors and twitching limbs, distorted vision and confused speech, hallucinations and psychosis, if not death. For a time, it was at Oxford believed that a wearer of a hat could similarly die, especially by eating the felt containing the mercurial nitrate. The sufficient and necessary condition of the truth of a statement made by “If he was surprised, it is not the case that Strawson showed it, viz. that he was surprised” is that it is not the case that Strawson showed that he was surprised. The antecedent is otiose. Cf. “If you are hungry, there are biscuits in the cupboard.’ Austin used to expand the otiose antecedent further, ‘If you are hungry – AND EVEN IF YOU ARE NOT – there are biscuits in the cupboard,” just in case someone was ignorant of Grice’s principle of conversational helpfulness. Consequently, Strawson claims that such a statement cannot be treated either as a standard hypothetical or as a material implication. This is funny because by the time Grice is criticizing Strawson he does take “If Strawson is surprised, it is not the case that he is showing it, viz. that he is surprised.” But when it comes to “Touch the beast and it will bite you” he is ready to say that here we do not have a case of ‘conjunction.’Why? Stanford.Stanford is the answer.Grice had prepared the text to deliver at Stanford, of all places. Surely, AT STANFORD, you don’t want to treat your addressee idiotically. What Grice means is:“Now let us consider ‘Touch the beast and it will bite you.’ Symbolise it: !p et !q. Turn it into the indicative: You tell your love and love bites you (variant on William Blake).” Grice: “One may object to the use of ‘p.q’ on Whiteheadian grounds. Blue-collared practitioners of the sciences will usually proclaim that they do not care about the ‘realisability’ of this or that operator. In fact, the very noun, ‘realisability,’ irritated me so that I coined non-detachability as a balance. The blue-collared scientist will say that ‘and’ is really Polish, and should be PRE-FIXED as an “if,” or condition, or proviso. So that the conjunction becomes “Provided you tell your love, love bites you.”Strawson gives his reason about the ‘implicatum’ of what P. L. Gardiner called the ‘dutchman’ ‘if,’ after G. F. Stout’s “ ‘hat-eating’ if.” Examples of the second kind are sometimes erroneously treated as evidence that Philo was not crazy, and that ‘if’ does, after all, behave somewhat as ‘⊃’ behaves. Boethius appropriately comments: “Philo had two drawbacks against his favour. He had no drawing board, and he couldn’t write. Therefore he never symbolized, other than ‘via verba,’ his ‘ei’ utterance, “If it is day, it is night,” which he held to be true “at night only.”” Strawson echoes Grice. The evidence for this conversational explanation of the oddity of the ‘dutcham’ if, as called by Gardiner, and the ‘hat-eating’ if, as called by Stout, is, presumably, the facts, first, that the relation between antecedent and consequent is non-Kantian. Recall that Kant has a ‘Funktion’ which, after Aristotle’s ‘pros ti,’ and Boethius’s ‘relatio,’ he called ‘Relation’ where he considers the HYPOTHETICAL. Kant expands in section 8.5. “In the hypothetical, ‘If God exists, I’ll eat my hat,’ existence is no predicate.”Strawson appeals to a second, “more convincing,” fact, viz. that the consequent is obviously not – in the Dutchman ‘if,’ or not to be, in the ‘hat-eating’ if, fulfilled, or true.Grice’s passing for a Dutchman and sitting for an exam at the Koninklijke Academie van Beeldende Kunsten, hardly makes him a Dutchman.Dickens was well aware of the idiocy of people blaming hatters for the increases of deaths at Oxford. He would often expand the consequent in a way that turned it “almost a Wittgensteinian ‘contradiction’” (“The Cricket in the House, vii). “If the Hatter is not mad, I will eat my hat, with my head in it.”Grice comments: “While it is analytic that you see with your eyes, it is not analytic that you eat with your mouth. And one can imagine Dickens’s mouth to be situated in his right hand. Therefore, on realizing that the mad hatter is not mad, Dickens is allowing for it to be the case that he shall eat his hat, with his head in it. Since not everybody may be aware of the position of Dickens’s mouth, I shall not allot this common-ground status.”Strawson gives a third Griciean fact.“The intention of the emissor, by uttering a ‘consequens falsum’ that renders the ‘conditionalis’ ‘verum’ only if the ‘antecedens’ is ‘falsum, is an emphatic, indeed, rude, gesture, with a gratuitious nod to Philo, to the conviction that the antecedens is not fulfilled either. The emissor is further abiding by what Grice calls the ‘principle of truth,’ for the emissor would rather see himself dead than uttering a falsehood, even if he has to fill the conversational space with idiocies like ‘dutchman-being’ and ‘hat-eating.’ The fourth Griceian fact is obviously Modus Tollendo Tollens, viz. that “(p ⊃ q) . ~q” entails “~p,” or rather, to avoid the metalanguage (Grice’s Bootlace: Don’t use a metalanguage: you can only implicate that your object-language is not objectual.”), “[(p ⊃ q) . ~ q] ⊃ ~ p.”At this point, Strawson reminisces: “I was slightly surprised that on my first tutorial with Grice, he gave me “What the Tortoise Said To Achilles,” with the hint, which I later took as a defeasible implicatum, “See if you can resolve this!” ACHILLEs had overtaken the Tortoise, and had seated himself comfortably on its back. "So you've got to the end of our race-course?" said the Tortoise. "Even though it does consist of an infinite series of distances ? I thought some wiseacre or other had proved that the thing couldnl't be doiie ? " " It can be done," said Achilles. " It has been done! Solvitur ambulando. You see the distances were constaiitly diminishing; and so-" "But if they had beenl constantly increasing?" the Tortoise interrupted. "How then?" "Then I shouldn't be here," Achilles modestly replied; "and you would have got several times round the world, by this time! " "You flatter me-flatten, I mean," said the Tortoise; "for you are a heavy weight, and no mistake! Well now, would you like to hear of a race-course, that most people fancy they can get to the end of in two or three steps, while it really consists of an infinite number of distances, each one longer than the previous one? " "Very much indeed !" said the Grecian warrior, as he drew from his helmet (few Grecian warriors possessed pockets in those days) an enormous note-book and a pencil. "Proceed! And speak slowly, please! Shorthand isn't invented yet !" "That beautiful First Proposition of Euclid! " the Tortoise miurmured dreamily. "You admire Euclid?" "Passionately! So far, at least, as one can admire a treatise that wo'n't be published for some centuries to come ! " "Well, now, let's take a little bit of the argument in that First Proposition-just two steps, and the conclusion drawn from them. Kindly enter them in your note-book. And in order to refer to them conveniently, let's call them A, B, and Z:- (A) Things that are equal to the same are equal to each other. (B) The two sides of this Triangle are things that are equal to the same. (Z) The two sides of this Triangle are equal to each other. Readers of Euclid will grant, I suppose, that Z follows logically from A and B, so that any one who accepts A and B as true, must accept Z as true?" " Undoubtedly! The youngest child in a High School-as. soon as High Schools are invented, which will not be till some two thousand years later-will grant that." " And if some reader had not yet accepted A and B as true, he might still accept the sequence as a valid one, I suppose?" NOTES. 279 "No doubt such a reader might exist. He might say 'I accept as true the Hypothetical Proposition that, if A and B be true, Z must be true; but, I don't accept A and B as true.' Such a reader would do wisely in abandoning Euclid, and taking to football." " And might there not also be some reader who would say ' I accept A anld B as true, but I don't accept the Hypothetical'?" "Certainly there might. He, also, had better take to football." "And neither of these readers," the Tortoise continued, "is as yet under any logical necessity to accept Z as true?" "Quite so," Achilles assented. "Well, now, I want you to consider me as a reader of the second kind, and to force me, logically, to accept Z as true." " A tortoise playing football would be--" Achilles was beginning " -an anomaly, of course," the Tortoise hastily interrupted. "Don't wander from the point. Let's have Z first, and football afterwards !" " I'm to force you to accept Z, am I?" Achilles said musingly. "And your present position is that you accept A and B, but you don't accept the Hypothetical-" " Let's call it C," said the Tortoise. "-but you don't accept (C) If A and B are true, Z must be true." "That is my present position," said the Tortoise. "Then I must ask you to accept C." - "I'll do so," said the Tortoise, "as soon as you've entered it in that note-book of yours. What else have you got in it?" " Only a few memoranda," said Achilles, nervously fluttering the leaves: "a few memoranda of-of the battles in which I have distinguished myself!" "Plenty of blank leaves, I see !" the Tortoise cheerily remarked. "We shall need them all !" (Achilles shuddered.) "Now write as I dictate: (A) Things that are equal to the same are equal to each other. (B) The two sides of this Triangle are things that are equal to the same. (C) If A and B are true, Z must be true. (Z) The two sides of this Triangle are equal to each other." " You should call it D, not Z," said Achilles. " It comes next to the other three. If you accept A and B and C, you must accept Z." "And why must I?" "Because it follows logically from them. If A and B and C are true, Z must be true. You don't dispute that, I imagine ?" "If A and B and C are true, Z must be true," the Tortoise thoughtfully repeated. " That's another Hypothetical, isn't it? And, if I failed to see its truth, I might accept A and B and C, and still not accept Z, mightn't I?" "You might," the candid hero admitted; "though such obtuseness would certainly be phenomenal. Still, the event is possible. So I must ask you to grant one more Hypothetical." " Very good. I'm quite willing to grant it, as soon as you've written it down. We will call it (D) If A and B and C are true, Z must be true. Have you entered that in your note-book ? " " I have! " Achilles joyfully exclaimed, as he ran the pencil into its sheath. "And at last we've got to the end of this ideal race-course! Now that you accept A and B and C and D, of course you accept Z." " Do I ? " said the Tortoise innocently. " Let's make that quite clear. I accept A and B and C and D. Suppose I still refused to accept Z? " 280 NOTES. " Then Logic would take you by the throat, and force you to do it !" Achilles triumphantly replied. "Logic would tell you 'You ca'n't help yourself. Now that you've accepted A and B and C and D, you mvust accept Z!' So you've no choice, you see." "Whatever Logic is good enough to tell me is worth writing down," said the Tortoise. " So enter it in your book, please. We will call it (E) If A and B and C and Dare true, Zmust be true. Until I've granted that, of course I needn't grant Z. So it's quite a necessary step, you see?" "I see," said Achilles; and there was a touch of sadness in his tone. Here the narrator, having pressing business at the Bank, was obliged to leave the happy pair, and did not again pass the spot until some months afterwards. When he did so, Achilles was still seated on the back of the much-enduring Tortoise, and was writing in his note-book, which appeared to be nearly full. The Tortoise was saying " Have you got that last step written down ? Unless I've lost count, that makes a thousand and one. There are several millions more to come. And would you mind, as a personal favour, considering what a lot of instruction this colloquy of ours will provide for the Logicians of the Nineteenth Century-would you mnind adopting a pun that my cousin the Mock-Turtle will then make, and allowing yourself to be re-named Taught- Us ?" "As you please !" replied the weary warrior, in the hollow tones of despair, as he buried his face in his hands. " Provided that you, for your part, will adopt a pun the Mock-Turtle never made, and allow yourself to be re-named A Kill-Ease !"Strawon protests:“But this is a strange piece of logic.”Grice corrects: “Piece – you mean ‘piece’ simpliciter.”“But what do you protest that much!?”“Well, it seems that, on any possible interpretation, “if p, q” has, in respect of modus tollendo tollens the same powers as ‘p ⊃ q.’“And it is just these powers that you, and Cook Wilson before you, are jokingly (or fantastically) exploiting!”“Fantastically?” “You call Cook Wilson ‘fantastical’? You can call me exploitative.’Strawson: “It is the absence of Kantian ‘Relation,’ Boethius’s ‘relatio,’ Aristotle’s ‘pros ti,’ referred to in that makes both Stout’s hat-eating if and Gardiner’s dutchman if quirks (as per Sir Randolph Quirk, another Manx, like Quine), a verbal or conversational flourish, an otiosity, alla Albritton, an odd, call it Philonian, use of ‘if.’ If a hypothetical statement IS, as Grice, after Philo, claims, is what Whitehead and Russell have as a ‘material’ implication, the statements would be not a quirkish oddity, but a linguistic sobriety and a simple truth. Or rather they are each, the dutchman if and the hat-eating if, each a ‘quirkish oddity’ BECAUSE each is a simple, sober, truth. “Recall my adage,” Grice reminded Strawson, “Obscurely baffling, but Hegelianly true!”Strawson notes, as a final commentary on the relevant section, that ‘if’ can be employed PERFORMATORILY, which will have Grice finding his topic for the Kant lectures at Stanford: “must” is univocal in “Apples must fall,” and “You must not lie.”An ‘if’ is used ‘performatorily’ when it is used not simply in making this or that statement, but in, e.g., making a provisional announcement of an intention. Strawson’s example:“If it rains, I shall stay at home.”Grice corrected:“*I* *will* stay at home. *YOU* *shall.*”“His quadruple implicata never ceased to amaze me.”Grice will take this up later in ‘Ifs and cans.’“If I can, I intend to climb Mt Everest on hands and knees, if I may disimplicate that to Davidson.”This hich, like an unconditional announcement of intention, Strawson “would rather not” call ‘truly true’ or ‘falsely false.’ “I would rather describe it in some other way – Griceian perhaps.” “A quessertion, not to be iterated.”“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 – which, Strawson adds, “is a form of lying to your former self.” “I agreed with you!” Grice screamed from the other side of the Quadrangle!Strawson notes: “There are further uses of ‘if’ which I shall not discuss.”This is a pantomime for Austin (Strawson’s letter to Grice, “Austin wants me to go through the dictionary with ‘if.’ Can you believe it, Grice, that the OED has NINE big pages on it?! And the sad thing is that Austin has already did ‘if’ in “Ifs and cans.” Why is he always telling OTHERS what to do?”Strawson’s Q. E. D.: “The safest way to read the material implication sign is, perhaps, ‘not both … and not …,” and avoid the ‘doubt’ altogether. (NB: “Mr. H. P. Grice, from whom I never ceased to learn about logic since he was my tutor for my Logic paper in my PPE at St. John’s back in the day, illustrates me that ‘if’ in Frisian means ‘doubt.’ And he adds, “Bread, butter, green cheese; very good English, very good Friese!”. GROUP C – “Performatory” theories – descriptive, quasi-descriptive, prescriptive – examples not lettered.EXAMPLE I: Strawson on ‘true’ in Analysis.EXAMPLE II: Austin on ‘know’ EXAMPLE III: Hare on ‘good.’EXPLICITLY CONVEYED: if p, qIMPLICITLY CONVEYED: p is the consequensCANCELLATION: “I know perfectly well where your wife is, but all I’ll say is that if she is not in kitchen she is in the bedroom.”Next would be to consider uses of ‘implication’ in the essay on the ‘indicative conditional.’ We should remember that the titling came out in 1987. The lecture circulated without a title for twenty years. And in fact, it is about ‘indicative conditional’ AND MORE BESIDES, including Cook Wilson, if that’s a plus. Grice states the indirectness condition in two terms:One in the obviously false terms “q is INFERRABLE, that’s the word Grice uses, from p”The other one is in terms of truth-value assignment:The emissor has NON-TRUTH-FUNCTIONAL GROUNDS for the emissum, ‘if p, q’. In Grice’s parlance: “Grounds for ACCEPTING “p ⊃ q.”This way Grice chooses is controversial in that usually he holds ‘accept’ as followed by the ‘that’-clause. So ‘accepting ‘p ⊃ q’” is not clear in that respect. A rephrase would be, accepting that the emissor is in a position to emit, ‘if p, q’ provided that what he EXPLICITLY CONVEYS by that is what is explicitly conveyed by the Philonian ‘if,’ in other words, that the emissor is explicitly conveying that it is the case of p or it is not the case of q, or that it is not the case that a situation obtains such that it is the case that p and it is not the case that q.“p ⊃ q” is F only in the third row. It is no wonder that Grice says that the use-mention was only used correctly ONCE.For Grice freely uses ‘the proposition that p ⊃ q.’ But this may be licensed because it was meant as for ‘oral delivery.’ THE FIRST INSTANTIATION GRICE GIVES (WoW:58) is“If Smith is in London, he, viz. Smith, is attending the meeting.”Grice goes on (WoW:59) to give FIVE alternatives to the ‘if’ utterance, NOT using ‘if.’ For the first four, he notes that he fells the ‘implicature’ of ‘indirectness’ seems ‘persistent.’On WoW:59, Grice refers to Strawson as a ‘strong theorist,’ and himself as a ‘weak theorist,’ i. e. an Occamist. Grice gives a truth-table or the ‘appropriate truth table,’ and its formulation, and notes that he can still detect the indirectness condition implication. Grice challenges Strawson. How is one to learn that what one conveys by the scenario formulated in the truth-table for the pair “Smith is in London” and “Smith is attending the meeting” – without using ‘if’ because this is Grice’s exercise in detachment – is WEAKER than what one would convey by “If Smith is in London, he, viz. Smith, is attending the meeting”?This sort of rhetorical questions – “Of course he can’t” are a bit insidious. Grice failed to give Strawson a copy of the thing. And Strawson is then invited to collaborate with P. G. R. I. C. E., so he submits a rather vague “If and ⊃,” getting the rebuke by Grice’s friend Bennett – “Strawson could at least say that Grice’s views were published in three different loci.” BUT: Strawson compiled that essay in 1968. And Strawson was NOT relying on a specific essay by Grice, but on his memory of the general manoeuvre. Grice had been lecturing on ‘if’ before at Oxford, in seminars entitled “Logic and Convesation.” But surely at Oxford you are not supposed to ‘air’ your seminar views. Outside Oxford it might be different. It shoud not!And surely knowing Grice, why would *GRICE* provide the input to Strawson. For Grice, philosophy is very personal, and while Grice might have thought that Sir Peter was slightly interested in what his former tutor would say about ‘if,’ it would be inappropriate of the tutor to overwhelm the tutee, or keep informing the tutee how wrong he is. For a tutor, once a tutee, always a tutee. On WoW:59, Grice provides the FIRST CANCELLATION of an ‘if,’ and changes it slightly from the one on p. 58. The ‘if’ now becomesIf Smith is in the library, he, viz. Smith, is working.’In Wiltshire:“If Smith is in the swimming-pool library, he, viz. Smith, is swimming.”THE CANCELLATION GOES by ‘opting out’:“I know just where Smith is and what he, viz. Smith, is doing, but all I will tell you is that if he is in the library he is working.”Grice had to keep adding his ‘vizes’ – viz. Smith – because of the insidious contextualists – some of them philosophical!“What do you mean ‘he,’ – are you sure you are keeping the denotatum constant?”Grice is challenging Strawson’s ‘uncertainty and disbelief.’No one would be surprised if Grice’s basis for his saying “I know just where Smith is and what he, viz. Smith, is doing, but all I will tell you is that if he is in the library, he is working” is that Grice has just looked in the library and found Smith working. So, Grice IS uttering “If Smith is in the library, he is working” WHEN THE INDIRECT (strong) condition ceteris-paribus carried by what Grice ceteris paribus IMPLIES by uttering “If Smith is in the library, Smith is working.”The situation is a bit of the blue, because Grice presents it on purpose as UNVOLUNTEERED. The ‘communication-function’ does the trick. GRICE THEN GIVES (between pages WoW: 59 and 60) TWO IMPLICIT cancellations of an implicature, or, to avoid the alliteration, ‘contextual’ cancellation. Note incidentally that Grice is aware of the explicit/implicit when he calls the cancellation, first, EXPLICIT, and then contextual. By ‘explicit,’ he means, ‘conveying explicitly’ in a way that commits you. THE THIRD INSTANTIATION refers to this in what he calls a ‘logical’ puzzle, which may be a bit question-begging, cf. ‘appropriate truth-table.’ For Strawson would say that Grice is using ‘if’ as a conscript, when it’s a civil. “If Smith has black, Mrs. Smith has black.”Grice refers to ‘truth-table definition’ OR STIPULATION. Note that the horseshoe is an inverted “C” for ‘contentum.’F. Cajori, “A history of mathematical notations,” SYMBOLS IN MATHEMATICAL LOGIC, §667-on : [§674] “A theory of the ‘meccanisme du raisonnement’ is offered by J. D. Gergonne in his “Essai de dialectique rationnelle.”In Gergonne’s “Essai,” “H” stands for complete logical disjunction, X” for logical product, “I” for "identity," [cf. Grize on izzing] “C” for "contains," and "Ɔ (inverted C)" for "is contained in." [§685] Gergonne is using the Latinate, contineoIn rhet., the neuter substantive “contĭnens” is rendered as “that on which something rests or depends, the chief point, hinge: “causae,” Cic. Part. Or. 29, 103; id. Top. 25, 95: “intuendum videtur, quid sit quaestio, ratio, judicatio, continens, vel ut alii vocant, firmamentum,” Quint. 3, 11, 1; cf. id. ib. § 18 sqq.—Adv.: contĭnen-ter . So it is a natural evolution in matters of implication. while Giusberti (“Materiale per studio,” 31) always reads “pro constanti,” the MSS occasionally has the pretty Griciean “precontenti,” from “prae” and “contenti.” Cf. Quine, “If my father was a bachelor, he was male. And I can say that, because ‘male’ is CONTAINED in ‘bachelor.’”E. Schröder, in his “Vorlesungen über die Algebra der Logik,” [§690] Leipzig, uses “⊂” for "untergeordnet”, roughly, “is included in,” and the inverted “⊃” for the passive voice, "übergeordnet,” or includes. Some additional symbols are introduced by Peano into Number 2 of Volume II of his influential “Formulaire.” Thus "ɔ" becomes ⊃. By “p.⊃ x ... z. q” is expressed “from p one DEDUCES, whatever x ... z may be, and q." In “Il calcolo geometrico,” – “according to the Ausdehnungslehre of H. Grassmann, preceded by the operations of deductive logic,” Peano stresses the duality of interpretations of “p.⊃ x ... z. q” in terms of classes and propositions. “We shall indicate [the universal affirmative proposition] by the expression A < B, or B > A, which can be read "every A is a B," or "the class B CONTAINS A." [...] Hence, if a,b,... are CONDITIONAL propositions, we have: a < b, or b > a, ‘says’ that "the class defined by the condition a is part of that defined by b," or [...] "b is a CONSEQUENCE of a," "if a is true, b is true." In Peano’s “Arithmetices principia: nova methodo exposita,” we have: “II. Propositions.” “The sign “C” means is a consequence of [“est consequentia.” Thus b C a is read b is a consequence of the proposition a.” “The sign “Ɔ” means one deduces [DEDUCITUR]; thus “a Ɔ b” ‘means’ the same as b C a. [...] IV. Classes “The sign Ɔ ‘means’ is contained in. Thus a Ɔ b means class a is contained in class b. a, b ∈ K Ɔ (a Ɔ b) :=: (x)(x ∈ a Ɔ x ∈ b). In his “Formulaire,” Peano writes: “Soient a et b des Cls. a ⊃ b signifie "tout a est b". Soient p et q des propositions contenant une variable x; p ⊃x q, signifie "de p on déduit, quel que soit x, la q", c'est-à-dire: "les x qui satisfont à la condition p satisferont aussi à la q". Russell criticizes Peano’s dualism in “The Principles of mathematics,” §13. “The subject of Symbolic Logic consists of three parts, the calculus of propositions, the calculus of classes and the calculus of relations. Between the first two, there is, within limits, a certain parallelism, which arises as follows: In any symbolic expression, the letters may be interpreted as classes or as propositions, and the relation of inclusion in the one case may be replaced by that of formal implication in the other. A great deal has been made of this duality, and in the later editions of his “Formulaire,” Peano appears to have sacrificed logical precision to its preservation. But, as a matter of fact, there are many ways in which the calculus of propositions differs from that of classes.” Whiehead and Russell borrow the basic logical symbolism from Peano, but they freed it from the "dual" interpretation. Thus, Whitehead and Russell adopt Schröder's ⊂ for class inclusion: a ⊂ b :=: (x)(x ∈ a Ɔ x ∈ b) Df. and restricted the use of the "horseshoe" ⊃ to the connective "if’: “p⊃q.’ Whitehead’s and Russell’s decision isobvious, if we consider the following example from Cesare Burali-Forti, “Logica Matematica,” a Ɔ b . b Ɔ c : Ɔ : a Ɔ c [...] The first, second and fourth [occurrences] of the sign Ɔ mean is contained, the third one means one deduces.So the horseshoe is actually an inverted “C” meant to read “contentum” or “consequens” (“consequutum”). Active Nominal Forms Infinitive: implicā́re Present participle: implicāns; implicántis Future participle: implicītúrus; implicātúrus Gerund: implicándum Gerundive: implicándus Passive Nominal Forms Infinitive: implicā́re Perfect participle: implicī́tum; implicā́tumGRICE’s second implicit or contextual cancellation does not involve a ‘logical puzzle’ but bridge – and it’s his fourth instantiation:“If I have a red king, I also have a black king.” – to announce to your competititve opponents upon inquiry a bid of five no trumps. Cf. Alice, “The red Queen” which is a chess queen, as opposed to the white queen. After a precis, he gives a FIFTH instantiation to prove that ‘if’ is always EXPLICITLY cancellable.WoW:60“If you put that bit of sugar in water, it will dissolve, though so far as I know there can be no way of knowing in advance that this will happen.”This is complex. The cancellation turns the ‘if p, q’ into a ‘guess,’ in which case it is odd that the emissor would be guessing and yet be being so fortunate as to make such a good guess. At the end of page 60, Grice gives THREE FURTHER instantations which are both of philosophical importance and a pose a problem to such a strong theorist as Strawson.The first of the trio is:“If the Australians win the first Test, they will win the series, you mark my words.”The second of the trio is:“Perhaps if he comes, he will be in a good mood.”The third in the trio is:“See that, if he comes, he gets his money.”Grice’s point is that in the three, the implicature is cancelled. So the strong theorist has to modify the thesis ‘a sub-primary case of a sub-primary use of ‘if’ is…” which seems like a heavy penalty for the strong theorist. For Grice, the strong theorist is attaching the implicatum to the ‘meaning’ of ‘if,’ where, if attached at all, should attach to some mode-marker, such as ‘probably,’ which may be contextual. On p. 61 he is finding play and using ‘logically weaker’ for the first time, i. e. in terms of entailment. If it is logically weaker, it is less informative. “To deny that p, or to assert that q.”Grice notes it’s ceteris paribus.“Provided it would be worth contributing with the ‘more informative’ move (“why deny p? Why assert q?) While the presumption that one is interested in the truth-values of at least p or q, this is ceteris paribus. A philosopher may just be interested in “if p, q” for the sake of exploring the range of the relation between p and q, or the powers of p and q. On p. 62 he uses the phrase “non-truth functional” as applied not to grounds but to ‘evidence’: “non-truth-functional evidence.”Grice wants to say that emissor has implicated, in a cancellable way, that he has non-truth-functional evidence for “if p, q,” i. e. evidence that proceeds by his inability to utter “if p, q” on truth-functional grounds. The emissor is signaling that he is uttering “if p, q” because he cannot deny p, or that he cannot assert q(p ⊃ q) ≡ ((~p) v q)Back to the first instantiation“If Smith is in London, he, viz. Smith is attending the meeting there, viz. in London”I IMPLICATE, in a cancellable way, that I have no evidence for “Smith is not in London”I IMPLICATE, in a cancellable way, that I have no evidence for “Smith is attending the lecture.On p. 61 he gives an example of an contextual cancellation to show that even if the implicatum is a generalised one, it need not be present in every PARTICULAR case (hence the weakned form ‘generalISED, not general). “If he was surprised, he didn’t show it.”Or cf. AustinIf you are hungry, there are biscuits in the cupboard. Traditionalist Grice on the tranquil Elysium of philosophyĒlysĭum , ii, n., = Ἠλύσιον, the abode of the blest, I.Elysium, Verg. A. 5, 735 Serv.; 6, 542; 744 al.; cf. Heyne Verg. A. 6, 675 sq.; and ejusd. libri Exc. VIII. p. 1019 Wagn.—Hence, II. Ēlysĭus , a, um, adj., Elysian: “campi,” Verg. G. 1, 38; Tib. 1, 3, 58; Ov. Ib. 175; cf. “ager,” Mart. 10, 101: “plagae,” id. 6, 58: “domus,” Ov. M. 14, 111; cf. “sedes,” Luc. 3, 12: “Chaos,” Stat. Th. 4, 520: “rosae,” Prop. 4 (5), 7, 60. “puella,” i. e. Proserpine, Mart. 10, 24.—On p. 63, Grice uses ‘sense’ for the first time to apply to a Philonian ‘if p, q.’He is exploring that what Strawson would have as a ‘natural’ if, not an artificial ‘if’ like Philo’s, may have a sense that descends from the sense of the Philonian ‘if,’ as in Darwin’s descent of man. Grice then explores the ‘then’ in some formulations, ‘if p, then q’, and notes that Philo never used it, “ei” simpliciter – or the Romans, “si.”Grice plays with the otiosity of “if p, in that case q.”And then there’s one that Grice dismisses as ultra-otiose:“if p, then, in that case, viz. p., q.”Grice then explores ‘truth-functional’ now applied not to ‘evidence’ but to ‘confirmation.’“p or q” is said to be truth-functionally confirmable.While “p horseshoe q’ is of course truth-functionally confirmable.Grice has doubts that ‘if p, q’ may be regarded by Strawson as NOT being ‘truth-functionally confirmable.’ If would involve what he previously called a ‘metaphysical excrescence.’Grice then reverts to his bridge example“If I have a red king, I have a black king.”And provides three scenarios for a post-mortem truth-functional confirmability.For each of the three rowsNo red, no blackRed, no blackRed, blackWhich goes ditto for the ‘logical’ puzzleIf Jones has black, Mrs. Jones has black. The next crop of instantiations come from PM, and begins on p. 64.He kept revising these notes. And by the time he was submitting the essay to the publisher, he gives up and kept the last (but not least, never latter) version. Grice uses the second-floor ‘disagree,’ and not an explicit ‘not.’ So is partially agreeing a form of disagreeing? In 1970, Conservative Heath won to Labour Wilson.He uses ‘validate’ – for ‘confirm’. ‘p v q’ is validated iff proved factually satisfactory.On p. 66 he expands“if p, q”as a triple disjunction of the three rows when ‘if p, q’ is true:“(not-p and not-q) or (not-p and q) or (p and q)”The only left out is “(p and not-q).”Grice gives an instantiation for [p et]q“The innings closed at 3:15, Smith no batting.”as opposed to“The inning close at 3:15, and Smith did not bat.”as displayed byp.qAfter using ‘or’ for elections he gives the first instantation with ‘if’:“If Wilson will not be prime minister, it will be Heath.”“If Wilson loses, he loses to Heath.”‘if’ is noncommutative – the only noncommutative of the three dyadic truth-functors he considers (‘and,’ ‘or’ and ‘if’).This means that there is a ‘semantic’ emphasis here.There is a distinction between ‘p’ and ‘q’. In the case of ‘and’ and ‘or’ there is not, since ‘p and q’ iff ‘q and p’ and ‘p or q’ iff ‘q or p.’The distinction is expressed in terms of truth-sufficiency and false-sufficiency.The antecedent or protasis, ‘p’ is FALSE-SUFFICIENT for the TRUTH of ‘if p, q.’The apodosis is TRUE-sufficient for the truth of ‘if p, q.’On p. 67 he raises three questions.FIRST QUESTIONHe is trying to see ‘if’ as simpler:The three instantiations areIf Smith rings, the butler will let Smith inIt is not the case that Smith rings, or the butler will let Smith in.It is not the case both Smith rings and it is not the the butler will let Smith in. (Grice changes the tense, since the apodosis sometimes requires the future tense) (“Either Smith WILL RING…”)SECOND QUESTIONWhy did the Anglo-Saxons feel the need for ‘if’ – German ‘ob’? After all, if Whitehead and Russell are right, the Anglo-Saxons could have done with ‘not’ and ‘and,’ or indeed with ‘incompatible.’The reason is that ‘if’ is cognate with ‘doubt,’ but The Anglo-Saxons left the doubt across the North Sea. it originally from an oblique case of the substantive which may be rendered as "doubt,” and cognate with archaic German “iba,” which may be rendered as “condition, stipulation, doubt," Old Norse if "doubt, hesitation," modern Swedish jäf "exception, challenge")It’s all different with ‘ei’ and ‘si.’For sisī (orig. and ante-class. form seī ),I.conj. [from a pronominal stem = Gr. ἑ; Sanscr. sva-, self; cf. Corss. Ausspr. 1, 778; Georg Curtius Gr. Etym. 396], a conditional particle, if.As for “ei”εἰ , Att.-Ion. and Arc. (for εἰκ, v. infr. 11 ad init.), = Dor. and Aeol. αἰ, αἰκ (q. v.), Cypr.A.“ἤ” Inscr.Cypr.135.10 H., both εἰ and αἰ in Ep.:— Particle used interjectionally with imper. and to express a wish, but usu. either in conditions, if, or in indirect questions, whether. In the former use its regular negative is μή; in the latter, οὐ.THIRD QUESTION. Forgetting Grecian neutral apodosis and protasis, why did the Romans think that while ‘antecedens’ is a good Humeian rendition of ‘protasis,’ yet instead they chose for the Grecian Humeian ‘apodosis,’ the not necessarily Humeian ‘con-sequens,’ rather than mere ‘post-sequens’?The Latin terminology is antecedens and consequens, the ancestors and ... tothem the way the Greek grammatical termsή πρότασιs and ήαπόδοσιsBRADWARDINE: Note that a consequence is an argumentation made up of an antecedent and a consequent. He starts with the métiers.For ‘or’ he speaks of ‘semiotic economy’ (p. 69). Grice’s Unitarianism – unitary particle.If, like iff, is subordinating, but only if is non-commutative. Gazdar considers how many dyadic particles are possible and why such a small bunch is chosen. Grice did not even care, as Strawson did, to take care of ‘if and only if.’ Grice tells us the history behind the ‘nursery rhyme’ about Cock Robin. He learned it from his mother, Mabel Fenton, at Harborne. Clifton almost made it forget it! But he recovered in the New World, after reading from Colin Sharp that many of those nursery rhymes travelled “with the Mayflower.” "Who Killed Cock Robin" is an English nursery rhyme, which has been much used as a murder archetype[citation needed] in world culture. It has a Roud Folk Song Index number of 494. Contents 1 Lyrics 2Origin and meaning 3Notes 4 External links Lyrics[edit] The earliest record of the rhyme is in Tommy Thumb's Pretty Song Book, published c. 1744, which noted only the first four verses. The extended version given below was not printed until c. 1770.[1] Who killed Cock Robin? I, said the Sparrow, with my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin. Who saw him die? I, said the Fly, with my little eye, I saw him die. Who caught his blood? I, said the Fish, with my little dish, I caught his blood. Who'll make the shroud? I, said the Beetle, with my thread and needle, I'll make the shroud. Who'll dig his grave? I, said the Owl, with my little trowel, I'll dig his grave. Who'll be the parson? I, said the Rook, with my little book, I'll be the parson. Who'll be the clerk? I, said the Lark, if it's not in the dark, I'll be the clerk. Who'll carry the link? I, said the Linnet, I'll fetch it in a minute, I'll carry the link. Who'll be chief mourner? I, said the Dove, I mourn for my love, I'll be chief mourner. Who'll carry the coffin? I, said the Kite, if it's not through the night, I'll carry the coffin. Who'll bear the pall? We, said the Wren, both the cock and the hen, We'll bear the pall. Who'll sing a psalm? I, said the Thrush, as she sat on a bush, I'll sing a psalm. Who'll toll the bell? I, said the Bull, because I can pull, I'll toll the bell. All the birds of the air fell a-sighing and a-sobbing, when they heard the bell toll for poor Cock Robin. The rhyme has often been reprinted with illustrations, as suitable reading material for small children.[citation needed] The rhyme also has an alternative ending, in which the sparrow who killed Cock Robin is hanged for his crime.[2] Several early versions picture a stocky, strong-billed bullfinch tolling the bell, which may have been the original intention of the rhyme.[3] Origin and meaning[edit] Although the song was not recorded until the mid-eighteenth century,[4] there is some evidence that it is much older. The death of a robin by an arrow is depicted in a 15th-century stained glass window at Buckland Rectory, Gloucestershire,[5] and the rhyme is similar to a story, Phyllyp Sparowe, written by John Skelton about 1508.[1] The use of the rhyme 'owl' with 'shovel', could suggest that it was originally used in older middle English pronunciation.[1] Versions of the story appear to exist in other countries, including Germany.[1] A number of the stories have been advanced to explain the meaning of the rhyme: The rhyme records a mythological event, such as the death of the god Balder from Norse mythology,[1] or the ritual sacrifice of a king figure, as proposed by early folklorists as in the 'Cutty Wren' theory of a 'pagan survival'.[6][7] It is a parody of the death of King William II, who was killed by an arrow while hunting in the New Forest (Hampshire) in 1100, and who was known as William Rufus, meaning "red".[8] The rhyme is connected with the fall of Robert Walpole's government in 1742, since Robin is a diminutive form of Robert and the first printing is close to the time of the events mentioned.[1] All of these theories are based on perceived similarities in the text to legendary or historical events, or on the similarities of names. Peter Opie pointed out that an existing rhyme could have been adapted to fit the circumstances of political events in the eighteenth century.[1] The theme of Cock Robin's death as well as the poem's distinctive cadence have become archetypes, much used in literary fiction and other works of art, from poems, to murder mysteries, to cartoons.[1] Notes[edit] ^ Jump up to:a b c d e f g h I. Opie and P. Opie, The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes (Oxford University Press, 1951, 2nd edn., 1997), pp. 130–3. ^ * Cock Robin at Project Gutenberg ^ M. C. Maloney, ed., English illustrated books for children: a descriptive companion to a selection from the Osborne Collection (Bodley Head, 1981), p. 31. ^ Lockwood, W. B. "The Marriage of the Robin and the Wren." Folklore 100.2 (1989): 237–239. ^ The gentry house that became the old rectory at Buckland has an impressive timbered hall that dates from the fifteenth century with two lights of contemporary stained glass in the west wall with the rebus of William Grafton and arms of Gloucester Abbey in one and the rising sun of Edward IV in the other light; birds in various attitudes hold scrolls "In Nomine Jesu"; none is reported transfixed by an arrow in Anthony Emery, Greater Medieval Houses of England and Wales, 1300–1500: Southern England, s.v. "Buckland Old Rectory, Gloucestershire", (Cambridge University Press, 2006), p. 80. ^ R. J. Stewart, Where is St. George? Pagan Imagery in English Folksong (1976). ^ B. Forbes, Make Merry in Step and Song: A Seasonal Treasury of Music, Mummer's Plays & Celebrations in the English Folk Tradition (Llewellyn Worldwide, 2009), p. 5. ^ J. Harrowven, The origins of rhymes, songs and sayings (Kaye & Ward, 1977), p. 92. External links[edit] Children's literature portal Death and Burial of Poor Cock Robin, by H. L. Stephens, from Project Gutenberg Death and Burial of Poor Cock Robin From the Collections at the Library of Congress Categories: Robert Walpole1744 songsFictional passerine birdsEnglish nursery rhymesSongwriter unknownEnglish folk songsEnglish children's songsTraditional children's songsSongs about birdsSongs about deathMurder balladsThe train from Oakland to Berkeley.Grice's aunt once visited him, and he picked her up at the Oakland Railway Station. On p. 74, Grice in terms of his aunt, mentions for the first time ‘premise’ and ‘conclusion.’On same p. for the record he uses ‘quality’ for affirmative, negative or infinite. On p. 74 he uses for the first time, with a point, the expression ‘conditional’ as attached to ‘if.’Oddly on the first line of p. 75, he uses ‘material conditional,’ which almost nobody does – except for a blue-collared practitioner of the sciences. ‘Material’ was first introduced by blue-collared Whitehead and Russell, practictioners of the sciences. They used ‘material’ as applied to ‘implication,’ to distinguish it, oddly, and unclassily, from ‘formal’ implication. It is only then he quotes Wilson verbatim in quotes“The question whether so and so is a case of a question whether such and such” This actually influenced Collingwood, and Grice is trying to tutor Strawson here once more!For the logic of question and answer has roots in the very philosophy that it was ... is John Cook Wilson, whose Statement and Inference can be regarded as the STATEMENT AND ITS RELATION TO THINKING AND APREHENSIOTHE DISTINCTION OF SUBJECT AND PREDICATE IN LOGIC AND GRAMMAR The influence of Strawson on Cook Wilson.“The building is the Bodleian.”As answer to“What is that building?”“Which building is the Bodleian”If the proposition is answer to first question, ‘that building’ is the subject, if the proposition is answer to second question, ‘the bodleian’ is the subject. Cf. “The exhibition was not visited by a bald king – of France, as it doesn’t happen.SUBJECT AS TOPICPREDICATE AS COMMENT.Cf. Grice, “The dog is a shaggy thig”What is shaggy?What is the dog?THIS DOG – Subject – TopicTHAT SHAGGY THING – Subject – occasionally, but usually Predicate, Comment.In fact, Wilson bases on StoutI am hungryWho is hungry?: subject IIs there anything amiss with you? ‘hungry’ is the subjectAre you really hungry? ‘am’ is the subject.Grice used to be a neo-Stoutian before he turned a neo-Prichardian so he knew. But perhaps Grice thought better of Cook Wilson. More of a philosopher. Stout seemed to have been seen as a blue-collared practioner of the SCIENCE of psychology, not philosophical psychology! Cf. Leicester-born B. Mayo, e: Magdalen, Lit. Hum. (Philosophy) under? on ‘if’ and Cook Wilson in Analysis.Other example by Wilson:“Glass is elastic.”Grice is motivated to defend Cook Wilson because Chomsky was criticizing him (via a student who had been at Oxford). [S]uppose instruction was being given in the properties of glass, and the instructor said ‘glass is elastic’, it would be natural to say that what was being talkedabout and thought about was ‘glass’, and that what was said of it was that it was elastic. Thus glass would be the subject and that it is elastic would be the predicate. (Cook Wilson 1926/1969, Vol. 1:117f.) What Cook Wilson discusses here is a categorical sentence. The next two quotes are concerned with an identificational sentence. [I]n the statement ‘glass is elastic’, if the matter of inquiry was elasticity and the question was what substances possessed the property of elasticity, glass, in accordance with the principle of the definition, would no longer be subject, and the kind of stress which fell upon ‘elastic’ when glass was the subject, would now be transferred to ‘glass’. [. . .] Thus the same form of words should be analyzed differently according as the words are the answer to one question or another. (Cook Wilson 1926/1969, Vol. 1:119f.) When the stress falls upon ‘glass’, in ‘glass is elastic’, there is no word in the sentence which denotes the actual subject elasticity; the word ‘elastic’ refers to what is already known of the subject, and glass, which has the stress, is the only word which refers to the supposed new fact in the nature of elasticity, that it is found in glass. Thus, according to the proposed formula, ‘glass’ would have to be the predicate. [. . .] Introduction and overview  But the ordinary analysis would never admit that ‘glass’ was the predicate in the given sentence and elasticity the subject. (Cook Wilson 1926/1969, Vol. 1:121)H. P. Grice knew that P. F. Strawson knew of J. C. Wilson on “That building is the Bodleian” via Sellars’s criticism.There is a strong suggestion in Sellars' paper that I would have done better if I had stuck to Cook Wilson. This suggestion I want equally strongly to repudiate. Certainly Cook Wilson draws attention to an interesting difference in ways in which items may appear in discourse. It may be roughly expressed as follows. When we say Glass is elastic we may be talking about glass or we may be talking about elasticity (and we may, in the relevant sense of 'about' be doing neither). We are talking about glass if we are citing elasticity as one of the properties of glass, we are talking about elasticity if we are citing glass as one of the substances which are elastic. Similarly when we say Socrates is wise, we may be citing Socrates as an instance of wisdom or wisdom as one of the proper- ties of Socrates. And of course we may be doing neither but, e.g., just imparting miscellaneous information. Now how, if at all, could this difference help me with my question? Would it help at all, for example, if it were plausible (which it is not) to say that we were inevitably more interested in determining what properties a given particular had,than in determining what particular had a given property? Wouldn't this at least suggest that particulars were the natural subjects, in the sense of subjects of &erest? Let me answer this question by the reminder that what I have to do is to establish a connexion between some formal linguistic difference and a category difference; and a formal linguistic difference is one which logic can take cognizance of, in abstraction from pragmatic considerations, like the direction of interest. Such a formal ditference exists in the difference between appearing in discourse directly designated and appearing in discourse under the cloak of quantification. ““But the difference in the use of unquantified statements to which Cook Wilson draws attention is not a formal difference at all.”Both glass and elasticity, Socrates and wisdom appear named in such statements, whichever, in Cook Wilson's sense, we are talking about. An appeal to pragmatic considerations is, certainly, an essential part of my own account at a certain point: but this is the point at which such considerations are in- voked to explain why a certain formal difference should be particularly closely linked, in common speech, with a certain category difference. The difference of which Cook Wilson speaks is, then, though interesting in itself, irrelevant to my question. Cook Wilson is, and I am not, concerned with what Sellars calls dialectical distinctions.” On p.76 Grice mentions for the first time the “ROLE” of if in an indefinite series of ‘interrogative subordination.”For Cook Wilson,as Price knew (he quotes him in Belief), the function of ‘if’ is to LINK TWO QUESTIONS. You’re the cream in my coffee as ‘absurd’ if literally (p. 83). STATEMENT In this entry we will explore how Grice sees the ‘implicatum’ that he regards as ‘conversational’ as applied to the emissor and in reference to the Graeco-Roman classical tradition. Wht is implicated may not be the result of any maxim, and yet not conventional – depending on a feature of context. But nothing like a maxim – Strawson Wiggins p. 523. Only a CONVERSATIONAL IMPLICATUM is the result of a CONVERSATIONAL MAXIM and the principle of conversational helpfulness. In a ‘one-off’ predicament, there may be an ‘implicatum’ that springs from the interaction itself. If E draws a skull, he communicates that there is danger. If addressee runs away, this is not part of the implicatum. This Grice considers in “Meaning.” “What is meant” should cover the immediate effect, and not any effect that transpires out of the addressee’s own will. Cf. Patton on Kripke. One thief to another: “The cops are coming!” The expressiom “IMPLICATION” is figures, qua entry, in a philosophical dictionary that Grice consulted at Oxford. In the vernacular, there are two prominent relata: entailment and implicature, the FRENCH have their “implication.” When it comes to the Germans, it’s more of a trick. There’s the “nachsichziehen,” the “zurfolgehaben,” the “Folge(-rung),” the “Schluß,” the “Konsequenz,” and of course the “Implikation” and the “Implikatur,” inter alia. In Grecian, which Grice learned at Clifton, we have the “sumpeplegmenon,” or “συμπεπλεγμένον,” if you must, i. e. the “sum-peplegmenon,” but there’s also the “sumperasma,” or “συμπέϱασμα,” if you must, “sum-perasma;” and then there’s the “sunêmmenon,” or “συνημμένον,” “sun-emmenon,” not to mention (then why does Grice?) the “akolouthia,” or “ἀϰολουθία,” if you must, “akolouthia,” and the “antakolouthia,” ἀνταϰολουθία,” “ana-kolouthia.” Trust clever Cicero to regard anything ‘Grecian’ as not displaying enough gravitas, and thus rendering everything into Roman. There’s the “illatio,” from ‘in-fero.’ The Romans adopted two different roots for this, and saw them as having the same ‘sense’ – cf. referro, relatum, proferro, prolatum; and then there’s the “inferentia,”– in-fero; and then there’s the “consequentia,” -- con-sequentia. The seq- root is present in ‘sequitur,’ non sequitur. The ‘con-‘ is transliterating Greek ‘syn-’ in the three expressions with ‘syn’: sympleplegmenon, symperasma, and synemmenon. The Germans, avoiding the Latinate, have a ‘follow’ root: in “Folge,” “Folgerung,” and the verb “zur-folge-haben. And perhaps ‘implicatio,’ which is the root Grice is playing with. In Italian and French it underwent changes, making ‘to imply’ a doublet with Grice’s ‘to implicate’ (the form already present, “She was implicated in the crime.”). The strict opposite is ‘ex-plicatio,’ as in ‘explicate.’ ‘implico’ gives both ‘implicatum’ and ‘implicitum.’ Consequently, ‘explico’ gives both ‘explicatum’ and ‘explicitum.’ In English Grice often uses ‘impicit,’ and ‘explicit,’ as they relate to communication, as his ‘implicatum’ does. His ‘implicatum’ has more to do with the contrast with what is ‘explicit’ than with ‘what follows’ from a premise. Although in his formulation, both readings are valid: “by uttering x, implicitly conveying that q, the emissor CONVERSATIONALY implicates that p’ if he has explicitly conveyed that p, and ‘q’ is what is required to ‘rationalise’ his conversational behavioiur. In terms of the emissor, the distinction is between what the emissor has explicitly conveyed and what he has conversationally implicated. This in turn contrasts what some philosophers refer metabolically as an ‘expression,’ the ‘x’ ‘implying’ that p – Grice does not bother with this because, as Strawson and Wiggins point out, while an emissor cannot be true, it’s only what he has either explicitly or implicitly conveyed that can be true. As Austin says, it’s always a FIELD where you do the linguistic botany. So, you’ll have to vide and explore: ANALOGY, PROPOSITION, SENSE, SUPPOSITION, and TRUTH. Implication denotes a relation between propositions and statements such that, from the truth-value of the protasis or antecedent (true or false), one can derive the truth of the apodosis or consequent. More broadly, we can say that one idea ‘implies’ another if the first idea cannot be thought without the second one -- RT: Lalande, Vocabulaire technique et critique de la philosophie. Common usage makes no strict differentiation between “to imply,” “to infer,” and “to lead to.” Against Dorothy Parker. She noted that those of her friends who used ‘imply’ for ‘infer’ were not invited at the Algonquin. The verb “to infer,” (from Latin, ‘infero,’ that gives both ‘inferentia,’ inference, and ‘illatio,’ ‘illatum’) meaning “to draw a consequence, to deduce” (a use dating to 1372), and the noun “inference,” meaning “consequence” (from 1606), do not on the face of it seem to be manifestly different from “to imply” and “implication.” But in Oxonian usage, Dodgson avoided a confusion. “There are two ways of confusing ‘imply’ with ‘infer’: to use ‘imply’ to mean ‘infer,’ and vice versa. Alice usually does the latter; the Dodo the former.” Indeed, nothing originally distinguishes “implication” as Lalande defines it — “a relation by which one thing ‘implies’ another”— from “inference” as it is defined in Diderot and d’Alembert’s Encyclopédie (1765): “An operation by which one ACCEPTS (to use a Griceism) a proposition because of its connection to other propositions held to be true.” The same phenomenon can be seen in the German language, in which the terms corresponding to “implication,” “Nach-sich-ziehen,” “Zur-folge-haben,” “inference,” “Schluß”-“Folgerung,” “Schluß,” “to infer,” “schließen,” “consequence,” “Folge” “-rung,” “Schluß,” “Konsequenz,” “reasoning,” “”Schluß-“ “Folgerung,” and “to reason,” “schließen,” “Schluß-folger-ung-en ziehen,” intersect or overlap to a large extent. In the French language, the expression “impliquer” reveals several characteristics that the expression does not seem to share with “to infer” or “to lead to.” First of all, “impliquer” is originally (1663) connected to the notion of contradiction, as shown in the use of impliquer in “impliquer contradiction,” in the sense of “to be contradictory.” The connection between ‘impliquer’ and ‘contradiction’ does not, however, explain how “impliquer” has passed into its most commonly accepted meaning — “implicitly entail” — viz. to lead to a consequence. Indeed, the two usages (“impliquer” connected with contradiction” and otherwise) constantly interfere with one another, which certainly poses a number of difficult problems. An analogous phenomenon can be found in the case of “import,” commonly given used as “MEAN” or “imply,” but often wavering instead, in certain cases, between “ENTAIL” and “imply.” In French, the noun “import” itself is generally left as it I (“import existentiel,” v. SENSE, Box 4, and cf. that’s unimportant, meaningless). “Importer,” as used by Rabelais, 1536, “to necessitate, to entail,” forms via It.“importare,” as used by Dante), from the Fr. “emporter,” “to entail, to have as a consequence,” dropped out of usage, and was brought back through Engl. “import.” The nature of the connection between the two primary usages of L. ‘implicare,’ It. ‘implicare,’ and Fr. ‘impliquer,’ “to entail IMPLICITitly” and “to lead to a consequence,” nonetheless remains obscure, but not to a Griceian, or Grecian. Another difficulty is understanding how the transition occurs from Fr. “impliquer,” “to lead to a consequence,” to “implication,” “a logical relation in which one statement necessarily supposes another one,” and how we can determine what in this precise case distinguishes “implication” from “PRAE-suppositio.” We therefore need to be attentive to what is implicit in Fr. “impliquer” and “implication,” to the dimension of Fr. “pli,” a pleat or fold, of Fr. “re-pli,” folding back, and of the Fr. “pliure,” folding, in order to separate out “imply,” “infer,” “lead to,” or “implication,” “inference,” “consequence”—which requires us to go back to Latin, and especially to medieval Latin. Once we clarify the relationship between the usage of “implication” and the medieval usage of “implicatio,” we will be able to examine certain derivations (as in Sidonius’s ‘implicatura,” and H. P. Grice’s “implicature,” after ‘temperature,’ from ‘temperare,’) or substitutes (“entailment”) of terms related to the generic field (for linguistic botanising) of “implicatio,” assuming that it is difficulties with the concept of implication (e. g., the ‘paradoxes,’ true but misleading, of material versus formal implication – ‘paradox of implication’ first used by Johnson 1921) that have given rise to this or that newly coined expression corresponding to this or that original attempt. This whole set of difficulties certainly becomes clearer as we leave Roman and go further upstream to Grecian, using the same vocabulary of implication, through the conflation of several heterogeneous gestures that come from the systematics in Aristotle and the Stoics. The Roman Vocabulary of Implication and the Implicatio has the necessary ‘gravitas,’ but Grice, being a Grecian at heart, found it had ‘too much gravitas,’ hence his ‘implicature,’ “which is like the old Roman ‘implicare,’ but for fun!” A number of different expressions in medieval Latin can express in a more or less equivalent manner the relationship between propositions and statements such that, from the truth-value of the antecedent (true or false), one can derive the truth-value of the consequent. There is “illatio,” and of course “illatum,” which Varro thought fell under ‘inferre.’ Then there’s the feminine noun, ‘inferentia,’ from the ‘participium praesens’ of ‘inferre,’ cf. ‘inferens’ and ‘ilatum.’ There is also ‘consequentia,’ which is a complex transliterating the Greek ‘syn-,’ in this case with ‘’sequentia,’ from the deponent verb. “I follow you.” Peter Abelard (Petrus Abelardus, v. Abelardus) makes no distinction in using the expression “consequentia” for the ‘propositio conditionalis,’ hypothetical. Si est homo, est animal. If Grice is a man, Grice is an animal (Dialectica, 473 – Abelardus uses ‘Greek man,’ not Grice.’ His implicature is ‘if a Greek man is a man, he is therefore also some sort of an animal’). But Abelardus also uses the expression “inferentia” for ‘same old same old’ (cf. “Implicature happens.”). Si non est iustus homo, est non iustus homo. Grice to Strawson on the examiner having given him a second. “If it is not the case that your examiner was a fair man, it follows thereby that your examiner was not a fair man, if that helps.” (Dialectica., 414). For some reason, which Grice found obscure, ‘illatio” appears “almost always” in the context of commenting on Aristotle’s “Topics,” – “why people found the topic commenting escapes me” -- aand denotes more specifically a reasoning, or “argumentum,” in Boethius, allowing for a “consequentia” to be drawn from a given place. So Abelardus distinguishes: “illatio a causa.” But there is also “illatio a simili.” And there is “iillatio a pari.” And there is “illatio a partibus.” “Con-sequentia” sometimes has a very generic usage, even if not as generic as ‘sequentia.” “Consequentia est quaedam habitudo inter antecedens et consequens,” “Logica modernorum,” 2.1:38 – Cfr. Grice on Whitehead as a ‘modernist’! Grice draws his ‘habit’ from the scholastic ‘habitudo.’ Noe that ‘antededens’ and ‘consequens.’ The point is a tautological formula, in terms of formation. Surely ‘consequentia’ relates to a ‘consequens,’ where the ‘consequens’ is the ‘participium praesens’ of the verb from which ‘consequentia’ derives. It’s like deving ‘love’ by ‘to have a beloved.’ “Consequentia” is in any case present, in some way, without the intensifier ‘syn,’ which the Roman gravitas added to transliterate the Greek ‘syn,’ i. e. ‘cum.’ -- in the expression “sequitur” and in the expression “con-sequitur,” literally, ‘to follow,’ ‘to ensue,’ ‘to result in’). Keenan told Grice that this irritated him. “If there is an order between a premise and a conclusion, I will stop using ‘follow,’ because that reverts the order. I’ll use ‘… yields …’ and write that ‘p yields q.’” “Inferentia,” which is cognate (in the Roman way of using this expression broadly) with ‘illatio,’ and ‘illatum,’ -- frequently appears, by contrast, and “for another Grecian reason,” as Grice would put it -- in the context of the Aristotle’s “De Interpretatione,” on which Grice lectures only with J. L. Austin (Grice lectured with Strawson on “Categoriae,” only – but with Austin, from whom Grice learned – Grice lectured on both “Categoriae’ AND “De Interpretatione.” -- whether it is as part of a commentarium on Apuleius’s Isagoge and the Square of Oppositions (‘figura quadrata spectare”), in order to explain this or that “law” underlying any of the four sides of the square. So, between A and E we have ‘propositio opposita.’ Between A and I, and between E and O, we have propositio sub-alterna. Between A and O, and between E and I, we have propositio contradictoria. And between I and O, we have “propositio sub-alterna.” -- Logica modernorum, 2.1:115. This was irritatingly explored by P. F. Strawson and brought to H. P. Grice’s attention, who refused to accept Strawson’s changes and restrictions of the ‘classical’ validities (or “laws”) because Strawson felt that the ‘implication’ violated some ‘pragmatic rule,’ while still yielding a true statement. Then there’s the odd use of “inferentia” to apply to the different ‘laws’ of ‘conversio’ -- from ‘convertire,’ converting one proposition into another (Logica modernorum 131–39). Nevertheless, “inferentia” is used for the dyadic (or triadic, alla Peirce) relationship of ‘implicatio,’ which for some reason, the grave Romans were using for less entertaining things, and not this or that expressions from the “implication” family, or sub-field. Surprisingly, a philosopher without a classical Graeco-Roman background could well be mislead into thinking that “implicatio” and “implication” are disparate! A number of treatises, usually written by monks – St. John’s, were Grice teaches, is a Cicercian monastery -- explore the “implicits.” Such a “tractatus” is not called ‘logico-philosophicus,’ but a “tractatus implicitarum,” literally a treatise on this or that ‘semantic’ property of the proposition said to be an ‘implicatum’ or an ‘implication,’ or ‘propositio re-lativa.’ This is Grice’s reference to the conversational category of ‘re-lation.’ “Re-latio” and “Il-latio” are surely cognate. The ‘referre’ is a bring back; while the ‘inferre’ is the bring in. The propositio is not just ‘brought’ (latum, or lata) it is brought back. Proposition Q is brought back (relata) to Proposition P. P and Q become ‘co-relative.’ This is the terminology behind the idea of a ‘relative clause,’ or ‘oratio relativa.’ E.g. “Si Plato tutee Socrates est, Socratos tutor Platonis est,” translated by Grice, “If Strawson was my tutee, it didn’t show!”. Now, closer to Grice “implicitus,” with an “i” following the ‘implic-‘ rather than the expected ‘a’ (implica), “implicita,” and “implicitum,” is an alternative “participium passatum” from “im-plic-are,” in Roman is used for “to be joined, mixed, enveloped.” implĭco (inpl- ), āvi, ātum, or (twice in Cic., and freq. since the Aug. per.) ŭi, ĭtum (v. Neue, Formenl. 2, 550 sq.), 1, v. a. in-plico, to fold into; hence, I.to infold, involve, entangle, entwine, inwrap, envelop, encircle, embrace, clasp, grasp (freq. and class.; cf.: irretio, impedio). I. Lit.: “involvulus in pampini folio se,” Plaut. Cist. 4, 2, 64: “ut tenax hedera huc et illuc Arborem implicat errans,” Cat. 61, 35; cf. id. ib. 107 sq.: “et nunc huc inde huc incertos implicat orbes,” Verg. A. 12, 743: “dextrae se parvus Iulus Implicuit,” id. ib. 2, 724; cf.: “implicuit materno bracchia collo,” Ov. M. 1, 762: “implicuitque suos circum mea colla lacertos,” id. Am. 2, 18, 9: “implicuitque comam laevā,” grasped, Verg. A. 2, 552: “sertis comas,” Tib. 3, 6, 64: “crinem auro,” Verg. A. 4, 148: “frondenti tempora ramo,” id. ib. 7, 136; cf. Ov. F. 5, 220: in parte inferiore hic implicabatur caput, Afran. ap. Non. 123, 16 (implicare positum pro ornare, Non.): “aquila implicuit pedes atque unguibus haesit,” Verg. A. 11, 752: “effusumque equitem super ipse (equus) secutus Implicat,” id. ib. 10, 894: “congressi in proelia totas Implicuere inter se acies,” id. ib. 11, 632: “implicare ac perturbare aciem,” Sall. J. 59, 3: “(lues) ossibus implicat ignem,” Verg. A. 7, 355.—In part. perf.: “quini erant ordines conjuncti inter se atque implicati,” Caes. B. G. 7, 73, 4: “Canidia brevibus implicata viperis Crines,” Hor. Epod. 5, 15: “folium implicatum,” Plin. 21, 17, 65, § 105: “intestinum implicatum,” id. 11, 4, 3, § 9: “impliciti laqueis,” Ov. A. A. 2, 580: “Cerberos implicitis angue minante comis,” id. H. 9, 94: “implicitamque sinu absstulit,” id. A. A. 1, 561: “impliciti Peleus rapit oscula nati,” held in his arms, Val. Fl. 1, 264. II. Trop. A. In gen., to entangle, implicate, involve, envelop, engage: “di immortales vim suam ... tum terrae cavernis includunt, tum hominum naturis implicant,” Cic. Div. 1, 36, 79: “contrahendis negotiis implicari,” id. Off. 2, 11, 40: “alienis (rebus) nimis implicari molestum esse,” id. Lael. 13, 45: “implicari aliquo certo genere cursuque vivendi,” id. Off. 1, 32, 117: “implicari negotio,” id. Leg. 1, 3: “ipse te impedies, ipse tua defensione implicabere,” Cic. Verr. 2, 2, 18, § 44; cf.: multis implicari erroribus, id. Tusc. 4, 27, 58: “bello,” Verg. A. 11, 109: “eum primo incertis implicantes responsis,” Liv. 27, 43, 3: “nisi forte implacabiles irae vestrae implicaverint animos vestros,” perplexed, confounded, id. 40, 46, 6: “paucitas in partitione servatur, si genera ipsa rerum ponuntur, neque permixte cum partibus implicantur,” are mingled, mixed up, Cic. Inv. 1, 22, 32: ut omnibus copiis conductis te implicet, ne ad me iter tibi expeditum sit, Pompei. ap. Cic. Att. 8, 12, D, 1: “tanti errores implicant temporum, ut nec qui consules nec quid quoque anno actum sit digerere possis,” Liv. 2, 21, 4.—In part. perf.: “dum rei publicae quaedam procuratio multis officiis implicatum et constrictum tenebat,” Cic. Ac. 1, 3, 11: “Deus nullis occupationibus est implicatus,” id. N. D. 1, 19, 51; cf.: “implicatus molestis negotiis et operosis,” id. ib. 1, 20, 52: “animos dederit suis angoribus et molestiis implicatos,” id. Tusc. 5, 1, 3: “Agrippina morbo corporis implicata,” Tac. A. 4, 53: “inconstantia tua cum levitate, tum etiam perjurio implicata,” Cic. Vatin. 1, 3; cf. id. Phil. 2, 32, 81: “intervalla, quibus implicata atque permixta oratio est,” id. Or. 56, 187: “(voluptas) penitus in omni sensu implicata insidet,” id. Leg. 1, 17, 47: “quae quatuor inter se colligata atque implicata,” id. Off. 1, 5, 15: “natura non tam propensus ad misericordiam quam implicatus ad severitatem videbatur,” id. Rosc. Am. 30, 85; “and in the form implicitus, esp. with morbo (in morbum): quies necessaria morbo implicitum exercitum tenuit,” Liv. 3, 2, 1; 7, 23, 2; 23, 40, 1: “ubi se quisque videbat Implicitum morbo,” Lucr. 6, 1232: “graviore morbo implicitus,” Caes. B. C. 3, 18, 1; cf.: “implicitus in morbum,” Nep. Ages. 8, 6; Liv. 23, 34, 11: “implicitus suspicionibus,” Plin. Ep. 3, 9, 19; cf.: “implicitus terrore,” Luc. 3, 432: “litibus implicitus,” Hor. A. P. 424: “implicitam sinu abstulit,” Ov. A. A. 1, 562: “(vinum) jam sanos implicitos facit,” Cael. Aur. Acut. 3, 8, 87.— B. In partic., to attach closely, connect intimately, to unite, join; in pass., to be intimately connected, associated, or related: “(homo) profectus a caritate domesticorum ac suorum serpat longius et se implicet primum civium, deinde mortalium omnium societate,” Cic. Fin. 2, 14, 45: “omnes qui nostris familiaritatibus implicantur,” id. Balb. 27, 60: “(L. Gellius) ita diu vixit, ut multarum aetatum oratoribus implicaretur,” id. Brut. 47, 174: “quibus applicari expediet, non implicari,” Sen. Ep. 105, 5.— In part. perf.: “aliquos habere implicatos consuetudine et benevolentia,” Cic. Fam. 6, 12, 2: “implicatus amicitiis,” id. Att. 1, 19, 8: “familiaritate,” id. Pis. 29, 70: “implicati ultro et citro vel usu diuturno vel etiam officiis,” id. Lael. 22, 85. —Hence, 1. implĭcātus (inpl- ), a, um, P. a., entangled, perplexed, confused, intricate: “nec in Torquati sermone quicquam implicatum aut tortuosum fuit,” Cic. Fin. 3, 1, 3: “reliquae (partes orationis) sunt magnae, implicatae, variae, graves, etc.,” id. de Or. 3, 14, 52: vox rauca et implicata, Sen. Apocol. med. — Comp.: “implicatior ad loquendum,” Amm. 26, 6, 18. — Sup.: “obscurissima et implicatissima quaestio,” Gell. 6, 2, 15: “ista tortuosissima et implicatissima nodositas,” Aug. Conf. 2, 10 init.— 2. im-plĭcĭtē (inpl- ), adv., intricately (rare): “non implicite et abscondite, sed patentius et expeditius,” Cic. Inv. 2, 23, 69. -- “Implicare” adds to these usages the idea of an unforeseen difficulty, i. e. a hint of “impedire,” and even of deceit, i. e. a hint of “fallere.” Why imply what you can exply? Cf. subreptitious. subreption (n.)"act of obtaining a favor by fraudulent suppression of facts," c. 1600, from Latin subreptionem (nominative subreptio), noun of action from past-participle stem of subripere, surripere (see surreptitious). Related: Subreptitious. surreptitious (adj.)mid-15c., from Latin surrepticius "stolen, furtive, clandestine," from surreptus, past participle of surripere "seize secretly, take away, steal, plagiarize," from assimilated form of sub "from under" (hence, "secretly;" see sub-) + rapere "to snatch" (see rapid). Related: Surreptitiously. The source of the philosophers’s usage of ‘implicare’ is a passage from Aristotle’s “De Int.” on the contrariety of proposition A and E (14.23b25–27), in which “implicita” (that sould be ‘com-plicita,’ and ‘the emissor complicates that p”) renders Gk. “sum-pepleg-menê,” “συμ-πεπλεγμένη,” f. “sum-plek-ein,” “συμ-πλέϰein,” “to bind together,” as in ‘com-plicatio,’ complication, and Sidonius’s ‘complicature,’ and Grice’s ‘complicature,’ as in ‘temperature,’ from ‘temperare.’ “One problem with P. F. Strawson’s exegesis of J. L. Austin is the complicature is brings.” This is from the same family or field as “sum-plokê,” “συμ-πλοϰή,” which Plato (Pol. 278b; Soph. 262c) uses for the ‘second articulation,’ the “com-bination” of sounds (phone) that make up a word (logos), and, more philosophically interesting, for ‘praedicatio,’ viz., the interrelation within a ‘logos’ or ‘oratio’ of a noun, or onoma or nomen, as in “the dog,” and a verb, or rhema, or verbum, -- as in ‘shaggisising’ -- that makes up a propositional complex, as “The dog is shaggy,” or “The dog shaggisises.” (H. P. Grice, “Verbing from adjectiving.”). In De Int. 23b25-27, referring to the contrariety of A and O, Aristotle, “let’s grant it” – as Grice puts it – “is hardly clear.” Aristotle writes: “hê de tou hoti kakon to agathon SUM-PEPLEG-MENÊ estin.” “Kai gar hoti ouk agathon anagkê isôs hupolambanein ton auton.”“ἡ δὲ τοῦ ὅτι ϰαϰὸν τὸ ἀγαθὸν συμπεπλεγμένη ἐστίν.”“ϰαὶ γὰϱ ὅτι οὐϰ ἀγαθὸν ἀνάγϰη ἴσως ὑπολαμϐάνειν τὸν αὐτόν.” Back in Rome, Boethius thought of bring some gravitas to this. “Illa vero quae est,” Boethius goes,” Quoniam malum est quod est bonum, IMPLICATA est. Et enim: “Quoniam non bonum est.” necesse est idem ipsum opinari (repr. in Aristoteles latinus, 2.1–2.4–6. In a later vulgar Romance, we have J. Tricot). “Quant au jugement, “Le bon est mal” ce n’est en réalité qu’une COMBINAISON de jugements, cars sans doute est-il nécessaire de sous-entendre en même temps “le bon n’est pas le bon.” Cf. Mill on ‘sous-entendu’ of conversation. This was discussed by H. P. Grice in a tutorial with Reading-born English philosopher J. L. Ackrill at St. John’s. With the help of H. P. Grice, J. L. Ackrill tries to render Boethius into the vernacular (just to please Austin) as follows. “Hê de tou hoti kakon to agathon SUM-PEPLEG-MENÊ estin, kai gar hoti OUK agathon ANAGKê isôs hupo-lambanein ton auton” “Illa vero quae est, ‘Quoniam malum est quod est bonum,’ IMPLICATA est, et enim, ‘Quoniam non bonum est,’ necesse est idem ipsum OPINARI. In the vernacular: “The belief expressed by the proposition, ‘The good is bad,’ is COM-PLICATED or com-plex, for the same person MUST, perhaps, suppose also the proposition, ‘The good it is not good.’” Aristotle goes on, “For what kind of utterance is “The good is not good,” or as they say in Sparta, “The good is no good”? Surely otiose. “The good” is a Platonic ideal, a universal, separate from this or that good thing. So surely, ‘the good,’ qua idea ain’t good in the sense that playing cricket is good. But playing cricket is NOT “THE” good: philosophising is.” H. P. Grice found Boethius’s commentary “perfectly elucidatory,” but Ackrill was perplexed, and Grice intended Ackrill’s perplexity to go ‘unnoticed’ (“He is trying to communicate his perplexity, but I keep ignoring it.” For Ackrill was surreptitiously trying to ‘correct’ his tutor. Aristotle, Acrkill thought, is wishing to define the ‘contrariety’ between two statements or opinions, or not to use a metalanguage second order, that what is expressed by ‘The good is bad’ is a contrarium of what is expressed by ‘The good is no good.’” Aristotle starts, surely, from a principle. The principle states that a maximally false proposition, set in opposition to a maximally true proposition (such as “The good is good”), deserves the name “contraria” – and ‘contrarium’ to what is expressed by it. In a second phase, Aristotle then tries to demonstrate, in a succession of this or that stage, that ‘The good is good’ understood as a propositio universalis dedicativa – for all x, if x is (the) good, x is good (To agathon agathon estin,’ “Bonum est bonum”) is a maximally true proposition.” And the reason for this is that “To agathon agathon estin,” or “Bonum bonum est,” applies to the essence (essentia) of “good,” and ‘predicates’ “the same of the same,” tautologically. Now consider Aristotle’s other proposition “The good is the not-bad,” the correlative E form, For all x, if x is good, x is not bad. This does not do. This is not a maximally true proposition. Unlike “The good is good,” The good is not bad” does not apply to the essence of ‘the good,’ and it does not predicate ‘the same of the same’ tautologically. Rather, ‘The good is not bad,’ unless you bring one of those ‘meaning postulates’ that Grice rightly defends against Quine in “In defense of a dogma,” – in this case, (x)(Bx iff ~Gx) – we stipulate something ‘bad’ if it ain’t good -- is only true notably NOT by virtue of a necessary logical implication, but, to echo my tutor, by implicature, viz. by accident, and not by essence (or essential) involved in the ‘sense’ of either ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ or ‘not’ for that matter. Surely Aristotle equivocates slightly when he convinced Grice that an allegedly maximally false proposition (‘the good is bad’) entails or yields the negation of the same attribute, viz., ‘The good is not good,’ or more correctly, ‘It is not the case that the good is good,’ for this is axiomatically contradictory, or tautologically and necessarily false without appeal to any meaning postulate. For any predicate, Fx and ~Fx. The question then is one of knowing whether ‘The good is bad’ deserves to be called the contrary proposition (propositio contraria) of ‘The good is good.’ Aristotle notes that the proposition, ‘The good is bad,’ “To agathon kakon estin,” “Bonum malum est,” is NOT the maximally false proposition opposed to the maximally true, tautological, and empty, proposition, “The good is good,” ‘To agathon agathon estin,’ “Bonum bonum est.” “Indeed, “the good is bad” is sumpeplegmenê, or COMPLICATA. What the emissor means is a complicatum, or as Grice preferred, a ‘complicature. Grice’s complicature (roughly rendered as ‘complification’) condenses all of the moments of the transition from the simple idea of a container (cum-tainer) to the “modern” ideas of implication, Grice’s implicature, and prae-suppositio. The ‘propositio complicate,’ is, as Boethius puts it, duplex, or equivocal. The proposition has a double meaning – one explicit, the other implicit. “A ‘propositio complicata’ contains within itself [“continet in se, intra se”]: bonum non est.” Boethius then goes rightly to conclude (or infer), or stipulate, that only a “simplex” proposition, not a propositio complicata, involving some ‘relative clause,’ can be said to be contrary to another -- Commentarii in librum Aristotelis Peri hermêneais, 219. Boethius’s exegesis thesis is faithful to Aristotle. For Aristotle, nothing like “the good is not bad,” but only the tautologically false “the good is not good,” or it is not the case that the good is good, (to agathon agathon esti, bonum bonum est), a propositio simplex, and not a propositio complicate, is the opposite (oppositum, -- as per the ‘figura quadrata’ of ‘oppoista’ -- of “the good is good,” another propositio simplex. Boethius’s analysis of “the good is bad,” a proposition that Boethius calls ‘propositio complicate or ‘propositio implicita’ are manifestly NOT the same as Aristotle’s. For Aristotle, the “doxa hoti kakon to agathon [δόξα ὅτι ϰαϰὸν τὸ ἀγαθόν],” the opinion according to which the good is bad, is only ‘contrary’ to “the good is good” to the extent that it “con-tains” (in Boethius’s jargon) the tautologically false ‘The good is not good.’ For Boethius, ‘The good is bad’ is contrary to ‘the good is good’ is to the extent that ‘the good is bad’ contains, implicitly, the belief which Boethius expresses as ‘Bonum NON est —“ cf. Grice on ‘love that never told can be” – Featuring “it is not the case that,” the proposition ‘bonum non est’ is a remarkably complicated expression in Latin, a proposition complicata indeed. ‘Bonum non est’ can mean, in the vernacular, “the good is not.” “Bonum non est” can only be rendered as “there is nothing good.’ “Bonum non est’ may also be rendered, when expanded with a repeated property, the tautologically false ‘The good is not good” (Bonum non bonum est). Strangely, Abelard goes in the same direction as Aristotle, contra Boethius. “The good is bad” (Bonum malum est) is “implicit” (propositio implicita or complicate) with respect to the tautologically false ‘Bonum bonum non est’ “the good is not good.”Abelardus, having read Grice – vide Strawson, “The influence of Grice on Abelardus” -- explains clearly the meaning of “propositio implicita”: “IMPLYING implicitly ‘bonum non bonum est,’ ‘the good is not good’ within itself, and in a certain wa containing it [“IM-PLICANS eam in se, et quodammodo continens.” Glossa super Periermeneias, 99–100. But Abelard expands on Aristotle. “Whoever thinks ‘bonum malum est,’ ‘the good is bad’ also thinks ‘bonum non bonum est,’ ‘the good is not good,’ whereas the reverse does not hold true, i. e. it is not the case that whoever thinks the tautologically false ‘the good is not good’ (“bonum bonum non est”) also think ‘the good is bad’ (‘bonum malum est’). He may refuse to even ‘pronounce’ ‘malum’ (‘malum malum est’) -- “sed non convertitur.” Abelard’s explanation is decisive for the natural history of Grice’s implication. One can certainly express in terms of “implication” what Abelard expresses when he notes the non-reciprocity or non-convertibility of the two propositions. ‘The good is bad,’ or ‘Bonum malum est’ implies or presupposes the tautologically true “the good is not good;’It is not the case that the tautologically false “the good is not good” (‘Bonum bonum non est’) implies ridiculous “the good is bad.” Followers of Aristotle inherit these difficulties. Boethius and Abelard bequeath to posterity an interpretation of the passage in Aristotle’s “De Interpretatione” according to which “bonum malum est” “the good is bad” can only be considered the ‘propositio opposita’ of the tautologically true ‘bonum bonum est’ (“the good is good”) insofar as, a ‘propositio implicita’ or ‘relativa’ or ‘complicata,’ it contains the ‘propositio contradictoria, viz. ‘the good is not good,’ the tautologically false ‘Bonum non bonum est,’ of the tautologically true ‘Bonum bonum est’ “the good is good.” It is this meaning of “to contain a contradiction” that, in a still rather obscure way, takes up this analysis by specifying a usage of “impliquer.” The first attested use in French of the verb “impliquer” is in 1377 in Oresme, in the syntagm “impliquer contradiction” (RT: DHLF, 1793). These same texts give rise to another analysis. A propositio implicita or pregnant, or complicate, is a proposition that “implies,” that is, that in fact contains two propositions, one principalis, and the other relative, each a ‘propositio explicita,’ and that are equivalent or equipollent to the ‘propositio complicata’ when paraphrased. Consider. “Homo qui est albus est animal quod currit,” “A man who is white is an animal who runs.” This ‘propositio complicate contains the the propositio implicita, “homo est albus” (“a man is white”) and the propositio implicita, “animal currit” (“an animal runs.”). Only by “exposing” or “resolving” (via ex-positio, or via re-solutio) such an ‘propositio complicata’ can one assign it a truth-value. “Omnis proposition implicita habet duas propositiones explicitas.” “A proposition implicita “P-im” has (at least) a proposition implicita P-im-1 and a different proposition implicita P-im-2.” “Verbi gratia.” “Socrates est id quod est homo.” “Haec propositio IMplicita aequivalet huic copulativae constanti ex duis propositionis explicitis. Socrates est aliquid est illud est homo. Haec proposition est vera, quare et propositio implicita vera. Every “implicit proposition” has two explicit propositions.” “Socrates is something (aliquid) which is a man.” This implicit proposition, “Socrates is something shich is a man,” is equivalent or equipoent to the following conjunctive proposition made up of two now EXplicit propositions, to wit, “Socrates is something,” and “That something is a man.” This latter conjunctive proposition of the two explicit propositions is true. Therefore, the “implicit” proposition is also true” (Tractatus implicitarum, in Giusberti – Materiale per studum, 43). The two “contained” propositions are usually relative propositions. Each is called an ‘implicatio.’ ‘Implicatio’ (rather than ‘implicitio’) becomes shorthand for “PROPOSITIO implicita.” An ‘implicatio’ becomes one type of ‘propositio exponibilis,’ i. e. a proposition that is to be “exposed” or paraphrased for its form or structure to be understood. In the treatises of Terminist logic, one chapter is by custom devoted to the phenomenon of “restrictio,” viz. a restriction in the denotation or the suppositio of the noun (v. SUPPOSITION). A relative expression (an implication), along with others, has a restrictive function (viz., “officium implicandi”), just like a sub-propositional expression like an adjective or a participle. Consider. “A man, Grice, who argues, runs to the second base.” “Man,” because of the relative expression or clause “who runs,” is restricted to denoting the present time (it is not Grice, who argues NOW but ran YESTERDAY). Moreover there is an equivalence or equipolence between the relative expression “qui currit” and the present participle “currens.” Running Grice argues. Grice who runs argues. Summe metenses, Logica modernorum, 2.1:464. In the case in which a relative expression is restrictive, its function is to “leave something that is constant,” “aliquid pro constanti relinquere,” viz., to produce a pre-assertion that conditions the truth of the main super-ordinate assertion without being its primary object or topic or signification or intentio. “Implicare est pro constanti et involute aliquid significare.” “Ut cum dicitur homo qui est albus currit.” “Pro constanti” dico, quia praeter hoc quod assertitur ibi cursus de homine, aliquid datur intelligi, scilicet hominem album; “involute” dico quia praeter hoc quod ibi proprie et principaliter significatur hominem currere, aliquid intus intelligitur, scilicet hominem esse album. Per hoc patet quod implicare est intus plicare. Id enim quod intus “plicamus” sive “ponimus,” pro constanti relinquimus. Unde implicare nil aliud est quam subiectum sub aliqua dispositione pro constanti relinquere et de illo sic disposito aliquid affirmare. Ackrill translates to Grice: “To imply” is to signify something by stating it as constant, and in a pretty ‘hidden’ manner – “involute.” When I state that the man runs, I state, stating it as constant, because, beyond (“praeter”) the main supra-ordinate assertion or proposition that predicates the running of the man, my addressee is given to understand something else (“aliquid intus intelligitur”), viz. that the man is white; This is communicated in a hidden manner (“involute”) because, beyond (“praeter”) what is communicated (“significatur”) primarily, principally (“principaliter”) properly (“proprie”), literally, and explicitly, viz. that the man is running, we are given to understand something else (“aliquid intus intelligutur”) within (“intus”), viz. that the man is white. It follows from this that implicare is nothing other than what the form of the expression literally conveys, intus plicare (“folded within”). What we fold or state within, we leave as a constant. It follows from this that “to imply” is nothing other than leaving something as a constant in the subject (‘subjectum’), such that the subject (subjectum, ‘homo qui est albus”) is under a certain disposition, and that it is only under this disposition that something about the subjectum is affirmed” -- De implicationibus, Nota, 100) For the record: while Giusberti (“Materiale per studio,” 31) always reads “pro constanti,” the MSS occasionally has the pretty Griciean “precontenti.” This is a case of what the “Logique du Port-Royal” describes as an “in-cidental” assertion. The situation is even more complex, however, insofar as this operation only relates to one usage of a relative proposition, viz. when the proposition is restrictive. A restriction can sometimes be blocked, or cancelled, and the reinscriptions are then different for a nonrestrictive and a restrictive relative proposition. One such case of a blockage is that of “false implication” (Johnson’s ‘paradox of ‘implicatio’) as in “a [or the] man who is a donkey runs,” (but cf. the centaur, the man who is a horse, runs) where there is a conflict (“repugnantia”) between what the determinate term itself denotes (homo, man) and the determination (ansinus, donkey). The truth-values of a proposition containing a relative clause or propositio thus varies according to whether it is restrictive, and of composite meaning, as in “homo, qui est albus, currit” (A man, who is white, runs), or non-restrictive, and of divided meaning, as in “Homo currit qui est albus” (Rendered in the vernacular in the same way, the Germanic languages not having the syntactic freedom the classical languages do: A man, who is white, is running. When the relative is restrictive, as in “Homo, qui est albus, curris”, the propositio implicits only produces one single assertion, since the relative corresponds to a pre-assertion. Thus, it is the equivalent, at the level of the underlying form, to a proposition conditionalis or hypothetical. Only in the second case can there be a “resolution” of the proposition implicita into the pair of this and that ‘propositio explicita, to wit, “homo currit,” “homo est albus.”—and an equipolence between the complex proposition implicita and the conjunction of the first proposition explicita and the second proposition explicitta. Homo currit et ille est albus. So it is only in this second case of proposition irrestrictiva that one can say that “Homo currit, qui est albus implies “Homo currit,” and “Homo est albus” and therefore, “Homo qui est albus currit.” The poor grave Romans are having trouble with Grecisms. The Grecist vocabulary of implication is both disparate and systematic, in a Griceian oxymoronic way. The grave Latin “implicare” covers and translates an extremely varied Grecian field of expressions ready to be botanized, that bears the mark of heterogeneous rather than systematic operations, whether one is dealing Aristotle or the Stoics. The passage through grave Roman allows us to understand retrospectively the connection in Aristotle’s jargon between the “implicatio” of the “propositio implicita,” sum-pepleg-menê, as an interweaving or interlacing, and conclusive or con-sequential implicatio, sumperasma, “συμπέϱασμα,” or “sumpeperasmenon,” “συμπεπεϱασμένον,” “sumpeperasmenê,” “συμπεπεϱασμένη,” f. perainein, “πεϱαίνein, “to limit,” which is the jargon Aristotle uses in the Organon to denote the conclusion of a syllogism (Pr. Anal. 1.15.34a21–24). If one designates as A the premise, tas protaseis, “τὰς πϱοτάσεις,” and as B the con-clusion, “to sumperasma,” συμπέϱασμα.” Cf. the Germanic puns with ‘closure,’ etc. When translating Aristotle’s definition of the syllogism at Prior Analytics 1.1.24b18–21, Tricot chooses to render as the “con-sequence” Aristotle’s verb “sum-bainei,” “συμ-ϐαίνει,” that which “goes with” the premise and results from it. A syllogism is a discourse, “logos,” “λόγος,” in which, certain things being stated, something other than what is stated necessarily results simply from the fact of what is stated. Simply from the fact of what is stated, I mean that it is because of this that the consequence is obtained, “legô de tôi tauta einai to dia tauta sumbainei,” “λέγω δὲ τῷ ταῦτα εἶναι τὸ διὰ ταῦτα συμϐαίνει.” (Pr. Anal. 1.1, 24b18–21). To make the connection with “implication,” though, we also have to take into account, as is most often the case, the Stoics’ own jargon. What the Stoics call “sumpeplegmenon,” “συμπεπλεγμένον,” is a “conjunctive” proposition; e. g. “It is daytime, and it is light” (it is true both that A and that B). The conjunctive is a type of molecular proposition, along with the “conditional” (sunêmmenon [συνημμένον] -- “If it is daytime, it is light”) and the “subconditional” (para-sunêmmenon [παϱασυνημμένον]; “SINCE it is daytime, it is light”), and the “disjunctive” (diezeugmenon [διεζευγμένον] -- “It is daytime, or it is night.” Diog. Laert. 7.71–72; cf. RT: Long and Sedley, A35, 2:209 and 1:208). One can see that there is no ‘implicatio’ in the conjunctive, whereas there is one in the ‘sunêmmenon’ (“if p, q”), which constitutes the Stoic expression par excellence, as distinct from the Aristotelian categoric syllogism.Indeed, it is around the propositio conditionalis that the question and the vocabulary of ‘implicatio’ re-opens. The Aristotelian sumbainein [συμϐαίνειν], which denotes the accidental nature of a result, however clearly it has been demonstrated (and we should not forget that sumbebêkos [συμϐεϐηϰός] denotes accident; see SUBJECT, I), is replaced by “akolouthein” [ἀϰολουθεῖν] (from the copulative a- and keleuthos [ϰέλευθος], “path” [RT: Chantraine, Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque, s.v. ἀϰόλουθος]), which denotes instead being accompanied by a consequent conformity. This connector, i. e. the “if” (ei, si) indicates that the second proposition, the con-sequens (“it is light”) follows (akolouthei [ἀϰολουθεῖ]) from the first (“it is daytime”) (Diog. Laert, 7.71). Attempts, beginning with Philo or Diodorus Cronus up to Grice and Strawson to determine the criteria of a “valid” conditional (to hugies sunêmmenon [τὸ ὑγιὲς συνημμένον] offer, among other possibilities, the notion of emphasis [ἔμφασις], which Long and Sedley translate as “G. E. Moore’s entailment” and Brunschwig and Pellegrin as “implication” (Sextus Empiricus, The Skeptic Way, in RT: Long and Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers, 35B, 2:211 and 1:209), a term that is normally used to refer to a reflected image and to the force, including rhetorical force, of an impression. Elsewhere, this “emphasis” is explained in terms of dunamis [δύναμις], of “virtual” content (“When we have the premise which results in a certain conclusion, we also have this conclusion virtually [dunamei (δυνάμει)] in the premise, even if it is not explicitly indicated [kan kat’ ekphoran mê legetai (ϰἂν ϰατ̕ ἐϰφοϱὰν μὴ λέγεται)], Sextus Empiricus, Against the Grammarians 8.229ff., D. L. Blank, 49 = RT: Long and Sedley, G36 (4), 2:219 and 1:209)—where connecting the different usages of “implication” creates new problems. One has to understand that the type of implicatio represented by the proposition conditionalis implies, in the double usage of “contains implicitly” and “has as its consequence,” the entire Stoic system. It is a matter of to akolouthon en zôêi [τὸ ἀϰόλουθον ἐν ζωῇ], “consequentiality in life,” or ‘rational life, as Grice prefers, as Long and Sedley translate it (Stobeus 2.85.13 = RT: Long and Sedley, 59B, 2:356; Cicero prefers “congruere,” (congruential) De finibus 3.17 = RT: Long and Sedley, 59D, 2:356). It is akolouthia [ἀϰολουθία] that refers to the conduct con-sequent upon itself that is the conduct of the wise man, the chain of causes defining will or fate, and finally the relationship that joins the antecedent to the con-sequent in a true proposition. Goldschmidt, having cited Bréhier (Le système stoïcien), puts the emphasis on antakolouthia [ἀνταϰολουθία], a Stoic neologism that may be translated as “reciprocal” implicatio,” and that refers specifically to the solidarity of virtues (antakolouthia tôn aretôn [ἀνταϰολουθία τῶν ἀϱετῶν], Diog. Laert. 7.125; Goldschmidt, as a group that would be encompassed by dialectical virtue, immobilizing akolouthia in the absolute present of the wise man. “Implicatio” is, in the final analysis, from then on, the most literal name of the Stoic system. Refs.: Aristotle. Anal. Pr.. ed. H. Tredennick, in Organon, Harvard; Goldschmidt, Le système stoïcien et l’idée de temps. Paris: Vrin, Sextus Empiricus. Against the Grammarians, ed. D. L. Blank. Oxford: Oxford. END OF INTERLUDE. Now for “Implication”/“Implicature.” Implicatura was used by Sidonius in a letter (that Grice found funny) and used by Grice in seminars on conversational helpfulness at Oxford. Grice sets out the basis of a systematic approach to communication, viz, concerning the relation between a proposition p and a proposition q in a conversational context. The need is felt by Sidonius and Grice for ‘implicature,’ tdistinct from “implication,” insofar as “implication” is used for a relation between a proposition p and a proposition q, whereas an “implicature” is a relation between this or that statement, within a given context, that results from an EMISSOR having utterered an utterance (thereby explicitly conveying that p) and thereby implicitly conveying and implicating that q. Grice thought the distinction was ‘frequently ignored by Austin,’ and Grice thought it solved a few problems, initially in G. A. Paul’s neo-Wttigensteinian objections to Price’s causal theory of perception (“The pillar box seems red to me; which does not surprise me, seeing that it is red”). An “implication” is a relation bearing on the truth or falsity of this or that proposition (e. g. “The pillar box seems red” and, say, “The pillar box MAY NOT be red”) whereas an “implicature” brings an extra meaning to this or that statement it governs (By uttering “The pillar box seems red” thereby explicitly conveying that the pillar box seems red, the emissor implicates in a cancellable way that the pillar box MAY NOT be red.”). Whenever “implicature” is determined according to its context (as at Collections, “Strawson has beautiful handwriting; a mark of his character. And he learned quite a bit in spite of the not precisely angelic temperament of his tutor Mabbott”) it enters the field of pragmatics, and therefore has to be distinguished from a presupposition. Implicatio simpliciter is a relation between two propositions, one of which is the consequence of the other (Quine’s example: “My father is a bachelor; therefore, he is male”). An equivalent of “implication” is “entailment,” as used by Moore. Now, Moore was being witty. ‘Entail’ is derived from “tail” (Fr. taille; ME entaill or entailen = en + tail), and prior to its logical use, the meaning of “entailment” is “restriction,” “tail” having the sense of “limitation.” As Moore explains in his lecture: “An entailment is a limitation on the transfer or handing down of a property or an inheritance. *My* use of ‘entailment’ has two features in common with the Legalese that Father used to use; to wit: the handing down of a property; and; the limitation on one of the poles of this transfer. As I stipulate we should use “entailment” (at Cambridge, but also at Oxford), a PROPERTY is transferred from the antecedent to the con-sequent. And also, normally in semantics, some LIMITATION (or restriction, or ‘stricting,’ or ‘relevancing’) on the antecedent is stressed.” The mutation from the legalese to Moore’s usage explicitly occurs by analogy on the basis of these two shared common elements. Now, Whitehead had made a distinction between a material (involving a truth-value) implication and formal (empty) implication. A material implication (“if,” symbolized by the horseshoe “⊃,” because “it resembles an arrow,” Whitehead said – “Some arrow!” was Russell’s response) is a Philonian implication as defined semantically in terms of a truth-table by Philo of Megara. “If p, q” is false only when the antecedent is true and the con-sequent false. In terms of a formalization of communication, this has the flaw of bringing with it a counter-intuitive feeling of ‘baffleness’ (cf. “The pillar box seems red, because it is”), since a false proposition implies materially any proposition: If the moon is made of green cheese, 2 + 2 = 4. This “ex falso quodlibet sequitur” has a pedigreed history. For the Stoics and the Megarian philosophers, “ex falso quodlibet sequitur” is what distinguishes Philonian implication and Diodorean implication. It traverses the theory of consequence and is ONE of the paradoxes of material implication that is perfectly summed up in these two rules of Buridan: First, if P is false, Q follows from P; Second, if P is true, P follows from Q (Bochenski, History of Formal Logic). A formal (empty) implication (see Russell, Principles of Mathematics, 36–41) is a universal conditional implication: Ɐx (Ax ⊃ Bx), for any x, if Ax, then Bx. Different means of resolving the paradoxes of implication have been proposed. All failed except Grice’s. An American, C. I. Lewis’s “strict” implication (Lewis and Langford, Symbolic Logic) is defined as an implication that is ‘reinforced’ such that it is impossible for the antecedent to be true and the con-sequent false. Unfortunately, as Grice tells Lewis in a correspondence, “your strict implication, I regret to prove, has the same alleged flaw as the ‘material’ implication that your strict implication was meant to improve on. (an impossible—viz., necessarily false—proposition strictly implies any proposition). The relation of entailment introduced by Moore in 1923 is a relation that seems to avoid this or that paradox (but cf. Grice, “Paradoxes of entailment, followed by paradoxes of implication – all conversationally resolved”) by requiring a derivation of the antecedent from the con-sequent. In this case, “If 2 + 2 = 5, 2 + 3 = 5” is false, since the con-sequent is stipulated not be derivable from the antecedent. Occasionally, one has to call upon the pair “entailment”/“implication” in order to distinguish between an implication in qua material implication and an implication in Moore’s usage (metalinguistic – the associated material implication is a theorem), which is also sometimes called “relevant” if not strictc implication (Anderson and Belnap, Entailment), to ensure that the entire network of expressions is covered. Along with this first series of expressions in which “entailment” and “implication” alternate with one another, there is a second series of expressions that contrasts two kinds of “implicature,” or ‘implicata.’ “Implicature” (Fr. implicature, G. Implikatur) is formed from “implicatio” and the suffix –ture, which expresses, as Grice knew since his Clifton days, a ‘resultant aspect,’ ‘aspectum resultativus’ (as in “signature”; cf. L. temperatura, from temperare). “Implicatio” may be thought as derived from “to imply” (if not ‘employ’) and “implicature” may be thought as deriving from “imply”’s doulet, “to implicate” (from L. “in-“ + “plicare,” from plex; cf. the IE. plek), which has the same meaning. Some mistakenly see Grice’s “implicature” as an extension and modification of the concept of presupposition, which differs from ‘material’ implication in that the negation of the antecedent implies the consequent (the question “Have you stopped beating your wife?” presupposes the existence of a wife in both cases). An implicature escapes the paradoxes of material implication from the outset. In fact, Grice, the ever Oxonian, distinguishes “at least” two kinds of implicature, conventional and non-conventional, the latter sub-divided into non-conventional non-converastional, and non-conventional conversational. A non-conventional non-conversational implicatum may occur in a one-off predicament. A Conventional implicature and a conventional implicatum is practically equivalent, Strawson wrongly thought, to presupposition prae-suppositum, since it refers to the presuppositions attached by linguistic convention to a lexical item or expression. E. g. “Mary EVEN loves Peter” has a relation of conventional implicature to “Mary loves other entities than Peter.” This is equivalent to: “ ‘Mary EVEN loves Peter’ presupposes ‘Mary loves other entities than Peter.’ With this kind of implicature, we remain within the expression, and thus the semantic, field. A conventional implicature, however, is surely different from a material implicatio. It does not concern the truth-values. With conversational implicature, we are no longer dependent on this or that emissum, but move into pragmatics (the area that covers the relation between statements and contexts. Grice gives the following example: If, in answer to A’s question about how C is getting on in his new job at a bank, B utters, “Well, he likes his colleagues, and he hasn’t been to in prison yet,” what B implicates by the proposition that it is not the case that C has been to prison yet depends on the context. It compatible with two very different contexts: one in which C, naïve as he is, is expected to be entrapped by unscrupulous colleagues in some shady deal, or, more likely, C is well-known by A and B to tend towards dishonesty (hence the initial question). References: Abelard, Peter. Dialectica. Edited by L. M. De Rijk. Assen, Neth.: Van Gorcum, 1956. 2nd rev. ed., 1970. Glossae super Periermeneias. Edited by Lorenzo Minio-Paluello. In TwelfthCentury Logic: Texts and Studies, vol. 2, Abelaerdiana inedita. Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1958. Anderson, Allan Ross, and Nuel Belnap. Entailment: The Logic of Relevance and Necessity. Vol. 1. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1975. Aristotle. De interpretatione. English translation by J. L. Ackrill: Aristotle’s Categories and De interpretatione. Notes by J. L. Ackrill. Oxford: Clarendon, 1963. French translation by J. Tricot: Organon. Paris: Vrin, 1966. Auroux, Sylvain, and Irène Rosier. “Les sources historiques de la conception des deux types de relatives.” Langages 88 (1987): 9–29. Bochenski, Joseph M. A History of Formal Logic. Translated by Ivo Thomas. New York: Chelsea, 1961. Boethius. Aristoteles latinus. Edited by Lorenzo Minio-Paluello. Paris: Descleé de Brouwer, 1965. Translation by Lorenzo Minio-Paluello: The Latin Aristotle. Toronto: Hakkert, 1972. Commentarii in librum Aristotelis Peri hermêneias. Edited by K. Meiser. Leipzig: Teubner, 1877. 2nd ed., 1880. De Rijk, Lambertus Marie. Logica modernorum: A Contribution to the History of Early Terminist Logic. 2 vols. Assen, Neth.: Van Gorcum, 1962–67. “Some Notes on the Mediaeval Tract De insolubilibus, with the Edition of a Tract Dating from the End of the Twelfth-Century.” Vivarium 4 (1966): 100–103. Giusberti, Franco. Materials for a Study on Twelfth-Century Scholasticism. Naples, It.: Bibliopolis, 1982. Grice, H. P. “Logic and Conversation.” In Syntax and Semantics 3: Speech Acts, edited by P. Cole and J. Morgan, 41–58. New York: Academic Press, 1975. (Also in The Logic of Grammar, edited by D. Davidson and G. Harman, 64–74. Encino, CA: Dickenson, 1975.) Lewis, Clarence Irving, and Cooper Harold Langford. Symbolic Logic. New York: New York Century, 1932. Meggle, Georg. Grundbegriffe der Kommunikation. 2nd ed. Berlin: De Gruyter, 1997. Meggle, Georg, and Christian Plunze, eds. Saying, Meaning, Implicating. Leipzig: Leipziger Universitätsverlag, 2003. Moore, G. E.. Philosophical Studies. London: Kegan Paul, 1923. Rosier, I. “Relatifs et relatives dans les traits terministes des XIIe et XIIIe siècles: (2) Propositions relatives (implicationes), distinction entre restrictives et non restrictives.” Vivarium 24: 1 (1986): 1–21. Russell, Bertrand. The Principles of Mathematics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1903. Speranza, Luigi. Join the Grice Club! Strawson, P. F.. “On Referring.” Mind 59 (1950): 320–44. incorrigibility: On WoW: 142, Grice refers to the ‘authority’ of the utterer as a ‘rational being’ to DEEM that an M-intention is an antecedent condition for his act of meaning. Grice uses ‘privilege’ as synonym for ‘authority’ here. But not in the phrase ‘privileged access.’ His point is not so much about the TRUTH (which ‘incorrigibility’ suggests), but about the DEEMING. It is part of the authority or privilege of the utterer as rational to provide an ACCEPTABLE assignment of an M-intention behind his utterance. Indicatum. Οριστική oristike Inferentia. Cf. illatio. Consequentia. Implicatio. Grice’s implicature and what the emissor implicates as a variation on the logical usage. Infinite-off predicament, or ∞-off predicament. inscriptum -- inscriptionalism -- nominalism. While Grice pours scorn on the American School of Latter-Day Nominalists, nominalism, as used by Grice is possibly a misnomer. He doesn’t mean Occam, and Occam did not use ‘nominalismus.’ “Terminimus’ at most. So one has to be careful. The implicature is that the nominalist calls a ‘name’ what others shouldn’t. Mind, Grice had two nominalist friends: S. N. Hamphsire (Scepticism and meaning”) and A. M. Quinton, of the play group! In “Properties and classes,” for the Aristotelian Society. And the best Oxford philosophical stylist, Bradley, is also a nominalist. There are other, more specific arguments against universals. One is that postulating such things leads to a vicious infinite regress. For suppose there are universals, both monadic and relational, and that when an entity instantiates a universal, or a group of entities instantiate a relational universal, they are linked by an instantiation relation. Suppose now that a instantiates the universal F. Since there are many things that instantiate many universals, it is plausible to suppose that instantiation is a relational universal. But if instantiation is a relational universal, when a instantiates F, a, F and the instantiation relation are linked by an instantiation relation. Call this instantiation relation i2 (and suppose it, as is plausible, to be distinct from the instantiation relation (i1) that links a and F). Then since i2 is also a universal, it looks as if a, F, i1 and i2 will have to be linked by another instantiation relation i3, and so on ad infinitum. (This argument has its source in Bradley 1893, 27–8.) insinuation insinuate. A bit of linguistic botany, “E implicates that p” – implicate to do duty for, in alphabetic order: mean, suggest, hint, insinuate, indicate, implicitly convey, indirectly convey, imply. Intellectum (dianoia) Verstand, corresponding to Greek dianoia and Latin intellectio] Kant distinguished understanding from sensibility and reason. While sensibility is receptive, understanding is spontaneous. While understanding is concerned with the range of phenomena and is empty without intuition, reason, which moves from judgment to judgment concerning phenomena, is tempted to extend beyond the limits of experience to generate fallacious inferences. Kant claimed that the main act of understanding is judgment and called it a faculty of judgment. He claimed that there is an a priori concept or category corresponding to each kind of judgment as its logical function and that understanding is constituted by twelve categories. Hence understanding is also a faculty of concepts. Understanding gives the synthetic unity of appearance through the categories. It thus brings together intuitions and concepts and makes experience possible. It is a lawgiver of nature. Herder criticized Kant for separating sensibility and understanding. Fichte and Hegel criticized him for separating understanding and reason. Some neo-Kantians criticized him for deriving the structure of understanding from the act of judgment. “Now we can reduce all acts of the understanding to judgements, and the understanding may therefore be represented as a faculty of judgement.” Kant, Critique of Pure Reason intensionalism: Grice finds a way to relieve a predicate that is vacuous from the embarrassing consequence of denoting or being satisfied by the empty set. Grice exploits the nonvoidness of a predicate which is part of the definition of the void predicate. Consider the vacuous predicate:‘... is married to a daughter of an English queen and a pope.'The class '... is a daugther of an English queen and a pope.'is co-extensive with the predicate '... stands in relation to a sequence composed of the class married to, daughters, English queens, and popes.'We correlate the void predicate with the sequence composed of relation R, the set ‘married to,’ the set ‘daughters,’ the set ‘English queens,’ and the set ‘popes.'Grice uses this sequence, rather than the empty set, to determine the explanatory potentiality of a void predicate. The admissibility of a nonvoid predicate in an explanation of a possible phenomenon (why it would happen if it did happen) may depends on the availability of a generalisation whithin which the predicate specifies the antecedent condition. A non-trivial generalisations of this sort is certainly available if derivable from some further generalisation involving a less specific antecedent condition, supported by an antecedent condition that is specified by means a nonvoid predicate.