THESAVRVS GRICEIANVM -- in twelve volumes, vol. VI.

Grosseteste, Robert c.11681253, English theologian who began life on the bottom rung of feudal society in Suffolk and became one of the most influential philosophers in pre-Reformation England. He studied at Oxford, becoming a master of arts between 1186 and 1. Sometime after this period he joined the household of William de Vere, bishop of Hereford. Grosseteste may have been associated with the local cathedral school in Hereford, several of whose members were part of a relatively advanced scientific tradition. It was a center for the study of natural science and astrology as well as liberal arts and theology. If so, this would explain, at least in part, his lifelong interest in work in natural philosophy. Between 1209 and 1214 Grosseteste became a master of theology, probably in Paris. In 1221 he became the first chancellor of Oxford. From 1229 to 1235 he was secular lecturer in theology to the recently established Franciscan order at Oxford. It was during his tenure with the Franciscans that he studied Grecian  an unusual endeavor for a medieval schoolman. He spent the last eighteen years of his life as bishop of Lincoln. As a  scholar, Grosseteste was an original thinker who used Aristotelian and Augustinian theses as points of departure. He believed, with Aristotle, that sense knowledge is the basis of all knowledge, and that the basis for sense knowledge is our discovery of the cause of what is experienced or revealed by experiment. He also believed, with Augustine, that light plays Gregory of Rimini Grosseteste, Robert 355   355 an important role in creation. Thus he maintained that God produced the world by first creating prime matter from which issued a point of light lux, the first corporeal form or power, one of whose manifestations is visible light. The diffusion of this light resulted in extension or tridimensionality in the form of the nine concentric celestial spheres and the four terrestrial spheres of fire, air, water, and earth. According to Grosseteste, the diffusion of light takes place in accordance with laws of mathematical proportionality geometry. Everything, therefore, is a manifestation of light, and mathematics is consequently indispensable to science and knowledge generally. The principles Grosseteste employs to support his views are presented in, e.g., his commentary on Aristotle’s Posterior Analytics, the De luce “Of Light”, and the De lineis, angulis et figuris “Of Lines, Angles, and Figures”. He worked in areas as seemingly disparate as optics and angelology. Grosseteste was one of the first to take an interest in and introduce into the Oxford curriculum newly recovered Aristotelian texts  some of which he tr., along with Grecian commentaries on them. His work and interest in natural philosophy, mathematics, the Bible, and languages profoundly influenced his younger contemporary, Roger Bacon, and the educational goals of the Franciscan order. It also helped to stimulate work in these areas during the fourteenth century. 

Grotius, Hugo, in Dutch, Huigh de Groot 1583 1645, Dutch humanist, a founder of modern views of international law and a major theorist of natural law. A lawyer and Latinist, Grotius developed a new view of the law of nature in order to combat moral skepticism and to show how there could be rational settlement of moral disputes despite religious disagreements. He argued in The Law of War and Peace 1625 that humans are naturally both competitive and sociable. The laws of nature show us how we can live together despite our propensity to conflict. They can be derived from observation of our nature and situation. These laws reflect the fact that each individual possesses rights, which delimit the social space within which we are free to pursue our own goals. Legitimate government arises when we give up some rights in order to save or improve our lives. The obligations that the laws of nature impose would bind us, Grotius notoriously said, even if God did not exist; but he held that God does enforce the laws. They set the limits on the laws that governments may legitimately impose. The laws of nature reflect our possession of both precise perfect rights of justice, which can be protected by force, and imperfect rights, which are not enforceable, nor even statable very precisely. Grotius’s views on our combative but sociable nature, on the function of the law of nature, and on perfect and imperfect rights were of central importance in later discussions of morality and law. 

grue paradox, a paradox in the theory of induction, according to which every intuitively acceptable inductive argument, A, may be mimicked by indefinitely many other inductive arguments  each seemingly quite analogous to A and therefore seemingly as acceptable, yet each nonetheless intuitively unacceptable, and each yielding a conclusion contradictory to that of A, given the assumption that sufficiently many and varied of the sort of things induced upon exist as yet unexamined which is the only circumstance in which A is of interest. Suppose the following is an intuitively acceptable inductive argument: A1 All hitherto observed emeralds are green; therefore, all emeralds are green. Now introduce the colorpredicate ‘grue’, where for some given, as yet wholly future, temporal interval T an object is grue provided it has the property of being either green and first examined before T, or blue and not first examined before T. Then consider the following inductive argument: A2 All hitherto observed emeralds are grue; therefore, all emeralds are grue. The premise is true, and A2 is formally analogous to A1. But A2 is intuitively unacceptable; if there are emeralds unexamined before T, then the conclusion of A2 says that these emeralds are blue, whereas the conclusion of A1 says that they are green. Other counterintuitive competing arguments could be given, e.g.: A3 All hitherto observed emeralds are grellow; therefore, all emeralds are grellow where an object is grellow provided it is green and located on the earth, or yellow otherwise. It would seem, therefore, that some restriction on induction is required. The new riddle of induction offers two challenges. First, state the restriction  i.e., demarcate the intuitively acceptable inductions from the unacceptable ones, in some general way, without constant appeal to intuition. Second, justify our preference for the Grotius, Hugo grue paradox 356   356 one group of inductions over the other. These two parts of the new riddle are often conflated. But it is at least conceivable that one might solve the analytical, demarcative part without solving the justificatory part, and, perhaps, vice versa. It will not do to rule out, a priori, “gruelike” now commonly called “gruesome” variances in nature. Water pure H2O varies in its physical state along the parameter of temperature. If so, why might not emeralds vary in color along the parameter of time of first examination? One approach to the problem of restriction is to focus on the conclusions of inductive arguments e.g., All emeralds are green, All emeralds are grue and to distinguish those which may legitimately so serve called “projectible hypotheses” from those which may not. The question then arises whether only non-gruesome hypotheses those which do not contain gruesome predicates are projectible. Aside from the task of defining ‘gruesome predicate’ which could be done structurally relative to a preferred language, the answer is no. The English predicate ‘solid and less than 0; C, or liquid and more than 0; C but less than 100; C, or gaseous and more than 100; C’ is gruesome on any plausible structural account of gruesomeness note the similarity to the English ‘grue’ equivalent: green and first examined before T, or blue and not first examined before T. Nevertheless, where nontransitional water is pure H2O at one atmosphere of pressure save that which is in a transitional state, i.e., melting/freezing or boiling/condensing, i.e., at 0°C or 100; C, we happily project the hypothesis that all non-transitional water falls under the above gruesome predicate. Perhaps this is because, if we rewrite the projection about non-transitional water as a conjunction of non-gruesome hypotheses  i All water at less than 0; C is solid, ii All water at more than 0; C but less than 100; C is liquid, and iii All water at more than 100; C is gaseous  we note that iiii are all supported there are known positive instances; whereas if we rewrite the gruesome projection about emeralds as a conjunction of non-gruesome hypotheses  i* All emeralds first examined before T are green, and ii* All emeralds not first examined before T are blue  we note that ii* is as yet unsupported. It would seem that, whereas a non-gruesome hypothesis is projectible provided it is unviolated and supported, a gruesome hypothesis is projectible provided it is unviolated and equivalent to a conjunction of non-gruesome hypotheses, each of which is supported. The grue paradox was discovered by Nelson Goodman. It is most fully stated in his Fact, Fiction and Forecast 5. 

Grundnorm: Grice knows about the ground and the common ground – and then there’s the ground norm -- also called basic norm, in a legal system, the norm that determines the legal validity of all other norms. The content of such an ultimate norm may provide, e.g., that norms created by a legislature or by a court are legally valid. The validity of such an ultimate norm cannot be established as a matter of social fact such as the social fact that the norm is accepted by some group within a society. Rather, the validity of the basic norm for any given legal system must be presupposed by the validity of the norms that it legitimates as laws. The idea of a basic norm is associated with the legal philosopher Hans Kelsen. 

Guise -- Castaneda, H. N., analytical philosopher. Heavily influenced by his own critical reaction to Quine, Chisholm, and his teacher Wilfrid Sellars, Castañeda published four books and more than 175 essays. His work combines originality, rigor, and penetration, together with an unusual comprehensiveness  his network of theory and criticism reaches into nearly every area of philosophy, including action theory; deontic logic and practical reason; ethics; history of philosophy; metaphysics and ontology; philosophical methodology; philosophy of language, mind, and perception; and the theory of knowledge. His principal contributions are to metaphysics and ontology, indexical reference, and deontic logic and practical reasoning. In metaphysics and ontology, Castañeda’s chief work is guise theory, first articulated in a 4 essay, a complex and global account of language, mind, ontology, and predication. By holding that ordinary concrete individuals, properties, and propositions all break down or separate into their various aspects or guises, he theorizes that thinking and reference are directed toward the latter. Each guise is a genuine item in the ontological inventory, having properties internally and externally. In addition, guises are related by standing in various sameness relations, only one of which is the familiar relation of strict identity. Since every guise enjoys bona fide ontological standing, whereas only some of these actually exist, Castañeda’s ontology and semantics are Meinongian. With its intricate account of predication, guise theory affords a unified treatment of a wide range of philosophical problems concerning reference to nonexistents, negative existentials, intentional identity, referential opacity, and other matters. Castañeda also played a pivotal role in emphasizing the significance of indexical reference. If, e.g., Paul assertively utters ‘I prefer Chardonnay’, it would obviously be incorrect for Bob to report ‘Paul says that I prefer Chardonnay’, since the last statement expresses Bob’s speaker’s reference, not Paul’s. At the same time, Castañeda contends, it is likewise incorrect for Bob to report Paul’s saying as either ‘Paul says that Paul prefers Chardonnay’ or ‘Paul says that Al’s luncheon guest prefers Chardonnay’ when Paul is Al’s only luncheon guest, since each of these fail to represent the essentially indexical element of Paul’s assertion. Instead, Bob may correctly report ‘Paul says that he himself prefers Chardonnay’, where ‘he himself’ is a quasi-indicator, serving to depict Paul’s reference to himself qua self. For Castañeda and others, quasi-indicators are a person’s irreducible, essential means for describing the thoughts and experiences of others. A complete account of his view of indexicals, together with a full articulation of guise theory and his unorthodox theories of definite descriptions and proper names, is contained in Thinking, Language, and Experience 9. Castañeda’s main views on practical reason and deontic logic turn on his fundamental practitionproposition distinction. A number of valuable essays on these views, together with his important replies, are collected in James E. Tomberlin, ed., Agent, Language, and the Structure of the World 3, and Tomberlin, ed., Hector-Neri Castañeda 6. The latter also includes Castañeda’s revealing intellectual autobiography. guise theory, a system developed by Castañeda to resolve a number of issues concerning the content of thought and experience, including reference, identity statements, intensional contexts, predication, existential claims, perception, and fictional discourse. For example, since i Oedipus believed that he killed the man at the crossroads, and ii the man at the crossroads was his Oedipus’s father, it might seem that iii Oedipus believed that he killed his father. Guise theory blocks this derivation by taking ‘was’ in ii to express, not genuine identity, but a contingent sameness relation betweeen the distinct referents of the descriptions. Definite descriptions are typically treated as referential, contrary to Russell’s theory of descriptions, and their referents are identical in both direct and indirect discourse, contrary to Frege’s semantics. To support this solution, guise theory offers unique accounts of predication and singular referents. The latter are individual guises, which, like Fregean senses and Meinong’s incomplete objects, are thinly individuated aspects or “slices” of ordinary objects at best. Every guise is a structure c{F1 . . . , Fn} where c is an operator expressed by ‘the’ in English  transforming a set of properties {F1, . . . , Fn} into a distinct concrete individual, each property being an internal property of the guise. Guises have external properties by standing in various sameness relations to other guises that have these properties internally. There are four such relations, besides genuine identity, each an equivalence relation in its field. If the oldest philosopher happens to be wise, e.g., wisdom is factually predicated of the guise ‘the oldest philosopher’ because it is consubstantiated with ‘the oldest wise philosopher’. Other sameness relations account for fictional predication consociation and necessary external predication conflation. Existence is self-consubstantiation. An ordinary physical object is, at any moment, a cluster of consubstantiated hence, existing guises, while continuants are formed through the transubstantiation of guises within temporally distinct clusters. There are no substrates, and while every guise “subsists,” not all exist, e.g., the Norse God of Thunder. The position thus permits a unified account of singular reference. One task for guise theory is to explain how a “concretized” set of properties differs internally from a mere set. Perhaps guises are façons de penser whose core sets are concretized if their component properties are conceived as coinstantiated, with non-existents analyzable in terms of the failure of the conceived properties to actually be coinstantiated. However, it is questionable whether this approach can achieve all that Castañeda demands of guise theory. 

Habermas, J. philosopher and social theorist, a leading representative of the second generation of the Frankfurt School of critical theory. His work has consistently returned to the problem of the normative foundations of social criticism and critical social inquiry not supplied in traditional Marxism and other forms of critical theory, such as postmodernism. His habilitation, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere 1, is an influential historical analysis of the emergence of the ideal of a public sphere in the eighteenth century and its subsequent decline. Habermas turned then to the problems of the foundations and methodology of the social sciences, developing a criticism of positivism and his own interpretive explanatory approach in The Logic of the Social Sciences 3 and his first major systematic work, Knowledge and Human Interests 7. Rejecting the unity of method typical of positivism, Habermas argues that social inquiry is guided by three distinct interests: in control, in understanding, and in emancipation. He is especially concerned to use emancipatory interest to overcome the limitations of the model of inquiry based on understanding and argues against “universality of hermeneutics” defended by hermeneuticists such as Gadamer and for the need to supplement interpretations with explanations in the social sciences. As he came to reject the psychoanalytic vocabulary in which he formulated the interest in emancipation, he turned to finding the basis for understanding and social inquiry in a theory of rationality more generally. In the next phase of his career he developed a comprehensive social theory, culminating in his two-volume The Theory of Communicative Action 2. The goal of this theory is to develop a “critical theory of modernity,” on the basis of a comprehensive theory of communicative as opposed to instrumental rationality. The first volume develops a theory of communicative rationality based on “discourse,” or second-order communication that takes place both in everyday interaction and in institutionalized practices of argumentation in science, law, and criticism. This theory of rationality emerges from a universal or “formal” pragmatics, a speech act theory based on making explicit the rules and norms of the competence to communicate in linguistic interaction. The second volume develops a diagnosis of modern society as suffering from “onesided rationalization,” leading to disruptions of the communicative lifeworld by “systems” such as markets and bureaucracies. Finally, Habermas applies his conception of rationality to issues of normative theory, including ethics, politics, and the law. “Discourse Ethics: Notes on a Program of Moral Justification” 2 argues for an intersubjective notion of practical reason and discursive procedure for the justification of universal norms. This “discourse principle” provides a dialogical version of Kant’s idea of universalization; a norm is justified if and only if it can meet with the reasoned agreement of all those affected. Between Facts and Norms 2 combines his social and normative theories to give a systematic account of law and democracy. His contribution here is an account of deliberative democracy appropriate to the complexity of modern society. His work in all of these phases provides a systematic defense and critique of modern institutions and a vindication of the universal claims of public practical reason. 

Haecceitas -- Duns Scotus, J., Scottish Franciscan metaphysician and philosophical theologian. He lectured at Oxford, Paris, and Cologne, where he died and his remains are still venerated. Modifying Avicenna’s conception of metaphysics as the science of being qua being, but univocally conceived, Duns Scotus showed its goal was to demonstrate God as the Infinite Being revealed to Moses as the “I am who am”, whose creative will is the source of the world’s contingency. Out of love God fashioned each creature with a unique “haecceity” or particularity formally distinct from its individualized nature. Descriptively identical with others of its kind, this nature, conceived in abstraction from haecceity, is both objectively real and potentially universal, and provides the basis for scientific knowledge that Peirce calls “Scotistic realism.” Duns Scotus brought many of Augustine’s insights, treasured by his Franciscan predecessors, into the mainstream of the Aristotelianism of his day. Their notion of the will’s “supersufficient potentiality” for self-determination he showed can be reconciled with Aristotle’s notion of an “active potency,” if one rejects the controDuhem thesis Duns Scotus, John 247   247 versial principle that “whatever is moved is moved by another.” Paradoxically, Aristotle’s criteria for rational and non-rational potencies prove the rationality of the will, not the intellect, for he claimed that only rational faculties are able to act in opposite ways and are thus the source of creativity in the arts. If so, then intellect, with but one mode of acting determined by objective evidence, is non-rational, and so is classed with active potencies called collectively “nature.” Only the will, acting “with reason,” is free to will or nill this or that. Thus “nature” and “will” represent Duns Scotus’s primary division of active potencies, corresponding roughly to Aristotle’s dichotomy of non-rational and rational. Original too is his development of Anselm’s distinction of the will’s twofold inclination or “affection”: one for the advantageous, the other for justice. The first endows the will with an “intellectual appetite” for happiness and actualization of self or species; the second supplies the will’s specific difference from other natural appetites, giving it an innate desire to love goods objectively according to their intrinsic worth. Guided by right reason, this “affection for justice” inclines the will to act ethically, giving it a congenital freedom from the need always to seek the advantageous. Both natural affections can be supernaturalized, the “affection for justice” by charity, inclining us to love God above all and for his own sake; the affection for the advantageous by the virtue of hope, inclining us to love God as our ultimate good and future source of beatitude. Another influential psychological theory is that of intuitive intellectual cognition, or the simple, non-judgmental awareness of a hereand-now existential situation. First developed as a necessary theological condition for the face-toface vision of God in the next life, intellectual intuition is needed to explain our certainty of primary contingent truths, such as “I think,” “I choose,” etc., and our awareness of existence. Unlike Ockham, Duns Scotus never made intellectual intuition the basis for his epistemology, nor believed it puts one in direct contact with any extramental substance material or spiritual, for in this life, at least, our intellect works through the sensory imagination. Intellectual intuition seems to be that indistinct peripheral aura associated with each direct sensory-intellectual cognition. We know of it explicitly only in retrospect when we consider the necessary conditions for intellectual memory. It continued to be a topic of discussion and dispute down to the time of Calvin, who, influenced by the Scotist John Major, used an auditory rather than a visual sense model of intellectual intuition to explain our “experience of God.”  haecceity from Latin haec, ‘this’, 1 loosely, thisness; more specifically, an irreducible category of being, the fundamental actuality of an existent entity; or 2 an individual essence, a property an object has necessarily, without which it would not be or would cease to exist as the individual it is, and which, necessarily, no other object has. There are in the history of philosophy two distinct concepts of haecceity. The idea originated with the work of the thirteenthcentury philosopher Duns Scotus, and was discussed in the same period by Aquinas, as a positive perfection that serves as a primitive existence and individuation principle for concrete existents. In the seventeenth century Leibniz transformed the concept of haecceity, which Duns Scotus had explicitly denied to be a form or universal, into the notion of an individual essence, a distinctive nature or set of necessary characteristics uniquely identifying it under the principle of the identity of indiscernibles. 359 H    AM  359 Duns Scotus’s haecceitas applies only to the being of contingently existent entities in the actual world, but Leibniz extends the principle to individuate particular things not only through the changes they may undergo in the actual world, but in any alternative logically possible world. Leibniz admitted as a consequence the controversial thesis that every object by virtue of its haecceity has each of its properties essentially or necessarily, so that only the counterparts of individuals can inhabit distinct logically possible worlds. A further corollary  since the possession of particular parts in a particular arrangement is also a property and hence involved in the individual essence of any complex object  is the doctrine of mereological essentialism: every composite is necessarily constituted by a particular configuration of particular proper parts, and loses its self-identity if any parts are removed or replaced. 

Haeckel, Ernst 18349, G. zoologist, an impassioned adherent of Darwin’s theory of evolution. His popular work Die Welträtsel The Riddle of the Universe, 9 became a best-seller and was very influential in its time. Lenin is said to have admired it. Haeckel’s philosophy, which he called monism, is characterized negatively by his rejection of free will, immortality, and theism, as well as his criticisms of the traditional forms of materialism and idealism. Positively it is distinguished by passionate arguments for the fundamental unity of organic and inorganic nature and a form of pantheism.

Ha-Levi, Judah c.10751141,  Jewish philosopher and poet. Born in Toledo, he studied biblical and rabbinical literature as well as philosophy. His poetry introduces Arabic forms in Hebrew religious expression. He was traveling to Jerusalem on a pilgrimage when he died. His most important philosophical work is Kuzari: The Book of Proof and Argument of the Despised Faith, which purports to be a discussion of a Christian, a Muslim, and a Jew, each offering the king of the Khazars in southern Russia reasons for adopting his faith. Around 740 the historical king and most of his people converted to Judaism. HaLevi presents the Christian and the Muslim as Aristotelian thinkers, who fail to convince the king. The Jewish spokesman begins by asserting his belief in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of history who is continuously active in history, rather than the God of the philosophers. Jewish history is the inner core of world history. From the revelation at Sinai, the most witnessed divine event claimed by any religion, the Providential history of the Jews is the way God has chosen to make his message clear to all humankind. Ha-Levi’s view is the classical expression of Jewish particularism and nationalism. His ideas have been influential in Judaism and were early printed in Latin and . 

Hamann, Johann Georg 173088, G. philosopher. Born and educated in Königsberg, Hamann, known as the Magus of the North, was one of the most important Christian thinkers in G.y during the second half of the eighteenth century. Advocating an irrationalistic theory of faith inspired by Hume, he opposed the prevailing Enlightenment philosophy. He was a mentor of the Sturm und Drang literary movement and had a significant influence on Jacobi, Hegel, and Kierkegaard. As a close acquaintance of Kant, he also had a great impact on the development of Kant’s critical philosophy through his Hume translations. Hamann’s most important works, criticized and admired for their difficult and obscure style, were the Socratic Memorabilia 1759, Aesthetica in nuce “Aesthetics in a Nutshell,” 1762, and several works on language. He suppressed his “metacritical” writings out of respect for Kant. However, they were published after his death and now constitute the bestknown part of his work. M.K. Hamilton, William 17881856, Scottish philosopher and logician. Born in Glasgow and educated at Glasgow, Edinburgh, and Oxford, he was for most of his life professor at the  of Edinburgh 182156. Though hardly an orthodox or uncritical follower of Reid and Stewart, he became one of the most important members of the school of Scottish common sense philosophy. His “philosophy of the conditioned” has a somewhat Kantian flavor. Like Kant, he held that we can have knowledge only of “the relative manifestations of an existence, which in itself it is our highest wisdom to recogHaeckel, Ernst Hamilton, William 360    AM  360 nize as beyond the reach of philosophy.” Unlike Kant, however, he argued for the position of a “natural realism” in the Reidian tradition. The doctrine of the relativity of knowledge has seemed to many  including J. S. Mill  contradictory to his realism. For Hamilton, the two are held together by a kind of intuitionism that emphasizes certain facts of consciousness that are both primitive and incomprehensible. They are, though constitutive of knowledge, “less forms of cognitions than of beliefs.” In logic he argued for a doctrine involving quantification of predicates and the view that propositions can be reduced to equations. 

Hampshireism: To add to the philosophers’ mistakes. There’s Austin (in “Plea for Excuses” and “Other Minds”), Strawson (in “Truth” and “Introduction to Logical Theory,” and “On referring”), Hart (in conversation, on ‘carefully,”), Hare (“To say ‘x is good’ is to recommend x”) and Hampshire (“Intention and certainty”). For Grice, the certainty is merely implicated and on occasion, only.  Cited by Grice as a member of the play group. Hampshire would dine once a week with Grice. He would discuss and find very amusing to discuss with Grice on post-war Oxford philosophy. Unlike Grice, Hampshire attended Austin’s Thursday evening meetings at All Souls. Grice wrote “Intention and uncertainty” in part as a response to Hampshire and Hart, Intention and certainty. But Grice brought the issue back to an earlier generation, to a polemic between Stout (who held a certainty-based view) and Prichard.

hare: r. m. citd by H. P. Grice, “Hare’s neustrics”. b.9, English philosopher who is one of the most influential moral philosophers of the twentieth century and the developer of prescriptivism in metaethics. Hare was educated at Rugby and Oxford, then served in the British army during World War II and spent years as a prisoner of war in Burma. In 7 he took a position at Balliol  and was appointed White’s Professor of Moral Philosophy at the  of Oxford in 6. On retirement from Oxford, he became Graduate Research Professor at the  of Florida 393. His major books are Language of Morals 3, Freedom and Reason 3, Moral Thinking 1, and Sorting Out Ethics 7. Many collections of his essays have also appeared, and a collection of other leading philosophers’ articles on his work was published in 8 Hare and Critics, eds. Seanor and Fotion. According to Hare, a careful exploration of the nature of our moral concepts reveals that nonironic judgments about what one morally ought to do are expressions of the will, or commitments to act, that are subject to certain logical constraints. Because moral judgments are prescriptive, we cannot sincerely subscribe to them while refusing to comply with them in the relevant circumstances. Because moral judgments are universal prescriptions, we cannot sincerely subscribe to them unless we are willing for them to be followed were we in other people’s positions with their preferences. Hare later contended that vividly to imagine ourselves completely in other people’s positions involves our acquiring preferences about what should happen to us in those positions that mirror exactly what those people now want for themselves. So, ideally, we decide on a universal prescription on the basis of not only our existing preferences about the actual situation but also the new preferences we would have if we were wholly in other people’s positions. What we can prescribe universally is what maximizes net satisfaction of this amalgamated set of preferences. Hence, Hare concluded that his theory of moral judgment leads to preference-satisfaction act utilitarianism. However, like most other utilitarians, he argued that the best way to maximize utility is to have, and generally to act on, certain not directly utilitarian dispositions  such as dispositions not to hurt others or steal, to keep promises and tell the truth, to take special responsibility for one’s own family, and so on. 

Harris, philosopher of language – classical. Grice adored him. Cf. Tooke. Cf. Priestley and Hartley – all pre-Griceian philosohers of language that are somehow outside the canon, when they shouldn’t. They are very Old World, and it’s the influence of the New World that has made them sort of disappear! That’s what Grice said!

hart: h. l. a. – cited by Grice, “Hare on ‘carefully.’ Philosopher of European ancestry born in Yorkshire, principally responsible for the revival of legal and political philosophy after World War II. After wartime work with military intelligence, Hart gave up a flourishing law practice to join the Oxford faculty, where he was a brilliant lecturer, a sympathetic and insightful critic, and a generous mentor to many scholars. Like the earlier “legal positivists” Bentham and John Austin, Hart accepted the “separation of law and morals”: moral standards can deliberately be incorporated in law, but there is no automatic or necessary connection between law and sound moral principles. In The Concept of Law 1 he critiqued the Bentham-Austin notion that laws are orders backed by threats from a political community’s “sovereign”  some person or persons who enjoy habitual obedience and are habitually obedient to no other human  and developed the more complex idea that law is a “union of primary and secondary rules.” Hart agreed that a legal system must contain some “obligation-imposing” “primary” rules, restricting freedom. But he showed that law also includes independent “power-conferring” rules that facilitate choice, and he demonstrated that a legal system requires “secondary” rules that create public offices and authorize official action, such as legislation and adjudication, as well as “rules of recognition” that determine which other rules are valid in the system. Hart held that rules of law are “open-textured,” with a core of determinate meaning and a fringe of indeterminate meaning, and thus capable of answering some but not all legal questions that can arise. He doubted courts’ claims to discover law’s meaning when reasonable competing interpretations are available, and held that courts decide such “hard cases” by first performing the important “legislative” function of filling gaps in the law. Hart’s first book was an influential study with A. M. Honoré of Causation in the Law 9. His inaugural lecture as Professor of Jurisprudence, “Definition and Theory in Jurisprudence” 3, initiated a career-long study of rights, reflected also in Essays on Bentham: Studies in Jurisprudence and Political Theory 2 and in Essays in Jurisprudence and Philosophy 3. He defended liberal public policies. In Law, Liberty and Morality 3 he refuted Lord Devlin’s contention that a society justifiably enforces the code of its moral majority, whatever it might be. In The Morality of the Criminal Law 5 and in Punishment and Responsibility 8, Hart contributed substantially to both analytic and normative theories of crime and punishment. 

Hartley, David 170557, British physician and philosopher. Although the notion of association of ideas is ancient, he is generally regarded as the founder of associationism as a self-sufficient psychology. Despite similarities between his association psychology and Hume’s, Hartley developed his system independently, acknowledging only the writings of clergyman John Gay 1699 1745. Hartley was one of many Enlightenment thinkers aspiring to be “Newtons of the mind,” in Peter Gay’s phrase. In Hartley, this took the form of uniting association philosophy with physiology, a project later brought to fruition by Bain. His major work, Observations on Man 1749, pictured mental events and neural events as operating on parallel tracks in which neural events cause mental events. On the mental side, Hartley distinguished like Hume between sensation and idea. On the physiological side, Hartley adopted Newton’s conception of nervous transmission by vibrations of a fine granular substance within nerve-tubes. Vibrations within sensory nerves peripheral to the brain corresponded to the sensations they caused, while small vibrations in the brain, vibratiuncles, corresponded to ideas. Hartley proposed a single law of association, contiguity modified by frequency, which took two forms, one for the mental side and one for the neural: ideas, or vibratiuncles, occurring together regularly become associated. Hartley distinguished between simultaneous association, the link between ideas that occur at the same harmony, preestablished Hartley, David 362    AM  362 moment, and successive association, between ideas that closely succeed one another. Successive associations occur only in a forward direction; there are no backward associations, a thesis generating much controversy in the later experimental study of memory.  A

Hartmann, Eduard von 18426, G. philosopher who sought to synthesize the thought of Schelling, Hegel, and Schopenhauer. The most important of his fifteen books was Philosophie des Unbewussten Philosophy of the Unconscious, 1869. For Hartmann both will and idea are interrelated and are expressions of an absolute “thing-in-itself,” the unconscious. The unconscious is the active essence in natural and psychic processes and is the teleological dynamic in organic life. Paradoxically, he claimed that the teleology immanent in the world order and the life process leads to insight into the irrationality of the “will-to-live.” The maturation of rational consciousness would, he held, lead to the negation of the total volitional process and the entire world process would cease. Ideas indicate the “what” of existence and constitute, along with will and the unconscious, the three modes of being. Despite its pessimism, this work enjoyed considerable popularity. Hartmann was an unusual combination of speculative idealist and philosopher of science defending vitalism and attacking mechanistic materialism; his pessimistic ethics was part of a cosmic drama of redemption. Some of his later works dealt with a critical form of Darwinism that led him to adopt a positive evolutionary stance that undermined his earlier pessimism. His general philosophical position was selfdescribed as “transcendental realism.” His Philosophy of the Unconscious was tr. into English by W. C. Coupland in three volumes in 4. There is little doubt that his metaphysics of the unconscious prepared the way for Freud’s later theory of the unconscious mind. 

Hartmann, Nicolai 20, Latvian-born G. philosopher. He taught at the universities of Marburg, Cologne, Berlin, and Göttingen, and wrote more than a dozen major works on the history of philosophy, ontology, epistemology, ethics, and aesthetics. A realist in epistemology and ontology, Hartmann held that cognition is the apprehension of something independent of the act of apprehension or any other mental events. An accurate phenomenology, such as Husserl’s, would acknowledge, according to him, that we apprehend not only particular, spatiotemporal objects, but also “ideal objects,” “essences,” which Hartmann explicitly identified with Platonic Forms. Among these are ethical values and the objects of mathematics and logic. Our apprehension of values is emotional in character, as Scheler had held. This point is compatible with their objectivity and their mindindependence, since the emotions are just another mode of apprehension. The point applies, however, only to ethical values. Aesthetic values are essentially subjective; they exist only for the subject experiencing them. The number of ethical values is far greater than usually supposed, nor are they derivable from a single fundamental value. At best we only glimpse some of them, and even these may not be simultaneously realizable. This explains and to some extent justifies the existence of moral disagreement, between persons as well as between whole cultures. Hartmann was most obviously influenced by Plato, Husserl, and Scheler. But he was a major, original philosopher in his own right. He has received less recognition than he deserves probably because his views were quite different from those dominant in recent Anglo- philosophy or in recent Continental philosophy. What is perhaps his most important work, Ethics, was published in G. in 6, one year before Heidegger’s Being and Time, and appeared in English in 2. 

Hartshorne, Charles b.7, chief  exponent of process philosophy and theology in the late twentieth century. After receiving the Ph.D. at Harvard in 3 he came under the influence of Whitehead, and later, with Paul Weiss, edited The Collected Papers of C. S. Peirce 135. In The Philosophy and Psychology of Sensation 4 Hartshorne argued that all sensations are feelings on an affective continuum. These ideas were later incorporated into a neoclassical metaphysic that is panpsychist, indeterministic, and theistic. Nature is a theater of interactions among ephemeral centers of creative activity, each of which becomes objectively immortal in the memory of God. In Man’s Vision of God 1 Hartshorne chastised philosophers for being insufficiently attentive to the varieties of theism. His alternative, called dipolar theism, also defended in The Divine Hartmann, Eduard von Hartshorne, Charles 363    AM  363 Relativity 8, pictures God as supremely related to and perfectly responding to every actuality. The universe is God’s body. The divine is, in different respects, infinite and finite, eternal and temporal, necessary and contingent. Establishing God’s existence is a metaphysical project, which Hartshorne characterizes in Creative Synthesis 0 as the search for necessary truths about existence. The central element in his cumulative case for God’s existence, called the global argument, is a modal version of the ontological argument, which Hartshorne was instrumental in rehabilitating in The Logic of Perfection 2 and Anselm’s Discovery 5. Creative Synthesis also articulated the theory that aesthetic values are the most universal and that beauty is a mean between the twin extremes of order/disorder and simplicity/complexity. The Zero Fallacy 7, Hartshorne’s twentieth book, summarized his assessment of the history of philosophy  also found in Insights and Oversights of Great Thinkers 3 and Creativity in  Philosophy 4  and introduced important refinements of his metaphysics. 

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.

hedonism, the view that pleasure including the absence of pain is the sole intrinsic good in life. The hedonist may hold that, questions of morality aside, persons inevitably do seek pleasure psychological hedonism; that, questions of psychology aside, morally we should seek pleasure ethical hedonism; or that we inevitably do, and ought to, seek pleasure ethical and psychological hedonism combined. Psychological hedonism itself admits of a variety of possible forms. One may hold, e.g., that all motivation is based on the prospect of present or future pleasure. More plausibly, some philosophers have held that all choices of future actions are based on one’s presently taking greater pleasure in the thought of doing one act rather than another. Still a third type of hedonism  with roots in empirical psychology  is that the attainment of pleasure is the primary drive of a wide range of organisms including human beings and is responsible, through some form of conditioning, for all acquired motivations. Ethical hedonists may, but need not, appeal to some form of psychological hedonism to buttress their case. For, at worst, the truth of some form of psychological hedonism makes ethical hedonism empty or inescapable  but not false. As a value theory a theory of what is ultimately good, ethical hedonism has typically led to one or the other of two conceptions of morally correct action. Both of these are expressions of moral consequentialism in that they judge actions strictly by their consequences. On standard formulations of utilitarianism, actions are judged by the amount of pleasure they produce for all sentient beings; on some formulations of egoist views, actions are judged by their consequences for one’s own pleasure. Neither egoism nor utilitarianism, however, must be wedded to a hedonistic value theory. A hedonistic value theory admits of a variety of claims about the characteristic sources and types of pleasure. One contentious issue has been what activities yield the greatest quantity of pleasure  with prominent candidates including philosophical and other forms of intellectual discourse, the contemplation of beauty, and activities productive of “the pleasures of the senses.” Most philosophical hedonists, despite the popular associations of the word, have not espoused sensual pleasure. Another issue, famously raised by J. S. Mill, is whether such different varieties of pleasure admit of differences of quality as well as quantity. Even supposing them to be equal in quantity, can we say, e.g., that the pleasures of intellectual activity are superior in quality to those of watching sports on television? And if we do say such things, are we departing from strict hedonism by introducing a value distinction not really based on pleasure at all? Most philosophers have found hedonism  both psychological and ethical  exaggerated in its claims. One difficulty for both sorts of hedonism is the hedonistic paradox, which may be put as follows. Many of the deepest and best pleasures of life of love, of child rearing, of work seem to come most often to those who are engaging in an activity for reasons other than pleasure seeking. Hence, not only is it dubious that we always in fact seek or value only pleasure, but also dubious that the best way to achieve pleasure is to seek it. Another area of difficulty concerns happiness  and its relation to pleasure. In the tradition of Aristotle, happiness is broadly understood as something like well-being and has been viewed, not implausibly, as a kind of natural end of all human activities. But ‘happiness’ in this sense is broader than ‘pleasure’, insofar as the latter designates a particular kind of feeling, whereas ‘well-being’ does not. Attributions of happiness, moreover, appear to be normative in a way in which attributions of pleasure are not. It is thought that a truly happy person has achieved, is achieving, or stands to achieve, certain things respecting the “truly important” concerns of human life. Of course, such achievements will characteristically produce pleasant feelings; but, just as characteristically, they will involve states of active enjoyment of activities  where, as Aristotle first pointed out, there are no distinctive feelings of pleasure apart from the doing of the activity itself. In short, the Aristotelian thesis that happiness is the natural end of all human activities, even if it is true, does not seem to lend much support to hedonism  psychological or ethical. 

Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 17701831, one of the most influential and systematic of the G. idealists, also well known for his philosophy of history and philosophy of religion. Life and works. Hegel, the eldest of three children, was born in Stuttgart, the son of a minor financial official in the court of the Duchy of Württemberg. His mother died when he was eleven. At eighteen, he began attending the theology seminary or Stift attached to the  at Tübingen; he studied theology and classical languages and literature and became friendly with his future colleague and adversary, Schelling, as well as the great genius of G. Romantic poetry, Hölderlin. In 1793, upon graduation, he accepted a job as a tutor for a family in Bern, and moved to Frankfurt in 1797 for a similar post. In 1799 his father bequeathed him a modest income and the freedom to resign his tutoring job, pursue his own work, and attempt to establish himself in a  position. In 1801, with the help of Schelling, he moved to the  town of Jena, already widely known as the home of Schiller, Fichte, and the Schlegel brothers. After lecturing for a few years, he became a professor in 1805. Prior to the move to Jena, Hegel’s essays had been chiefly concerned with problems in morality, the theory of culture, and the philosophy of religion. Hegel shared with Rousseau and the G. Romantics many doubts about the political and moral implications of the European Enlightenment and modern philosophy in general, even while he still enthusiastically championed what he termed the principle of modernity, “absolute freedom.” Like many, he feared that the modern attack on feudal political and religious authority would merely issue in the reformulation of new internalized and still repressive forms of authority. And he was among that legion of G. intellectuals infatuated with ancient Greece and the superiority of their supposedly harmonious social life, compared with the authoritarian and legalistic character of the Jewish and later Christian religions. At Jena, however, he coedited a journal with Schelling, The Critical Journal of Philosophy, and came to work much more on the philosophic issues created by the critical philosophy or “transcendental idealism” of Kant, and its legacy in the work of Rheinhold, Fichte, and Schelling. His written work became much more influenced by these theoretical projects and their attempt to extend Kant’s search for the basic categories necessary for experience to be discriminated and evaluated, and for a theory of the subject that, in some non-empirical way, was responsible for such categories. Problems concerning the completeness, interrelation, and ontological status of such a categorial structure were quite prominent, along with a continuing interest in the relation between a free, self-determining agent and the supposed constraints of moral principles and other agents. In his early years at Jena especially before Schelling left in 1803, he was particularly preoccupied with this problem of a systematic philosophy, a way of accounting for the basic categories of the natural world and for human practical activity that would ground all such categories on commonly presupposed and logically interrelated, even interdeducible, principles. In Hegel’s terms, this was the problem of the relation between a “Logic” and a “Philosophy of Nature” and “Philosophy of Spirit.” After 1803, however, while he was preparing his own systematic philosophy for publication, what had been planned as a short introduction to this system took on a life of its own and grew into one of Hegel’s most provocative and influential books. Working at a furious pace, he finished hedonistic paradox Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 365    AM  365 what would be eventually called The Phenomenology of Spirit in a period of great personal and political turmoil. During the final writing of the book, he had learned that Christina Burkhard would give birth to his illegitimate son. Ludwig was born in February 1807. And he is supposed to have completed the text on October 13, 1807, the day Napoleon’s armies captured Jena. It was certainly an unprecedented work. In conception, it is about the human race itself as a developing, progressively more self-conscious subject, but its content seems to take in a vast, heterogeneous range of topics, from technical issues in empiricist epistemology to the significance of burial rituals. Its range is so heterogeneous that there is controversy to this day about whether it has any overall unity, or whether it was pieced together at the last minute. Adding to the interpretive problem, Hegel often invented his own striking language of “inverted worlds,” “struggles to the death for recognition,” “unhappy consciousness,” “spiritual animal kingdoms,” and “beautiful souls.” Continuing his  career at Jena in those times looked out of the question, so Hegel accepted a job at Bamberg editing a newspaper, and in the following year began an eight-year stint 180816 as headmaster and philosophy teacher at a Gymnasium or secondary school at Nürnberg. During this period, at forty-one, he married the twenty-year-old Marie von Tucher. He also wrote what is easily his most difficult work, and the one he often referred to as his most important, a magisterial two-volume Science of Logic, which attempts to be a philosophical account of the concepts necessary in all possible kinds of account-givings. Finally, in 1816, Hegel was offered a chair in philosophy at the  of Heidelberg, where he published the first of several versions of his Encyclopedia of the Philosophical Sciences, his own systematic account of the relation between the “logic” of human thought and the “real” expression of such interrelated categories in our understanding of the natural world and in our understanding and evaluation of our own activities. In 1818, he accepted the much more prestigious post in philosophy at Berlin, where he remained until his death in 1831. Soon after his arrival in Berlin, he began to exert a powerful influence over G. letters and intellectual life. In 1821, in the midst of a growing political and nationalist crisis in Prussia, he published his controversial book on political philosophy, The Philosophy of Right. His lectures at the  were later published as his philosophy of history, of aesthetics, and of religion, and as his history of philosophy. Philosophy. Hegel’s most important ideas were formed gradually, in response to a number of issues in philosophy and often in response to historical events. Moreover, his language and approach were so heterodox that he has inspired as much controversy about the meaning of his position as about its adequacy. Hence any summary will be as much a summary of the controversies as of the basic position. His dissatisfactions with the absence of a public realm, or any forms of genuine social solidarity in the G. states and in modernity generally, and his distaste with what he called the “positivity” of the orthodox religions of the day their reliance on law, scripture, and abstract claims to authority, led him to various attempts to make use of the Grecian polis and classical art, as well as the early Christian understanding of love and a renewed “folk religion,” as critical foils to such tendencies. For some time, he also regarded much traditional and modern philosophy as itself a kind of lifeless classifying that only contributed to contemporary fragmentation, myopia, and confusion. These concerns remained with him throughout his life, and he is thus rightly known as one of the first modern thinkers to argue that what had come to be accepted as the central problem of modern social and political life, the legitimacy of state power, had been too narrowly conceived. There are now all sorts of circumstances, he argued, in which people might satisfy the modern criterion of legitimacy and “consent” to the use of some power, but not fully understand the terms within which such issues are posed, or assent in an attenuated, resentful, manipulated, or confused way. In such cases they would experience no connection between their individual will and the actual content of the institutions they are supposed to have sanctioned. The modern problem is as much alienation Entfremdung as sovereignty, an exercise of will in which the product of one’s will appears “strange” or “alien,” “other,” and which results in much of modern life, however chosen or willed, being fundamentally unsatisfying. However, during the Jena years, his views on this issue changed. Most importantly, philosophical issues moved closer to center stage in the Hegelian drama. He no longer regarded philosophy as some sort of self-undermining activity that merely prepared one for some leap into genuine “speculation” roughly Schelling’s position Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 366    AM  366 and began to champion a unique kind of comprehensive, very determinate reflection on the interrelations among all the various classical alternatives in philosophy. Much more controversially, he also attempted to understand the way in which such relations and transitions were also reflected in the history of the art, politics, and religions of various historical communities. He thus came to think that philosophy should be some sort of recollection of its past history, a realization of the mere partiality, rather than falsity, of its past attempts at a comprehensive teaching, and an account of the centrality of these continuously developing attempts in the development of other human practices.Through understanding the “logic” of such a development, a reconciliation of sorts with the implications of such a rational process in contemporary life, or at least with the potentialities inherent in contemporary life, would be possible. In all such influences and developments, one revolutionary aspect of Hegel’s position became clearer. For while Hegel still frequently argued that the subject matter of philosophy was “reason,” or “the Absolute,” the unconditioned presupposition of all human account-giving and evaluation, and thereby an understanding of the “whole” within which the natural world and human deeds were “parts,” he also always construed this claim to mean that the subject matter of philosophy was the history of human experience itself. Philosophy was about the real world of human change and development, understood by Hegel to be the collective self-education of the human species about itself. It could be this, and satisfy the more traditional ideals because, in one of his most famous phrases, “what is actual is rational,” or because some full account could be given of the logic or teleological order, even the necessity, for the great conceptual and political changes in human history. We could thereby finally reassure ourselves that the way our species had come to conceptualize and evaluate is not finite or contingent, but is “identical” with “what there is, in truth.” This identity theory or Absolute Knowledgemeans that we will then be able to be “at home” in the world and so will have understood what philosophers have always tried to understand, “how things in the broadest possible sense of the term hang together in the broadest possible sense of the term.” The way it all hangs together is, finally, “due to us,” in some collective and historical and “logical” sense. In a much disputed passage in his Philosophy of Religion lectures, Hegel even suggested that with such an understanding, history itself would be over. Several elements in this general position have inspired a good deal of excitement and controversy. To advance claims such as these Hegel had to argue against a powerful, deeply influential assumption in modern thought: the priority of the individual, self-conscious subject. Such an assumption means, for example, that almost all social relations, almost all our bonds to other human beings, exist because and only because they are made, willed into existence by individuals otherwise naturally unattached to each other. With respect to knowledge claims, while there may be many beliefs in a common tradition that we unreflectively share with others, such shared beliefs are also taken primarily to be the result of individuals continuously affirming such beliefs, however implicitly or unreflectively. Their being shared is simply a consequence of their being simultaneously affirmed or assented to by individuals. Hegel’s account requires a different picture, an insistence on the priority of some kind of collective subject, which he called human “spirit” or Geist. His general theory of conceptual and historical change requires the assumption of such a collective subject, one that even can be said to be “coming to self-consciousness” about itself, and this required that he argue against the view that so much could be understood as the result of individual will and reflection. Rather, he tried in many different ways to show that the formation of what might appear to an individual to be his or her own particular intention or desire or belief already reflected a complex social inheritance that could itself be said to be evolving, even evolving progressively, with a “logic” of its own. The completion of such collective attempts at self-knowledge resulted in what Hegel called the realization of Absolute Spirit, by which he either meant the absolute completion of the human attempt to know itself, or the realization in human affairs of some sort of extrahuman transcendence, or full expression of an infinite God. Hegel tried to advance all such claims about social subjectivity without in some way hypostatizing or reifying such a subject, as if it existed independently of the actions and thoughts of individuals. This claim about the deep dependence of individuals on one another even for their very identity, even while they maintain their independence, is one of the best-known examples of Hegel’s attempt at a dialectical resolution of many of the traditional oppositions and antinomies of past thought. Hegel often argued that what appeared to be contraries in philosophy, such as mind/body, freedom/determinism, idealism/materialism, universal/particular, the state/the individual, or even God/man, appeared such incompatible alternatives only because of the undeveloped and so incomplete perspective within which the oppositions were formulated. So, in one of his more famous attacks on such dualisms, human freedom according to Hegel could not be understood coherently as some purely rational self-determination, independent of heteronomous impulses, nor the human being as a perpetual opposition between reason and sensibility. In his moral theory, Kant had argued for the latter view and Hegel regularly returned to such Kantian claims about the opposition of duty and inclination as deeply typical of modern dualism. Hegel claimed that Kant’s version of a rational principle, the “categorical imperative,” was so formal and devoid of content as not to be action-guiding it could not coherently rule in or rule out the appropriate actions, and that the “moral point of view” rigoristically demanded a pure or dutiful motivation to which no human agent could conform. By contrast, Hegel claimed that the dualisms of morality could be overcome in ethical life Sittlichkeit, those modern social institutions which, it was claimed, provided the content or true “objects” of a rational will. These institutions, the family, civil society, and the state, did not require duties in potential conflict with our own substantive ends, but were rather experienced as the “realization” of our individual free will. It has remained controversial what for Hegel a truly free, rational self-determination, continuous with, rather than constraining, our desire for happiness and self-actualization, amounted to. Many commentators have noted that, among modern philosophers, only Spinoza, whom Hegel greatly admired, was as insistent on such a thoroughgoing compatibilism, and on a refusal to adopt the Christian view of human beings as permanently divided against themselves. In his most ambitious analysis of such oppositions Hegel went so far as to claim that, not only could alternatives be shown to be ultimately compatible when thought together within some higher-order “Notion” Begriff that resolved or “sublated” the opposition, but that one term in such opposition could actually be said to imply or require its contrary, that a “positing” of such a notion would, to maintain consistency, require its own “negating,” and that it was this sort of dialectical opposition that could be shown to require a sublation, or Aufhebung a term of art in Hegel that simultaneously means in G. ‘to cancel’, ‘to preserve’, and ‘to raise up’. This claim for a dialectical development of our fundamental notions has been the most severely criticized in Hegel’s philosophy. Many critics have doubted that so much basic conceptual change can be accounted for by an internal critique, one that merely develops the presuppositions inherent in the affirmation of some notion or position or related practice. This issue has especially attracted critics of Hegel’s Science of Logic, where he tries first to show that the attempt to categorize anything that is, simply and immediately, as “Being,” is an attempt that both “negates itself,” or ends up categorizing everything as “Nothing,” and then that this self-negation requires a resolution in the higher-order category of “Becoming.” This analysis continues into an extended argument that purports to show that any attempt to categorize anything at all must ultimately make use of the distinctions of “essence” and “appearance,” and elements of syllogistic and finally Hegel’s own dialectical logic, and both the details and the grand design of that project have been the subject of a good deal of controversy. Unfortunately, much of this controversy has been greatly confused by the popular association of the terms “thesis,” “antithesis,” and “synthesis” with Hegel’s theory of dialectic. These crude, mechanical notions were invented in 1837 by a less-than-sensitive Hegel expositor, Heinrich Moritz Chalybäus, and were never used as terms of art by Hegel. Others have argued that the tensions Hegel does identify in various positions and practices require a much broader analysis of the historical, especially economic, context within which positions are formulated and become important, or some more detailed attention to the empirical discoveries or paradoxes that, at the very least, contribute to basic conceptual change. Those worried about the latter problem have also raised questions about the logical relation between universal and particular implied in Hegel’s account. Hegel, following Fichte, radicalizes a Kantian claim about the inaccessibility of pure particularity in sensations Kant had written that “intuitions without concepts are blind”. Hegel charges that Kant did not draw sufficiently radical conclusions from such an antiempiricist claim, that he should have completely rethought the traditional distinction between “what was given to the mind” and “what the mind did with the given.” By contrast Hegel is confident that he has a theory of a “concrete universal,” concepts that cannot be understood as pale generalizations or abstract representations of given particulars, because they are required for particulars to Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 368    AM  368 be apprehended in the first place. They are not originally dependent on an immediate acquaintance with particulars; there is no such acquaintance. Critics wonder if Hegel has much of a theory of particularity left, if he does not claim rather that particulars, or whatever now corresponds to them, are only interrelations of concepts, and in which the actual details of the organization of the natural world and human history are deduced as conceptual necessities in Hegel’s Encyclopedia. This interpretation of Hegel, that he believes all entities are really the thoughts, expressions, or modes of a single underlying mental substance, and that this mind develops and posits itself with some sort of conceptual necessity, has been termed a panlogicism, a term of art coined by Hermann Glockner, a Hegel commentator in the first half of the twentieth century. It is a much-disputed reading. Such critics are especially concerned with the implications of this issue in Hegel’s political theory, where the great modern opposition between the state and the individual seems subjected to this same logic, and the individual’s true individuality is said to reside in and only in the political universal, the State. Thus, on the one hand, Hegel’s political philosophy is often praised for its early identification and analysis of a fundamental, new aspect of contemporary life  the categorically distinct realm of political life in modernity, or the independence of the “State” from the social world of private individuals engaged in competition and private association “civil society”. But, on the other hand, his attempt to argue for a completion of these domains in the State, or that individuals could only be said to be free in allegiance to a State, has been, at least since Marx, one of the most criticized aspects of his philosophy. Finally, criticisms also frequently target the underlying intention behind such claims: Hegel’s career-long insistence on finding some basic unity among the many fragmented spheres of modern thought and existence, and his demand that this unity be articulated in a discursive account, that it not be merely felt, or gestured at, or celebrated in edifying speculation. PostHegelian thinkers have tended to be suspicious of any such intimations of a whole for modern experience, and have argued that, with the destruction of the premodern world, we simply have to content ourselves with the disconnected, autonomous spheres of modern interests. In his lecture courses these basic themes are treated in wide-ranging accounts of the basic institutions of cultural history. History itself is treated as fundamentally political history, and, in typically Hegelian fashion, the major epochs of political history are claimed to be as they were because of the internal inadequacies of past epochs, all until some final political semiconsciousness is achieved and realized. Art is treated equally developmentally, evolving from symbolic, through “classical,” to the most intensely self-conscious form of aesthetic subjectivity, romantic art. The Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion embody these themes in some of the most controversial ways, since Hegel often treats religion and its development as a kind of picture or accessible “representation” of his own views about the relation of thought to being, the proper understanding of human finitude and “infinity,” and the essentially social or communal nature of religious life. This has inspired a characteristic debate among Hegel scholars, with some arguing that Hegel’s appropriation of religion shows that his own themes are essentially religious if an odd, pantheistic version of Christianity, while others argue that he has so Hegelianized religious issues that there is little distinctively religious left. Influence. This last debate is typical of that prominent in the post-Hegelian tradition. Although, in the decades following his death, there was a great deal of work by self-described Hegelians on the history of law, on political philosophy, and on aesthetics, most of the prominent academic defenders of Hegel were interested in theology, and many of these were interested in defending an interpretation of Hegel consistent with traditional Christian views of a personal God and personal immortality. This began to change with the work of “young Hegelians” such as D. F. Strauss 180874, Feuerbach 180472, Bruno Bauer 180982, and Arnold Ruge 180380, who emphasized the humanistic and historical dimensions of Hegel’s account of religion, rejected the Old Hegelian tendencies toward a reconciliation with contemporary political life, and began to reinterpret and expand Hegel’s account of the productive activity of human spirit eventually focusing on labor rather than intellectual and cultural life. Strauss himself characterized the fight as between “left,” “center,” and “right” Hegelians, depending on whether one was critical or conservative politically, or had a theistic or a humanistic view of Hegelian Geist. The most famous young or left Hegelian was Marx, especially during his days in Paris as coeditor, with Ruge, of the Deutsch-französischen Jahrbücher 1844. Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 369    AM  369 In Great Britain, with its long skeptical, empiricist, and utilitarian tradition, Hegel’s work had little influence until the latter part of the nineteenth century, when philosophers such as Green and Caird took up some of the holistic themes in Hegel and developed a neo-Hegelian reading of issues in politics and religion that began to have influence in the academy. The most prominent of the British neo-Hegelians of the next generation were Bosanquet, McTaggart, and especially Bradley, all of whom were interested in many of the metaphysical implications of Hegel’s idealism, what they took to be a Hegelian claim for the “internally related” interconnection of all particulars within one single, ideal or mental, substance. Moore and Russell waged a hugely successful counterattack in the name of traditional empiricism and what would be called “analytic philosophy” against such an enterprise and in this tradition largely finished off the influence of Hegel or what was left of the historical Hegel in these neo-Hegelian versions. In G.y, Hegel has continued to influence a number of different schools of neo-Marxism, sometimes itself simply called “Hegelian Marxism,” especially the Frankfurt School, or “critical theory” group especially Adorno, Horkheimer, and Marcuse. And he has been extremely influential in France, particularly thanks to the lectures of a brilliant if idiosyncratic Russian émigré, Alexander Kojève, who taught Hegel in the 0s at the École Pratique des Hautes Études to the likes of Merleau-Ponty and Lacan. Kojève was as much influenced by Marx and Heidegger as Hegel, but his lectures inspired many thinkers to turn again to Hegel’s account of human selfdefinition in time and to the historicity of all institutions and practices and so forged an unusual link between Hegel and postwar existentialism. Hegelian themes continue to resurface in contemporary hermeneutics, in “communitarianism” in ethics, and in the increasing attention given to conceptual change and history in the philosophy of science. This has meant for many that Hegel should now be regarded not only as the origin of a distinctive tradition in European philosophy that emphasizes the historical and social nature of human existence, but as a potential contributor to many new and often interdisciplinary approaches to philosophy. 

Heideggerianism. Grice thought Heidegger was the greatest philosopher that ever lived. Heideggerianism: Arendt, h. tuteed by Heidegger and Jaspers; fled to France in 3; and emigrated in 1 to the United States, where she taught at various universities. Her major works are The Origins of Totalitarianism 1, The Human Condition 8, Between Past and Future 1, On Revolution 3, Crises of the Republic 2, and The Life of the Mind 8. In Arendt’s view, for reasons established by Kant and deepened by Nietzsche, there is a breach between being and thinking, one that cannot be closed by thought. Understood as philosophizing or contemplation, thinking is a form of egoism that isolates us from one another and our world. Despite Kant, modernity remains mired in egoism, a condition compounded by the emergence of a “mass” that consists of bodies with needs temporarily met by producing and consuming and which demands governments that minister to these needs. In place of thinking, laboring, and the administration of things now called democracy, all of which are instrumental but futile as responses to the “thrown” quality of our condition, Arendt proposed to those capable of it a mode of being, political action, that she found in pronounced form in pre-Socratic Greece and briefly but gloriously at the founding of the Roman and  republics. Political action is initiation, the making of beginnings that can be explained neither causally nor teleologically. It is done in the space of appearances constituted by the presence of other political actors whose re-sponses  the telling of equally unpredictable stories concerning one another’s actions  determine what actions are taken and give character to the acting participants. In addition to the refined discernments already implied, political action requires the courage to initiate one knows not what. Its outcome is power; not over other people or things but mutual empowerment to continue acting in concert and thereby to overcome egoism and achieve positive freedom and humanity.  Heidegger, Martin: “the greatest philosopher that ever lived” – H. P. Grice. G. philosopher whose early works contributed to phenomenology and existentialism e.g., Sartre and whose later works paved the way to hermeneutics Gadamer and post-structuralism Derrida and Foucault. Born in Messkirch in the Black Forest region, Heidegger first trained to be a Jesuit, but switched to mathematics and philosophy in 1. As an instructor at Freiburg , he worked with the founder of phenomenology, Husserl. His masterwork, Sein und Zeit Being and Time, 7, was published while he was teaching at Marburg . This work, in opposition to the preoccupation with epistemology dominant at the time, focused on the traditional question of metaphysics: What is the being of entities in general? Rejecting abstract theoretical approaches to this question, Heidegger drew on Kierkegaard’s religious individualism and the influential movement called life-philosophy  Lebensphilosophie, then identified with Nietzsche, Bergson, and Dilthey  to develop a highly original account of humans as embedded in concrete situations of action. Heidegger accepted Husserl’s chair at Freiburg in 8; in 3, having been elected rector of the , he joined the Nazi party. Although he stepped down as rector one year later, new evidence suggests complicity with the Nazis until the end of the war. Starting in the late thirties, his writings started to shift toward the “antihumanist” and “poetic” form of thinking referred to as “later Heidegger.” Heidegger’s lifelong project was to answer the “question of being” Seinsfrage. This question asks, concerning things in general rocks, tools, people, etc., what is it to be an entity of these sorts? It is the question of ontology first posed by ancient Grecian philosophers from Anaximander to Aristotle. Heidegger holds, however, that philosophers starting with Plato have gone astray in trying to answer this question because they have tended to think of being as a property or essence enduringly present in things. In other words, they have fallen into the “metaphysics of presence,” which thinks of being as substance. What is overlooked in traditional metaphysics is the background conditions that enable entities to show up as counting or mattering in some specific way in the first place. In his early works, Heidegger tries to bring this concealed dimension of things to light by recasting the question of being: What is the meaning of being? Or, put differently, how do entities come to show up as intelligible to us in some determinate way? And this question calls for an analysis of the entity that has some prior understanding of things: human existence or Dasein the G. word for “existence” or “being-there,” used to refer to the structures of humans that make possible an understanding of being. Heidegger’s claim is that Dasein’s pretheoretical or “preontological” understanding of being, embodied in its everyday practices, opens a “clearing” in which entities can show up as, say, tools, protons, numbers, mental events, and so on. This historically unfolding clearing is what the metaphysical tradition has overlooked. In order to clarify the conditions that make possible an understanding of being, then, Being and Time begins with an analytic of Dasein. But Heidegger notes that traditional interpretations of human existence have been one-sided to the extent that they concentrate on our ways of existing when we are engaged in theorizing and detached reflection. It is this narrow focus on the spectator attitude that leads to the picture, found in Descartes, of the self as a mind or subject representing material objects  the so-called subjectobject model. In order to bypass this traditional picture, Heidegger sets out to describe Dasein’s “average everydayness,” i.e., our ordinary, prereflective agency when we are caught up in the midst of practical affairs. The “phenomenology of everydayness” is supposed to lead us to see the totality of human existence, including our moods, our capacity for authentic individuality, and our full range of involvements with the world and with others. The analytic of Dasein is also an ontological hermeneutics to the extent that it provides an account of how understanding in general is possible. The result of the analytic is a portrayal of human existence that is in accord with what Heidegger regards as the earliest Grecian experience of being as an emerging-into-presence physis: to be human is to be a temporal event of self-manifestation that lets other sorts of entities first come to “emerge and abide” in the world. From the standpoint of this description, the traditional concept of substance  whether mental or physical  simply has no role to play in grasping humans. Heidegger’s brilliant diagnoses or “de-structurings” of the tradition suggest that the idea of substance arises only when the conditions making entities possible are forgotten or concealed. Heidegger holds that there is no pregiven human essence. Instead, humans, as self-interpreting beings, just are what they make of themselves in the course of their active lives. Thus, as everyday agency, Dasein is not an object with properties, but is rather the “happening” of a life course “stretched out between birth and death.” Understood as the “historicity” of a temporal movement or “becoming,” Dasein is found to have three main “existentials” or basic structures shared by every “existentiell” i.e., specific and local way of living. First, Dasein finds itself thrown into a world not of its choosing, already delivered over to the task of living out its life in a concrete context. This “facticity” of our lives is revealed in the moods that let things matter to us in some way or other  e.g., the burdensome feelings of concern that accompany being a parent in our culture. Second, as projection, Dasein is always already taking some stand on its life by acting in the world. Understood as agency, human existence is “ahead of itself” in two senses: 1 our competent dealings with familiar situations sketch out a range of possibilities for how things may turn out in the future, and 2 each of our actions is contributing to shaping our lives as people of specific sorts. Dasein is futuredirected in the sense that the ongoing fulfillment of possibilities in the course of one’s active life constitutes one’s identity or being. To say that Dasein is “being-toward-death” is to say that the stands we take our “understanding” define our being as a totality. Thus, my actual ways of treating my children throughout my life define my being as a parent in the end, regardless of what good intentions I might have. Finally, Dasein is discourse in the sense that we are always articulating  or “addressing and discussing”  the entities that show up in our concernful absorption in current situations. These three existentials define human existence as a temporal unfolding. The unity of these dimensions  being already in a world, ahead of itself, and engaged with things  Heidegger calls care. This is what it means to say that humans are the entities whose being is at issue for them. Taking a stand on our own being, we constitute our identity through what we do. The formal structure of Dasein as temporality is made concrete through one’s specific involvements in the world where ‘world’ is used in the life-world sense in which we talk about the business world or the world of academia. Dasein is the unitary phenomenon of being-in-the-world. A core component of Heidegger’s early works is his description of how Dasein’s practical dealings with equipment define the being of the entities that show up in the world. In hammering in a workshop, e.g., what ordinarily shows up for us is not a hammer-thing with properties, but rather a web of significance relations shaped by Heidegger, Martin Heidegger, Martin 371    AM  371 our projects. Hammering is “in order to” join boards, which is “for” building a bookcase, which is “for the sake of” being a person with a neat study. The hammer is encountered in terms of its place in this holistic context of functionality  the “ready-to-hand.” In other words, the being of the equipment  its “ontological definition”  consists of its relations to other equipment and its actual use within the entire practical context. Seen from this standpoint, the brute, meaningless objects assumed to be basic by the metaphysical tradition  the “present-at-hand”  can show up only when there is a breakdown in our ordinary dealings with things, e.g., when the hammer breaks or is missing. In this sense, the ready-to-hand is said to be more primordial than the material objects treated as basic by the natural sciences. It follows, then, that the being of entities in the world is constituted by the framework of intelligibility or “disclosedness” opened by Dasein’s practices. This clearing is truth in the original meaning of the Grecian word aletheia, which Heidegger renders as ‘un-concealment’. But it would be wrong to think that what is claimed here is that humans are initially just given, and that they then go on to create a clearing. For, in Heidegger’s view, our own being as agents of specific types is defined by the world into which we are thrown: in my workshop, I can be a craftsman or an amateur, but not a samurai paying court to a daimyo. Our identity as agents is made possible by the context of shared forms of life and linguistic practices of a public life-world. For the most part, we exist as the “they” das Man, participants in the historically constituted “cohappening of a people” Volk. The embeddedness of our existence in a cultural context explains our inveterate tendency toward inauthenticity. As we become initiated into the practices of our community, we are inclined to drift along with the crowd, doing what “one” does, enacting stereotyped roles, and thereby losing our ability to seize on and define our own lives. Such falling into public preoccupations Heidegger sees as a sign that we are fleeing from the fact that we are finite beings who stand before death understood as the culmination of our possibilities. When, through anxiety and hearing the call of conscience, we face up to our being-toward-death, our lives can be transformed. To be authentic is to clear-sightedly face up to one’s responsibility for what one’s life is adding up to as a whole. And because our lives are inseparable from our community’s existence, authenticity involves seizing on the possibilities circulating in our shared “heritage” in order to realize a communal “destiny.” Heidegger’s ideal of resolute “taking action” in the current historical situation no doubt contributed to his leap into politics in the 0s. According to his writings of that period, the ancient Grecians inaugurated a “first beginning” for Western civilization, but centuries of forgetfulness beginning with the Latinization of Grecian words have torn us away from the primal experience of being rooted in that initial setting. Heidegger hoped that, guided by the insights embodied in great works of art especially Hölderlin’s poetry, National Socialism would help bring about a world-rejuvenating “new beginning” comparable to the first beginning in ancient Greece. Heidegger’s later writings attempt to fully escape the subjectivism he sees dominating Western thought from its inception up to Nietzsche. “The Origin of the Work of Art” 5, for example, shows how a great work of art such as a Grecian temple, by shaping the world in which a people live, constitutes the kinds of people that can live in that world. An Introduction to Metaphysics 5 tries to recover the Grecian experience of humans as beings whose activities of gathering and naming logos are above all a response to what is more than human. The later writings emphasize that which resists all human mastery and comprehension. Such terms as ‘nothingness’, ‘earth’, and ‘mystery’ suggest that what shows itself to us always depends on a background of what does not show itself, what remains concealed. Language comes to be understood as the medium through which anything, including the human, first becomes accessible and intelligible. Because language is the source of all intelligibility, Heidegger says that humans do not speak, but rather language speaks us  an idea that became central to poststructuralist theories. In his writings after the war, Heidegger replaces the notions of resoluteness and political activism with a new ideal of letting-be or releasement Gelassenheit, a stance characterized by meditative thinking, thankfulness for the “gift” of being, and openness to the silent “call” of language. The technological “enframing” Gestell of our age  encountering everything as a standing reserve on hand for our use  is treated not as something humans do, but instead as a manifestation of being itself. The “anti-humanism” of these later works is seen in the description of technology the mobilization of everything for the sole purpose of greater efficiency as an epochal event in the “history of being,” a way things have come-into-their-own Ereignis rather than as a human accomplishment. The history or “sending” Geschick of being consists of epochs that have all gone increasingly astray from the original beginning inaugurated by the pre-Socratics. Since human willpower alone cannot bring about a new epoch, technology cannot be ended by our efforts. But a non-technological way of encountering things is hinted at in a description of a jug as a fourfold of earth, sky, mortals, and gods, and Heidegger reflects on forms of poetry that point to a new, non-metaphysical way of experiencing being. Through a transformed relation to language and art, and by abandoning “onto-theology” the attempt to ground all entities in one supreme entity, we might prepare ourselves for a transformed way of understanding being. 

Hellenistic philosophy, the philosophical systems of the Hellenistic age 32330 B.C., although 31187 B.C. better defines it as a philosophical era, notably Epicureanism, Stoicism, and Skepticism. These all emerged in the generation after Aristotle’s death 322 B.C., and dominated philosophical debate until the first century B.C., during which there were revivals of traditional Platonism and of Aristotelianism. The age was one in which much of the eastern Mediterranean world absorbed Grecian culture was “Hellenized,” hence “Hellenistic”, and recruits to philosophy flocked from this region to Athens, which remained the center of philosophical activity until 87 B.C. Then the Roman sack of Athens drove many philosophers into exile, and neither the schools nor the styles of philosophy that had grown up there ever fully recovered. Very few philosophical writings survive intact from the period. Our knowledge of Hellenistic philosophers depends mainly on later doxography, on the Roman writers Lucretius and Cicero both mid-first century B.C., and on what we learn from the schools’ critics in later centuries, e.g. Sextus Empiricus and Plutarch. ’Skeptic’, a term not actually current before the very end of the Hellenistic age, serves as a convenient label to characterize two philosophical movements. The first is the New Academy: the school founded by Plato, the Academy, became in this period a largely dialectical one, conducting searching critiques of other schools’ doctrines without declaring any of its own, beyond perhaps the assertion however guarded that nothing could be known and the accompanying recommendation of “suspension of judgment” epoche. The nature and vivacity of Stoicism owed much to its prolonged debates with the New Academy. The founder of this Academic phase was Arcesilaus school head c.268 c.241; its most revered and influential protagonist was Carneades school head in the mid-second century; and its most prestigious voice was that of Cicero 10643 B.C., whose highly influential philosophical works were written mainly from a New Academic stance. But by the early first century B.C. the Academy was drifting back to a more doctrinal stance, and in the later part of the century it was largely eclipsed by a second “skeptic” movement, Pyrrhonism. This was founded by Aenesidemus, a pioneering skeptic despite his claim to be merely reviving the philosophy of Pyrrho, a philosophical guru of the early Hellenistic period. His neo-Pyrrhonism survives today mainly through the writings of Sextus Empiricus second century A.D., an adherent of the school who, strictly speaking, represents its post-Hellenistic phase. The Peripatos, Aristotle’s school, officially survived throughout the era, but it is not regarded as a distinctively “Hellenistic” movement. Despite the eminence of Aristotle’s first successor, Theophrastus school head 322287, it thereafter fell from prominence, its fortunes only reviving around the mid-first century B.C. It is disputed how far the other Hellenistic philosophers were even aware of Aristotle’s treatises, which should not in any case be regarded as a primary influence on them. Each school had a location in Athens to which it could draw pupils. The Epicurean school was a relatively private institution, its “Garden” outside the city walls housing a close-knit philosophical community. The Stoics took their name from the Stoa Poikile, the “Painted Colonnade” in central Athens where they gathered. The Academics were based in the Academy, a public grove just outside the city. Philosophers were public figures, a familiar sight around town. Each school’s philosophical identity was further clarified by its absolute loyalty to the name of its founder  respectively Epicurus, Zeno of Citium, and Plato  and by the polarities that developed in interschool debates. Epicureanism is diametrically opposed on most issues to Stoicism. Academic Skepticism provides another antithesis to Stoicism, not through any positions of its own it had none, but through its unflagging critical campaign against every Stoic thesis. It is often said that in this age the old Grecian political institution of the city-state had broken down, and that the Hellenistic philosophies were an answer to the resulting crisis of values. Whether or not there is any truth in this, it remains clear that moral concerns were now much less confined to the individual city-state than previously, and that at an extreme the boundaries had been pushed back to include all mankind within the scope of an individual’s moral obligations. Our “affinity” oikeiosis to all mankind is an originally Stoic doctrine that acquired increasing currency with other schools. This attitude partly reflects the weakening of national and cultural boundaries in the Hellenistic period, as also in the Roman imperial period that followed it. The three recognized divisions of philosophy were ethics, logic, and physics. In ethics, the central objective was to state and defend an account of the “end” telos, the moral goal to which all activity was subordinated: the Epicureans named pleasure, the Stoics conformity with nature. Much debate centered on the semimythical figure of the wise man, whose conduct in every conceivable circumstance was debated by all schools. Logic in its modern sense was primarily a Stoic concern, rejected as irrelevant by the Epicureans. But Hellenistic logic included epistemology, where the primary focus of interest was the “criterion of truth,” the ultimate yardstick against which all judgments could be reliably tested. Empiricism was a surprisingly uncontroversial feature of Hellenistic theories: there was little interest in the Platonic-Aristotelian idea that knowledge in the strict sense is non-sensory, and the debate between dogmatists and Skeptics was more concerned with the question whether any proposed sensory criterion was adequate. Both Stoics and Epicureans attached especial importance to prolepsis, the generic notion of a thing, held to be either innate or naturally acquired in a way that gave it a guaranteed veridical status. Physics saw an opposition between Epicurean atomism, with its denial of divine providence, and the Stoic world-continuum, imbued with divine rationality. The issue of determinism was also placed on the philosophical map: Epicurean morality depends on the denial of both physical and logical determinism, whereas Stoic morality is compatible with, indeed actually requires, the deterministic causal nexus through which providence operates. 

Helmholtz, Hermann von 182, G. physiologist and physicist known for groundbreaking work in physics, physiological optics, perceptual psychology, and the philosophy of geometry. Formally trained as a physician, he distinguished himself in physics in 1848 as a codiscoverer of the law of conservation of energy, and by the end of his life was perhaps the most influential figure in G. physical research. Philosophically, his most important influence was on the study of space. Intuitionist psychologists held that the geometrical structure of three-dimensional space was given directly in sensation by innate physiological mechanisms; Helmholtz brought this theory to severe empirical trials and argued, on the contrary, that our knowledge of space consists of inferences from accumulated experience. On the mathematical side, he attacked Kant’s view that Euclidean geometry is the a priori form of outer intuition by showing that it is possible to have visual experience of non-Euclidean space “On the Origins and Meaning of Geometrical Axioms,” 1870. His crucial insight was that empirical geometry depends on physical assumptions about the behavior of measuring instruments. This inspired the view of Poincaré and logical empiricism that the empirical content of geometry is fixed by physical definitions, and made possible Einstein’s use of non-Euclidean geometry in physics. 

Helvétius, Claude Adrien 171571,  philosopher prominent in the formative phases of eighteenth-century materialism in France. His De l’esprit 1758 was widely discussed internationally, but condemned by the  of Paris and burned by the government. Helvétius attempted to clarify his doctrine in his posthumously published De l’homme. Following Locke’s criticism of the innate ideas, Helvétius stressed the function of experience in our acquisition of knowledge. In accord with the doctrines of d’Holbach, Condillac, and La Mettrie, the materialist Helvétius regarded the sensations as the basis of all our knowledge. Only by comparison, abstraction, and combination of sensations do we reach the level of concepts. Peculiar to Helvétius, however, is the stress on the social determinations of our knowledge. Specific interests and passions are the starting point of all our striving for knowledge. Egoism is the spring of our desires and actions. The civil laws of the enlightened state enabled egoism to be transformed into social competition and thereby diverted toward public benefits. Like his materialist contemporary d’Holbach and later Condorcet, Helvétius sharply criticized the social function of the church. Priests, he claimed, provided society with wrong moral ideas. He demanded a thorough reform of the educational system for the purpose of individual and social emancipation. In contrast to the teachings of Rousseau, Helvétius praised the further development of science, art, and industry as instruments for the historical progress of mankind. The ideal society consists of enlightened because well-educated citizens living in comfortable and even moderately luxurious circumstances. All people should participate in the search for truth, by means of public debates and discussions. Truth is equated with the moral good. Helvétius had some influence on Marxist historical materialism. H.P. Hempel, Carl Gustav 597, eminent philosopher of science associated with the Vienna Circle of logical empiricist philosophers in the early 0s, before his emigration to the United States; thereafter he became one of the most influential philosophers of science of his time, largely through groundbreaking work on the logical analysis of the concepts of confirmation and scientific explanation. Hempel received his doctorate under Reichenbach at the  of Berlin in 4 with a dissertation on the logical analysis of probability. He studied with Carnap at the  of Vienna in 930, where he participated in the “protocol-sentence debate” concerning the observational basis of scientific knowledge raging within the Vienna Circle between Moritz Schlick 26 and Otto Neurath 25. Hempel was attracted to the “radical physicalism” articulated by Neurath and Carnap, which denied the foundational role of immediate experience and asserted that all statements of the total language of science including observation reports or protocol-sentences can be revised as science progresses. This led to Hempel’s first major publication, “On the Logical Positivists’ Theory of Truth” 5. He moved to the United States to work with Carnap at the  of Chicago in 738. He also taught at Queens  and Yale before his long career at Princeton 55. In the 0s he collaborated with his friends Olaf Helmer and Paul Oppenheim on a celebrated series of papers, the most influential of which are “Studies in the Logic of Confirmation” 5 and “Studies in the Logic of Explanation” 8, coauthored with Oppenheim. The latter paper articulated the deductive-nomological model, which characterizes scientific explanations as deductively valid arguments proceeding from general laws and initial conditions to the fact to be explained, and served as the basis for all future work on the subject. Hempel’s papers on explanation and confirmation and also related topics such as concept formation, criteria of meaningfulness, and scientific theories were collected together in Aspects of Scientific Explanation 5, one of the most important works in postwar philosophy of science. He also published a more popular, but extremely influential introduction to the field, Philosophy of Natural Science 6. Hempel and Kuhn became colleagues at Princeton in the 0s. Another fruitful collaboration ensued, as a result of which Hempel moved away from the Carnapian tradition of logical analysis toward a more naturalistic and pragmatic conception of science in his later work. As he himself explains, however, this later turn can also be seen as a return to a similarly naturalistic conception Neurath had earlier defended within the Vienna Circle. 

henotheism, allegiance to one supreme deity while conceding existence to others; also described as monolatry, incipient monotheism, or practical monotheism. It occupies a middle ground between polytheism and radical monotheism, which denies reality to all gods save one. It has been claimed that early Judaism passed through a henotheistic phase, acknowledging other Middle Eastern deities albeit condemning their worship, en route to exclusive recognition of Yahweh. But the concept of progress from polytheism through henotheism Hempel, Carl Gustav henotheism 375    AM  375 to monotheism is a rationalizing construct, and cannot be supposed to capture the complex development of any historical religion, including that of ancient Israel.

Henry of Ghent c.121793, Belgian theologian and philosopher. After serving as a church official at Tournai and Brugge, he taught theology at Paris from 1276. His major writings were Summa quaestionum ordinariarum Summa of Ordinary Questions and Quodlibeta Quodlibetal Questions. He was the leading representative of the neoAugustinian movement at Paris in the final quarter of the thirteenth century. His theory of knowledge combines Aristotelian elements with Augustinian illuminationism. Heavily dependent on Avicenna for his view of the reality enjoyed by essences of creatures esse essentiae from eternity, he rejected both real distinction and real identity of essence and existence in creatures, and defended their intentional distinction. He also rejected a real distinction between the soul and its powers and rejected the purely potential character of prime matter. He defended the duality of substantial form in man, the unicity of form in other material substances, and the primacy of will in the act of choice. J.F.W. Hentisberi, Hentisberus.

Heraclitus fl. c.500 B.C., Grecian philosopher. A transition figure between the Milesian philosophers and the later pluralists, Heraclitus stressed unity in the world of change. He follows the Milesians in positing a series of cyclical transformations of basic stuffs of the world; for instance, he holds that fire changes to water and earth in turn. Moreover, he seems to endorse a single source or arche of natural substances, namely fire. But he also observes that natural transformations necessarily involve contraries such as hot and cold, wet and dry. Indeed, without the one contrary the other would not exist, and without contraries the cosmos would not exist. Hence strife is justice, and war is the father and king of all. In the conflict of opposites there is a hidden harmony that sustains the world, symbolized by the tension of a bow or the attunement of a lyre. Scholars disagree about whether Heraclitus’s chief view is that there is a one in the many or that process is reality. Clearly the underlying unity of phenomena is important for him. But he also stresses the transience of physical substances and the importance of processes and qualities. Moreover, his underlying source of unity seems to be a law of process and opposition; thus he seems to affirm both the unity of phenomena and the reality of process. Criticizing his predecessors such as Pythagoras and Xenophanes for doing research without insight, Heraclitus claims that we should listen to the logos, which teaches that all things are one. The logos, a principle of order and knowledge, is common to all, but the many remain ignorant of it, like sleepwalkers unaware of the reality around them. All things come to pass according to the logos; hence it is the law of change, or at least its expression. Heraclitus wrote a single book, perhaps organized into sections on cosmology, politics and ethics, and theology. Apparently, however, he did not provide a continuous argument but a series of epigrammatic remarks meant to reveal the nature of reality through oracular and riddling language. Although he seems to have been a recluse without immediate disciples, he may have stirred Parmenides to his reaction against contraries. In the late fifth century B.C. Cratylus of Athens preached a radical Heraclitean doctrine according to which everything is in flux and there is accordingly no knowledge of the world. This version of Heracliteanism influenced Plato’s view of the sensible world and caused Plato and Aristotle to attribute a radical doctrine of flux to Heraclitus. Democritus imitated Heraclitus’s ethical sayings, and in Hellenistic times the Stoics appealed to him for their basic principles. 

Herbart, Johann Friedrich 17761841, G. philosopher who significantly contributed to psychology and the theory of education. Rejecting the idealism of Fichte and Hegel, he attempted to establish a form of psychology founded on experience. The task of philosophy is the analysis of concepts given in ordinary experience. Logic must clarify these concepts, Metaphysics should correct them, while Aesthetics and Ethics are to complement them by an analysis of values. Herbart advocated a form of determinism in psychology and ethics. The laws that govern psychological processes are identical with those that govern the heavens. He subordinated ethics to aesthetics, arguing that our moral values originate from certain immediate and involuntary judgments of like and dislike. The five basic ideas of morality are inner freedom, perfection, benevolence, law, and justice or equity. Herbart’s view of education  that it should aim at producing individuals who possess inner freedom and strength of character  was highly influential in nineteenth-century Germany.

Herder, Johann Gottfried von 17441803, G. philosopher, an intellectual and literary figure central to the transition from the G. Enlightenment to Romanticism. He was born in East Prussia and received an early classical education. About 1762, while studying theology at the  of Königsberg, he came under the influence of Kant. He also began a lifelong friendship with Hamann, who especially stimulated his interests in the interrelations among language, culture, and history. After ordination as a Lutheran minister in 1765, he began his association with the Berlin Academy, earning its prestigious “prize” for his “Essay on the Origin of Language” 1772. In 1776 he was appointed Generalsuperintendent of the Lutheran clergy at Weimar through the intercession of Goethe. He was then able to focus his intellectual and literary powers on most of the major issues of his time. Of particular note are his contributions to psychology in Of the Cognition and Sensation of the Human Soul 1778; to the philosophy of history and culture in Ideas for the Philosophy of the History of Mankind 178491, perhaps his most influential work; and to philosophy in Understanding and Experience 1799, which contains his extensive Metakritik of Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason. Herder was an intellectual maverick and provocateur, writing when the Enlightenment conception of reason was in decline but before its limited defense by Kant or its total rejection by Romanticism had become entrenched in the G.-speaking world. Rejecting any rational system, Herder’s thought is best viewed as a mosaic of certain ideas that reemerge in various guises throughout his writings. Because of these features, Herder’s thought has been compared with that of Rousseau. Herder’s philosophy can be described as involving elements of naturalism, organicism, and vitalism. He rejected philosophical explanations, appealing to the supernatural or divine, such as the concept of the “immortal soul” in psychology, a “divine origin” of language, or “providence” in history. He sought to discern an underlying primordial force to account for the psychological unity of the various “faculties.” He viewed this natural tendency toward “organic formation” as also operative in language and culture, and as ultimately manifested in the dynamic development of the various cultures in the form of a universal history. Finally, he often wrote in a way that suggested the dynamic process of life itself as the basic metaphor undergirding his thought. His influence can be traced through Humboldt into later linguistics and through Schelling and Hegel in the philosophy of history and later G. historicism. He anticipated elements of vitalism in Schopenhauer and Bergson. 

hermeneutics, the art or theory of interpretation, as well as a type of philosophy that starts with questions of interpretation. Originally concerned more narrowly with interpreting sacred texts, the term acquired a much broader significance in its historical development and finally became a philosophical position in twentieth-century G. philosophy. There are two competing positions in hermeneutics: whereas the first follows Dilthey and sees interpretation or Verstehen as a method for the historical and human sciences, the second follows Heidegger and sees it as an “ontological event,” an interaction between interpreter and text that is part of the history of what is understood. Providing rules or criteria for understanding what an author or native “really” meant is a typical problem for the first approach. The interpretation of the law provides an example for the second view, since the process of applying the law inevitably transforms it. In general, hermeneutics is the analysis of this process and its conditions of possibility. It has typically focused on the interpretation of ancient texts and distant peoples, cases where the unproblematic everyday understanding and communication cannot be assumed. Schleiermacher’s analysis of understanding and expression related to texts and speech marks the beginning of hermeneutics in the modern sense of a scientific methodology. This emphasis on methodology continues in nineteenth-century historicism and culminates in Dilthey’s attempt to ground the human sciences in a theory of interpretation, understood as the imaginative but publicly verifiable reenactment of the subjective experiences of others. Such a method of interpretation reveals the possibility of an objective knowledge of human beings not accessible to empiricist inquiry and thus of a distinct methodology for the human sciences. One result of the analysis of interpretation in the nineteenth century was the recognition of “the hermeneutic circle,” first developed by SchleierHerder, Johann Gottfried von hermeneutics 377    AM  377 macher. The circularity of interpretation concerns the relation of parts to the whole: the interpretation of each part is dependent on the interpretation of the whole. But interpretation is circular in a stronger sense: if every interpretation is itself based on interpretation, then the circle of interpretation, even if it is not vicious, cannot be escaped. Twentieth-century hermeneutics advanced by Heidegger and Gadamer radicalize this notion of the hermeneutic circle, seeing it as a feature of all knowledge and activity. Hermeneutics is then no longer the method of the human sciences but “universal,” and interpretation is part of the finite and situated character of all human knowing. “Philosophical hermeneutics” therefore criticizes Cartesian foundationalism in epistemology and Enlightenment universalism in ethics, seeing science as a cultural practice and prejudices or prejudgments as ineliminable in all judgments. Positively, it emphasizes understanding as continuing a historical tradition, as well as dialogical openness, in which prejudices are challenged and horizons broadened. 

hermetism, also hermeticism, a philosophical theology whose basic impulse was the gnostic conviction that human salvation depends on revealed knowledge gnosis of God and of the human and natural creations. Texts ascribed to Hermes Trismegistus, a Greco-Egyptian version of the Egyptian god Thoth, may have appeared as early as the fourth century B.C., but the surviving Corpus Hermeticum in Grecian and Latin is a product of the second and third centuries A.D. Fragments of the same literature exist in Grecian, Armenian, and Coptic as well; the Coptic versions are part of a discovery made at Nag Hammadi after World War II. All these Hermetica record hermetism as just described. Other Hermetica traceable to the same period but surviving in later Arabic or Latin versions deal with astrology, alchemy, magic, and other kinds of occultism. Lactantius, Augustine, and other early Christians cited Hermes but disagreed on his value; before Iamblichus, pagan philosophers showed little interest. Muslims connected Hermes with a Koranic figure, Idris, and thereby enlarged the medieval hermetic tradition, which had its first large effects in the Latin West among the twelfth-century Platonists of Chartres. The only ancient hermetic text then available in the West was the Latin Asclepius, but in 1463 Ficino interrupted his epochal translation of Plato to Latinize fourteen of the seventeen Grecian discourses in the main body of the Corpus Hermeticum as distinct from the many Grecian fragments preserved by Stobaeus but unknown to Ficino. Ficino was willing to move so quickly to Hermes because he believed that this Egyptian deity stood at the head of the “ancient theology” prisca theologia, a tradition of pagan revelation that ran parallel to Christian scripture, culminated with Plato, and continued through Plotinus and the later Neoplatonists. Ficino’s Hermes translation, which he called the Pimander, shows no interest in the magic and astrology about which he theorized later in his career. Trinitarian theology was his original motivation. The Pimander was enormously influential in the later Renaissance, when Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, Lodovico Lazzarelli, Jacques Lefèvre d’Etaples, Symphorien Champier, Francesco Giorgi, Agostino Steuco, Francesco Patrizi, and others enriched Western appreciation of Hermes. The first printed Grecian Hermetica was the 1554 edition of Adrien Turnebus. The last before the nineteenth century appeared in 1630, a textual hiatus that reflected a decline in the reputation of Hermes after Isaac Casaubon proved philologically in 1614 that the Grecian Hermetica had to be post-Christian, not the remains of primeval Egyptian wisdom. After Casaubon, hermetic ideas fell out of fashion with most Western philosophers of the current canon, but the historiography of the ancient theology remained influential for Newton and for lesser figures even later. The content of the Hermetica was out of tune with the new science, so Casaubon’s redating left Hermes to the theosophical heirs of Robert Fludd, whose opponents Kepler, Mersenne, Gassendi turned away from the Hermetica and similar fascinations of Renaissance humanist culture. By the nineteenth century, only theosophists took Hermes seriously as a prophet of pagan wisdom, but he was then rediscovered by G. students of Christianity and Hellenistic religions, especially Richard Reitzenstein, who published his Poimandres in 4. The ancient Hermetica are now read in the 654 edition of A. D. Nock and A. J. Festugière. 

Herzen, Alexander 181270, Russian editor, memoirist, and social philosopher, in exile in Western Europe from 1847. Herzen moved in his philosophy of history from an early Hegelian rationalism to a “philosophy of contingency,” stressing the “whirlwind of chances” in nature and in human life and the “tousled improvisation” of the historical process. He rejected determinism, emphasizing the “phenomenological fact” of the experienced “sense of freedom.” Anticipating the Dostoevsky of the “Legend of the Grand Inquisitor,” he offered an original analysis of the “escape from freedom” and the cleaving to moral and political authority, and sketched a curiously contemporary-sounding “emotivist” ethical theory. After 1848, disillusioned with “bourgeois” Europe and its “selfenclosed individualism,” but equally disillusioned with what he had come to see as the bourgeois ideal of many European socialists, Herzen turned to the Russian peasant and the peasant village commune as offering the best hope for a humane development of society. In this “Russian socialism” he anticipated a central doctrine of the Russian populists of the 1870s. Herzen stood alone in resisting the common tendency of such otherwise different thinkers as Feuerbach, Marx, and J. S. Mill to undervalue the historical present, to overvalue the historical future, and to treat actual persons as means in the service of remote, merely possible historical ends. Herzen’s own central emphasis fell powerfully and consistently on the freedom, independence, and non-instrumentalizable value of living persons. And he saw more clearly than any of his contemporaries that there are no future persons, that it is only in the present that free human individuals live and move and have their being. 

heuristics, a rule or solution adopted to reduce the complexity of computational tasks, thereby reducing demands on resources such as time, memory, and attention. If an algorithm is a procedure yielding a correct solution to a problem, then a heuristic procedure may not reach a solution even if there is one, or may provide an incorrect answer. The reliability of heuristics varies between domains; the resulting biases are predictable, and provide information about system design. Chess, for example, is a finite game with a finite number of possible positions, but there is no known algorithm for finding the optimal move. Computers and humans both employ heuristics in evaluating intermediate moves, relying on a few significant cues to game quality, such as safety of the king, material balance, and center control. The use of these criteria simplifies the problem, making it computationally tractable. They are heuristic guides, reliable but limited in success. There is no guarantee that the result will be the best move or even good. They are nonetheless satisfactory for competent chess. Work on human judgment indicates a similar moral. Examples of judgmental infelicities support the view that human reasoning systematically violates standards for statistical reasoning, ignoring base rates, sample size, and correlations. Experimental results suggest that humans utilize judgmental heuristics in gauging probabilities, such as representativeness, or the degree to which an individual or event resembles a prototypical member of a category. Such heuristics produce reasonable judgments in many cases, but are of limited validity when measured by a Bayesian standard. Judgmental heuristics are biased and subject to systemic errors. Experimental support for the importance of these heuristics depends on cases in which subjects deviate from the normative standard. 

hexis Grecian, from hexo, ‘to have’, ‘to be disposed’, a good or bad condition, disposition, or state. The traditional rendering, ‘habit’ Latin habitus, is misleading, for it tends to suggest the idea of an involuntary and merely repetitious pattern of behavior. A hexis is rather a state of character or of mind that disposes us to deliberately choose to act or to think in a certain way. The term acquired a quasi-technical status after Aristotle advanced the view that hexis is the genus of virtue, both moral and intellectual. In the Nicomachean Ethics he distinguishes hexeis from passions pathe and faculties dunamis of the soul. If a man fighting in the front ranks feels afraid when he sees the enemy approaching, he is undergoing an involuntary passion. His capacity to be affected by fear on this or other occasions is part of his makeup, one of his faculties. If he chooses to stay where his commanders placed him, this is due to the hexis or state of character we call courage. Likewise, one who is consistently good at identifying what is best for oneself can be said to possess a hexis called prudence. Not all states and dispositions are commendable. Cowardice and stupidity are also hexeis. Both in the sense of ‘state’ and of ‘possession’ hexis plays a role in Aristotle’s Categories. 

Heytesbury, William, also called Hentisberus, Hentisberi, Tisberi before 1313c.1372, English philosopher and chancellor of Oxford . He wrote Sophismata “Sophisms”, Regulae solvendi sophismata “Rules for Solving Sophisms”, and De sensu composito et diviso “On the Composite and Divided Sense”. Other works are doubtfully attributed to him. Heytesbury belonged to the generation immediately after Thomas Bradwardine and Kilvington, and was among the most significant members of the Oxford Calculators, important in the early developemnt of physics. Unlike Kilvington but like Bradwardine, he appealed to mathematical calculations in addition to logical and conceptual analysis in the treatment of change, motion, acceleration, and other physical notions. His Regulae includes perhaps the most influential treatment of the liar paradox in the Middle Ages. Heytesbury’s work makes widespread use of “imaginary” thought experiments assuming physical impossibilities that are yet logically consistent. His influence was especially strong in Italy in the fifteenth century, where his works were studied widely and commented on many times. 

hierarchy, a division of mathematical objects into subclasses in accordance with an ordering that reflects their complexity. Around the turn of the century, analysts interested in the “descriptive set theory” of the real numbers defined and studied two systems of classification for sets of reals, the Borel (due to Emil Borel) and the G hierarchies. In the 1940s, logicians interested in recursion and definability (most importantly, Stephen Kleene) introduced and studied other hierarchies (the arithmetic, the hyperarithmetic, and the analytical hierarchies) of reals (identified with sets of natural numbers) and of sets of reals; the relations between this work and the earlier work were made explicit in the 1950s by J. Addison. Other sorts of hierarchies have been introduced in other corners of logic. All these so-called hierarchies have at least this in common: they divide a class of mathematical objects into subclasses subject to a natural well-founded ordering (e.g., by subsethood) that reflects the complexity (in a sense specific to the hierarchy under consideration) of the objects they contain. What follows describes several hierarchies from the study of definability. (For more historical and mathematical information see Descriptive Set Theory by Y. Moschovakis, North-Holland Publishing Co., 1980.) (1) Hierarchies of formulas. Consider a formal language L with quantifiers ‘E’ and ‘D’. Given a set B of formulas in L, we inductively define a hierarchy that treats the members of B as “basic.” Set P0 % S0 % B. Suppose sets Pn and Sn of formulas have been defined. Let Pn!1 % the set of all formulas of the form Q1u1 . . . Qmumw when u1, . . . , um are distinct variables, Q1, . . . , Qm are all ‘E’, m M 1, and w 1 Sn. Let Sn+1 % the set of all formulas of that form for Q1, . . . , Qm all ‘D’, and w 1 Pn. Here are two such hierarchies for languages of arithmetic. Take the logical constants to be truthfunctions, ‘E’ and ‘D’. (i) Let L0 % the first-order language of arithmetic, based on ‘%’, a two-place predicate-constant ‘‹’, an individual-constant for 0, functionconstants for successor, addition, and multiplication; ‘first-order’ means that bound variables are all first-order (ranging over individuals); we’ll allow free second-order variables (ranging over properties or sets of individuals). Let B % the set of bounded formulas, i.e. those formed from atomic formulas using connectives and bounded quantification: if w is bounded so are Eu(u ‹ t / w) and Du(u ‹ t & w). (ii) Let L1 % the second-order language of arithmetic (formed from L0 by allowing bound second-order variables); let B % the set of formulas in which no second-order variable is bound, and take all u1, . . . , um as above to be second-order variables. (2) Hierarchies of definable sets. (i) The Arithmetic Hierarchy. For a set of natural numbers (call such a thing ‘a real’) A : A 1 P0 n [ or S0 n ] if and only if A is defined over the standard model of arithmetic (i.e., with the constant for 0 assigned to 0, etc., and with the first-order variables ranging over the natural numbers) by a formula of L0 in Pn [respectively Sn] as described in (1.i). Set D0 n % P0 n Thus: In fact, all these inclusions are proper. This hierarchy classifies the reals simple enough to be defined by arithmetic formulas. Example: ‘Dy x % y ! y’ defines the set even of even natural numbers; the formula 1 S1, so even 1 S0 1; even is also defined by a formula in P1; so even 1 P0 1, giving even 1 D0 1. In fact, S0 1 % the class of recursively enumerable reals, and D0 1 % the class of recursive reals. The classification of reals under the arithmetic hierarchy reflects complexity of defining formulas; it differs from classification in terms of a notion of degree of unsolvability, that reflecting a notion of comparative computational complexity; but there are connections between these classifications. The Arithmetic Hierarchy extends to sets of reals (using a free second-order variable in defining sentences). Example: ‘Dx (Xx & Dy y % x ! x)’ 1 S1 and defines the set of those reals with an even number; so that set 1 S0 1.The Analytical Hierarchy. Given a real A : A 1 P1 n [S1 1] if and only if A is defined (over the standard model of arithmetic with second-order variables ranging over all sets of natural numbers) by a formula of L1 in Pn (respectively Sn) as described in (1.ii); D1 n % P1 n 3 S1 n. Similarly for a set of reals. The inclusions pictured above carry over, replacing superscripted 0’s by 1’s. This classifies all reals and sets of reals simple enough to have analytical (i.e., second-order arithmetic) definitions.The subscripted ‘n’ in ‘P0 n’, etc., ranged over natural numbers. But the Arithmetic Hierarchy is extended “upward” into the transfinite by the ramified-analytical hierarchy. Let R0 % the class of all arithmetical reals. For an ordinal a let Ra!1 % the class of all sets of reals definable by formulas of L1 in which second-order variables range only over reals in Ra – this constraint imposes ramification. For a limit-ordinal l, let Rl % UaThe above hierarchies arise in arithmetic. Similar hierarchies arise in pure set theory; e.g. by transferring the “process” that produced the ramified analytical hierarchy to pure set theory we obtain the constructible hierarchy, defined by Gödel in his 1939 monograph on the continuum hypothesis.

Hilbert, D. – G. mathematician and philosopher of mathematics. Born in Königsberg, he also studied and served on the faculty there, accepting Weber’s chair in mathematics at Göttingen in 1895. He made important contributions to many different areas of mathematics and was renowned for his grasp of the entire discipline. His more philosophical work was divided into two parts. The focus of the first, which occupied approximately ten years beginning in the early 1890s, was the foundations of geometry and culminated in his celebrated Grundlagen der Geometrie (1899). This is a rich and complex work that pursues a variety of different projects simultaneously. Prominent among these is one whose aim is to determine the role played in geometrical reasoning by principles of continuity. Hilbert’s interest in this project was rooted in Kantian concerns, as is confirmed by the inscription, in the Grundlagen, of Kant’s synopsis of his critical philosophy: “Thus all human knowledge begins with intuition, goes from there to concepts and ends with ideas.” Kant believed that the continuous could not be represented in intuition and must therefore be regarded as an idea of pure reason – i.e., as a device playing a purely regulative role in the development of our geometrical knowledge (i.e., our knowledge of the spatial manifold of sensory experience). Hilbert was deeply influenced by this view of Kant’s and his work in the foundations of geometry can be seen, in large part, as an attempt to test it by determining whether (or to what extent) pure geometry can be developed without appeal to principles concerning the nature of the continuous. To a considerable extent, Hilbert’s work confirmed Kant’s view – showing, in a manner more precise than any Kant had managed, that appeals to the continuous can indeed be eliminated from much of our geometrical reasoning. The same basic Kantian orientation also governed the second phase of Hilbert’s foundational work, where the focus was changed from geometry to arithmetic and analysis. This is the phase during which Hilbert’s Program was developed. This project began to take shape in the 1917 essay “Axiomatisches Denken.” (The 1904 paper “Über die Grundlagen der Logik und Arithmetik,” which turned away from geometry and toward arithmetic, does not yet contain more than a glimmer of the ideas that would later become central to Hilbert’s proof theory.) It reached its philosophically most mature form in the 1925 essay “Über das Unendliche,” the 1926 address “Die Grundlagen der Mathematik,” and the somewhat more popular 1930 paper “Naturerkennen und Logik.” (From a technical as opposed to a philosophical vantage, the classical statement is probably the 1922 essay “Neubegründung der Mathematik. Erste Mitteilung.”) The key elements of the program are (i) a distinction between real and ideal propositions and methods of proof or derivation; (ii) the idea that the so-called ideal methods, though, again, playing the role of Kantian regulative devices (as Hilbert explicitly and emphatically declared in the 1925 paper), are nonetheless indispensable for a reasonably efficient development of our mathematical knowledge; and (iii) the demand that the reliability of the ideal methods be established by real (or finitary) means. As is well known, Hilbert’s Program soon came under heavy attack from Gödel’s incompleteness theorems (especially the second), which have commonly been regarded as showing that the third element of Hilbert’s Program (i.e., the one calling for a finitary proof of the reliability of the ideal systems of classical mathematics) cannot be carried out. Hilbert’s Program, a proposal in the foundations of mathematics, named for its developer, the German mathematician-philosopher David Hilbert, who first formulated it fully in the 1920s. Its aim was to justify classical mathematics (in particular, classical analysis and set theory), though only as a Kantian regulative device and not as descriptive science. The justification thus presupposed a division of classical mathematics into two parts: the part (termed real mathematics by Hilbert) to be regulated, and the part (termed ideal mathematics by Hilbert) serving as regulator. Real mathematics was taken to consist of the meaningful, true propositions of mathematics and their justifying proofs. These proofs – commonly known as finitary proofs – were taken to be of an especially elementary epistemic character, reducing, ultimately, to quasi-perceptual intuitions concerning finite assemblages of perceptually intuitable signs regarded from the point of view of their shapes and sequential arrangement. Ideal mathematics, on the other hand, was taken to consist of sentences that do not express genuine propositions and derivations that do not constitute genuine proofs or justifications. The epistemic utility of ideal sentences (typically referred to as ideal propositions, though, as noted above, they do not express genuine propositions at all) and proofs was taken to derive not from their meaning and/or evidentness, but rather from the role they play in some formal algebraic or calculary scheme intended to identify or locate the real truths. It is thus a metatheoretic function of the formal or algebraic properties induced on those propositions and proofs by their positions in a larger derivational scheme. Hilbert’s ideal mathematics was thus intended to bear the same relation to his real mathematics as Kant’s faculty of pure reason was intended to bear to his faculty of understanding. It was to be a regulative device whose proper function is to guide and facilitate the development of our system of real judgments. Indeed, in his 1925 essay “Über das Unendliche,” Hilbert made just this point, noting that ideal elements do not correspond to anything in reality but serve only as ideas “if, following Kant’s terminology, one understands as an idea a concept of reason which transcends all experience and by means of which the concrete is to be completed into a totality.” The structure of Hilbert’s scheme, however, involves more than just the division of classical mathematics into real and ideal propositions and proofs. It uses, in addition, a subdivision of the real propositions into the problematic and the unproblematic. Indeed, it is this subdivision of the reals that is at bottom responsible for the introduction of the ideals. Unproblematic real propositions, described by Hilbert as the basic equalities and inequalities of arithmetic (e.g., ‘3 ( 2’, ‘2 ‹ 3’, ‘2 ! 3 % 3 ! 2’) together with their sentential (and certain of their bounded quantificational) compounds, are the evidentially most basic judgments of mathematics. They are immediately intelligible and decidable by finitary intuition. More importantly, they can be logically manipulated in all the ways that classical logic allows without leading outside the class of real propositions. The characteristic feature of the problematic reals, on the other hand, is that they cannot be so manipulated. Hilbert gave two kinds of examples of problematic real propositions. One consisted of universal generalizations like ‘for any non-negative integer a, a ! 1 % 1 ! a’, which Hilbert termed hypothetical judgments. Such propositions are problematic because their denials do not bound the search for counterexamples. Hence, the instance of the (classical) law of excluded middle that is obtained by disjoining it with its denial is not itself a real proposition. Consequently, it cannot be manipulated in all the ways permitted by classical logic without going outside the class of real propositions. Similarly for the other kind of problematic real discussed by Hilbert, which was a bounded existential quantification. Every such sentence has as one of its classical consequents an unbounded existential quantification of the same matrix. Hence, since the latter is not a real proposition, the former is not a real proposition that can be fully manipulated by classical logical means without going outside the class of real propositions. It is therefore “problematic.” The question why full classical logical manipulability should be given such weight points up an important element in Hilbert’s thinking: namely, that classical logic is regarded as the preferred logic of human thinking – the logic of the optimally functioning human epistemic engine, the logic according to which the human mind most naturally and efficiently conducts its inferential affairs. It therefore has a special psychological status and it is because of this that the right to its continued use must be preserved. As just indicated, however, preservation of this right requires addition of ideal propositions and proofs to their real counterparts, since applying classical logic to the truths of real mathematics leads to a system that contains ideal as well as real elements. Hilbert believed that to justify such an addition, all that was necessary was to show it to be consistent with real mathematics (i.e., to show that it proves no real proposition that is itself refutable by real means). Moreover, Hilbert believed that this must be done by finitary means. The proof of Gödel’s second incompleteness theorem in 1931 brought considerable pressure to bear on this part of Hilbert’s Program even though it may not have demonstrated its unattainability.

hint hinting. Don’t expect Cicero used this. It’s Germanic and related to ‘hunt,’ to ‘seize.’ As if you throw something in the air, and expect your recipient will seize it. 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.

Hintikka, J. Non-Indo-European Finnish philosopher who emigrated Finland early on to become the first Finnish Griceian (vide his contribution in P. G. R. I. C. E.)  with contributions to logic, philosophy of mathematics, epistemology, linguistics and philosophy of language, philosophy of science, and history of philosophy. His work on distributive normal forms and model set techniques yielded an improved inductive logic. Model sets differ from Carnap’s state-descriptions in being partial and not complete descriptions of “possible worlds.” The techniques simplified metatheoretical proofs and led to new results in e.g. probability theory and the semantic theory of information. Their main philosophical import nevertheless is in bridging the gap between proof theory and model theory. Model sets that describe several possible “alternative” worlds lead to the possible worlds semantics for modal and intensional logics. Hintikka has used them as a foundation for the logic of propositional attitudes (epistemic logic and the logic of perception), and in studies on individuation, identification, and intentionality. Epistemic logic also provides a basis for Hintikka’s logic of questions, in which conclusiveness conditions for answers can be defined. This has resulted in an interrogative model of inquiry in which knowledge-seeking is viewed as a pursuit of conclusive answers to initial “big” questions by strategically organized series of “small” questions (put to nature or to another source of information). The applications include scientific discovery and explanation. Hintikka’s independence-friendly logic gives the various applications a unified basis. Hintikka’s background philosophy and approach to formal semantics and its applications is broadly Kantian with emphasis on seeking-andfinding methods and the constitutive activity of the inquirer. Apart from a series of studies inspired by Kant, he has written extensively on Aristotle, Plato, Descartes, Leibniz, Frege, and Wittgenstein. Hintikka’s academic career has been not only in Finland, chiefly at the University of Helsinki, but (especially) in the United States, where he has held professorships at Stanford, Florida State, and (currently) Boston University. His students and co-workers in the Finnish school of inductive logic and in other areas include Leila Haaparanta (b.1954), Risto Hilpinen (b.1943), Simo Knuuttila (b.1946), Martin Kusch (b.1959), Ilkka Niiniluoto (b.1946), Juhani Pietarinen (b.1938), Veikko Rantala (b.1933), Gabriel Sandu (b.1954), Matti Sintonen (b.1951), and Raimo Tuomela (b.1940). Hintikka set, also called model set, downward saturated set, a set (of a certain sort) of well-formed formulas that are all true under a single interpretation of their non-logical symbols (named after Jaakko Hintikka). Such a set can be thought of as a (partial) description of a logically possible state of affairs, or possible world, full enough to make evident that the world described is indeed possible. Thus it is required of a Hintikka set G that it contain no atomic formula and its negation, that A, B 1 G if A 8 B 1 G, that A 1 G or B 1 G if A 7 B 1 G, and so forth, for each logical constant.

Hippocrates (fifth century B.C.), semilegendary Greek physician from Cos. Some sixty treatises survive under his name, but it is doubtful whether he was the author of any of them. The Hippocratic corpus contains material from a wide variety of standpoints, ranging from an extreme empiricism that rejected all grand theory (On Ancient Medicine) to highly speculative theoretical physiology (On the Nature of Man, On Regimen). Many treatises were concerned with the accurate observation and classification of diseases (Epidemics) rather than treatment. Some texts (On the Art) defended the claims of medicine to scientific status against those who pointed to its inaccuracies and conjectural status; others (Oath, On Decorum) sketch a code of professional ethics. Almost all his treatises were notable for their materialism and rejection of supernatural “explanations”; their emphasis on observation; and their concern with the isolation of causal factors. A large number of texts are devoted to gynecology. The Hippocratic corpus became the standard against which later doctors measured themselves; and, via Galen’s rehabilitation and extension of Hippocratic method, it became the basis for Western medicine for two millennia.

historicism, the doctrine that knowledge of human affairs has an irreducibly historical character and that there can be no ahistorical perspective for an understanding of human nature and society. What is needed instead is a philosophical explication of historical knowledge that will yield the rationale for all sound knowledge of human activities. So construed, historicism is a philosophical doctrine originating in the methodological and epistemological presuppositions of critical historiography. In the mid-nineteenth century certain German thinkers (Dilthey most centrally), reacting against positivist ideals of science and knowledge, rejected scientistic models of knowledge, replacing them with historical ones. They applied this not only to the discipline of history but to economics, law, political theory, and large areas of philosophy. Initially concerned with methodological issues in particular disciplines, historicism, as it developed, sought to work out a common philosophical doctrine that would inform all these disciplines. What is essential to achieve knowledge in the human sciences is to employ the ways of understanding used in historical studies. There should in the human sciences be no search for natural laws; knowledge there will be interpretive and rooted in concrete historical occurrences. As such it will be inescapably perspectival and contextual (contextualism). This raises the issue of whether historicism is a form of historical relativism. Historicism appears to be committed to the thesis that what for a given people is warrantedly assertible is determined by the distinctive historical perspective in which they view life and society. The stress on uniqueness and concrete specificity and the rejection of any appeal to universal laws of human development reinforce that. But the emphasis on cumulative development into larger contexts of our historical knowledge puts in doubt an identification of historicism and historical relativism. The above account of historicism is that of its main proponents: Meinecke, Croce, Collingwood, Ortega y Gasset, and Mannheim. But in the twentieth century, with Popper and Hayek, a very different conception of historicism gained some currency. For them, to be a historicist is to believe that there are “historical laws,” indeed even a “law of historical development,” such that history has a pattern and even an end, that it is the central task of social science to discover it, and that these laws should determine the direction of political action and social policy. They attributed (incorrectly) this doctrine to Marx but rightly denounced it as pseudo-science. However, some later Marxists (Lukács, Korsch, and Gramsci) were historicists in the original nonPopperian sense as was the critical theorist Adorno and hermeneuticists such as Gadamer.

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.

Hobbes, Thomas. English philosopher whose writings, especially the English version of Leviathan (1651), strongly influenced all of subsequent English moral and political philosophy. He also wrote a trilogy comprising De Cive (1642; English version, Philosophical Rudiments Concerning Government and Society, 1651), De Corpore (On the Body, 1655), and De Homine (On Man, 1658). Together with Leviathan (the revised Latin version of which was published in 1668), these are his major philosophical works. However, an early draft of his thoughts, The Elements of Law, Natural and Political(also known as Human Nature and De Corpore Politico), was published without permission in 1650. Many of the misinterpretations of Hobbes’s views on human nature come from mistaking this early work as representing his mature views. Hobbes was influential not only in England, but also on the Continent. He is the author of the third set of objections to Descartes’s Meditations. Spinoza’s Tractatus Theologico-politicus was deeply influenced by Hobbes, not only in its political views but also in the way it dealt with Scripture. Hobbes was not merely a philosopher; he was mathematical tutor to Charles II and also a classical scholar. His first published work was a translation of Thucydides (1628), and among his latest, about a half-century later, were translations of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. Hobbes’s philosophical views have a remarkably contemporary sound. In metaphysics, he holds a strong materialist view, sometimes viewing mental phenomena as epiphenomenal, but later moving toward a reductive or eliminative view. In epistemology he held a sophisticated empiricism, which emphasized the importance of language for knowledge. If not the originator of the contemporary compatibilist view of the relationship between free will and determinism (see The Questions Concerning Liberty, Necessity and Chance, 1656), he was one of the primary influences. He also was one of the most important philosophers of language, explicitly noting that language is used not only to describe the world but to express attitudes and, performatively, to make promises and contracts. One of Hobbes’s outstanding characteristics is his intellectual honesty. Though he may have been timid (he himself claims that he was, explaining that his mother gave birth to him because of fright over the coming of the Spanish Armada), his writing shows no trace of it. During more than half his long lifetime he engaged in many philosophical controversies, which required considerably more courage in Hobbes’s day than at present. Both the Roman Catholic church and Oxford University banned the reading of his books and there was talk not only of burning his books but of burning Hobbes himself. An adequate interpretation of Hobbes requires careful attention to his accounts of human nature, reason, morality, and law. Although he was not completely consistent, his moral and political philosophy is remarkably coherent. His political theory is often thought to require an egoistic psychology, whereas it actually requires only that most persons be concerned with their own self-interest, especially their own preservation. It does not require that most not be concerned with other persons as well. All that Hobbes denies is an undifferentiated natural benevolence: “For if by nature one man should love another (that is) as man, there could no reason be returned why every man should not equally love every man, as being equally man.” His argument is that limited benevolence is not an adequate foundation upon which to build a state. Hobbes’s political theory does not require the denial of limited benevolence, he indeed includes benevolence in his list of the passions in Leviathan: “Desire of good to another, BENEVOLENCE, GOOD WILL, CHARITY. If to man generally, GOOD NATURE.” Psychological egoism not only denies benevolent action, it also denies action done from a moral sense, i.e., action done because one believes it is the morally right thing to do. But Hobbes denies neither kind of action. But when the words [’just’ and ‘unjust’] are applied to persons, to be just signifies as much as to be delighted in just dealing, to study how to do righteousness, or to endeavor in all things to do that which is just; and to be unjust is to neglect righteous dealing, or to think it is to be measured not according to my contract, but some present benefit. Hobbes’s pessimism about the number of just people is primarily due to his awareness of the strength of the passions and his conviction that most people have not been properly educated and disciplined. Hobbes is one of the few philosophers to realize that to talk of that part of human nature which involves the passions is to talk about human populations. He says, “though the wicked were fewer than the righteous, yet because we cannot distinguish them, there is a necessity of suspecting, heeding, anticipating, subjugating, self-defending, ever incident to the most honest and fairest conditioned.” Though we may be aware of small communities in which mutual trust and respect make law enforcement unnecessary, this is never the case when we are dealing with a large group of people. Hobbes’s point is that if a large group of people are to live together, there must be a common power set up to enforce the rules of the society. That there is not now, nor has there ever been, any large group of people living together without such a common power is sufficient to establish his point. Often overlooked is Hobbes’s distinction between people considered as if they were simply animals, not modified in any way by education or discipline, and civilized people. Though obviously an abstraction, people as animals are fairly well exemplified by children. “Unless you give children all they ask for, they are peevish, and cry, aye and strike their parents sometimes; and all this they have from nature.” In the state of nature, people have no education or training, so there is “continual fear, and danger of violent death, and the life of man, [is] solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” But real people have been brought up in families; they are, at least to some degree, civilized persons, and how they will behave depends on how they are brought up. Hobbes does not say that society is a collection of misfits and that this is why we have all the trouble that we do – a position congenial to the psychological egoist. But he does acknowledge that “many also (perhaps most men) either through defect of mind, or want of education, remain unfit during the whole course of their lives; yet have they, infants as well as those of riper years, a human nature; wherefore man is made fit for society not by nature, but by education.” Education and training may change people so that they act out of genuine moral motives. That is why it is one of the most important functions of the sovereign to provide for the proper training and education of the citizens. In the current debate between nature and nurture, on the question of behavior Hobbes would come down strongly on the side of nurture. Hobbes’s concept of reason has more in common with the classical philosophical tradition stemming from Plato and Aristotle, where reason sets the ends of behavior, than with the modern tradition stemming from Hume where the only function of reason is to discover the best means to ends set by the passions. For Hobbes, reason is very complex; it has a goal, lasting selfpreservation, and it seeks the way to this goal. It also discovers the means to ends set by the passions, but it governs the passions, or tries to, so that its own goal is not threatened. Since its goal is the same in all people, it is the source of rules applying to all people. All of this is surprisingly close to the generally accepted account of rationality. We generally agree that those who follow their passions when they threaten their life are acting irrationally. We also believe that everyone always ought to act rationally, though we know that few always do so. Perhaps it was just the closeness of Hobbes’s account of reason to the ordinary view of the matter that has led to its being so completely overlooked. The failure to recognize that the avoidance of violent death is the primary goal of reason has distorted almost all accounts of Hobbes’s moral and political philosophy, yet it is a point on which Hobbes is completely clear and consistent. He explicitly says that reason “teaches every man to fly a contra-natural dissolution [mortem violentam] as the greatest mischief that can arrive to nature.” He continually points out that it is a dictate of right reason to seek peace when possible because people cannot “expect any lasting preservation continuing thus in the state of nature, that is, of war.” And he calls temperance and fortitude precepts of reason because they tend to one’s preservation. It has not generally been recognized that Hobbes regarded it as an end of reason to avoid violent death because he often talks of the avoidance of death in a way that makes it seem merely an object of a passion. But it is reason that dictates that one take all those measures necessary for one’s preservation; peace if possible, if not, defense. Reason’s dictates are categorical; it would be a travesty of Hobbes’s view to regard the dictates of reason as hypothetical judgments addressed to those whose desire for their own preservation happens to be greater than any conflicting desire. He explicitly deplores the power of the irrational appetites and expressly declares that it is a dictate of reason that one not scorn others because “most men would rather lose their lives (that I say not, their peace) than suffer slander.” He does not say if you would rather die than suffer slander, it is rational to do so. Hobbes, following Aristotle, regards morality as concerned with character traits or habits. Since morality is objective, it is only those habits that are called good by reason that are moral virtues. “Reason declaring peace to be good, it follows by the same reason, that all the necessary means to peace be good also; and therefore that modesty, equity, trust, humanity, mercy (which we have demonstrated to be necessary to peace), are good manners or habits, that is, virtues.” Moral virtues are those habits of acting that the reason of all people must praise. It is interesting to note that it is only in De Homine that Hobbes explicitly acknowledges that on this account, prudence, temperance, and courage are not moral virtues. In De Cive he distinguishes temperance and fortitude from the other virtues and does not call them moral, but he does not explicitly deny that they are moral virtues. But in De Homine, he explicitly points out that one should not “demand that the courage and prudence of the private man, if useful only to himself, be praised or held as a virtue by states or by any other men whatsoever to whom these same are not useful.” That morality is determined by reason and that reason has as its goal self-preservation seems to lead to the conclusion that morality also has as its goal self-preservation. But it is not the selfpreservation of an individual person that is the goal of morality, but of people as citizens of a state. That is, moral virtues are those habits of persons that make it rational for all other people to praise them. These habits are not those that merely lead to an individual’s own preservation, but to the preservation of all; i.e., to peace and a stable society. Thus, “Good dispositions are those that are suitable for entering into civil society; and good manners (that is, moral virtues) are those whereby what was entered upon can be best preserved.” And in De Cive, when talking of morality, he says, “The goodness of actions consist[s] in this, that it [is] in order to peace, and the evil in this, that it [is] related to discord.” The nature of morality is a complex and vexing question. If, like Hobbes, we regard morality as applying primarily to those manners or habits that lead to peace, then his view seems satisfactory. It yields, as he notes, all of the moral virtues that are ordinarily considered such, and further, it allows one to distinguish courage, prudence, and temperance from the moral virtues. Perhaps most important, it provides, in almost self-evident fashion, the justification of morality. For what is it to justify morality but to show that reason favors it? Reason, seeking self-preservation, must favor morality, which seeks peace and a stable society. For reason knows that peace and a stable society are essential for lasting preservation. This simple and elegant justification of morality does not reduce morality to prudence; rather it is an attempt, in a great philosophical tradition stemming from Plato, to reconcile reason or rational self-interest and morality. In the state of nature every person is and ought to be governed only by their own reason. Reason dictates that they seek peace, which yields the laws of nature, but it also allows them to use any means they believe will best preserve themselves, which is what Hobbes calls The Right of Nature. Hobbes’s insight is to see that, except when one is in clear and present danger, in which case one has an inalienable right to defend oneself, the best way to guarantee one’s longterm preservation is to give up one’s right to act on one’s own decisions about what is the best way to guarantee one’s long-term preservation and agree to act on the decisions of that single person or group who is the sovereign. If all individuals and groups are allowed to act on the decisions they regard as best, not accepting the commands of the sovereign, i.e., the laws, as the overriding guide for their actions, the result is anarchy and civil war. Except in rare and unusual cases, uniformity of action following the decision of the sovereign is more likely to lead to long-term preservation than diverse actions following diverse decisions. And this is true even if each one of the diverse decisions, if accepted by the sovereign as its decision, would have been more likely to lead to long-term preservation than the actual decision that the sovereign made. This argument explains why Hobbes holds that sovereigns cannot commit injustice. Only injustice can properly be punished. Hobbes does not deny that sovereigns can be immoral, but he does deny that the immorality of sovereigns can properly be punished. This is important, for otherwise any immoral act by the sovereign would serve as a pretext for punishing the sovereign, i.e., for civil war. What is just and unjust is determined by the laws of the state, what is moral and immoral is not. Morality is a wider concept than that of justice and is determined by what leads to peace and stability. However, to let justice be determined by what the reason of the people takes to lead to peace and stability, rather than by what the reason of the sovereign decides, would be to invite discord and civil war, which is contrary to the goal of morality: a stable society and peace. One can create an air of paradox by saying that for Hobbes it is immoral to attempt to punish some immoral acts, namely, those of the sovereign. Hobbes is willing to accept this seeming paradox for he never loses sight of the goal of morality, which is peace. To summarize Hobbes’s system: people, insofar as they are rational, want to live out their natural lives in peace and security. To do this, they must come together into cities or states of sufficient size to deter attack by any group. But when people come together in such a large group there will always be some that cannot be trusted, and thus it is necessary to set up a government with the power to make and enforce laws. This government, which gets both its right to govern and its power to do so from the consent of the governed, has as its primary duty the people’s safety. As long as the government provides this safety the citizens are obliged to obey the laws of the state in all things. Thus, the rationality of seeking lasting preservation requires seeking peace; this in turn requires setting up a state with sufficient power to keep the peace. Anything that threatens the stability of the state is to be avoided. As a practical matter, Hobbes took God and religion very seriously, for he thought they provided some of the strongest motives for action. Half of Leviathan is devoted to trying to show that his moral and political views are supported by Scripture, and to discredit those religious views that may lead to civil strife. But accepting the sincerity of Hobbes’s religious views does not require holding that Hobbes regarded God as the foundation of morality. He explicitly denies that atheists and deists are subject to the commands of God, but he never denies that they are subject to the laws of nature or of the civil state. Once one recognizes that, for Hobbes, reason itself provides a guide to conduct to be followed by all people, there is absolutely no need to bring in God. For in his moral and political theory there is nothing that God can do that is not already done by reason. .

Hobson’s choice:  willkür – Hobson’s choice. One of Grice’s favourite words from Kant – “It’s so Kantish!” I told Pears about this, and having found it’s cognate with English ‘choose,’ he immediately set to write an essay on the topic!” f., ‘option, discretion, caprice,’ from MidHG. willekür, f., ‘free choice, free will’; gee kiesen and Kur-kiesen, verb, ‘to select,’ from Middle High German kiesen, Old High German chiosan, ‘to test, try, taste for the purpose of testing, test by tasting, select after strict examination.’ Gothic kiusan, Anglo-Saxon ceósan, English to choose. Teutonic root kus (with the change of s into r, kur in the participle erkoren, see also Kur, ‘choice’), from pre-Teutonic gus, in Latin gus-tus, gus-tare, Greek γεύω for γεύσω, Indian root juš, ‘to select, be fond of.’ Teutonic kausjun passed as kusiti into Slavonic. There is an oil portrait of Thomas Hobson, in the National Portrait Gallery, London. He looks straight to the artist and is dressed in typical Tudor dress, with a heavy coat, a ruff, and tie tails Thomas Hobson, a portrait in the National Portrait Gallery, London. A Hobson's choice is a free choice in which only one thing is offered. Because a person may refuse to accept what is offered, the two options are taking it or taking nothing. In other words, one may "take it or leave it".  The phrase is said to have originated with Thomas Hobson (1544–1631), a livery stable owner in Cambridge, England, who offered customers the choice of either taking the horse in his stall nearest to the door or taking none at all. According to a plaque underneath a painting of Hobson donated to Cambridge Guildhall, Hobson had an extensive stable of some 40 horses. This gave the appearance to his customers that, upon entry, they would have their choice of mounts, when in fact there was only one: Hobson required his customers to choose the horse in the stall closest to the door. This was to prevent the best horses from always being chosen, which would have caused those horses to become overused.[1] Hobson's stable was located on land that is now owned by St Catharine's College, Cambridge.  Early appearances in writing According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the first known written usage of this phrase is in The rustick's alarm to the Rabbies, written by Samuel Fisher in 1660:[3]  If in this Case there be no other (as the Proverb is) then Hobson's choice...which is, chuse whether you will have this or none.  It also appears in Joseph Addison's paper The Spectator (No. 509 of 14 October 1712); and in Thomas Ward's 1688 poem "England's Reformation", not published until after Ward's death. Ward wrote:  Where to elect there is but one, 'Tis Hobson's choice—take that, or none. The term "Hobson's choice" is often used to mean an illusion of choice, but it is not a choice between two equivalent options, which is a Morton's fork, nor is it a choice between two undesirable options, which is a dilemma. Hobson's choice is one between something or nothing.  John Stuart Mill, in his book Considerations on Representative Government, refers to Hobson's choice:  When the individuals composing the majority would no longer be reduced to Hobson's choice, of either voting for the person brought forward by their local leaders, or not voting at all. In another of his books, The Subjection of Women, Mill discusses marriage:  Those who attempt to force women into marriage by closing all other doors against them, lay themselves open to a similar retort. If they mean what they say, their opinion must evidently be, that men do not render the married condition so desirable to women, as to induce them to accept it for its own recommendations. It is not a sign of one's thinking the boon one offers very attractive, when one allows only Hobson's choice, 'that or none'.... And if men are determined that the law of marriage shall be a law of despotism, they are quite right in point of mere policy, in leaving to women only Hobson's choice. But, in that case, all that has been done in the modern world to relax the chain on the minds of women, has been a mistake. They should have never been allowed to receive a literary education.[7]  A Hobson's choice is different from:  Dilemma: a choice between two or more options, none of which is attractive. False dilemma: only certain choices are considered, when in fact there are others. Catch-22: a logical paradox arising from a situation in which an individual needs something that can only be acquired by not being in that very situation. Morton's fork, and a double bind: choices yield equivalent, and often undesirable, results. Blackmail and extortion: the choice between paying money (or some non-monetary good or deed) or risk suffering an unpleasant action. A common error is to use the phrase "Hobbesian choice" instead of "Hobson's choice", confusing the philosopher Thomas Hobbes with the relatively obscure Thomas Hobson[8][9][10] (It's possible they may be confusing "Hobson's choice" with "Hobbesian trap", which refers to the trap into which a state falls when it attacks another out of fear).[11] Notwithstanding that confused usage, the phrase "Hobbesian choice" is historically incorrect.[12][13][14]  Common law In Immigration and Naturalization Service v. Chadha (1983), Justice Byron White dissented and classified the majority's decision to strike down the "one-house veto" as unconstitutional as leaving Congress with a Hobson's choice. Congress may choose between "refrain[ing] from delegating the necessary authority, leaving itself with a hopeless task of writing laws with the requisite specificity to cover endless special circumstances across the entire policy landscape, or in the alternative, to abdicate its lawmaking function to the executive branch and independent agency".  In Philadelphia v. New Jersey, 437 U.S. 617 (1978),[15] the majority opinion ruled that a New Jersey law which prohibited the importation of solid or liquid waste from other states into New Jersey was unconstitutional based on the Commerce Clause. The majority reasoned that New Jersey cannot discriminate between the intrastate waste and the interstate waste with out due justification. In dissent, Justice Rehnquist stated:  [According to the Court,] New Jersey must either prohibit all landfill operations, leaving itself to cast about for a presently nonexistent solution to the serious problem of disposing of the waste generated within its own borders, or it must accept waste from every portion of the United States, thereby multiplying the health and safety problems which would result if it dealt only with such wastes generated within the State. Because past precedents establish that the Commerce Clause does not present appellees with such a Hobson's choice, I dissent.  In Monell v. Department of Social Services of the City of New York, 436 U.S. 658 (1978)[16] the judgement of the court was that  [T]here was ample support for Blair's view that the Sherman Amendment, by putting municipalities to the Hobson's choice of keeping the peace or paying civil damages, attempted to impose obligations to municipalities by indirection that could not be imposed directly, thereby threatening to "destroy the government of the states".  In the South African Constitutional Case MEC for Education, Kwa-Zulu Natal and Others v Pillay, 2008 (1) SA 474 (CC)[17] Chief Justice Langa for the majority of the Court (in Paragraph 62 of the judgement) writes that:  The traditional basis for invalidating laws that prohibit the exercise of an obligatory religious practice is that it confronts the adherents with a Hobson's choice between observance of their faith and adherence to the law. There is however more to the protection of religious and cultural practices than saving believers from hard choices. As stated above, religious and cultural practices are protected because they are central to human identity and hence to human dignity which is in turn central to equality. Are voluntary practices any less a part of a person's identity or do they affect human dignity any less seriously because they are not mandatory?  In Epic Systems Corp. v. Lewis (2018), Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg dissented and added in one of the footnotes that the petitioners "faced a Hobson’s choice: accept arbitration on their employer’s terms or give up their jobs".  In Trump et al v. Mazars USA, LLP, US Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia No. 19-5142, 49 (D.C. Cir. 11 October 2019) ("[w]orse still, the dissent’s novel approach would now impose upon the courts the job of ordering the cessation of the legislative function and putting Congress to the Hobson’s Choice of impeachment or nothing.").  Popular culture Hobson's Choice is a full-length stage comedy written by Harold Brighouse in 1915. At the end of the play, the central character, Henry Horatio Hobson, formerly a wealthy, self-made businessman but now a sick and broken man, faces the unpalatable prospect of being looked after by his daughter Maggie and her husband Will Mossop, who used to be one of Hobson's underlings. His other daughters have refused to take him in, so he has no choice but to accept Maggie's offer which comes with the condition that he must surrender control of his entire business to her and her husband, Will.  The play was adapted for film several times, including versions from 1920 by Percy Nash, 1931 by Thomas Bentley, 1954 by David Lean and a 1983 TV movie.  Alfred Bester's 1952 short story Hobson's Choice describes a world in which time travel is possible, and the option is to travel or to stay in one's native time.  In the 1951 Robert Heinlein book Between Planets, the main character Don Harvey incorrectly mentions he has a Hobson's choice. While on a space station orbiting Earth, Don needs to get to Mars, where his parents are. The only rockets available are back to Earth (where he is not welcome) or on to Venus.  In The Grim Grotto by Lemony Snicket, the Baudelaire orphans and Fiona are said to be faced with a Hobson's Choice when they are trapped by the Medusoid Mycelium Mushrooms in the Gorgonian Grotto: "We can wait until the mushrooms disappear, or we can find ourselves poisoned".In Bram Stoker's short story "The Burial of Rats", the narrator advises he has a case of Hobson's Choice while being chased by villains. The story was written around 1874.  The Terminal Experiment, a 1995 science fiction novel by Robert J. Sawyer, was originally serialised under the title Hobson's Choice.  Half-Life, a video game created in 1998 by Valve includes a Hobson's Choice in the final chapter. A human-like entity, known only as the 'G-Man', offers the protagonist Gordon Freeman a job, working under his control. If Gordon were to refuse this offer, he would be killed in an unwinnable battle, thus creating the 'illusion of free choice'.  In Early Edition, the lead character Gary Hobson is named after the choices he regularly makes during his adventures.  In an episode of Inspector George Gently, a character claims her resignation was a Hobson's choice, prompting a debate among other police officers as to who Hobson is.  In "Cape May" (The Blacklist season 3, episode 19), Raymond Reddington describes having faced a Hobson's choice in the previous episode where he was faced with the choice of saving Elizabeth Keen's baby and losing Elizabeth Keen or losing them both.  In his 1984 novel Job: A Comedy of Justice, Robert A. Heinlein's protagonist is said to have Hobson's Choice when he has the options of boarding the wrong cruise ship or staying on the island.  Remarking about the 1909 Ford Model T, US industrialist Henry Ford is credited as saying “Any customer can have a car painted any color that he wants so long as it is black”[19]  In 'The Jolly Boys' Outing', a 1989 Christmas Special episode of Only Fools and Horses, Alan states they are left with Hobson's Choice after their coach has blown up (due to a dodgy radio, supplied by Del). There's a rail strike, the last bus has gone, and their coach is out of action. They can't hitch-hike as there's 27 of them, and the replacement coach doesn't come till the next morning, thus their only choice is to stay in Margate for the night.  See also Buckley's Chance Buridan's ass Boulwarism Death and Taxes Locus of control Morton's fork No-win situation Standard form contract Sophie's Choice Zugzwang References  Barrett, Grant. "Hobson's Choice", A Way with Words  "Thomas Hobson: Hobson's Choice and Hobson's Conduit". Historyworks.  See Samuel Fisher. "Rusticus ad academicos in exercitationibus expostulatoriis, apologeticis quatuor the rustick's alarm to the rabbies or The country correcting the university and clergy, and ... contesting for the truth ... : in four apologeticall and expostulatory exercitations : wherein is contained, as well a general account to all enquirers, as a general answer to all opposers of the most truly catholike and most truly Christ-like Chistians called Quakers, and of the true divinity of their doctrine : by way of entire entercourse held in special with four of the clergies chieftanes, viz, John Owen ... Tho. Danson ... John Tombes ... Rich. Baxter ." Europeana. Retrieved 8 August 2014.  See The Spectator with Notes and General Index, the Twelve Volumes Comprised in Two. Philadelphia: J.J. Woodward. 1832. p. 272. Retrieved 4 August 2014. via Google Books  Ward, Thomas (1853). English Reformation, A Poem. New York: D.& J. Sadlier & Co. p. 373. Retrieved 8 August 2014. via Internet Archive  See Mill, John Stuart (1861). Considerations on Representative Government (1 ed.). London: Parker, Son, & Bourn. p. 145. Retrieved 23 June 2014. via Google Books  Mill, John Stuart (1869). The Subjection of Women (1869 first ed.). London: Longmans, Green, Reader & Dyer. pp. 51–2. Retrieved 28 July 2014.  Hobbes, Thomas (1982) [1651]. Leviathan, or the Matter, Form, and Power of a Commonwealth, Ecclesiastical and Civil. New York: Viking Press.  Martinich, A. P. (1999). Hobbes: A Biography. Cambridge, UK; New York: Cambridge University Press. ISBN 978-0-521-49583-7.  Martin, Gary. "Hobson's Choice". The Phrase Finder. Archived from the original on 6 March 2009. Retrieved 7 August 2010.  "The Hobbesian Trap" (PDF). 21 September 2010. Retrieved 8 April 2012.  "Sunday Lexico-Neuroticism". boaltalk.blogspot.com. 27 July 2008. Retrieved 7 August 2010.  Levy, Jacob (10 June 2003). "The Volokh Conspiracy". volokh.com. Retrieved 7 August 2010.  Oxford English Dictionary, Editor: "Amazingly, some writers have confused the obscure Thomas Hobson with his famous contemporary, the philosopher Thomas Hobbes. The resulting malapropism is beautifully grotesque". Garner, Bryan (1995). A Dictionary of Modern Legal Usage (2nd ed.). Oxford University Press. pp. 404–405.  https://supreme.justia.com/cases/federal/us/437/617/  "Monell v. Department of Soc. Svcs. - 436 U.S. 658 (1978)". justicia.com. US Supreme Court. 6 June 1978. 436 U.S. 658. Retrieved 19 February 2014.  "MEC for Education: Kwazulu-Natal and Others v Pillay (CCT 51/06) [2007] ZACC 21; 2008 (1) SA 474 (CC); 2008 (2) BCLR 99 (CC) (5 October 2007)". www.saflii.org.  Snicket, Lemony (2004) The Grim Grotto, New York: HarperCollins Publishers p.145 - 147  Henry Ford in collaboration with Samuel Crowther in My Life and Work. 1922. Page 72 External links Chisholm, Hugh, ed. (1911). "Hobson's Choice" . Encyclopædia Britannica. 13 (11th ed.). Cambridge University Press. p. 553. Categories: English-language idiomsFree willMetaphors referring to peopleDilemmas. Refs.: H. P. Grice and D. F. Pears, The philosophy of action, Pears, Choosing and deciding. The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

Hohenheim, Theophrastus Bombastus von. See PARACELSUS. Hohfeld, Wesley Newcomb (1879–1918), American jurist who taught at Stanford and Yale. His main contribution to legal and moral theory was his identification of eight fundamental legal conceptions: One person X has a legal duty to a second person Y to do some act A when the law requires X to do A for Y. X has a legal privilege (or liberty) in face of Y to do A when X has no legal duty to Y not to do A. X has a legal right (or claim) against Y that Y do A when Y has a legal duty to X to do A. X has a legal no-right against Y that Y not do A when Y has a legal liberty in face of X to do A. X has a legal power over Y to effect some legal consequence C for Y when there is some voluntary action of X that will bring about C for Y. X has a legal disability in face of Y to effect C when there is no action X can perform that will bring about C for Y. X has a legal liability in face of Y to effect C when Y has a legal power to effect C for X. X has a legal immunity against Y from C when Y has no legal power over X to effect C. Moral philosophers have adapted Hohfeld’s terminology to express analogous moral conceptions. In jurisprudence or ethics, these fundamental conceptions provide something like atoms into which all more complex legal or moral relationships can be analyzed. In logic, these conceptions reveal pairs of correlatives, such as a claim of X against Y and a duty of Y to X, each of which implies the other, and pairs of opposites, such as a duty of X to Y and a liberty of Y in face of X, which are contradictories. In the theory of rights, his distinctions between liberties, claims, powers, and immunities are often used to reveal ambiguities in the language of rights or to classify species of rights.

Hölderlin, Johann Christian Friedrich: German poet, novelist, and dramatist. He studied at Tübingen, where he befriended Schelling and Hegel, and at Jena, where he met Schiller and Fichte. Since Hölderlin never held an academic position or published any of his philosophical writings, his influence on philosophy was primarily through his personality, conversations, and letters. He is widely viewed as the author of the so-called “Oldest System-Program of German Idealism,” a fragment that culminates in an exaltation of poetry and a call for a new “mythology of reason.” This theme is illustrated in the novel Hyperion (1797/99), which criticizes the subjective heroism of ethical idealism, emphasizes the sacred character of nature, and attempts to conflate religion and art as “overseers of reason.” In his veneration of nature and objections to Fichte’s treatment of the “Not-I,” Hölderlin echoed Schelling’s Naturphilosophie. In his Hellenism and his critique of the “philosophy of reflection” (see Ueber Sein und Urteil [“On Being and Judgment”]) he anticipated and influenced Hegel. In Hölderlin’s exaltation of art as alone capable of revealing the nature of reality, he betrayed a debt to Schiller and anticipated Romanticism. However, his view of the poet possesses a tragic dimension quite foreign to Schelling and the younger Romantics. The artist, as the interpreter of divine nature, mediates between the gods and men, but for this very reason is estranged from his fellows. This aspect of Hölderlin’s thought influenced Heidegger. D.Br. holism, any of a wide variety of theses that in one way or another affirm the equal or greater reality or the explanatory necessity of the whole of some system in relation to its parts. In philosophy, the issues of holism (the word is more reasonably, but less often, spelled ‘wholism’) have appeared Hohenheim, Theophrastus Bombastus von holism 390 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 390 traditionally in the philosophy of biology, of psychology, and especially of the human sciences. In the context of description, holism with respect to some system maintains that the whole has some properties that its parts lack. This doctrine will ordinarily be trivially true unless it is further held, in the thesis of descriptive emergentism, that these properties of the whole cannot be defined by properties of the parts. The view that all properties of the wholes in question can be so defined is descriptive individualism. In the context of explanation, holism with respect to some object or system maintains either (1) that the laws of the more complex cases in it are not deducible by way of any composition laws or laws of coexistence from the laws of the less complex cases (e.g., that the laws of the behavior of people in groups are not deducible by composition laws or laws of coexistence from the laws of solitary behavior), or (2) that all the variables that constitute the system interact with each other. This denial of deducibility is known also as metaphysical or methodological holism, whereas affirming the deducibility is methodological individualism. In a special case of explanatory holism that presupposes descriptive emergentism, holism is sometimes understood as the thesis that with respect to some system the whole has properties that interact “back” with the properties of its parts. In the philosophy of biology, any of these forms of holism may be known as vitalism, while in the philosophy of psychology they have been called Gestalt doctrine. In the philosophy of the social sciences, where ‘holism’ has had its most common use in philosophy, the many issues have often been reduced to that of metaphysical holism versus methodological individualism. This terminology reflected the positivists’ belief that holism was non-empirical in postulating social “wholes” or the reality of society beyond individual persons and their properties and relations (as in Durkheim and other, mostly Continental, thinkers), while individualism was non-metaphysical (i.e., empirical) in relying ultimately only on observable properties in describing and explaining social phenomena. More recently, ‘holism’ has acquired additional uses in philosophy, especially in epistemology and philosophy of language. Doxastic or epistemic holism are theses about the “web of belief,” usually something to the effect that a person’s beliefs are so connected that their change on any topic may affect their content on any other topic or, perhaps, that the beliefs of a rational person are so connected. Semantic or meaning holism have both been used to denote either the thesis that the meanings of all terms (or sentences) in a language are so connected that any change of meaning in one of them may change any other meaning, or the thesis that changes of belief entail changes of meaning.

hologram, the image of an object in three dimensions created and reproduced by the use of lasers. Holography is a method for recording and reproducing such images. Holograms are remarkable in that, unlike normal photographs, every part of them contains the complete image but in reduced detail. Thus a small square cut from a hologram can still be laser-illuminated to reveal the whole scene originally holographed, albeit with loss of resolution. This feature made the hologram attractive to proponents of the thesis of distribution of function in the brain, who argued that memories are like holograms, not being located in a single precise engram – as claimed by advocates of localization of function – but distributed across perhaps all of the cortex. Although intriguing, the holographic model of memory storage failed to gain acceptance. Current views favor D. O. Hebb’s “cell assembly” concept, in which memories are stored in the connections between a group of neurons.

Holism -- Cited by Grice, “In defense of a dogma” “My defense of the other dogma must be left for another longer day” Duhem, Pierre-Maurice-Marie, physicist who wrote extensively on the history and philosophy of science. Like Georg Helm, Wilhelm Ostwald, and others, he was an energeticist, believing generalized thermodynamics to be the foundation of all of physics and chemistry. Duhem spent his whole scientific life advancing energetics, from his failed dissertation in physics a version of which was accepted as a dissertation in mathematics, published as Le potentiel thermodynamique 6, to his mature treatise, Traité d’énergétique 1. His scientific legacy includes the Gibbs-Duhem and DuhemMargules equations. Possibly because his work was considered threatening by the Parisian scientific establishment or because of his right-wing politics and fervent Catholicism, he never obtained the position he merited in the intellectual world of Paris. He taught at the provincial universities of Lille, Rennes, and, finally, Bordeaux. Duhem’s work in the history and philosophy of science can be viewed as a defense of the aims and methods of energetics; whatever Duhem’s initial motivation, his historical and philosophical work took on a life of its own. Topics of interest to him included the relation between history of science and philosophy of science, the nature of conceptual change, the historical structure of scientific knowledge, and the relation between science and religion. Duhem was an anti-atomist or anti-Cartesian; in the contemporary debates about light and magnetism, Duhem’s anti-atomist stance was also directed against the work of Maxwell. According to Duhem, atomists resolve the bodies perceived by the senses into smaller, imperceptible bodies. The explanation of observable phenomena is then referred to these imperceptible bodies and their motions, suitably combined. Duhem’s rejection of atomism was based on his instrumentalism or fictionalism: physical theories are not explanations but representations; they do not reveal the true nature of matter, but give general rules of which laws are particular cases; theoretical propositions are not true or false, but convenient or inconvenient. An important reason for treating physics as nonexplanatory was Duhem’s claim that there is general consensus in physics and none in metaphysics  thus his insistence on the autonomy of physics from metaphysics. But he also thought that scientific representations become more complete over time until they gain the status of a natural classification. Accordingly, Duhem attacked the use of models by some scientists, e.g. Faraday and Maxwell. Duhem’s rejection of atomism was coupled with a rejection of inductivism, the doctrine that the only physical principles are general laws known through induction, based on observation of facts. Duhem’s rejection forms a series of theses collectively known as the Duhem thesis: experiments in physics are observations of phenomena accompanied by interpretations; physicists therefore do not submit single hypotheses, but whole groups of them, to the control of experiment; thus, experimental evidence alone cannot conclusively falsify hypotheses. For similar reasons, Duhem rejected the possibility of a crucial experiment. In his historical studies, Duhem argued that there were no abrupt discontinuities between medieval and early modern science  the so-called continuity thesis; that religion played a positive role in the development of science in the Latin West; and that the history of physics could be seen as a cumulative whole, defining the direction in which progress could be expected. Duhem’s philosophical works were discussed by the founders of twentieth-century philosophy of science, including Mach, Poincaré, the members of the Vienna Circle, and Popper. A revival of interest in Duhem’s philosophy began with Quine’s reference in 3 to the Duhem thesis also known as the Duhem-Quine thesis. As a result, Duhem’s philosophical works were tr. into English  as The Aim and Structure of Physical Theory 4 and To Save the Phenomena 9. By contrast, few of Duhem’s extensive historical works  Les origines de la statique 2 vols., 608, Études sur Léonard de Vinci 3 vols., 613, and Système du monde 10 vols., 359, e.g.  have been tr., with five volumes of the Système du monde actually remaining in manuscript form until 459. Unlike his philosophical work, Duhem’s historical work was not sympathetically received by his influential contemporaries, notably George Sarton. His supposed main conclusions were rejected by the next generation of historians of science, who presented modern science as discontinuous with that of the Middle Ages. This view was echoed by historically oriented philosophers of science who, from the early 0s, emphasized discontinuities as a recurrent feature of change in science  e.g. Kuhn in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions 2. 

homoeomerous (from Greek homoiomeres, ‘of like parts’), having parts, no matter how small, that share the constitutive properties of the whole. The derivative abstract noun is ‘homoeomery’. The Greek forms of the adjective and of its corresponding privative ‘anhomoeomerous’ are used by Aristotle to distinguish between (a) nonuniform parts of living things, e.g., limbs and organs, and (b) biological stuffs, e.g., blood, bone, sap. In spite of being composed of the four elements, each of the biological stuffs, when taken individually and without admixtures, is through-and-through F, where F represents the cluster of the constitutive properties of that stuff. Thus, if a certain physical volume qualifies as blood, all its mathematically possible subvolumes, regardless of size, also qualify as blood. Blood is thus homoeomerous. By contrast, a face or a stomach or a leaf are anhomoeomerous: the parts of a face are not a face, etc. In Aristotle’s system, the homoeomery of the biological stuffs is tied to his doctrine of the infinite divisibility of matter. The distinction is prefigured in Plato (Protagoras 329d). The term ‘homoeomerous’ is stricter in its application than the ordinary terms ‘homogeneous’ and ‘uniform’. For we may speak of a homogeneous entity even if the properties at issue are identically present only in samples that fall above a certain size: the color of the sea can be homogeneously or uniformly blue; but it is not homoeomerously blue. The adjective homoiomeres, -es, and the noun homoiomereia also occur – probably tendentiously, under the influence of Aristotle’s usage – in our ancient sources for a pre-Aristotelian philosopher, Anaxagoras of Clazomenae, with reference to the constituent “things” (chremata) involved in the latter’s scheme of universal mixture. Moreover, the concept of homoeomery has played a significant role outside ancient Greek philosophy, notably in twentieth-century accounts of the contrast between mass terms and count terms or sortals.

homomorphism, in model theory, a structurepreserving mapping from one structure to another. A structure consists of a domain of objects together with a function specifying interpretations, with respect to that domain, of the relation symbols, function symbols, and individual symbols of a given language. Relations, functions, and individuals in different structures for a language L correspond to one another if they are interpretations of the same symbol of L. To call a mapping “structure-preserving” is to say (1) that if objects in the first structure bear a certain relation to one another, then their images in the second structure (under the mapping) bear the corresponding relation to one another, (2) that the value of a function for a given object (or ntuple of objects) in the first structure has as its image under the mapping the value of the corresponding function for the image of the object (or n-tuple of images) in the second structure, and (3) that the image in the second structure of an object in the first is the corresponding object. An isomorphism is a homomorphism that is oneto-one and whose inverse is also a homomorphism.

See also MODEL THEORY. R.Ke. homonymy. See AMBIGUITY. homoousian. See HOMOOUSIOS.

Homoousios. Athanasius -- early Christian father, bishop, and a leading protagonist in the fourth-century disputes concerning Christ’s relationship to God. Through major works like On the Incarnation, Against the Arians, and Letters on the Holy Spirit, Athanasius contributed greatly to the classical doctrines of the Incarnation and the Trinity. Opposing all forms of Arianism, which denied Christ’s divinity and reduced him to a creature, Athanasius taught, in the language of the Nicene Creed, that Christ the Son, and likewise the Holy Spirit, were of the same being as God the Father homoousios. Thus with terminology and concepts drawn from Grecian philosophy, he helped to forge the distinctly Christian and un-Hellenistic doctrine of the eternal triune God, who became enfleshed in time and matter and restored humanity to immortality, forfeited through sin, by involvement in its condition of corruption and decay.  homoousios (Greek, ‘of the same substance’), a concept central to the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, enshrined in the Nicene Creed of A.D. 381. It attests that God the Son (and by extension the Spirit) is of one and the same being or substance (ousia) as the Father. Reflecting the insistence of Athanasius against Arianism that Christ is God’s eternal, coequal Son and not a creature, the Nicene homoousios is also to be differentiated from a rival formula, homoiousios (Greek, ‘of similar substance’), which affirms merely the Son’s likeness in being to God. Though notoriously and superficially an argument over one Greek iota, the issue was philosophically profound and theologically crucial whether or not Jesus of Nazareth incarnated God’s own being, revealed God’s own truth, and mediated God’s own salvation. See also TRINITARIANISM. A.E.L. homuncular functionalism. See FUNCTIONALISM.

homunculus (from Latin, ‘little man’), a miniature adult held to inhabit the brain (or some other organ) who perceives all the inputs to the sense organs and initiates all the commands to the muscles. Any theory that posits such an internal agent risks an infinite regress (sometimes called the homunculus fallacy), since we can ask whether there is a little man in the little man’s head, responsible for his perception and action, and so on. Many familiar views of the mind and its activities seem to require a homunculus. For instance, models of visual perception that posit an inner picture as its product homoromery homunculus 392 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 392 apparently require a homunculus to look at the picture, and models of action that treat intentions as commands to the muscles apparently require a homunculus to issue the commands. It is never an easy matter to determine whether a theory is committed to the existence of a homunculus that vitiates the theory, and in some circumstances, homunculi can be legitimately posited at intermediate levels of theory: “Homunculi are bogeymen only if they duplicate entire the talents they are rung in to explain. If one can get a team or committee of relatively ignorant, narrow-minded, blind homunculi to produce the intelligent behavior of the whole, this is progress” (Dennett, Brainstorms, 1978). Theories (in philosophy of mind or artificial intelligence or cognitive science) that posit such teams of homunculi have been called homuncular functionalism by William Lycan. D.C.D. Horkheimer, Max (1895–1973), German philosopher, the leading theorist of the first generation of the Frankfurt School of critical theory. Both as director of the Institute for Social Research and in his early philosophical essays published in the Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung, Horkheimer set the agenda for the collaborative work of the Frankfurt School in the social sciences, including analyses of the developments of state capitalism, the family, modern culture, and fascism. His programmatic essays on the relation of philosophy and the social sciences long provided the philosophical basis for Frankfurt School social criticism and research and have profoundly influenced Habermas’s reformulation of Frankfurt School critical theory. In these essays, such as “The Present Situation of Social Philosophy and the Tasks of an Institute for Social Research” (1931), Horkheimer elaborated a cooperative relation between philosophy and the social sciences through an interdisciplinary historical materialism. His “Traditional and Critical Theory” (1937) develops the distinction between “critical” and “traditional” theories in terms of basic goals: critical theories aim at emancipating human beings rather than describing reality as it is now. In the darkest days of World War II Horkheimer began collaborating with Adorno on The Dialectic of Enlightenment (1941), in which they see the origins of modern reason and autonomy in the domination of nature and the inner self. This genealogy of modern reason argues that myth and enlightenment are inseparably “entwined,” a view proposed primarily to explain the catastrophe in which Europe found itself. While Horkheimer thought that a revised notion of Hegelian dialectics might lead beyond this impasse, he never completed this positive project. Instead, he further developed the critique of instrumental reason in such works as Eclipse of Reason (1947), where he argues that modern institutions, including democracy, are under the sway of formal and instrumental rationality and the imperatives of self-preservation. While he did little new work after this period, he turned at the end of his life to a philosophical reinterpretation of religion and the content of religious experience and concepts, developing a negative theology of the “completely Other.” His most enduring influence is his clear formulation of the epistemology of practical and critical social inquiry oriented to human emancipation. See also CRITICAL THEORY, FRANKFURT SCHOOL. J.Bo.

hormic psychology. See MCDOUGALL. Ho Yen (d.A.D. 249), Chinese philosopher, an early leader of the Neo-Taoist movement. Ho Yen brought into currency the idea of “non-being” (wu) in explaining the tao and the origin of being. Without limit and inexhaustible, the tao constitutes the totality of all there is. Formless and nameless, it is a creative vital energy (ch’i) that through a process of differentiation produces heaven and earth and the myriad creatures. Ho Yen is also famous for his view that the sage does not have emotions (ch’ing). This is because the sage is exceptionally endowed with pure ch’ienergy, which precludes emotional disturbance. Ethically, this further translates into a critique of hypocrisy and the abuse of power that Ho Yen considered the bane of Chinese society.

See also CH’ING, NEO-TAOISM. A.K.L.C.

 hsiao, Chinese team meaning ‘filial piety’. Hsiao refers both to a virtue and to acts manifesting that virtue. Originally, hsiao had to do with the proper performance of one’s parents’ funeral rituals and sacrifices to one’s ancestors. Later, hsiao came to encompass the proper treatment of one’s parents while they are alive. Hsiao is fundamental to Confucianism in that showing proper respect for one’s parents is thought to be related to respect for legitimate political authority. See also CONFUCIANISM, LI2. B.W.V.N. hsien, in Chinese philosophy, divine “immortals” or “transcendents” – spiritual beings who have attained the tao and are characterized by transcendence and immortality; a central ideal in Horkheimer, Max hsien 393 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 393 religious Taoism. The idea has its roots in ancient Chinese religion; in its mature form, it signifies a being constituted by the purest and most potent form of vital energy (ch’i), which renders him/ her beyond the limitations of mundane life. Thus, hsien are often characterized by the power of flight. In poetry and philosophic discourse, hsien evokes fulfillment and freedom, especially from desire and the vagaries of human striving. In religious Taoism, there is an important debate whether immortality can be achieved through effort. Various methods that fall under the general rubrics of “internal alchemy” (nei-tan) and “external alchemy” (wai-tan) have been devised to bring about the perfected state. See also CH’I, TAOISM. A.K.L.C. Hsi K’ang (A.D.223–62), Chinese philosopher, a key representative of Neo-Taoism. Hsi K’ang’s philosophy centers on the concept of tzu-jan – naturalness or, literally, what is of itself so – which depicts the inherent order of the Taoist universe. Nature conforms to “necessary principles” (pi-jan chih li); individuals receive an energy endowment (ch’i) at birth of varying richness that defines their nature and capacity. While endowment is inborn, self-cultivation directed at dispelling self-interest can substantially enhance one’s physical and spiritual well-being. In ethics and politics, Hsi K’ang thus advocates going beyond the orthodox teachings of Confucianism (ming-chiao), which emphasize learning, conformity, and tradition. Hsi is also famous for his musical theory that “sounds do not have sorrow or joy” (sheng wu ai-lo): while sounds are naturally produced, emotions involve subjective and cognitive reactions. See also CH’I, NEO-TAOISM. A.K.L.C. hsin1, Chinese term meaning ‘heart’, ‘mind’, ‘feeling’. Generally, the hsin is both the physical organ we call the heart, and the faculty of appetition, cognition, and emotion, but the precise nature and proper role of hsin is one of the fundamental issues dividing Chinese philosophers. Mencius speaks of “four hearts,” associating a particular virtue and set of emotional and cognitive capacities with each. Chuang Tzu suggests that we “fast” (chai), rather than cultivate, the hsin, letting ourselves be guided instead by the ch’i. Hsün Tzu holds that the hsin should control and sublimate the desires. In Neo-Confucianism, the hsin is conceived as a fully developed moral sense, present in every human, whose proper functioning is obscured by selfish desires. NeoConfucians differ over whether hsin is identical with principle (li) and nature (hsing).

See also CONFUCIANISM, LI1, MENCIUS, NEO-CONFUCIANISM. B.W.V.N. hsin2, Chinese term meaning ‘trust’, ‘faith’, ‘trustworthiness’, ‘honest’. In early texts, hsin is the mutual trust of sincerity between worshiper and spirit. The Chinese character for this word consists of two elements representing ‘person’ and ‘speech’, and this provides a reliable guide to its root sense: being true to one’s word. Hsin became one of the cardinal Confucian virtues: trustworthiness or honesty (but only in service to what is right). In Buddhist contexts, hsin can mean ‘faith’ in the religious sense, e.g., the Pure Land School’s practice of faith in Amitabha Buddha. This influenced Neo-Confucianism and is manifested in their faith in a perfect, innate moral faculty. See also CHINESE PHILOSOPHY, NEO-CONFUCIANISM. P.J.I.

hsing, Chinese philosophical term generally agreed to be derived from ‘sheng’ (life, growth), and usually translated as ‘nature’. In its earliest use as a term distinct from ‘sheng’, it probably referred to the tendency or direction of development that a thing will realize if unobstructed (e.g. it is the hsing of a sprout to grow into a fullgrown plant and the hsing of water to flow downward), and the hsing of human beings is also supposed to be their proper course of development. The concept hsing probably entered philosophical discourse with the development of the school of thought associated with Yang Chu (fifth–fourth century B.C.), which regarded the hsing of human beings as the tendency to live a life of a certain span in good health and with sensory desires appropriately satisfied. It subsequently became a central concept in Confucian thought, though understood differently by different Confucian thinkers. Mencius (fourth century B.C.) regarded the moral way of life as a full realization of the hsing of human beings, which is constituted by the direction of development indicated by certain incipient moral inclinations of the heart/mind (hsin); hsing is good in that it has a moral direction. Hsün Tzu (third century B.C.) regarded the moral way of life as a transformation of the hsing of human beings, which comprises primarily self-regarding desires human beings have by birth; hsing is evil in that unregulated pursuit of satisfaction of such desires leads to strife and disorder. Different views of hsing continued to evolve; but ever since the view that Mencius was the true transmitter of Confucius’s teachings became established, Hsi K’ang hsing 394 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 394 largely through the efforts of Chu Hsi (1130– 1200), the idea that the hsing of human beings is good has been a central tenet of Confucian thought. See also CONFUCIANISM. K.-l.S. hsing-erh-shang, in Chinese philosophy, formless or metaphysical. In part one of the I-Ching (the Book of Changes) there is a statement that what is hsing-erh-shang is called tao (the Way), and what is hsing-er-hsia (with form) is called ch’i, a concrete thing. In the Chinese way of thinking, tao and ch’i are understood to be inseparable from each other; as tao is both transcendent and immanent, it permeates things, and things must not be cut off and alienated from their metaphysical origin.

See also CHINESE PHILOSOPHY. S.-h.L. hsing-ming, in Chinese philosophy, “forms and names,” an important philosophical concept associated with Legalism and the Huang–Lao School (the school of the Yellow Emperor and Lao Tzu), which flourished during the Warring States period and the early Han dynasty (third– second century B.C.). The narrower meaning of the term has to do with a system of law and punishment, designed especially to keep state officials in check. More broadly, hsing-ming points to a vision of order, in which all “names” (ming) should correspond to their underlying “form” (hsing) or reality. Applied to politics, this suggests that the ruler must discern the workings of the cosmos, ensure that officials perform their assigned duties, and allow the people to prosper in the perceived natural order of things. See also CHINESE LEGALISM. A.K.L.C. Hsiung Shih-li (1885–1968), Chinese contemporary New Confucian philosopher. He was a revolutionary when young and later studied Wei-shih (Vijnanavada, ‘Consciousness-Only’) philosophy at the China Buddhist Institute under Ou-yang Ching-wu (1871–1943). But, dissatisfied, he developed his New Wei-shih philosophy of creativity based on the insights he derived from the I-Ching. He became influential and had Mou Tsung-san, T’ang Chün-i, and Hsü Fu-kuan among his disciples. After the Communist takeover in 1949, he still rejected materialism, but embraced a radical social philosophy that was not shared by most of his former disciples. See also CHINESE PHILOSOPHY, HSÜ FUKUAN, I-CHING, T’ANG CHÜN-I. S.-h.L.

Hsü Fu-kuan (1903–82), Chinese intellectual and historian who served directly under Chiang Kai-shek at one time, but became a critic of the Nationalist government after it moved to Taiwan in 1949. He founded Democratic Review, the influential magazine that spread the ideas of contemporary New Confucians. He also started the Department of Chinese at Tunghai University in 1955 and invited Mou Tsung-san to join the staff to form another center of New Confucianism other than New Asia College in Hong Kong. He characterized his own position as between academic studies and politics, and between historical scholarship and philosophical understanding. His magnum opus was the three-volume History of Han Thought; his works on Chinese literature and art were also widely quoted. See also CH’IEN MU, HSIUNG SHIH-LI, T’ANG CHÜN-I. S.-h.L. Hsü Hsing (c.315 B.C.), Chinese philosopher, a member of the Tillers or Agriculture School (Nung Chia). The Tillers believed that in antiquity Shen Nung, the Divine Farmer, had ruled without reward, punishment, or administration over a decentralized utopia of small communities where all, including the ruler, lived by their own labor. Accordingly, Hsü Hsing attacked contemporary rulers who did not plow the fields but rather lived off the labor of others. He also sought to stabilize grain prices by controlling supply: grain would be stored in good years and distributed in bad ones. R.P.P. & R.T.A.

Hsün Tzu (third century B.C.), a tough-minded Confucian philosopher best known for his opposition to Mencius’s conception of the inherent goodness of human nature. For Hsün Tzu, the essential nature of human beings is bad in the sense of possessing a problematical motivational hsing-erh-shang Hsün Tzu 395 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 395 structure: every human seeks to satisfy his/her desires; unless guided by li (propriety) and i (rightness), these desires inevitably lead to conflict especially in view of the scarcity of goods and the native human tendency toward partiality for one’s own benefits and for those of one’s close relations. Significantly, the li or rules of proper behavior perform three basic functions: delimiting, supportive, and ennobling. The first draws the boundaries of proper conduct; the second provides channels for satisfaction of desires within these boundaries; and the third provides sources for ennobling personal character in accordance with jen (benevolence) and i (rightness). Hsün Tzu is also noted for emphasizing law as a supplement to li (rules of proper conduct); the need of argumentation to resolve ethical disagreement; the importance of clarity of mind, as opposed to pi (obscuration) in the pursuit of ethical knowledge; and the importance of Confucian classics in character education. See also MENCIUS. A.S.C.

Huai Nan Tzu, an ancient Chinese syncretic compendium of knowledge. It was compiled by an academy of scholars residing under the patronage of one of the most prominent literary figures of the age, Liu An, Prince of Huai Nan, and presented to the imperial court of Emperor Wu in about 140 B.C. The twenty treatises that make up the text include technical tracts on astronomy, topography, and calendrics, as well as original reconfigurations of the ideas and beliefs that flourished in the formative period of classical Chinese philosophy. In many ways, it is a Han dynasty (206 B.C.–A.D. 220) summary of existing knowledge, and like most Chinese documents it is practical and prescriptive. As a political document, it is syncretic, blending Confucian, Legalist, and Taoist precepts to recommend a kind of practicable Taoist alternative to political centralism. R.P.P. & R.T.A

Huang–Lao (Chinese, ‘School of the Yellow Emperor and Lao Tzu’), an eclectic school (c. third century B.C.) purportedly based on the teachings of the mythic Yellow Emperor and Lao Tzu, advocating a kind of Realpolitik Taoism stressing reliance on methods of ruling (e.g., rewards and punishments) and the power of political and social structures. Huang–Lao sought to establish a perfectly organized state, which tzu jan (naturally) runs smoothly, in which the ruler reigns (not rules) through wu wei (non-action). Huang–Lao’s mystical side concerns its claim that only the ruler can attain the unifying vision needed for such organization and that this vision is achieved through the practice of stillness and hsü (tenuousness). P.J.I. Huang Tsung-hsi (1610–95), Chinese philosopher and historian. A student of Liu Tsung-chou (1578–1645), the last great Neo-Confucian philosopher in the Ming dynasty, he compiled Ming-ju-hsüeh-an and Sung-Yüan-hsüeh-an, important anthologies and critical accounts of the Neo-Confucianists of the Ming dynasty and Sung and Yüan dynasties. He also wrote Ming-i-taifang-lu (“Waiting for the Dawn: A Plan for the Prince”), in which he denounced the system of government working only for the selfish interest of the ruler. This work exerted great influence in the last days of the Chinese empire. See also CHINESE PHILOSOPHY, CHU HSI, WANG YANGMING. S.-h.L. Hu Hung, also called Wu-feng (1100–55), Chinese Neo-Confucian philosopher and an important figure in the Hunan School. According to him, hsin (mind/heart) is the outward manifestation of hsing (human nature); one must first understand the nature of jen (humanity) before one can practice moral cultivation. Professor Mou Tsung-san believed that Hu Hung succeeded Chou Tun-yi, Chang Tsai, and Ch’eng Hao, representing a third line of thought other than those of Ch’eng–Chu and Lu–Wang.

See also CHANG TSAI, CH’ENG HAO, CHOU TUN-YI, CHU HSI, NEO-CONFUCIANISM. S.-h.L. Hui Shih (c.380–305 B.C.), Chinese philosopher, prime minister of the state of Wei, and a leading member of the School of Names (ming chia, also referred to as pien che, the Dialecticians or Sophists). As a friend and debating partner of the Taoist philosopher Chuang Tzu, Hui Shih parried Chuang Tzu’s poetic, rhapsodic, and meditationbased intuitions with sophisticated logic and analytic rigor. An advocate of the Mohist idea of impartial concern for others (chien ai) and an opponent of war, he is most famous for his Ten Paradoxes, collected in the Chuang Tzu. Though Hui Shih’s explanations are no longer extant, paradoxes such as “I go to Yüeh today but arrived yesterday” and “The south has no limit yet has a limit” raise issues of relativity and perspectivism with respect to language, values, and concepts such as space and time.

humanism, a set of presuppositions that assigns to human beings a special position in the scheme Huai Nan Tzu humanism 396 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 396 of things. Not just a school of thought or a collection of specific beliefs or doctrines, humanism is rather a general perspective from which the world is viewed. That perspective received a gradual yet persistent articulation during different historical periods and continues to furnish a central leitmotif of Western civilization. It comes into focus when it is compared with two competing positions. On the one hand, it can be contrasted with the emphasis on the supernatural, transcendent domain, which considers humanity to be radically dependent on divine order. On the other hand, it resists the tendency to treat humanity scientifically as part of the natural order, on a par with other living organisms. Occupying the middle position, humanism discerns in human beings unique capacities and abilities, to be cultivated and celebrated for their own sake. The word ‘humanism’ came into general use only in the nineteenth century but was applied to intellectual and cultural developments in previous eras. A teacher of classical languages and literatures in Renaissance Italy was described as umanista (contrasted with legista, teacher of law), and what we today call “the humanities,” in the fifteenth century was called studia humanitatis, which stood for grammar, rhetoric, history, literature, and moral philosophy. The inspiration for these studies came from the rediscovery of ancient Greek and Latin texts; Plato’s complete works were translated for the first time, and Aristotle’s philosophy was studied in more accurate versions than those available during the Middle Ages. The unashamedly humanistic flavor of classical writings had a tremendous impact on Renaissance scholars. Here, one felt no weight of the supernatural pressing on the human mind, demanding homage and allegiance. Humanity – with all its distinct capacities, talents, worries, problems, possibilities – was the center of interest. It has been said that medieval thinkers philosophized on their knees, but, bolstered by the new studies, they dared to stand up and to rise to full stature. Instead of devotional Church Latin, the medium of expression was the people’s own language – Italian, French, German, English. Poetical, lyrical self-expression gained momentum, affecting all areas of life. New paintings showed great interest in human form. Even while depicting religious scenes, Michelangelo celebrated the human body, investing it with instrinsic value and dignity. The details of daily life – food, clothing, musical instruments – as well as nature and landscape – domestic and exotic – were lovingly examined in paintings and poetry. Imagination was stirred by stories brought home by the discoverers of new lands and continents, enlarging the scope of human possibilities as exhibited in the customs and the natural environments of strange, remote peoples. The humanist mode of thinking deepened and widened its tradition with the advent of eighteenth-century thinkers. They included French philosophes like Voltaire, Diderot, and Rousseau, and other European and American figures – Bentham, Hume, Lessing, Kant, Franklin, and Jefferson. Not always agreeing with one another, these thinkers nevertheless formed a family united in support of such values as freedom, equality, tolerance, secularism, and cosmopolitanism. Although they championed untrammeled use of the mind, they also wanted it to be applied in social and political reform, encouraging individual creativity and exalting the active over the contemplative life. They believed in the perfectibility of human nature, the moral sense and responsibility, and the possibility of progress. The optimistic motif of perfectibility endured in the thinking of nineteenth- and twentiethcentury humanists, even though the accelerating pace of industrialization, the growth of urban populations, and the rise in crime, nationalistic squabbles, and ideological strife leading to largescale inhumane warfare often put in question the efficacy of humanistic ideals. But even the depressing run of human experience highlighted the appeal of those ideals, reinforcing the humanistic faith in the values of endurance, nobility, intelligence, moderation, flexibility, sympathy, and love. Humanists attribute crucial importance to education, conceiving of it as an all-around development of personality and individual talents, marrying science to poetry and culture to democracy. They champion freedom of thought and opinion, the use of intelligence and pragmatic research in science and technology, and social and political systems governed by representative institutions. Believing that it is possible to live confidently without metaphysical or religious certainty and that all opinions are open to revision and correction, they see human flourishing as dependent on open communication, discussion, criticism, and unforced consensus.

humanism, civic humanism, civic 397 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 397 human nature, a quality or group of qualities, belonging to all and only humans, that explains the kind of being we are. We are all two-footed and featherless, but ‘featherless biped’ does not explain our socially significant characteristics. We are also all both animals and rational beings (at least potentially), and ‘rational animal’ might explain the special features we have that other kinds of beings, such as angels, do not. The belief that there is a human nature is part of the wider thesis that all natural kinds have essences. Acceptance of this position is compatible with many views about the specific qualities that constitute human nature. In addition to rationality and embodiment, philosophers have said that it is part of our nature to be wholly selfinterested, benevolent, envious, sociable, fearful of others, able to speak and to laugh, and desirous of immortality. Philosophers disagree about how we are to discover our nature. Some think metaphysical insight into eternal forms or truths is required, others that we can learn it from observation of biology or of behavior. Most have assumed that only males display human nature fully, and that females, even at their best, are imperfect or incomplete exemplars. Philosophers also disagree on whether human nature determines morality. Some think that by noting our distinctive features we can infer what God wills us to do. Others think that our nature shows at most the limits of what morality can require, since it would plainly be pointless to direct us to ways of living that our nature makes impossible. Some philosophers have argued that human nature is plastic and can be shaped in different ways. Others hold that it is not helpful to think in terms of human nature. They think that although we share features as members of a biological species, our other qualities are socially constructed. If the differences between male and female reflect cultural patterns of child rearing, work, and the distribution of power, our biologically common features do not explain our important characteristics and so do not constitute a nature.

human rights. See RIGHTS. human sciences. See WEBER. Humboldt, Wilhelm von (1767–1835), German statesman, scholar, and educator, often regarded as the father of comparative linguistics. Born in Potsdam, Wilhelm, with his younger brother Alexander, was educated by private tutors in the “enlightened” style thought suitable for future Prussian diplomats. This included classical languages, history, philosophy, and political economy. After his university studies in law at Frankfurt an der Oder and Göttingen, his career was divided among assorted diplomatic posts, writing on a broad range of topics, and (his first love) the study of languages. His broad-ranging works reveal the important influences of Herder in his conception of history and culture, Kant and Fichte in philosophy, and the French “Ideologues” in linguistics. His most enduring work has proved to be the Introduction (published in 1836) to his massive study of the Kawi language spoken on Java. Humboldt maintained that language, as a vital and dynamic “organism,” is the key to understanding both the operations of the human mind and the distinctive differences characteristic of various national cultures. Every language possesses a distinctive inner form that shapes, in a way reminiscent of Kant’s more general categories, the subjective experiences, the worldview, and ultimately the institutions of a given nation and its culture. While all later comparative linguists are indebted to both his empirical studies and his theoretical insights, such philosophers of culture as Dilthey and Cassirer acknowledge him as establishing language as a central concern for the human sciences. J.P.Su. Hume, David (1711–76), Scottish philosopher and historian who may be aptly considered the leading neo-skeptic of the early modern period. Many of Hume’s immediate predecessors (Descartes, Bayle, and Berkeley) had grappled with important elements of skepticism. Hume consciously incorporated many of these same elements into a philosophical system that manages to be both skeptical and constructive. Born and educated in Edinburgh, Hume spent three years (1734–37) in France writing the penultimate draft of A Treatise of Human Nature. In middle life, in addition to writing a wide-ranging set of essays and short treatises and a long History of England, he served briefly as companion to a mad nobleman, then as a military attaché, before becoming librarian of the Advocates Library in Edinburgh. In 1763 he served as private secretary to Lord Hertford, the British ambassador in Paris; in 1765 he became secretary to the embassy there and then served as chargé d’affaires. In 1767–68 he served in Lonhuman nature Hume, David 398 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 398 don as under-secretary of state for the Northern Department. He retired to Edinburgh in 1769 and died there. Hume’s early care was chiefly in the hands of his widowed mother, who reported that young David was “uncommon wake-minded” (i.e., uncommonly acute, in the local dialect of the period). His earliest surviving letter, written in 1727, indicates that even at sixteen he was engaged in the study that resulted in the publication (1739) of the first two volumes of A Treatise of Human Nature. By the time he left college (c.1726) he had a thorough grounding in classical authors, especially Cicero and the major Latin poets; in natural philosophy (particularly that of Boyle) and mathematics; in logic or theory of knowledge, metaphysics, and moral philosophy; and in history. His early reading included many of the major English and French poets and essayists of the period. He reports that in the three years ending about March 1734, he read “most of the celebrated Books in Latin, French & English,” and also learned Italian. Thus, although Hume’s views are often supposed to result from his engagement with only one or two philosophers (with either Locke and Berkeley, or Hutcheson or Newton), the breadth of his reading suggests that no single writer or philosophical tradition provides the comprehensive key to his thought. Hume’s most often cited works include A Treatise of Human Nature (three volumes, 1739–40); an Abstract (1740) of volumes 1 and 2 of the Treatise; a collection of approximately forty essays (Essays Moral, Political, and Literary, first published, for the most part, between 1741 and 1752); An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding (1748); An Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals (1751); The Natural History of Religion (1757); a six-volume History of England from Roman times to 1688 (1754–62); a brief autobiography, My Own Life (1777); and Dialogues concerning Natural Religion (1778). Hume’s neo-skeptical stance manifests itself in each of these works. He insists that philosophy “cannot go beyond experience; and any hypothesis, that pretends to discover the ultimate original qualities of human nature, ought at first to be rejected as presumptuous and chimerical.” He says of the Treatise that it “is very sceptical, and tends to give us a notion of the imperfections and narrow limits of the human understanding.” But he goes well beyond the conventional recognition of human limitations; from his skeptical starting place he projects an observationally based science of human nature, and produces a comprehensive and constructive account of human nature and experience. Hume begins the Treatise with a discussion of the “elements” of his philosophy. Arguing that it is natural philosophers (scientists) who should explain how sensation works, he focuses on those entities that are the immediate and only objects present to the mind. These he calls “perceptions” and distinguishes into two kinds, “impressions” and “ideas.” Hume initially suggests that impressions (of which there are two kinds: of sensation and of reflection) are more forceful or vivacious than ideas, but some ideas (those of memory, e.g.) do sometimes take on enough force and vivacity to be called impressions, and belief also adds sufficient force and vivacity to ideas to make them practically indistinguishable from impressions. In the end we find that impressions are clearly distinguished from ideas only insofar as ideas are always causally dependent on impressions. Thomas Reid charged that the allegedly representative theory of perception found in Descartes and Locke had served as a philosophical Trojan horse leading directly to skeptical despair. Hume was fully aware of the skeptical implications of this theory. He knew well those sections of Bayle and Locke that reveal the inadequacy of Descartes’s attempts to prove that there is an external world, and also appreciated the force of the objections brought by Bayle and Berkeley against the primary–secondary quality distinction championed by Locke. Hume adopted the view that the immediate objects of the mind are always “perceptions” because he thought it correct, and in spite of the fact that it leads to skepticism about the external world. Satisfied that the battle to establish absolutely reliable links between thought and reality had been fought and lost, Hume made no attempt to explain how our impressions of sensation are linked to their entirely “unknown causes.” He instead focused exclusively on perceptions qua objects of mind: As to those impressions, which arise from the senses, their ultimate cause is, in my opinion, perfectly inexplicable by human reason, and ‘twill always be impossible to decide with certainty, whether they arise immediately from the object, or are produc’d by the creative power of the mind, or are deriv’d from the author of our being. Nor is such a question any way material to our present purpose. We may draw inferences from the coherence of our perceptions, whether they be true or Hume, David Hume, David 399 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 399 false; whether they represent nature justly, or be mere illusions of the senses. Book I of the Treatise is an effort to show how our perceptions cohere to form certain fundamental notions (those of space and time, causal connection, external and independent existence, and mind) in which, skeptical doubts notwithstanding, we repose belief and on which “life and action entirely depend.” According to Hume, we have no direct impressions of space and time, and yet the ideas of space and time are essential to our existence. This he explains by tracing our idea of space to a “manner of appearance”: by means of two senses, sight and touch, we have impressions that array themselves as so many points on a contrasting background; the imagination transforms these particulars of experience into a “compound impression, which represents extension” or the abstract idea of space itself. Our idea of time is, mutatis mutandis, accounted for in the same way: “As ‘tis from the disposition of visible and tangible objects we receive the idea of space, so from the succession of ideas and impressions we form the idea of time.” The abstract idea of time, like all other abstract ideas, is represented in the imagination by a “particular individual idea of a determinate quantity and quality” joined to a term, ‘time’, that has general reference. Hume is often credited with denying there is physical necessity and that we have any idea of necessary connection. This interpretation significantly distorts his intent. Hume was convinced by the Cartesians, and especially by Malebranche, that neither the senses nor reason can establish that one object (a cause) is connected together with another object (an effect) in such a way that the presence of the one entails the existence of the other. Experience reveals only that objects thought to be causally related are contiguous in time and space, that the cause is prior to the effect, and that similar objects have been constantly associated in this way. These are the defining, perceptible features of the causal relation. And yet there seems to be more to the matter. “There is,” he says, a “NECESSARY CONNECTION to be taken into consideration,” and our belief in that relation must be explained. Despite our demonstrated inability to see or prove that there are necessary causal connections, we continue to think and act as if we had knowledge of them. We act, for example, as though the future will necessarily resemble the past, and “wou’d appear ridiculous” if we were to say “that ‘tis only probable the sun will rise to-morrow, or that all men must dye.” To explain this phenomenon Hume asks us to imagine what life would have been like for Adam, suddenly brought to life in the midst of the world. Adam would have been unable to make even the simplest predictions about the future behavior of objects. He would not have been able to predict that one moving billiard ball, striking a second, would cause the second to move. And yet we, endowed with the same faculties, can not only make, but are unable to resist making, this and countless other such predictions. What is the difference between ourselves and this putative Adam? Experience. We have experienced the constant conjunction (the invariant succession of paired objects or events) of particular causes and effects and, although our experience never includes even a glimpse of a causal connection, it does arouse in us an expectation that a particular event (a “cause”) will be followed by another event (an “effect”) previously and constantly associated with it. Regularities of experience give rise to these feelings, and thus determine the mind to transfer its attention from a present impression to the idea of an absent but associated object. The idea of necessary connection is copied from these feelings. The idea has its foundation in the mind and is projected onto the world, but there is nonetheless such an idea. That there is an objective physical necessity to which this idea corresponds is an untestable hypothesis, nor would demonstrating that such necessary connections had held in the past guarantee that they will hold in the future. Thus, while not denying that there may be physical necessity or that there is an idea of necessary connection, Hume remains a skeptic about causal necessity. Hume’s account of our belief in future effects or absent causes – of the process of mind that enables us to plan effectively – is a part of this same explanation. Such belief involves an idea or conception of the entity believed in, but is clearly different from mere conception without belief. This difference cannot be explained by supposing that some further idea, an idea of belief itself, is present when we believe, but absent when we merely conceive. There is no such idea. Moreover, given the mind’s ability to freely join together any two consistent ideas, if such an idea were available we by an act of will could, contrary to experience, combine the idea of belief with any other idea, and by so doing cause ourselves to believe anything. Consequently, Hume concludes that belief can only be a “different MANNER of conceiving an object”; it is a livelier, Hume, David Hume, David 400 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 400 firmer, more vivid and intense conception. Belief in certain “matters of fact” – the belief that because some event or object is now being experienced, some other event or object not yet available to experience will in the future be experienced – is brought about by previous experience of the constant conjunction of two impressions. These two impressions have been associated together in such a way that the experience of one of them automatically gives rise to an idea of the other, and has the effect of transferring the force or liveliness of the impression to the associated idea, thereby causing this idea to be believed or to take on the lively character of an impression. Our beliefs in continuing and independently existing objects and in our own continuing selves are, on Hume’s account, beliefs in “fictions,” or in entities entirely beyond all experience. We have impressions that we naturally but mistakenly suppose to be continuing, external objects, but analysis quickly reveals that these impressions are by their very nature fleeting and observer-dependent. Moreover, none of our impressions provides us with a distinctive mark or evidence of an external origin. Similarly, when we focus on our own minds, we experience only a sequence of impressions and ideas, and never encounter the mind or self in which these perceptions are supposed to inhere. To ourselves we appear to be merely “a bundle or collection of different perceptions, which succeed each other with an inconceivable rapidity, and are in a perpetual flux and movement.” How do we, then, come to believe in external objects or our own selves and self-identity? Neither reason nor the senses, working with impressions and ideas, provide anything like compelling proof of the existence of continuing, external objects, or of a continuing, unified self. Indeed, these two faculties cannot so much as account for our belief in objects or selves. If we had only reason and the senses, the faculties championed by, respectively, the rationalists and empiricists, we would be mired in a debilitating and destructive uncertainty. So unfortunate an outcome is avoided only by the operation of an apparently unreliable third faculty, the imagination. It, by means of what appear to be a series of outright mistakes and trivial suggestions, leads us to believe in our own selves and in independently existing objects. The skepticism of the philosophers is in this way both confirmed (we can provide no arguments, e.g., proving the existence of the external world) and shown to be of little practical import. An irrational faculty, the imagination, saves us from the excesses of philosophy: “Philosophy wou’d render us entirely Pyrrhonian,” says Hume, were not nature, in the form of the imagination, too strong for it. Books II and III of the Treatise and the Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals reveal Hume’s concern to explain our moral behavior and judgments in a manner that is consistent with his science of human nature, but which nonetheless recognizes the irreducible moral content of these judgments. Thus he attempted to rescue the passions from the ad hoc explanations and negative assessments of his predecessors. From the time of Plato and the Stoics the passions had often been characterized as irrational and unnatural animal elements that, given their head, would undermine humankind’s true, rational nature. Hume’s most famous remark on the subject of the passions, “Reason is, and ought only to be, the slave of the passions,” will be better understood if read in this context (and if it is remembered that he also claims that reason can and does extinguish some passions). In contrast to the long-standing orthodoxy, Hume assumes that the passions constitute an integral and legitimate part of human nature, a part that can be explained without recourse to physical or metaphysical speculation. The passions can be treated as of a piece with other perceptions: they are secondary impressions (“impressions of reflection”) that derive from prior impressions and ideas. Some passions (pride and humility, love and hatred) may be characterized as indirect; i.e., they arise as the result of a double relation of impressions and ideas that gives them one form of intentional character. These passions have both assignable causes (typically, the qualities of some person or some object belonging to a person) and a kind of indirect object (the person with the qualities or objects just mentioned); the object of pride or humility is always oneself, while the object of love or hatred is always another. The direct passions (desire, aversion, hope, fear, etc.) are feelings caused immediately by pleasure or pain, or the prospect thereof, and take entities or events as their intentional objects. In his account of the will Hume claims that while all human actions are caused, they are nonetheless free. He argues that our ascriptions of causal connection have all the same foundation, namely, the observation of a “uniform and regular conjunction” of one object with another. Given that in the course of human affairs we observe “the same uniformity and regular operation of natural principles” found in the physical world, and that this uniformity results in an expectation of exactly the sort produced by physHume, David Hume, David 401 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 401 ical regularities, it follows that there is no “negation of necessity and causes,” or no liberty of indifference. The will, that “internal impression we feel and are conscious of when we knowingly give rise to” any action or thought, is an effect always linked (by constant conjunction and the resulting feeling of expectation) to some prior cause. But, insofar as our actions are not forcibly constrained or hindered, we do remain free in another sense: we retain a liberty of spontaneity. Moreover, only freedom in this latter sense is consistent with morality. A liberty of indifference, the possibility of uncaused actions, would undercut moral assessment, for such assessments presuppose that actions are causally linked to motives. Morality is for Hume an entirely human affair founded on human nature and the circumstances of human life (one form of naturalism). We as a species possess several notable dispositions that, over time, have given rise to morality. These include a disposition to form bonded family groups, a disposition (sympathy) to communicate and thus share feelings, a disposition – the moral sense – to feel approbation and disapprobation in response to the actions of others, and a disposition to form general rules. Our disposition to form family groups results in small social units in which a natural generosity operates. The fact that such generosity is possible shows that the egoists are mistaken, and provides a foundation for the distinction between virtue and vice. The fact that the moral sense responds differently to distinctive motivations – we feel approbation in response to well-intended actions, disapprobation in response to ill-intended ones – means that our moral assessments have an affective but nonetheless cognitive foundation. To claim that Nero was vicious is to make a judgment about Nero’s motives or character in consequence of an observation of him that has caused an impartial observer to feel a unique sentiment of disapprobation. That our moral judgments have this affective foundation accounts for the practical and motivational character of morality. Reason is “perfectly inert,” and hence our practical, actionguiding moral distinctions must derive from the sentiments or feelings provided by our moral sense. Hume distinguishes, however, between the “natural virtues” (generosity, benevolence, e.g.) and the “artificial virtues” (justice, allegiance, e.g.). These differ in that the former not only produce good on each occasion of their practice, but are also on every occasion approved. In contrast, any particular instantiation of justice may be “contrary to the public good” and be approved only insofar as it is entailed by “a general scheme or system of action, which is advantageous.” The artificial virtues differ also in being the result of contrivance arising from “the circumstances and necessities of life.” In our original condition we did not need the artificial virtues because our natural dispositions and responses were adequate to maintain the order of small, kinshipbased units. But as human numbers increased, so too did the scarcity of some material goods lead to an increase in the possibility of conflict, particularly over property, between these units. As a consequence, and out of self-interest, our ancestors were gradually led to establish conventions governing property and its exchange. In the early stages of this necessary development our disposition to form general rules was an indispensable component; at later stages, sympathy enables many individuals to pursue the artificial virtues from a combination of self-interest and a concern for others, thus giving the fully developed artificial virtues a foundation in two kinds of motivation. Hume’s Enquiry concerning Human Understanding and his Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals represent his effort to “recast” important aspects of the Treatise into more accessible form. His Essays extend his human-centered philosophical analysis to political institutions, economics, and literary criticism. His best-selling History of England provides, among much else, an extended historical analysis of competing Whig and Tory claims about the origin and nature of the British constitution. Hume’s trenchant critique of religion is found principally in his Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, Natural History of Religion, and Dialogues. In an effort to curb the excesses of religious dogmatism, Hume focuses his attention on miracles, on the argument from design, and on the origin of the idea of monotheism. Miracles are putative facts used to justify a commitment to certain creeds. Such commitments are often maintained with a mind-numbing tenacity and a disruptive intolerance toward contrary views. Hume argues that the widely held view of miracles as violations of a law of nature is incoherent, that the evidence for even the most likely miracle will always be counterbalanced by the evidence establishing the law of nature that the miracle allegedly violates, and that the evidence supporting any given miracle is necessarily suspect. His argument leaves open the possibility that violations of the laws of nature may have occurred, but shows that beliefs about such events lack the force of evidence needed to justify the arrogance and intolerance that characterizes so many of the religious. Hume’s critique of the argument from design has a similar effect. This argument purports to show that our well-ordered universe must be the effect of a supremely intelligent cause, that each aspect of this divine creation is well designed to fulfill some beneficial end, and that these effects show us that the Deity is caring and benevolent. Hume shows that these conclusions go well beyond the available evidence. The pleasant and well-designed features of the world are balanced by a good measure of the unpleasant and the plainly botched. Our knowledge of causal connections depends on the experience of constant conjunctions. Such connections cause the vivacity of a present impression to be transferred to the idea associated with it, and leave us believing in that idea. But in this case the effect to be explained, the universe, is unique, and its cause unknown. Consequently, we cannot possibly have experiential grounds for any kind of inference about this cause. On experiential grounds the most we can say is that there is a massive, mixed effect, and, as we have through experience come to believe that effects have causes commensurate to them, this effect probably does have a commensurately large and mixed cause. Furthermore, as the effect is remotely like the products of human manufacture, we can say “that the cause or causes of order in the universe probably bear some remote analogy to human intelligence.” There is indeed an inference to be drawn from the unique effect in question (the universe) to the cause of that effect, but it is not the “argument” of the theologians nor does it in any way support sectarian pretension or intolerance. The Natural History of Religion focuses on the question of the origin of religion in human nature, and delivers a thoroughly naturalistic answer: the widespread but not universal belief in invisible and intelligent power can be traced to derivative and easily perverted principles of our nature. Primitive peoples found physical nature not an orderly whole produced by a beneficent designer, but arbitrary and fearsome, and they came to understand the activities of nature as the effect of petty powers that could, through propitiating worship, be influenced to ameliorate their lives. Subsequently, the same fears and perceptions transformed polytheism into monotheism, the view that a single, omnipotent being created and still controls the world and all that transpires in it. From this conclusion Hume goes on to argue that monotheism, apparently the more sophisticated position, is morally retrograde. Monotheism tends naturally toward zeal and intolerance, encourages debasing, “monkish virtues,” and proves itself a danger to society: it is a source of violence and a cause of immorality. In contrast, polytheism, which Hume here regards as a form of atheism, is tolerant of diversity and encourages genuine virtues that improve humankind. From a moral point of view, at least this one form of atheism is superior to theism.

Hu Shih (1891–1962), Chinese philosopher and historian and a famous liberal intellectual in contemporary China. He studied at Columbia University under Dewey, and brought pragmatism to China. He was the Chinese ambassador to the United States during World War II and later headed the Academia Sinica in Taipei. A versatile writer, he helped to initiate the vernacular movement in Chinese literature; published his Ancient History of Chinese Philosophy in 1919, the first history of Chinese philosophy written from a modern point of view; and advocated wholesale Westernization or modernization of China. A reformist committed to the democratic ideal, he remained an anti-Communist throughout his life.

Husserl, Edmund (1859–1938), German philosopher and founder of phenomenology. Born in Prossnits (now Proste v jov in the Czech Republic), he studied science and philosophy at Leipzig, mathematics and philosophy at Berlin, and philosophy and psychology at Vienna and Halle. He taught at Halle (1887–1901), Göttingen (1901– 16), and Freiburg (1916–28). Husserl and Frege were the founders of the two major twentiethcentury trends. Through his work and his influence on Russell, Wittgenstein, and others, Frege inspired the movement known as analytic philosophy, while Husserl, through his work and his influence on Heidegger, Sartre, Merleau-Ponty, and others, established the movement known as phenomenology. Husserl began his academic life as a mathematician. He studied at Berlin with Kronecker and Weierstrass and wrote a dissertation in mathematics at Vienna. There, influenced by Brentano, his interests turned toward philosohumors Husserl, Edmund 403 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 403 phy and psychology but remained related to mathematics. His habilitation, written at Halle, was a psychological-philosophical study of the concept of number and led to his first book, The Philosophy of Arithmetic (1891). Husserl distinguishes between numbers given intuitively and those symbolically intended. The former are given as the objective correlates of acts of counting; when we count things set out before us, we constitute groups, and these groups can be compared with each other as more and less. In this way the first few numbers in the number series can be intuitively presented. Although most numbers are only symbolically intended, their sense as numbers is derived from those that are intuitively given. During 1890–1900 Husserl expanded his philosophical concerns from mathematics to logic and the general theory of knowledge, and his reflections culminated in his Logical Investigations (1900–01). The work is made up of six investigations preceded by a volume of prolegomena. The prolegomena are a sustained and effective critique of psychologism, the doctrine that reduces logical entities, such as propositions, universals, and numbers, to mental states or mental activities. Husserl insists on the objectivity of such targets of consciousness and shows the incoherence of reducing them to the activities of mind. The rest of the work examines signs and words, abstraction, parts and wholes, logical grammar, the notion of presentation, and truth and evidence. His earlier distinction between intuitive presentation and symbolic intention is now expanded from our awareness of numbers to the awareness of all sorts of objects of consciousness. The contrast between empty intention and fulfillment or intuition is applied to perceptual objects, and it is also applied to what he calls categorial objects: states of affairs, relationships, causal connections, and the like. Husserl claims that we can have an intellectual intuition of such things and he describes this intuition; it occurs when we articulate an object as having certain features or relationships. The formal structure of categorial objects is elegantly related to the grammatical parts of language. As regards simple material objects, Husserl observes that we can intend them either emptily or intuitively, but even when they are intuitively given, they retain sides that are absent and only cointended by us, so perception itself is a mixture of empty and filled intentions. The term ‘intentionality’ refers to both empty and filled, or signitive and intuitive, intentions. It names the relationship consciousness has toward things, whether those things are directly given or meant only in their absence. Husserl also shows that the identity of things is given to us when we see that the object we once intended emptily is the same as what is actually given to us now. Such identities are given even in perceptual experience, as the various sides and aspects of things continue to present one and the same object, but identities are given even more explicitly in categorial intuition, when we recognize the partial identity between a thing and its features, or when we directly focus on the identity a thing has with itself. These phenomena are described under the general rubric of identitysynthesis. A weakness in the first edition of Logical Investigations was the fact that Husserl remained somewhat Kantian in it and distinguished sharply between the thing as it is given to us and the thing-in-itself; he claimed that in his phenomenology he described only the thing as it is given to us. In the decade 1900–10, through deeper reflection on our experience of time, on memory, and on the nature of philosophical thinking, he overcame this Kantian distinction and claimed that the thing-in-itself can be intuitively given to us as the identity presented in a manifold of appearances. His new position was expressed in Ideas Pertaining to a Pure Phenomenology and Phenomenological Philosophy (1913). The book was misinterpreted by many as adopting a traditional idealism, and many thinkers who admired Husserl’s earlier work distanced themselves from what he now taught. Husserl published three more books. Formal and Transcendental Logic (1929) was written right after his retirement; Cartesian Meditations (1931), which appeared in French translation, was an elaboration of some lectures he gave in Paris. In addition, some earlier manuscripts on the experience of time were assembled by Edith Stein and edited by Heidegger in 1928 as Lectures on the Phenomenology of Inner Time-Consciousness. Thus, Husserl published only six books, but he amassed a huge amount of manuscripts, lecture notes, and working papers. He always retained the spirit of a scientist and did his philosophical work in the manner of tentative experiments. Many of his books can be seen as compilations of such experiments rather than as systematic treatises. Because of its exploratory and developmental character, his thinking does not lend itself to doctrinal summary. Husserl was of Jewish ancestry, and after his death his papers were in danger from the Nazi regime; they were covertly taken out of Germany by a Belgian scholar, Herman Husserl, Edmund Husserl, Edmund 404 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 404 Leo Van Breda, who, after World War II, established the Husserl Archives at Louvain. This institution, with centers at Cologne, Freiburg, Paris, and New York, has since supervised the critical edition of many volumes of Husserl’s writings in the series Husserliana. Husserl believes that things are presented to us in various ways, and that philosophy should be engaged in precise description of these appearances. It should avoid constructing large-scale theories and defending ideologies. It should analyze, e.g., how visual objects are perceived and how they depend on our cognitive activity of seeing, focusing, moving about, on the correlation of seeing with touching and grasping, and so on. Philosophy should describe the different ways in which such “regions of being” as material objects, living things, other persons, and cultural objects are given, how the past and the present are intended, how speech, numbers, time and space, and our own bodies are given to us, and so on. Husserl carries out many such analyses himself and in all of them distinguishes between the object given and the subjective conscious activity we must perform to let it be given. The phenomenological description of the object is called noematic analysis and that of the subjective intentions is called noetic analysis. The noema is the object as described phenomenologically, the noesis is the corresponding mental activity, also as described by phenomenology. The objective and the subjective are correlative but never reducible to one another. In working out such descriptions we must get to the essential structures of things. We do so not by just generalizing over instances we have experienced, but by a process he calls “free variation” or “imaginative variation.” We attempt in our imagination to remove various features from the target of our analysis; the removal of some features would leave the object intact, but the removal of other features would destroy the object; hence, when we come upon the latter we know we have hit on something essential to the thing. The method of imaginative variation thus leads to eidetic intuition, the insight that this or that feature belongs to the eidos, the essence, of the thing in question. Eidetic intuition is directed not only toward objects but also toward the various forms of intentionality, as we try to determine the essence of perception, memory, judging, and the like. Husserl thinks that the eidetic analysis of intentionality and its objects yields apodictic truths, truths that can be seen to be necessary. Examples might be that human beings could not be without a past and future, and that each material perceptual object has sides and aspects other than those presented at any moment. Husserl admits that the objects of perceptual experience, material things, are not given apodictically to perception because they contain parts that are only emptily intended, but he insists that the phenomenological reflection on perceptual experience, the reflection that yields the statement that perception involves a mixture of empty and filled intentions, can be apodictic: we know apodictically that perception must have a mixture of empty and filled intentions. Husserl did admit in the 1920s that although phenomenological experience and statements could be apodictic, they would never be adequate to what they describe, i.e., further clarifications of what they signify could always be carried out. This would mean, e.g., that we can be apodictically sure that human beings could not be what they are if they did not have a sense of past and future, but what it is to have a past and future always needs deeper clarification. Husserl has much to say about philosophical thinking. He distinguishes between the “natural attitude,” our straightforward involvement with things and the world, and the “phenomenological attitude,” the reflective point of view from which we carry out philosophical analysis of the intentions exercised in the natural attitude and the objective correlates of these intentions. When we enter the phenomenological attitude, we put out of action or suspend all the intentions and convictions of the natural attitude; this does not mean that we doubt or negate them, only that we take a distance from them and contemplate their structure. Husserl calls this suspension the phenomenological epoché. In our human life we begin, of course, in the natural attitude, and the name for the processs by which we move to the phenomenological attitude is called the phenomenological reduction, a “leading back” from natural beliefs to the reflective consideration of intentions and their objects. In the phenomenological attitude we look at the intentions that we normally look through, those that function anonymously in our straightforward involvement with the world. Throughout his career, Husserl essayed various “ways to reduction” or arguments to establish philosophy. At times he tried to model the argument on Descartes’s methodical doubt; at times he tried to show that the world-directed sciences need the further supplement of phenomenological reflection if they are to be truly scientific. One of the special features of the natural attitude is that it simply accepts the world as a background or horizon for all our more particular experiences and beliefs. The world is not a large thing nor is it the sum total of things; it is the horizon or matrix for all particular things and states of affairs. The world as noema is correlated to our world-belief or world-doxa as noesis. In the phenomenological attitude we take a distance even toward our natural being in the world and we describe what it is to have a world. Husserl thinks that this sort of radical reflection and radical questioning is necessary for beginning philosophy and entering into what he calls pure or transcendental phenomenology; so long as we fail to question our world-belief and the world as such, we fail to reach philosophical purity and our analyses will in fact become parts of worldly sciences (such as psychology) and will not be philosophical. Husserl distinguishes between the apophantic and the ontological domains. The apophantic is the domain of senses and propositions, while the ontological is the domain of things, states of affairs, relations, and the like. Husserl calls “apophantic analytics” the science that examines the formal, logical structures of the apophantic domain and “formal ontology” the science that examines the formal structures of the ontological domain. The movement between focusing on the ontological domain and focusing on the apophantic domain occurs within the natural attitude, but it is described from the phenomenological attitude. This movement establishes the difference between propositions and states of affairs, and it permits scientific verification; science is established in the zigzag motion between focusing on things and focusing on propositions, which are then verified or falsified when they are confirmed or disconfirmed by the way things appear. Evidence is the activity of either having a thing in its direct presence or experiencing the conformity or disconformity between an empty intention and the intuition that is to fulfill it. There are degrees of evidence; things can be given more or less fully and more or less distinctly. Adequation occurs when an intuition fully satisfies an empty intention. Husserl also makes a helpful distinction between the passive, thoughtless repetition of words and the activity of explicit judging, in which we distinctly make judgments on our own. Explicit thinking can itself fall back into passivity or become “sedimented” as people take it for granted and go on to build further thinking upon it. Such sedimented thought must be reactivated and its meanings revived. Passive thinking may harbor contradictions and incoherences; the application of formal logic presumes judgments that are distinctly executed. In our reflective phenomenological analyses we describe various intentional acts, but we also discover the ego as the owner or agent behind these acts. Husserl distinguishes between the psychological ego, the ego taken as a part of the world, and the transcendental ego, the ego taken as that which has a world and is engaged in truth, and hence to some extent transcends the world. He often comments on the remarkable ambiguity of the ego, which is both a part of the world (as a human being) and yet transcends the world (as a cognitive center that possesses or intends the world). The transcendental ego is not separable from individuals; it is a dimension of every human being. We each have a transcendental ego, since we are all intentional and rational beings. Husserl also devoted much effort to analyzing intersubjectivity and tried to show how other egos and other minds, other centers of conscious and rational awareness, can be presented and intended. The role of the body, the role of speech and other modes of communication, and the fact that we all share things and a world in common are important elements in these analyses. The transcendental ego, the source of all intentional acts, is constituted through time: it has its own identity, which is different from that of the identity of things or states of affairs. The identity of the ego is built up through the flow of experiences and through memory and anticipation. One of Husserl’s major contributions is his analysis of time-consciousness and its relation to the identity of the self, a topic to which he often returns. He distinguishes among the objective time of the world, the inner time of the flow of our experiences (such as acts of perception, judgments, and memories), and a third, still deeper level that he calls “the consciousness of inner time.” It is this third, deepest level, the consciousness of inner time, that permits even our mental acts to be experienced as temporal. This deepest level also provides the ultimate context in which the identity of the ego is constituted. In one way, we achieve our conscious identity through the memories that we store and recall, but these memories themselves have to be stitched together by the deepest level of temporality in order to be recoverable as belonging to one and the same self. Husserl observes that on this deepest level of the consciousness of inner time, we never have a simple atomic present: what we come to as ultimate is a moving form Husserl, Edmund Husserl, Edmund 406 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 406 that has a retention of the immediate past, a protention of that which is coming, and a central core. This form of inner time-consciousness, the form of what Husserl calls “the living present,” is prior even to the ego and is a kind of apex reached by his philosophical analysis. One of the important themes that Husserl developed in the last decade of his work is that of the life-world or Lebenswelt. He claims that scientific and mathematical abstraction has roots in the prescientific world, the world in which we live. This world has its own structures of appearance, identification, evidence, and truth, and the scientific world is established on its basis. One of the tasks of phenomenology is to show how the idealized entities of science draw their sense from the life-world. Husserl claims, e.g., that geometrical forms have their roots in the activity of measuring and in the idealization of the volumes, surfaces, edges, and intersections we experience in the life-world. The sense of the scientific world and its entities should not be placed in opposition to the life-world, but should be shown, by phenomenological analysis, to be a development of appearances found in it. In addition, the structures and evidences of the lifeworld itself must be philosophically described. Husserl’s influence in philosophy has been very great during the entire twentieth century, especially in Continental Europe. His concept of intentionality is understood as a way of overcoming the Cartesian dualism between mind and world, and his study of signs, formal systems, and parts and wholes has been valuable in structuralism and literary theory. His concept of the life-world has been used as a way of integrating science with wider forms of human activity, and his concepts of time and personal identity have been useful in psychoanalytic theory and existentialism. He has inspired work in the social sciences and recently his ideas have proved helpful to scholars in cognitive science and artificial intelligence.

See also BRENTANO, INTENTIONALITY, KANT, PHENOMENOLOGY. R.So.

Hutcheson, Francis (1694–1746), Scottish philosopher who was the chief exponent of the early modern moral sense theory and of a similar theory postulating a sense of beauty. He was born in Drumalig, Ireland, and completed his theological training in 1717 at the University of Glasgow, where he later taught moral philosophy. He was a Presbyterian minister and founded an academy for Presbyterian youth in Dublin. Sparked by Hobbes’s thesis, in Leviathan (1651), that human beings always act out of selfinterest, moral debate in the eighteenth century was preoccupied with the possibility of a genuine benevolence. Hutcheson characterized his first work, An Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue (1725), as a defense of the nonegoistic moral sense theory of his more immediate predecessor, Shaftesbury, against the egoism of Bernard Mandeville (1670–1733). His second work, An Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions and Affections with Illustrations on the Moral Sense (1728), explores the psychology of human action, apparently influenced by Butler’s classification of the passions (in his Sermons, 1726). Hutcheson asserts the existence of several “internal” senses – i.e., capacities for perceptual responses to concepts (such as one’s idea of Nero’s character), as opposed to perceptions of physical objects. Among these internal senses are those of honor, sympathy, morality, and beauty. Only the latter two, however, are discussed in detail by Hutcheson, who develops his account of each within the framework of Locke’s empiricist epistemology. For Hutcheson, the idea of beauty is produced in us when we experience pleasure upon thinking of certain natural objects or artifacts, just as our idea of moral goodness is occasioned by the approval we feel toward an agent when we think of her actions, even if they in no way benefit us. Beauty and goodness (and their opposites) are analogous to Lockean secondary qualities, such as colors, tastes, smells, and sounds, in that their existence depends somehow on the minds of perceivers. The quality the sense of beauty consistently finds pleasurable is a pattern of “uniformity amidst variety,” while the quality the moral sense invariably approves is benevolence. A principal reason for thinking we possess a moral sense, according to Hutcheson, is that we approve of many actions unrelated or even contrary to our interests – a fact that suggests not all approval is reason-based. Further, he argues that attempts to explain our feelings of approval or disapproval without referring to a moral sense are futile: our reasons are ultimately grounded in the fact that we simply are constituted to care about others and take pleasure in benevolence (the quality of being concerned about others for their own sakes). For instance, we approve of temperance because overindulgence signifies selfishness, and selfishness is contrary to benevolence. Hutcheson also finds that the ends promoted by the benevolent person have a tendency to produce the greatest happiness for the greatest number. Thus, since he regards being motivated by benevolence as what makes actions morally good, Hutcheson’s theory is a version of motive utilitarianism. On Hutcheson’s moral psychology, we are motivated, ultimately, not by reason alone, but by desires that arise in us at the prospect of our own or others’ pleasure. Hutcheson formulates several quantitative maxims that purport to relate the strength of motivating desires to the degrees of good, or benefit, projected for different actions – an analysis that anticipates Bentham’s hedonic calculus. Hutcheson was also one of the first philosophers to recognize and make use of the distinction between exciting, or motivating, reasons and justifying reasons. Exciting reasons are affections, or desires, ascribed to an agent as motives that explain particular actions. Justifying reasons derive from the approval of the moral sense and serve to indicate why a certain action is morally good. The connection between these two kinds of reasons has been a source of considerable debate. Contemporary critics included John Balguy (1686–1748), who charged that Hutcheson’s moral theory renders virtue arbitrary, since it depends on whatever human nature God happened to give us, which could just as well have been such as to make us delight in malice. Hutcheson discussed his views in correspondence with Hume, who later sent Hutcheson the unpublished manuscript of his own account of moral sentiment (Book III of A Treatise of Human Nature). As a teacher of Adam Smith, Hutcheson helped shape Smith’s widely influential economic and moral theories. Hutcheson’s major works also include A Short Introduction to Moral Philosophy (originally published in Latin in 1742) and A System of Moral Philosophy (1755).

 See also BENTHAM, HUME, MORAL SENSE THEORY, SMITH. E.S.R. Huygens, Christiaan (1629–95), Dutch physicist and astronomer who ranked among the leading experimental scientists of his time and influenced many other thinkers, including Leibniz. He wrote on physics and astronomy in Latin (Horologium Oscillatorium, 1673; De Vi Centrifuga, 1703) and in French for the Journal des Scavans. He became a founding member of the French Academy of Sciences. Huygens ground lenses, built telescopes, discovered the rings of Saturn, and invented the pendulum clock. His most popular composition, Cosmotheoros (1699), inspired by Fontenelle, praises a divine architect and conjectures the possible existence of rational beings on other planets. J.-L.S. Hwajaeng-non. See KOREAN PHILOSOPHY. hyle, ancient Greek term for matter. Aristotle brought the word into use in philosophy by contrast with the term for form, and as designating one of the four causes. By hyle Aristotle usually means ‘that out of which something has been made’, but he can also mean by it ‘that which has form’. In Aristotelian philosophy hyle is sometimes also identified with potentiality and with substrate. Neoplatonists identified hyle with the receptacle of Plato.

hylomorphism, the doctrine, first taught by Aristotle, that concrete substance consists of form in matter (hyle). The details of this theory are explored in the central books of Aristotle’s Metaphysics (Zeta, Eta, and Theta).

hylozoism (from Greek hyle, ‘matter’, and zoe, ‘life’), the doctrine that matter is intrinsically alive, or that all bodies, from the world as a whole down to the smallest corpuscle, have some degree or some kind of life. It differs from panpsychism though the distinction is sometimes blurred – in upholding the universal presence of life per se, rather than of soul or of psychic attributes. Inasmuch as it may also hold that there are no living entities not constituted of matter, hylozoism is often criticized by theistic philosophers as a form of atheism. The term was introduced polemically by Ralph Cudworth, the seventeenth-century Cambridge Platonist, to help define a position that is significantly in contrast to soul–body dualism (Pythagoras, Plato, Descartes), reductive materialism (Democritus, Hobbes), and Aristotelian hylomorphism. So understood, hylozoism had many advocates in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, among both scientists and naturalistically minded philosophers. In the twentieth century, the term has come to be used, rather unhelpfully, to characterize the animistic and naive-vitalist views of the early Greek philosophers, especially Thales, Anaximenes, Heraclitus, and Empedocles – who could hardly count as hylozoists in Cudworth’s sophisticated sense.

Hypatia (c.370–415), Greek Neoplatonist philosopher who lived and taught in Alexandria. She was brutally murdered by a Christian mob Huygens, Christiaan Hypatia 408 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 408 because of her associations with the city’s prefect, who was in conflict with its aggressive archbishop, Cyril. She is said to have written commentaries on certain mathematical works, but the only certain trace of her literary activity is in her father Theon’s commentary on book 3 of Ptolemy’s Almagest, which Theon says is Hypatia’s redaction. Hypatia appears to have been a very popular philosophy teacher. She presumably professed a standard Neoplatonist curriculum, using mathematics as a ladder to the intelligible world. A good sense of her views can be gained from the essays, hymns, and letters of her pupil Synesius, bishop of Ptolemais and an eclectic man of letters. Hypatia’s modern fame can be traced back to the anticlericalism of the Enlightenment; see, e.g., chapter 47 of Edward Gibbon’s History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1778). The most influential representation of her appeared in Charles Kingsley’s didactic historical novel Hypatia or New Foes with an Old Face (1853). The facts that – according to ancient report – Hypatia was not only a brilliant person, but a beautiful one who aroused the erotic passion of (at least) one student, and that she was stripped naked before being slaughtered, seem to have contributed to the revival of interest in her. See also NEOPLATONISM. I.M. hypostasis (from Latin, ‘substance’), the process of regarding a concept or abstraction as an independent or real entity. The verb forms ‘hypostatize’ and ‘reify’ designate the acts of positing objects of a certain sort for the purposes of one’s theory. It is sometimes implied that a fallacy is involved in so describing these processes or acts, as in ‘Plato was guilty of the reification of universals’. The issue turns largely on criteria of ontological commitment.

Hypostasis: Arianism, diverse but related teachings in early Christianity that subordinated the Son to God the Father. In reaction the church developed its doctrine of the Trinity, whereby the Son and Holy Spirit, though distinct persons hypostases, share with the Father, as his ontological equals, the one being or substance ousia of God. Arius taught in Alexandria, where, on the hierarchical model of Middle Platonism, he sharply distinguished Scripture’s transcendent God from the Logos or Son incarnate in Jesus. The latter, subject to suffering and humanly obedient to God, is inferior to the immutable Creator, the object of that obedience. God alone is eternal and ungenerated; the Son, divine not by nature but by God’s choosing, is generated, with a beginning: the unique creature, through whom all else is made. The Council of Nicea, in 325, condemned Arius and favored his enemy Athanasius, affirming the Son’s creatorhood and full deity, having the same being or substance homoousios as the Father. Arianism still flourished, evolving into the extreme view that the Son’s being was neither the same as the Father’s nor like it homoiousios, but unlike it anomoios. This too was anathematized, by the Council of 381 at Constantinople, which, ratifying what is commonly called the Nicene Creed, sealed orthodox Trinitarianism and the equality of the three persons against Arian subordinationism. 

hypothetico-deductive method, a method of testing hypotheses. Thought to be preferable to the method of enumerative induction, whose limitations had been decisively demonstrated by Hume, the hypothetico-deductive (H-D) method has been viewed by many as the ideal scientific method. It is applied by introducing an explanatory hypothesis resulting from earlier inductions, a guess, or an act of creative imagination. The hypothesis is logically conjoined with a statement of initial conditions. The purely deductive consequences of this conjunction are derived as predictions, and the statements asserting them are subjected to experimental or observational test. More formally, given (H • A) P O, H is the hypothesis, A a statement of initial conditions, and O one of the testable consequences of (H • A). If the hypothesis is ‘all lead is malleable’, and ‘this piece of lead is now being hammered’ states the initial conditions, it follows deductively that ‘this piece of lead will change shape’. In deductive logic the schema is formally invalid, committing the logical fallacy of affirming the consequent. But repeated occurrences of O can be said to confirm the conjunction of H and A, or to render it more probable. On the other hand, the schema is deductively valid (the argument form modus tollens). For this reason, Karl Popper and his followers think that the H-D method is best employed in seeking falsifications of theoretical hypotheses. Criticisms of the method point out that infinitely many hypotheses can explain, in the H-D mode, a given body of data, so that successful predictions are not probative, and that (following Duhem) it is impossible to test isolated singular hypotheses because they are always contained in complex theories any one of whose parts is eliminable in the face of negative evidence.

I: particularis dedicativa.. See Grice, “Circling the Square of Opposition.

Ibn Bajja, Abu Bakr, in Latin, Avempace (d.1139), Spanish Islamic philosopher who was exceptionally well regarded by later Arabic authorities. During a career as a government official and vizier he wrote important treatises on philosophy but appears to have left most of them unfinished. One of them provides an important theory of the conjunction of the intellect with the human, based in part on notions of progressive abstraction of specific forms and the universality of the Active Intellect. Another offers a political philosophy grounded in assumptions about a representative of the virtuous city who exists within a hostile, erring city as a solitary or aberrant “weed.” P.E.W. Ibn Daud, Abraham, also called Rabad (c.1110– 80), Spanish Jewish historian and astronomer, a philosophic precursor of Maimonides. Born in Córdova and schooled by a beloved uncle, Baruch Albalia, in Jewish and Greco-Arabic learning, he fled the Almohad invasion of 1146, settling in Christian Toledo, where he was martyred. His Sefer ha-Qabbalah (1161; translated by Gerson Cohen as The Book of Tradition, 1967) finds providential continuity in Jewish intellectual history. His Emunah Ramah (1161; translated by Norbert Samuelson as The Exalted Faith, 1986) was written in Arabic but preserved in Hebrew. It anchors Jewish natural theology and ethics in Avicennan metaphysics, mitigated by a voluntaristic account of emanation and by the assertion that God created matter. Ibn Daud saves human freedom by holding that God knows undetermined events as possible. He defends prophecy as an outpouring of the Active Intellect – or of God – on those whose natures and circumstances permit their inspiration. Prophetic miracles are perfectly natural alterations of the familiar characters of things. See also AVICENNA. L.E.G. Ibn Gabirol, Solomon, in Latin, Avicebron (c.1020–c.1057), Spanish Jewish philosopher and poet, the author (in Arabic) of The Source of Life, a classic of Neoplatonic thought. This work was written without any explicit Jewish associations, and was preserved only in a twelfth-century Latin translation, the Fons vitae. Consequently, its author was assumed until the last century to be Muslim or Christian. Jewish Neoplatonists and mystics until the Renaissance were familiar with the work and its author, and its influence was felt in Christian Scholastic circles as well. Ibn Gabirol’s philosophy is also reflected in his epic Hebrew poem “The Royal Crown,” which merges the personal and religious feelings of the poet with a verse summary of his metaphysical and astronomical beliefs. The Fons vitae is a prolix and often inconsistent treatise, but exhibits radical creativity. The influence of Proclus and of the first Jewish Neoplatonist, the tenth-century Isaac Israeli, is also evident. Ibn Gabirol superimposes on the traditional Neoplatonic triad of universal substances, the Intellect, Soul, and Nature, another set of creative and more fundamental hypostases, the One, Divine Will, and Form and Matter. In one of his most radical formulations, this primordial Form and Matter are thought to suffuse not only the entire world that proceeds from them, but to be found within the One itself, Matter being identified with the divine essence, Form with Divine Will. Matter here emerges as prior and more essential to the divine being than Form; God by implication is identified primarily with potentiality and becoming, a point not lost upon the mystics. See also JEWISH PHILOSOPHY. A.L.I. Ibn Khaldun, ‘Abdurrahman (1332–1406), Arab historian, scholar, and politician, the first thinker to articulate a comprehensive theory of historiography and philosophy of history in his Muqaddima (final revision 1402), the introductory volume to his Universal History (Kitab al-’ibar, 1377–82). Born and raised in Tunis, he spent the politically active first part of his life in northwestern Africa and Muslim Spain. He moved to Cairo in 1382 to pursue a career as professor of Maliki law and judge. Ibn Khaldun created in the Muqaddima (English translation by F. Rosenthal, 1967) what he called an “entirely original science.” He established a scientific methodology for historiogra410 I phy by providing a theory of the basic laws operating in history so that not only could the occurrences of the past be registered but also “the how and why of events” could be understood. Historiography is based on the criticism of sources; the criteria to be used are inherent probability of the historical reports (khabar; plural: akhbar) – to be judged on the basis of an understanding of significant political, economic, and cultural factors – and their conformity with reality and the nature of the historical process. The latter he analyzed as the cyclical (every three generations, c.120 years) rise and decline of human societies (‘umran) insofar as they exhibit a political cohesiveness (‘afabiya) in accepting the authority of a dynastic head of state. Ibn Khaldun’s sources were the actual course of Islamic history and the injunctions about political and social behavior found in the Greek/Persian/Arab mirrors for princes and wisdom literature, welded together by an Aristotelian teleological realism/empiricism; by contrast, he was critical of the metaphysical Platonic utopias of thinkers like al-Farabi. His influence is to be felt in later Arab authors and in particular in Ottoman historiography. In the West, where he has been intensely studied since the eighteenth century, he has been variously seen as the founder of sociology, economic history, and other modern theories of state. (See A. Al-Azmeh, Ibn Khaldun, 1989.) See also ARABIC PHILOSOPHY. D.Gu. Ibn Rushd.

See AVERROES. Ibn Sina. See AVICENNA. Ibn Tufayl, Abu Bakr (d.1186), Spanish Islamic philosopher who played an important role in promoting the philosophical career of Averroes. His own contribution, however, is a famous philosophical fantasy, Hayy ibn Yaqzan – an account of a solitary autodidact who grows up on a deserted island yet discovers by his own unaided efforts a philosophical (Aristotelian) explanation of the world and of divine truths. Later, having finally come in contact with human civilization, this character also recognizes the necessity of religious law and regulation for that other, essentially imperfect, society, although he holds himself personally above this requirement. The work attracted considerable attention in late seventeenth-century Europe following its publication in 1671. See also ARABIC PHILOSOPHY. P.E.W. I-Ching (“Book of Changes”), a Chinese divination manual that may have existed in some form as early as the seventh century B.C. It was not philosophically significant until augmented by a group of appendices, the “Ten Wings,” around 200 B.C. The book has tremendously influenced Chinese thought since the Han dynasty, for at least two reasons. First, it provided a cosmology that systematically grounded certain ideas, particularly Confucian ethical claims, in the nature of the cosmos. Second, it presented this cosmology through a system of loosely described symbols that provided virtually limitless interpretive possibilities. In order to “read” the text properly, one needed to be a certain kind of person. In this way, the I-Ching accommodated both intuitionism and self-cultivationism, two prominent characteristics of early Chinese thought. At the same time, the text’s endless interpretive possibilities allowed it to be used in widely different ways by a variety of thinkers. See also CHINESE PHILOSOPHY, CONFUCIANISM. P.J.I.

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

icon -- Would Ciero prefer the spelling ‘eiconicus’ or ‘iconicus’? We know Pliny preferred ‘icon.’īcon , ŏnis, f., = εἰκών,I.an image, figure: “fictae ceră icones,” Plin. 8, 54, 80, § 215.Iconicity -- depiction, pictorial representation, also sometimes called “iconic representation.” Linguistic representation is conventional: it is only by virtue of a convention that the word ‘cats’ refers to cats. A picture of a cat, however, seems to refer to cats by other than conventional means; for viewers can correctly interpret pictures without special training, whereas people need special training to learn languages. Though some philosophers, such as Goodman Languages of Art, deny that depiction involves a non-conventional element, most are concerned to give an account of what this non-conventional element consists in. Some hold that it consists in resemblance: pictures refer to their objects partly by resembling them. Objections to this are that anything resembles anything else to some degree; and that resemblance is a symmetric and reflexive relation, whereas depiction is not. Other philosophers avoid direct appeal to resemblance: Richard Wollheim Painting as an Art argues that depiction holds by virtue of the intentional deployment of the natural human capacity to see objects in marked surfaces; and dependence, causal depiction 222   222 Kendall Walton Mimesis as Make-Believe argues that depiction holds by virtue of objects serving as props in reasonably rich and vivid visual games of make-believe.  icon. See PEIRCE. id. See FREUD. idea, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, whatever is immediately before the mind when one thinks. The notion of thinking was taken in a very broad sense; it included perception, memory, and imagination, in addition to thinking narrowly construed. In connection with perception, ideas were often (though not always – Berkeley is the exception) held to be representational images, i.e., images of something. In other contexts, ideas were taken to be concepts, such as the concept of a horse or of an infinite quantity, though concepts of these sorts certainly do not appear to be images. An innate idea was either a concept or a general truth, such as ‘Equals added to equals yield equals’, that was allegedly not learned but was in some sense always in the mind. Sometimes, as in Descartes, innate ideas were taken to be cognitive capacities rather than concepts or general truths, but these capacities, too, were held to be inborn. An adventitious idea, either an image or a concept, was an idea accompanied by a judgment concerning the non-mental cause of that idea. So, a visual image was an adventitious idea provided one judged of that idea that it was caused by something outside one’s mind, presumably by the object being seen. Ibn Rushd idea 411 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 411 See also BERKELEY, DESCARTES, HUME, LOCKE, PERCEPTION. G.S.P.

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.’

idea, clear and distinct. See DESCARTES. idea, innate. See IDEA. idealism, the philosophical doctrine that reality is somehow mind-correlative or mind-coordinated – that the real objects constituting the “external world” are not independent of cognizing minds, but exist only as in some way correlative to mental operations. The doctrine centers on the conception that reality as we understand it reflects the workings of mind. Perhaps its most radical version is the ancient Oriental spiritualistic or panpsychistic idea, renewed in Christian Science, that minds and their thoughts are all there is – that reality is simply the sum total of the visions (or dreams?) of one or more minds. A dispute has long raged within the idealist camp over whether “the mind” at issue in such idealistic formulas was a mind emplaced outside of or behind nature (absolute idealism), or a nature-pervasive power of rationality of some sort (cosmic idealism), or the collective impersonal social mind of people in general (social idealism), or simply the distributive collection of individual minds (personal idealism). Over the years, the less grandiose versions of the theory came increasingly to the fore, and in recent times virtually all idealists have construed “the minds” at issue in their theory as separate individual minds equipped with socially engendered resources. There are certainly versions of idealism short of the spiritualistic position of an ontological idealism that (as Kant puts it at Prolegomena, section 13, n. 2) holds that “there are none but thinking beings.” Idealism need certainly not go so far as to affirm that mind makes or constitutes matter; it is quite enough to maintain (e.g.) that all of the characterizing properties of physical existents resemble phenomenal sensory properties in representing dispositions to affect mind-endowed creatures in a certain sort of way, so that these properties have no standing without reference to minds. Weaker still is an explanatory idealism which merely holds that an adequate explanation of the real always requires some recourse to the operations of mind. Historically, positions of the generally idealistic type have been espoused by numerous thinkers. For example, Berkeley maintained that “to be [real] is to be perceived” (esse est percipi). And while this does not seem particularly plausible because of its inherent commitment to omniscience, it seems more sensible to adopt “to be is to be perceivable” (esse est percipile esse). For Berkeley, of course, this was a distinction without a difference: if something is perceivable at all, then God perceives it. But if we forgo philosophical reliance on God, the matter looks different, and pivots on the question of what is perceivable for perceivers who are physically realizable in “the real world,” so that physical existence could be seen – not so implausibly – as tantamount to observability-in-principle. The three positions to the effect that real things just exactly are things as philosophy or as science or as “common sense” takes them to be – positions generally designated as Scholastic, scientific, and naive realism, respectively – are in fact versions of epistemic idealism exactly because they see reals as inherently knowable and do not contemplate mind-transcendence for the real. Thus, the thesis of naive (“commonsense”) realism that ‘External things exist exactly as we know them’ sounds realistic or idealistic according as one stresses the first three words of the dictum or the last four. Any theory of natural teleology that regards the real as explicable in terms of value could to this extent be counted as idealistic, in that valuing is by nature a mental process. To be sure, the good of a creature or species of creatures (e.g., their well-being or survival) need not be something mind-represented. But nevertheless, goods count as such precisely because if the creatures at issue could think about it, they would adopt them as purposes. It is this circumstance that renders any sort of teleological explanation at least conceptually idealistic in nature. Doctrines of this sort have been the stock-in-trade of philosophy from the days of Plato (think of the Socrates of the Phaedo) to those of Leibniz, with his insistence that the real world must be the best possible. And this line of thought has recently surfaced once more in the controversial “anthropic principle” espoused by some theoretical physicists. Then too it is possible to contemplate a position along the lines envisioned in Fichte’s Wissenschaftslehre (The Science of Knowledge), which sees the ideal as providing the determining factor for the real. On such a view, the real is not characterized by the science we actually have but by the ideal science that is the telos of our scientific efforts. On this approach, which Wilhelm Wundt characterized as “ideal-realism” (Idealrealismus; see his Logik, vol. 1, 2d ed., 1895), the knowledge that achieves adequation to the real idea, clear and distinct idealism 412 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 412 (adaequatio ad rem) by adequately characterizing the true facts in scientific matters is not the knowledge actually afforded by present-day science, but only that of an ideal or perfected science. Over the years, many objections to idealism have been advanced. Samuel Johnson thought to refute Berkeley’s phenomenalism by kicking a stone. He conveniently forgot that Berkeley goes to great lengths to provide for stones – even to the point of invoking the aid of God on their behalf. Moore pointed to the human hand as an undeniably mind-external material object. He overlooked that, gesticulate as he would, he would do no more than induce people to accept the presence of a hand on the basis of the handorientation of their experience. Peirce’s “Harvard Experiment” of letting go of a stone held aloft was supposed to establish Scholastic realism because his audience could not control their expectation of the stone’s falling to earth. But an uncontrollable expectation is still an expectation, and the realism at issue is no more than a realistic thought-exposure. Kant’s famous “Refutation of Idealism” argues that our conception of ourselves as mindendowed beings presupposes material objects because we view our mind-endowed selves as existing in an objective temporal order, and such an order requires the existence of periodic physical processes (clocks, pendula, planetary regularities) for its establishment. At most, however, this argument succeeds in showing that such physical processes have to be assumed by minds, the issue of their actual mind-independent existence remaining unaddressed. (Kantian realism is an intraexperiential “empirical” realism.) It is sometimes said that idealism confuses objects with our knowledge of them and conflates the real with our thought about it. But this charge misses the point. The only reality with which we inquirers can have any cognitive commerce is reality as we conceive it to be. Our only information about reality is via the operation of mind – our only cognitive access to reality is through the mediation of mind-devised models of it. Perhaps the most common objection to idealism turns on the supposed mind-independence of the real: “Surely things in nature would remain substantially unchanged if there were no minds.” This is perfectly plausible in one sense, namely the causal one – which is why causal idealism has its problems. But it is certainly not true conceptually. The objector has to specify just exactly what would remain the same. “Surely roses would smell just as sweet in a minddenuded world!” Well . . . yes and no. To be sure, the absence of minds would not change roses. But roses and rose fragrance and sweetness – and even the size of roses – are all factors whose determination hinges on such mental operations as smelling, scanning, measuring, and the like. Mind-requiring processes are needed for something in the world to be discriminated as a rose and determined to bear certain features. Identification, classification, property attribution are all required and by their very nature are all mental operations. To be sure, the role of mind is here hypothetical. (“If certain interactions with duly constituted observers took place, then certain outcomes would be noted.”) But the fact remains that nothing could be discriminated or characterized as a rose in a context where the prospect of performing suitable mental operations (measuring, smelling, etc.) is not presupposed. Perhaps the strongest argument favoring idealism is that any characterization of the real that we can devise is bound to be a mind-constructed one: our only access to information about what the real is is through the mediation of mind. What seems right about idealism is inherent in the fact that in investigating the real we are clearly constrained to use our own concepts to address our own issues – that we can learn about the real only in our own terms of reference. But what seems right about realism is that the answers to the questions we put to the real are provided by reality itself – whatever the answers may be, they are substantially what they are because it is reality itself that determines them to be that way. -- idealism, Critical. See KANT. idealism, transcendental. See KANT. ideal language, a system of notation that would correct perceived deficiencies of ordinary language by requiring the structure of expressions to mirror the structure of that which they represent. The notion that conceptual errors can be corrected and philosophical problems solved (or dissolved) by properly representing them in some such system figured prominently in the writings of Leibniz, Carnap, Russell, Wittgenstein, and Frege, among others. For Russell, the ideal, or “logically perfect,” language is one in which grammatical form coincides with logical form, there are no vague or ambiguous expresidealism, Critical ideal language 413 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 413 sions, and no proper names that fail to denote. Frege’s Begriffsschrift is perhaps the most thorough and successful execution of the ideal language project. Deductions represented within this system (or its modern descendants) can be effectively checked for correctness. See also CARNAP, FORMAL LANGUAGE, LOGICAL FORM, RUSSELL. S.T.K. ideal market, a hypothetical market, used as a tool of economic analysis, in which all relevant agents are perfectly informed of the price of the good in question and the cost of its production, and all economic transactions can be undertaken with no cost. A specific case is a market exemplifying perfect competition. The term is sometimes extended to apply to an entire economy consisting of ideal markets for every good.  -- ideal observer, a hypothetical being, possessed of various qualities and traits, whose moral reactions (judgments or attitudes) to actions, persons, and states of affairs figure centrally in certain theories of ethics. There are two main versions of ideal observer theory: (a) those that take the reactions of ideal observers as a standard of the correctness of moral judgments, and (b) those that analyze the meanings of moral judgments in terms of the reactions of ideal observers. Theories of the first sort – ideal observer theories of correctness – hold, e.g., that judgments like ‘John’s lying to Brenda about her father’s death was wrong (bad)’ are correct provided any ideal observer would have a negative attitude toward John’s action. Similarly, ‘Alison’s refusal to divulge confidential information about her patient was right (good)’ is correct provided any ideal observer would have a positive attitude toward that action. This version of the theory can be traced to Adam Smith, who is usually credited with introducing the concept of an ideal observer into philosophy, though he used the expression ‘impartial spectator’ to refer to the concept. Regarding the correctness of moral judgments, Smith wrote: “That precise and distinct measure can be found nowhere but in the sympathetic feelings of the impartial and well-informed spectator” (A Theory of Moral Sentiments, 1759). Theories of a second sort – ideal observer theories of meaning – take the concept of an ideal observer as part of the very meaning of ordinary moral judgments. Thus, according to Roderick Firth (“Ethical Absolutism and the Ideal Observer,” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 1952), moral judgments of the form ‘x is good (bad)’, on this view, mean ‘All ideal observers would feel moral approval (disapproval) toward x’, and similarly for other moral judgments (where such approvals and disapprovals are characterized as felt desires having a “demand quality”). Different conceptions of an ideal observer result from variously specifying those qualities and traits that characterize such beings. Smith’s characterization includes being well informed and impartial. However, according to Firth, an ideal observer must be omniscient; omnipercipient, i.e., having the ability to imagine vividly any possible events or states of affairs, including the experiences and subjective states of others; disinterested, i.e., having no interests or desires that involve essential reference to any particular individuals or things; dispassionate; consistent; and otherwise a “normal” human being. Both versions of the theory face a dilemma: on the one hand, if ideal observers are richly characterized as impartial, disinterested, and normal, then since these terms appear to be moral-evaluative terms, appeal to the reactions of ideal observers (either as a standard of correctness or as an analysis of meaning) is circular. On the other hand, if ideal observers receive an impoverished characterization in purely non-evaluative terms, then since there is no reason to suppose that such ideal observers will often all agree in their reactions to actions, people, and states of affairs, most moral judgments will turn out to be incorrect. 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. Cognate with ‘eidos,’ that Grice translates as ‘forma.’ Why is an ‘eidos’ an ‘idea’ and in what sense is an idea a ‘form’? These are deep questions!

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 t_n souly state S₁ which is one in a s. such that any state S_n,  given this or that condition, contains as a part a memory M_n 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>t_n 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 t_n 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. identity, the relation each thing bears just to itself. Formally, a % b Q EF(Fa P Fb); informally, the identity of a and b implies and is implied by their sharing of all their properties. Read from left to right, this biconditional asserts the indiscernibility of identicals; from right to left, the identity of indiscernibles. The indiscernibility of identicals is not to be confused with a metalinguistic principle to the effect that if a and b are names of the same object, then each may be substituted for the other in a sentence without change of truth-value: that may be false, depending on the semantics of the language under discussion. Similarly, the identity of indiscernibles is not the claim that if a and b can be exchanged in all sentential contexts without affecting truth-value, then they name the same object. For such intersubstitutability may arise when the language in question simply lacks predicates that could discriminate between the referents of a and b. In short, the identity of things is not a relation among names. Identity proper is numerical identity, to be distinguished from exact similarity (qualitative identity). Intuitively, two exactly similar objects are “copies” of each other; still they are two, hence not identical. One way to express this is via the notions of extrinsic and intrinsic properties: exactly similar objects differ in respect of the former only. But we can best explain ‘instrinsic property’ by saying that a thing’s intrinsic properties are those it shares with its copies. These notions appear virtually interdefinable. (Note that the concept of an extrinsic property must be relativized to a class or kind of things. Not being in San Francisco is an extrinsic property of persons but arguably an intrinsic property of cities.) While qualitative identity is a familiar notion, its theoretical utility is unclear. The absolute notion of qualitative identity should, however, be distinguished from an unproblematic relative notion: if some list of salient properties is fixed in a given context (say, in mechanics or normative ethics), then the exactly similar things, relative to that context, are those that agree on the properties listed. Both the identity of indiscernibles and (less frequently) the indiscernibility of identicals are sometimes called Leibniz’s law. Neither attribution is apt. Although Leibniz would have accepted the former principle, his distinctive claim was the impossibility of exactly similar objects: numerically distinct individuals cannot even share all intrinsic properties. Moreover, this was not, for him, simply a law of identity but rather an application of his principle of sufficient reason. And the indiscernibility of identicals is part of a universal understanding of identity. What distinguishes Leibniz is the prominence of identity statements in his metaphysics and logical theory. Although identity remains a clear and basic logical notion, identity questions about problematic kinds of objects raise difficulties. One example is the identification of properties, particularly in contexts involving reduction. Although we know what identity is, the notion of a property is unclear enough to pose systematic obstacles to the evaluation of theoretically significant identity statements involving properties. Other difficulties involve personal identity or the possible identification of numbers and sets in the foundations of mathematics. In these cases, the identity questions simply inherit – and provide vivid ways of formulating – the difficulties pertaining to such concepts as person, property, or number; no rethinking of the identity concept itself is indicated. But puzzles about the relation of an ordinary material body to its constituent matter may suggest that the logician’s analysis of identity does not cleanly capture our everyday notion(s). Consider a bronze statue. Although the statue may seem to be nothing besides its matter, reflection on change over time suggests a distinction. The statue may be melted down, hence destroyed, while the bronze persists, perhaps simply as a mass or perhaps as a new statue formed from the same bronze. Alternatively, the statue may persist even as some of its bronze is dissolved in acid. So the statue seems to be one thing and the bronze another. Yet what is the bronze besides a statue? Surely we do not have two statues (or statuelike objects) in one place? Some authors feel that variants of the identity relation may permit a perspicuous description of the relation of statue and bronze: (1) tensed identity: Assume a class of timebound properties – roughly, properties an object can have at a time regardless of what properties it has at other times. (E.g., a statue’s shape, location, or elegance.) Then a % t b provided a and b share all timebound properties at time t. Thus, the statue and the bronze may be identical at time t 1 but not at t 2. (2) relative identity: a and b may be identical relative to one concept (or predicate) but not to another. Thus, the statue may be held to be the same lump of matter as the bronze but not the same object of art. identity identity 415 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 415 In each case, only detailed study will show whether the variant notion can at once offer a natural description of change and qualify as a viable identity concept. (Strong doubts arise about (2).) But it seems likely that our everyday talk of identity has a richness and ambiguity that escapes formal characterization.  identity, ‘is’ of. See IS. identity, psychophysical. See PHYSICALISM. identity, theoretical. See PHILOSOPHY OF MIND. identity of indiscernibles, any of a family of principles, important members of which include the following: (1) If objects a and b have all properties in common, then a and b are identical. (2) If objects a and b have all their qualitative properties in common, then a and b are identical. (3) If objects a and b have all their non-relational qualitative properties in common, then a and b are identical. Two questions regarding these principles are raised: Which, if any, are true? If any are true, are they necessarily true? Discussions of the identity of indiscernibles typically restrict the scope of the principle to concrete objects. Although the notions of qualitative and non-relational properties play a prominent role in these discussions, they are notoriously difficult to define. Intuitively, a qualitative property is one that can be instantiated by more than one object and does not involve being related to another particular object. It does not follow that all qualitative properties are non-relational, since some relational properties, such as being on top of a brown desk, do not involve being related to some particular object. (1) is generally regarded as necessarily true but trivial, since if a and b have all properties in common then a has the property of being identical with b and b has the property of being identical with a. Hence, most discussions focus on (2) and (3). (3) is generally regarded as, at best, a contingent truth since it appears possible to conceive of two distinct red balls of the same size, shade of color, and composition. Some have argued that elementary scientific particles, such as electrons, are counterexamples to even the contingent truth of (3). (2) appears defensible as a contingent truth since, in the actual world, objects such as the red balls and the electrons differ in their relational qualitative properties. It has been argued, however, that (2) is not a necessary truth since it is possible to conceive of a world consisting of only the two red balls. In such a world, any qualitative relational property possessed by one ball is also possessed by the other. Defenders of the necessary truth of (2) have argued that a careful examination of such counterexamples reveals hidden qualitative properties that differentiate the objects. See also IDENTITY, INDIVIDUATION, LEIBNIZ, PROPERTY, SUBSTANCE. A.C. identity of persons. 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.

ideology, generally a disparaging term used to describe someone else’s political views which one regards as unsound. This use derives from Marx’s employment of the term to signify a false consciousness shared by the members of a particular social class. For example, according to Marx, members of the capitalist class share the ideology that the laws of the competitive market are natural and impersonal, that workers in a competitive market are paid all that they can be paid, and that the institutions of private property in the means of production are natural and justified. See also MARXISM, POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. J.P.St.

ideo-motor action, a theory of the will according to which “every representation of a movement awakens in some degree the actual movement which is its object” (William James). Proposed by physiologist W. B. Carpenter, and taught by Lotze and Renouvier, ideo-motor action was developed by James. He rejected the regnant analysis of voluntary behavior, which held that will operates by reinstating “feelings of innervation” (Wundt) in the efferent nerves. Deploying introspection and physiology, James showed that feelings of innervation do not exist. James advanced ideo-motor action as the psychological basis of volition: actions tend to occur automatically when thought, unless inhibited by a contrary idea. Will consists in fixing attention on a identity, ‘is’ of ideo-motor action 416 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 416 desired idea until it dominates consciousness, the execution of movement following automatically. James also rejected Bain’s associationist thesis that pleasure or pain is the necessary spring of action, since according to ideo-motor theory thought of an action by itself produces it. James’s analysis became dogma, but was effectively attacked by psychologist E. L. Thorndike (1874– 1949), who proposed in its place the behavioristic doctrine that ideas have no power to cause behavior, and argued that belief in ideo-motor action amounted to belief in sympathetic magic. Thus did will leave the vocabulary of psychology. See also JAMES, VOLITION. T.H.L. idols of the cave. See BACON, FRANCIS. idols of the marketplace. See BACON, FRANCIS. idols of the mind. See BACON, FRANCIS. idols of the theater. See BACON, FRANCIS. idols of the tribe. See BACON, FRANCIS.

“if” – German “ob,” Latin, “si,” Grecian, “ei” -- conditional, a compound sentence, such as ‘if Abe calls, then Ben answers,’ in which one sentence, the antecedent, is connected to a second, the consequent, by the connective ‘if . . . then’. Propositions statements, etc. expressed by conditionals are called conditional propositions statements, etc. and, by ellipsis, simply conditionals. The ambiguity of the expression ‘if . . . then’ gives rise to a semantic classification of conditionals into material conditionals, causal conditionals, counterfactual conditionals, and so on. In traditional logic, conditionals are called hypotheticals, and in some areas of mathematical logic conditionals are called implications. Faithful analysis of the meanings of conditionals continues to be investigated and intensely disputed.  conditional proof. 1 The argument form ‘B follows from A; therefore, if A then B’ and arguments of this form. 2 The rule of inference that permits one to infer a conditional given a derivation of its consequent from its antecedent. This is also known as the rule of conditional proof or /- introduction. conditioning, a form of associative learning that occurs when changes in thought or behavior are produced by temporal relations among events. It is common to distinguish between two types of conditioning; one, classical or Pavlovian, in which behavior change results from events that occur before behavior; the other, operant or instrumental, in which behavior change occurs because of events after behavior. Roughly, classically and operantly conditioned behavior correspond to the everyday, folk-psychological distinction between involuntary and voluntary or goaldirected behavior. In classical conditioning, stimuli or events elicit a response e.g., salivation; neutral stimuli e.g., a dinner bell gain control over behavior when paired with stimuli that already elicit behavior e.g., the appearance of dinner. The behavior is involuntary. In operant conditioning, stimuli or events reinforce behavior after behavior occurs; neutral stimuli gain power to reinforce by being paired with actual reinforcers. Here, occasions in which behavior is reinforced serve as discriminative stimuli-evoking behavior. Operant behavior is goal-directed, if not consciously or deliberately, then through the bond between behavior and reinforcement. Thus, the arrangement of condiments at dinner may serve as the discriminative stimulus evoking the request “Please pass the salt,” whereas saying “Thank you” may reinforce the behavior of passing the salt. It is not easy to integrate conditioning phenomena into a unified theory of conditioning. Some theorists contend that operant conditioning is really classical conditioning veiled by subtle temporal relations among events. Other theorists contend that operant conditioning requires mental representations of reinforcers and discriminative stimuli. B. F. Skinner 4 90 argued in Walden Two 8 that astute, benevolent behavioral engineers can and should use conditioning to create a social utopia.  conditio sine qua non Latin, ‘a condition without which not’, a necessary condition; something without which something else could not be or could not occur. For example, being a plane figure is a conditio sine qua non for being a triangle. Sometimes the phrase is used emphatically as a synonym for an unconditioned presupposition, be it for an action to start or an argument to get going. I.Bo. Condorcet, Marquis de, title of Marie-JeanAntoine-Nicolas de Caritat 174394,  philosopher and political theorist who contributed to the Encyclopedia and pioneered the mathematical analysis of social institutions. Although prominent in the Revolutionary government, he was denounced for his political views and died in prison. Condorcet discovered the voting paradox, which shows that majoritarian voting can produce cyclical group preferences. Suppose, for instance, that voters A, B, and C rank proposals x, y, and z as follows: A: xyz, B: yzx, and C: zxy. Then in majoritarian voting x beats y and y beats z, but z in turn beats x. So the resulting group preferences are cyclical. The discovery of this problem helped initiate social choice theory, which evaluates voting systems. Condorcet argued that any satisfactory voting system must guarantee selection of a proposal that beats all rivals in majoritarian competition. Such a proposal is called a Condorcet winner. His jury theorem says that if voters register their opinions about some matter, such as whether a defendant is guilty, and the probabilities that individual voters are right are greater than ½, equal, and independent, then the majority vote is more likely to be correct than any individual’s or minority’s vote. Condorcet’s main works are Essai sur l’application de l’analyse à la probabilité des décisions rendues à la pluralité des voix Essay on the Application of Analysis to the Probability of Decisions Reached by a Majority of Votes, 1785; and a posthumous treatise on social issues, Esquisse d’un tableau historique des progrès de l’esprit humain Sketch for a Historical Picture of the Progress of the Human Mind, 1795.  “if” corresponding conditional of a given argument, any conditional whose antecedent is a logical conjunction of all of the premises of the argument and whose consequent is the conclusion. The two conditionals, ‘if Abe is Ben and Ben is wise, then Abe is wise’ and ‘if Ben is wise and Abe is Ben, then Abe is wise’, are the two corresponding conditionals of the argument whose premises are ‘Abe is Ben’ and ‘Ben is wise’ and whose conclusion is ‘Abe is wise’. For a one-premise argument, the corresponding conditional is the conditional whose antecedent is the premise and whose consequent is the conclusion. The limiting cases of the empty and infinite premise sets are treated in different ways by different logicians; one simple treatment considers such arguments as lacking corresponding conditionals. The principle of corresponding conditionals is that in order for an argument to be valid it is necessary and sufficient for all its corresponding conditionals to be tautological. The commonly used expression ‘the corresponding conditional of an argument’ is also used when two further stipulations are in force: first, that an argument is construed as having an ordered sequence of premises rather than an unordered set of premises; second, that conjunction is construed as a polyadic operation that produces in a unique way a single premise from a sequence of premises rather than as a dyadic operation that combines premises two by two. Under these stipulations the principle of the corresponding conditional is that in order for an argument to be valid it is necessary and sufficient for its corresponding conditional to be valid. These principles are closely related to modus ponens, to conditional proof, and to the so-called deduction theorem.  “if” counterfactuals, also called contrary-to-fact conditionals, subjunctive conditionals that presupcorner quotes counterfactuals 187   187 pose the falsity of their antecedents, such as ‘If Hitler had invaded England, G.y would have won’ and ‘If I were you, I’d run’. Conditionals or hypothetical statements are compound statements of the form ‘If p, then q’, or equivalently ‘q if p’. Component p is described as the antecedent protasis and q as the consequent apodosis. A conditional like ‘If Oswald did not kill Kennedy, then someone else did’ is called indicative, because both the antecedent and consequent are in the indicative mood. One like ‘If Oswald had not killed Kennedy, then someone else would have’ is subjunctive. Many subjunctive and all indicative conditionals are open, presupposing nothing about the antecedent. Unlike ‘If Bob had won, he’d be rich’, neither ‘If Bob should have won, he would be rich’ nor ‘If Bob won, he is rich’ implies that Bob did not win. Counterfactuals presuppose, rather than assert, the falsity of their antecedents. ‘If Reagan had been president, he would have been famous’ seems inappropriate and out of place, but not false, given that Reagan was president. The difference between counterfactual and open subjunctives is less important logically than that between subjunctives and indicatives. Whereas the indicative conditional about Kennedy is true, the subjunctive is probably false. Replace ‘someone’ with ‘no one’ and the truth-values reverse. The most interesting logical feature of counterfactuals is that they are not truth-functional. A truth-functional compound is one whose truth-value is completely determined in every possible case by the truth-values of its components. For example, the falsity of ‘The President is a grandmother’ and ‘The President is childless’ logically entails the falsity of ‘The President is a grandmother and childless’: all conjunctions with false conjuncts are false. But whereas ‘If the President were a grandmother, the President would be childless’ is false, other counterfactuals with equally false components are true, such as ‘If the President were a grandmother, the President would be a mother’. The truth-value of a counterfactual is determined in part by the specific content of its components. This property is shared by indicative and subjunctive conditionals generally, as can be seen by varying the wording of the example. In marked contrast, the material conditional, p / q, of modern logic, defined as meaning that either p is false or q is true, is completely truth-functional. ‘The President is a grandmother / The President is childless’ is just as true as ‘The President is a grandmother / The President is a mother’. While stronger than the material conditional, the counterfactual is weaker than the strict conditional, p U q, of modern modal logic, which says that p / q is necessarily true. ‘If the switch had been flipped, the light would be on’ may in fact be true even though it is possible for the switch to have been flipped without the light’s being on because the bulb could have burned out. The fact that counterfactuals are neither strict nor material conditionals generated the problem of counterfactual conditionals raised by Chisholm and Goodman: What are the truth conditions of a counterfactual, and how are they determined by its components? According to the “metalinguistic” approach, which resembles the deductive-nomological model of explanation, a counterfactual is true when its antecedent conjoined with laws of nature and statements of background conditions logically entails its consequent. On this account, ‘If the switch had been flipped the light would be on’ is true because the statement that the switch was flipped, plus the laws of electricity and statements describing the condition and arrangement of the circuitry, entail that the light is on. The main problem is to specify which facts are “fixed” for any given counterfactual and context. The background conditions cannot include the denials of the antecedent or the consequent, even though they are true, nor anything else that would not be true if the antecedent were. Counteridenticals, whose antecedents assert identities, highlight the difficulty: the background for ‘If I were you, I’d run’ must include facts about my character and your situation, but not vice versa. Counterlegals like ‘Newton’s laws would fail if planets had rectangular orbits’, whose antecedents deny laws of nature, show that even the set of laws cannot be all-inclusive. Another leading approach pioneered by Robert C. Stalnaker and David K. Lewis extends the possible worlds semantics developed for modal logic, saying that a counterfactual is true when its consequent is true in the nearest possible world in which the antecedent is true. The counterfactual about the switch is true on this account provided a world in which the switch was flipped and the light is on is closer to the actual world than one in which the switch was flipped but the light is not on. The main problem is to specify which world is nearest for any given counterfactual and context. The difference between indicative and subjunctive conditionals can be accounted for in terms of either a different set of background conditions or a different measure of nearness. counterfactuals counterfactuals     Counterfactuals turn up in a variety of philosophical contexts. To distinguish laws like ‘All copper conducts’ from equally true generalizations like ‘Everything in my pocket conducts’, some have observed that while anything would conduct if it were copper, not everything would conduct if it were in my pocket. And to have a disposition like solubility, it does not suffice to be either dissolving or not in water: it must in addition be true that the object would dissolve if it were in water. It has similarly been suggested that one event is the cause of another only if the latter would not have occurred if the former had not; that an action is free only if the agent could or would have done otherwise if he had wanted to; that a person is in a particular mental state only if he would behave in certain ways given certain stimuli; and that an action is right only if a completely rational and fully informed agent would choose it. 

iff, an abbreviation for ‘if and only if’ that is used as if it were a single propositional operator (connective). Another synonym for ‘iff’ is ‘just in case’. The justification for treating ‘iff’ as if it were a single propositional connective is that ‘P if and only if Q’ is elliptical for ‘P if Q, and P only if Q’, and this assertion is logically equivalent to ‘P biconditional Q’. See also BICONDITIONAL. R.W.B. ignoratio elenchi. See INFORMAL FALLACY.

Il’in, Ivan Aleksandrovich (1883–1954), Russian philosopher and conservative legal and political theorist. He authored an important two-volume commentary on Hegel (1918), plus extensive writings in ethics, political theory, aesthetics, and spirituality. Exiled in 1922, he was known for his passionate opposition to Bolshevism, his extensive proposals for rebuilding a radically reformed Russian state, church, and society in a post-Communist future, and his devout Russian Orthodox spirituality. He is widely regarded as a master of Russian language and a penetrating interpreter of the history of Russian culture. His collected works are currently being published in Moscow. See also RUSSIAN PHILOSOPHY. P.T.G. illation. See INDUCTION. illative. See INDUCTION. illative sense. See NEWMAN. illicit process of the major. See SYLLOGISM. illicit process of the minor. See SYLLOGISM. illocutionary act. See SPEECH ACT THEORY. illocutionary force. See PHILOSOPHY OF LANGUAGE, SPEECH ACT THEORY. illocutionary force potential. See SPEECH ACT THEORY.

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. ILLATUM -- inference, the process of drawing a conclusion from premises or assumptions, or, loosely, the conclusion so drawn. An argument can be merely a number of statements of which one is designated the conclusion and the rest are designated premises. Whether the premises imply the conclusion is thus independent of anyone’s actual beliefs in either of them. Belief, however, is essential to inference. Inference occurs only if someone, owing to believing the premises, begins to believe the conclusion or continues to believe the conclusion with greater confidence than before. Because inference requires a subject who has beliefs, some requirements of (an ideally) acceptable inference do not apply to abstract arguments: one must believe the premises; one must believe that the premises support the conclusion; neither of these beliefs induction, eliminative inference 426 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 426 may be based on one’s prior belief in the conclusion. W. E. Johnson called these the epistemic conditions of inference. In a reductio ad absurdum argument that deduces a self-contradiction from certain premises, not all steps of the argument will correspond to steps of inference. No one deliberately infers a contradiction. What one infers, in such an argument, is that certain premises are inconsistent. Acceptable inferences can fall short of being ideally acceptable according to the above requirements. Relevant beliefs are sometimes indefinite. Infants and children infer despite having no grasp of the sophisticated notion of support. One function of idealization is to set standards for that which falls short. It is possible to judge how nearly inexplicit, automatic, unreflective, lessthan-ideal inferences meet ideal requirements. In ordinary speech, ‘infer’ often functions as a synonym of ‘imply’, as in ‘The new tax law infers that we have to calculate the value of our shrubbery’. Careful philosophical writing avoids this usage. Implication is, and inference is not, a relation between statements. Valid deductive inference corresponds to a valid deductive argument: it is logically impossible for all the premises to be true when the conclusion is false. That is, the conjunction of all the premises and the negation of the conclusion is inconsistent. Whenever a conjunction is inconsistent, there is a valid argument for the negation of any conjunct from the other conjuncts. (Relevance logic imposes restrictions on validity to avoid this.) Whenever one argument is deductively valid, so is another argument that goes in a different direction. (1) ‘Stacy left her slippers in the kitchen’ implies (2) ‘Stacy had some slippers’. Should one acquainted with Stacy and the kitchen infer (2) from (1), or infer not-(1) from not-(2), or make neither inference? Formal logic tells us about implication and deductive validity, but it cannot tell us when or what to infer. Reasonable inference depends on comparative degrees of reasonable belief. An inference in which every premise and every step is beyond question is a demonstrative inference. (Similarly, reasoning for which this condition holds is demonstrative reasoning.) Just as what is beyond question can vary from one situation to another, so can what counts as demonstrative. The term presumably derives from Aristotle’s Posterior Analytics. Understanding Aristotle’s views on demonstration requires understanding his general scheme for classifying inferences. Not all inferences are deductive. In an inductive inference, one infers from an observed combination of characteristics to some similar unobserved combination. ‘Reasoning’ like ‘painting’, and ‘frosting’, and many other words, has a process–product ambiguity. Reasoning can be a process that occurs in time or it can be a result or product. A letter to the editor can both contain reasoning and be the result of reasoning. It is often unclear whether a word such as ‘statistical’ that modifies the words ‘inference’ or ‘reasoning’ applies primarily to stages in the process or to the content of the product. One view, attractive for its simplicity, is that the stages of the process of reasoning correspond closely to the parts of the product. Examples that confirm this view are scarce. Testing alternatives, discarding and reviving, revising and transposing, and so on, are as common to the process of reasoning as to other creative activities. A product seldom reflects the exact history of its production. In An Examination of Sir William Hamilton’s Philosophy, J. S. Mill says that reasoning is a source from which we derive new truths (Chapter 14). This is a useful saying so long as we remember that not all reasoning is inference. -- inference to the best explanation, an inference by which one concludes that something is the case on the grounds that this best explains something else one believes to be the case. Paradigm examples of this kind of inference are found in the natural sciences, where a hypothesis is accepted on the grounds that it best explains relevant observations. For example, the hypothesis that material substances have atomic structures best explains a range of observations concerning how such substances interact. Inferences to the best explanation occur in everyday life as well. Upon walking into your house you observe that a lamp is lying broken on the floor, and on the basis of this you infer that the cat has knocked it over. This is plausibly analyzed as an inference to the best explanation; you believe that the cat has knocked over the lamp because this is the best explanation for the lamp’s lying broken on the floor. The nature of inference to the best explanation and the extent of its use are both controversial. Positions that have been taken include: (a) that it is a distinctive kind of inductive reasoning; (b) inference rule inference to the best explanation 427 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 427 that all good inductive inferences involve inference to the best explanation; and (c) that it is not a distinctive kind of inference at all, but is rather a special case of enumerative induction. Another controversy concerns the criteria for what makes an explanation best. Simplicity, cognitive fit, and explanatory power have all been suggested as relevant merits, but none of these notions is well understood. Finally, a skeptical problem arises: inference to the best explanation is plausibly involved in both scientific and commonsense knowledge, but it is not clear why the best explanation that occurs to a person is likely to be true. -- inferential knowledge, a kind of “indirect” knowledge, namely, knowledge based on or resulting from inference. Assuming that knowledge is at least true, justified belief, inferential knowledge is constituted by a belief that is justified because it is inferred from certain other beliefs. The knowledge that 7 equals 7 seems non-inferential. We do not infer from anything that 7 equals 7 – it is obvious and self-evident. The knowledge that 7 is the cube root of 343, in contrast, seems inferential. We cannot know this without inferring it from something else, such as the result obtained when multiplying 7 times 7 times 7. Two sorts of inferential relations may be distinguished. ‘I inferred that someone died because the flag is at half-mast’ may be true because yesterday I acquired the belief about the flag, which caused me to acquire the further belief that someone died. ‘I inferentially believe that someone died because the flag is at halfmast’ may be true now because I retain the belief that someone died and it remains based on my belief about the flag. My belief that someone died is thus either episodically or structurally inferential. The episodic process is an occurrent, causal relation among belief acquisitions. The structural basing relation may involve the retention of beliefs, and need not be occurrent. (Some reserve ‘inference’ for the episodic relation.) An inferential belief acquired on one basis may later be held on a different basis, as when I forget I saw a flag at half-mast but continue to believe someone died because of news reports. That “How do you know?” and “Prove it!” always seem pertinent suggests that all knowledge is inferential, a version of the coherence theory. The well-known regress argument seems to show, however, that not all knowledge can be inferential, which is a version of foundationalism. For if S knows something inferentially, S must infer it correctly from premises S knows to be true. The question whether those premises are also known inferentially begins either an infinite regress of inferences (which is humanly impossible) or a circle of justification (which could not constitute good reasoning). Which sources of knowledge are non-inferential remains an issue even assuming foundationalism. When we see that an apple is red, e.g., our knowledge is based in some manner on the way the apple looks. “How do you know it is red?” can be answered: “By the way it looks.” This answer seems correct, moreover, only if an inference from the way the apple looks to its being red would be warranted. Nevertheless, perceptual beliefs are formed so automatically that talk of inference seems inappropriate. In addition, inference as a process whereby beliefs are acquired as a result of holding other beliefs may be distinguished from inference as a state in which one belief is sustained on the basis of others. Knowledge that is inferential in one way need not be inferential in the other.

illuminism: d’Alembert, Jean Le Rond 171783,  mathematician, philosopher, and Encyclopedist. According to Grimm, d’Alembert was the prime luminary of the philosophic party. An abandoned, illegitimate child, he nonetheless received an outstanding education at the Jansenist Collège des Quatre-Nations in Paris. He read law for a while, tried medicine, and settled on mathematics. In 1743, he published an acclaimed Treatise of Dynamics. Subsequently, he joined the Paris Academy of Sciences and contributed decisive works on mathematics and physics. In 1754, he was elected to the  Academy, of which he later became permanent secretary. In association with Diderot, he launched the Encyclopedia, for which he wrote the epoch-making Discours préliminaire 1751 and numerous entries on science. Unwilling to compromise with the censorship, he resigned as coeditor in 1758. In the Discours préliminaire, d’Alembert specified the divisions of the philosophical discourse on man: pneumatology, logic, and ethics. Contrary to Christian philosophies, he limited pneumatology to the investigation of the human soul. Prefiguring positivism, his Essay on the Elements of Philosophy 1759 defines philosophy as a comparative examination of physical phenomena. Influenced by Bacon, Locke, and Newton, d’Alembert’s epistemology associates Cartesian psychology with the sensory origin of ideas. Though assuming the universe to be rationally ordered, he discarded metaphysical questions as inconclusive. The substance, or the essence, of soul and matter, is unknowable. Agnosticism ineluctably arises from his empirically based naturalism. D’Alembert is prominently featured in D’Alembert’s Dream 1769, Diderot’s dialogical apology for materialism.  Grice’s illuminism – “reason enlightens us” Enlightenment, a late eighteenth-century international movement in thought, with important social and political ramifications. The Enlightenment is at once a style, an attitude, a temper  critical, secular, skeptical, empirical, and practical. It is also characterized by core beliefs in human rationality, in what it took to be “nature,” and in the “natural feelings” of mankind. Four of its most prominent exemplars are Hume, Thomas Jefferson, Kant, and Voltaire. The Enlightenment belief in human rationality had several aspects. 1 Human beings are free to the extent that their actions are carried out for a reason. Actions prompted by traditional authority, whether religious or political, are therefore not free; liberation requires weakening if not also overthrow of this authority. 2 Human rationality is universal, requiring only education for its development. In virtue of their common rationality, all human beings have certain rights, among them the right to choose and shape their individual destinies. 3 A final aspect of the belief in human rationality was that the true forms of all things could be discovered, whether of the universe Newton’s laws, of the mind associationist psychology, of good government the U.S. Constitution, of a happy life which, like good government, was “balanced”, or of beautiful architecture Palladio’s principles. The Enlightenment was preeminently a “formalist” age, and prose, not poetry, was its primary means of expression. The Enlightenment thought of itself as a return to the classical ideas of the Grecians and more especially the Romans. But in fact it provided one source of the revolutions that shook Europe and America at the end of the eighteenth century, and it laid the intellectual foundations for both the generally scientific worldview and the liberal democratic society, which, despite the many attacks made on them, continue to function as cultural ideals. 

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.

Imagination: referred to by Grice in “Prolegomena” – the rabbit that looks like a duck -- the mental faculty sometimes thought to encompass all acts of thinking about something novel, contrary to fact, or not currently perceived; thus: “Imagine that Lincoln had not been assassinated,” or “Use your imagination to create a new design for roller skates.” ‘Imagination’ also denotes an important perception-like aspect of some such thoughts, so that to imagine something is to bring to mind what it would be like to perceive it. Philosophical theories of imagination must explain its apparent intentionality: when we imagine, we always imagine something. Imagination is always directed toward an object, even though the object may not exist. Moreover, imagination, like perception, is often seen as involving qualia, or special subjective properties that are sometimes thought to discredit materialist, especially functionalist, theories of mind. The intentionality of imagination and its perceptual character lead some theories to equate imagination with “imaging”: being conscious of or perceiving a mental image. However, because the ontological status of such images and the nature of their properties are obscure, many philosophers have rejected mental images in favor of an adverbial theory on which to imagine something red is best analyzed as imagining “redly.” Such theories avoid the difficulties associated with mental images, but must offer some other way to account for the apparent intentionality of imagination as well as its perceptual character. Imagination, in the hands of Husserl and Sartre, becomes a particularly apt subject for phenomenology. It is also cited as a faculty that idols of the cave imagination 417 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 417 separates human thought from any form of artificial intelligence. Finally, imagination often figures prominently in debates about possibility, in that what is imaginable is often taken to be coextensive with what is possible.

immanence, a term most often used in contrast to ‘transcendence’ to express the way in which God is thought to be present in the world. The most extreme form of immanence is expressed in pantheism, which identifies God’s substance either partly or wholly with the world. In contrast to pantheism, Judaism and Christianity hold God to be a totally separate substance from the world. In Christianity, the separateness of God’s substance from that of the world is guaranteed by the doctrine of creation ex nihilo. Aquinas held that God is in the world as an efficient cause is present to that on which it acts. Thus, God is present in the world by continuously acting on it to preserve it in existence. Perhaps the weakest notion of immanence is expressed in eighteenth- and nineteenthcentury deism, in which God initially creates the world and institutes its universal laws, but is basically an absentee landlord, exercising no providential activity over its continuing history.

immaterialism, the view that objects are best characterized as mere collections of qualities: “a certain colour, taste, smell, figure and consistence having been observed to go together, are accounted one distinct thing, signified by the name apple” (Berkeley, Principles, 1). So construed, immaterialism anticipates by some two hundred years a doctrine defended in the early twentieth century by Russell. The negative side of the doctrine comes in the denial of material substance or matter. Some philosophers had held that ordinary objects are individual material substances in which qualities inhere. The account is mistaken because, according to immaterialism, there is no such thing as material substance, and so qualities do not inhere in it. Immaterialism should not be confused with Berkeley’s idealism. The latter, but not the former, implies that objects and their qualities exist if and only if they are perceived.

immediacy, presence to the mind without intermediaries. The term ‘immediate’ and its cognates have been used extensively throughout the history of philosophy, generally without much explanation. Descartes, e.g., explains his notion of thought thus: “I use this term to include everything that is within us in a way that we are immediately aware of it” (Second Replies). He offers no explanation of immediate awareness. However, when used as a primitive in this way, the term may simply mean that thoughts are the immediate objects of perception because thoughts are the only things perceived in the strict and proper sense that no perception of an intermediary is required for the person’s awareness of them. Sometimes ‘immediate’ means ‘not mediated’. (1) An inference from a premise to a conclusion can exhibit logical immediacy because it does not depend on other premises. This is a technical usage of proof theory to describe the form of a certain class of inference rules. (2) A concept can exhibit conceptual immediacy because it is definitionally primitive, as in the Berkeleian doctrine that perception of qualities is immediate, and perception of objects is defined by the perception of their qualities, which is directly understood. (3) Our perception of something can exhibit causal immediacy because it is not caused by intervening acts of perception or cognition, as with seeing someone immediately in the flesh rather than through images on a movie screen. (4) A belief-formation process can possess psychological immediacy because it contains no subprocess of reasoning and in that sense has no psychological mediator. (5) Our knowledge of something can exhibit epistemic immediacy because it is justified without inference from another proposition, as in intuitive knowledge of the existence of the self, which has no epistemic mediator. A noteworthy special application of immediacy is to be found in Russell’s notion of knowledge by acquaintance. This notion is a development of the venerable doctrine originating with Plato, and also found in Augustine, that understanding the nature of some object requires that we can gain immediate cognitive access to that object. Thus, for Plato, to understand the nature imaging immediacy 418 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 418 of beauty requires acquaintance with beauty itself. This view contrasts with one in which understanding the nature of beauty requires linguistic competence in the use of the word ‘beauty’ or, alternatively, with one that requires having a mental representation of beauty. Russell offers sense-data and universals as examples of things known by acquaintance. To these senses of immediacy we may add another category whose members have acquired special meanings within certain philosophical traditions. For example, in Hegel’s philosophy if (per impossibile) an object were encountered “as existing in simple immediacy” it would be encountered as it is in itself, unchanged by conceptualization. In phenomenology “immediate” experience is, roughly, bracketed experience.

impartiality, a state or disposition achieved to the degree that one’s actions or attitudes are not influenced in a relevant respect by which members of a relevant group are benefited or harmed by one’s actions or by the object of one’s attitudes. For example, a basketball referee and that referee’s calls are impartial when the referee’s applications of the rules are not affected by whether the calls help one team or the other. A fan’s approval of a call lacks impartiality if that attitude results from the fan’s preference for one team over the other. Impartiality in this general sense does not exclude arbitrariness or guarantee fairness; nor does it require neutrality among values, for a judge can be impartial between parties while favoring liberty and equality for all. Different situations might call for impartiality in different respects toward different groups, so disagreements arise, for example, about when morality requires or allows partiality toward friends or family or country. Moral philosophers have proposed various tests of the kind of impartiality required by morality, including role reversibility (Kurt Baier), universalizability (Hare), a veil of ignorance (Rawls), and a restriction to beliefs shared by all rational people (Bernard Gert).

imperatum – This starts with the Greeks, who had the klesis porstktike, modus imperativus. But then, under the modus subjunctives, the Romans added the modus prohibitivus. So this is interesting, because it seems that most of Grice’s maxims are ‘prohibitions’: “Do not say what you believe to be false.” “Do not that for which you lack adequate evidence.” And some while formally in the ‘affirmative,’ look prohibitive with ‘negative-loaded’ verbs like ‘avoid ambiguity,’ etc. hile an imperatus, m. is a command, ‘imperatum’ refers, diaphanously, to what is commanded. “Impero” is actually a derivation from the intensive “in-“ and the “paro,” as in “prepare,” “Paratum” would thus reflect the ssame cognateness with ‘imperatum.”  Modus imperativus -- 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. Grice makes an important distinction which he thinks Austin doesn’t make because what a philosopher EXPLICITLY conveys and what he IMPLICITLY conveys. 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. implication, a relation that holds between two statements when the truth of the first ensures the truth of the second. A number of statements together imply Q if their joint truth ensures the truth of Q. An argument is deductively valid exactly when its premises imply its conclusion. Expressions of the following forms are often interchanged one for the other: ‘P implies Q’, ‘Q follows from P’, and ‘P entails Q’. (‘Entailment’ also has a more restricted meaning.) In ordinary discourse, ‘implication’ has wider meanings that are important for understanding reasoning and communication of all kinds. The sentence ‘Last Tuesday, the editor remained sober throughout lunch’ does not imply that the editor is not always sober. But one who asserted the sentence typically would imply this. The theory of conversational implicature explains how speakers often imply more than their sentences imply. The term ‘implication’ also applies to conditional statements. A material implication of the form ‘if P, then Q’ (often symbolized ‘P P Q’ or ‘P / Q’) is true so long as either the if-clause P is false or the main clause Q is true; it is false only if P is true and Q is false. A strict implication of the form ‘if P, then Q’ (often symbolized ‘P Q’) is true exactly when the corresponding material implication is necessarily true; i.e., when it is impossible for P to be true when Q is false. The following valid forms of argument are called paradoxes of material implication: Q. Therefore, P / Q. Not-P. Therefore, P / Q. The appearance of paradox here is due to using ‘implication’ as a name both for a relation between statements and for statements of conditional form. A conditional statement can be true even though there is no relation between its components. Consider the following valid inference: Butter floats in milk. Therefore, fish sleep at night / butter floats in milk. Since the simple premise is true, the conditional conclusion is also true despite the fact that the nocturnal activities of fish and the comparative densities of milk and butter are completely unreimmediate inference implication 419 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 419 lated. The statement ‘Fish sleep at night’ does not imply that butter floats in milk. It is better to call a conditional statement that is true just so long as it does not have a true if-clause and a false main clause a material conditional rather than a material implication. Strict conditional is similarly preferable to ‘strict implication’. Respecting this distinction, however, does not dissolve all the puzzlement of the so-called paradoxes of strict implication: Necessarily Q. Therefore, P Q. Impossible that P. Therefore, P Q. Here is an example of the first pattern: Necessarily, all rectangles are rectangles. Therefore, fish sleep at night all rectangles are rectangles. ‘All rectangles are rectangles’ is an example of a vacuous truth, so called because it is devoid of content. ‘All squares are rectangles’ and ‘5 is greater than 3’ are not so obviously vacuous truths, although they are necessary truths. Vacuity is not a sharply defined notion. Here is an example of the second pattern: It is impossible that butter always floats in milk yet sometimes does not float in milk. Therefore, butter always floats in milk yet sometimes does not float in milk fish sleep at night. Does the if-clause of the conclusion imply (or entail) the main clause? On one hand, what butter does in milk is, as before, irrelevant to whether fish sleep at night. On this ground, relevance logic denies there is a relation of implication or entailment. On the other hand, it is impossible for the if-clause to be true when the main clause is false, because it is impossible for the if-clause to be true in any circumstances whatever. Speranza, Luigi. Join the Grice Club! Strawson, P. F.. “On Referring.” Mind 59 (1950): 320–44.

implicature, a pragmatic relation different from, but easily confused with, the semantic relation of entailment. This concept was first identified, explained, and used by H. P. Grice (Studies in the Way of Words, 1989). Grice identified two main types of implicature, conventional and conversational. A speaker is said to conversationally implicate a proposition P in uttering a given sentence, provided that, although P is not logically implied by what the speaker says, the assumption that the speaker is attempting cooperative communication warrants inferring that the speaker believes p. If B says, “There is a garage around the corner” in response to A’s saying, “I am out of gas,” B conversationally implicates that the garage is open and has gas to sell. Grice identifies several conversational maxims to which cooperative speakers may be expected to conform, and which justify inferences about speakers’ implicatures. In the above example, the implicatures are due to the Maxim of Relevance. Another important maxim is that of Quantity (“Make your contribution as informative as is required”). Among implicatures due to the Maxim of Quantity are scalar implicatures, wherein the sentence uttered contains an element that is part of a quantitative scale. Utterance of such a sentence conversationally implicates that the speaker does not believe related propositions higher on the scale of informativeness. For instance, speakers who say, “Some of the zoo animals escaped,” implicate that they do not believe that most of the zoo animals escaped, or that all of the zoo animals escaped. Unlike conversational implicatures, conventional implicatures are due solely to the meaning of the sentence uttered. A sentence utterance is said by Grice to conventionally implicate a proposition, p, if the meaning of the sentence commits the speaker to p, even though what the sentence says does not entail p. Thus, uttering “She was poor but she was honest” implicates, but does not say, that there is a contrast between poverty and honesty.

imposition, a property of terms resulting from a linguistic convention to designate something. Terms are not mere noises but significant sounds. Those designating extralinguistic entities, such as ‘tree’, ‘stone’, ‘blue’, and the like, were classified by the tradition since Boethius as terms of first imposition; those designating other terms or other linguistic items, such as ‘noun’, ‘declension’, and the like, were classified as terms of second imposition. The distinction between terms of first and second imposition belongs to the realm of written and spoken language, while the parallel distinction between terms of first and second implication, paradoxes of imposition 420 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 420 intention belongs to the realm of mental language: first intentions are, broadly, thoughts about trees, stones, colors, etc.; second intentions are thoughts about first intentions.

impredicative definition, the definition of a concept in terms of the totality to which it belongs. Russell, in the second (1925) edition of Principia Mathematica, introduced the term ‘impredicative’, prohibiting this kind of definition from the conceptual foundations of mathematics, on the grounds that they imply formal logical paradoxes. The impredicative definition of the set R of all sets that are not members of themselves in Russell’s paradox leads to the self-contradictory conclusion that R is a member of itself if and only if it is not a member of itself. To avoid antinomies of this kind in the formalization of logic, Russell first implemented in his ramified type theory the vicious circle principle, that no whole may contain parts that are definable only in terms of that whole. The limitation of ramified type theory is that without use of impredicative definitions it is impossible to quantify over all mathematical objects, but only over all mathematical objects of a certain order or type. Without being able to quantify over all real numbers generally, many of the most important definitions and theorems of classical real number theory cannot be formulated. Russell for this reason later abandoned ramified in favor of simple type theory, which avoids the logical paradoxes without outlawing impredicative definition by forbidding the predication of terms of any type (object, property and relation, higher-order properties and relations of properties and relations, etc.) to terms of the same type.

incorrigibility: opposite ‘corrigibility.’ Who is corrigible? The emissor. “I am sorry I have to tell you you are wrong.” 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.

incommensurability, in the philosophy of science, the property exhibited by two scientific theories provided that, even though they may not logically contradict one another, they have reference to no common body of data. Positivist and logical empiricist philosophers of science like Carnap had long sought an adequate account of a theoryneutral language to serve as the basis for testing competing theories. The predicates of this language were thought to refer to observables; the observation language described the observable world or (in the case of theoretical terms) could do so in principle. This view is alleged to suffer from two major defects. First, observation is infected with theory – what else could specify the meanings of observation terms except the relevant theory? Even to perceive is to interpret, to conceptualize, what is perceived. And what about observations made by instruments? Are these not completely constrained by theory? Second, studies by Kuhn, Paul Feyerabend, and others argued that in periods of revolutionary change in science the adoption of a new theory includes acceptance of a completely new conceptual scheme that is incommensurable with the older, now rejected, theory. The two theories are incommensurable because their constituent terms cannot have reference to a theory-neutral set of observations; there is no overlap of observational meaning between the competitor theories; even the data to be explained are different. Thus, when Galileo overthrew the physics of Aristotle he replaced his conceptual scheme – his “paradigm” – with one that is not logically incompatible with Aristotle’s, but is incommensurable with it because in a sense it is about a different world (or the world conceived entirely differently). Aristotle’s account of the motion of bodies relied upon occult qualities like natural tendencies; Galileo’s relied heavily upon contrived experimental situations in which variable factors could be mathematically calculated. Feyerabend’s even more radical view is that unless scientists introduce new theories incommensurable with older ones, science cannot possibly progress, because falsehoods will never be uncovered. It is an important implication of these views about incommensurability that acceptance of theories has to do not only with observable evidence, but also with subjective factors, social pressures, and expectations of the scientific community. Such acceptance appears to threaten the very possibility of developing a coherent methodology for science.

inconsistent triad, (1) most generally, any three propositions such that it cannot be the case that all three of them are true; (2) more narrowly, any three categorical propositions such that it cannot be the case that all three of them are true. A categorical syllogism is valid provided the three propositions that are its two premises and the negation (contradiction) of its conclusion are an inconsistent triad; this fact underlies various tests for the validity of categorical syllogisms, which tests are often called “methods of” inconsistent triads.

independence results, proofs of non-deducibility. Any of the following equivalent conditions may be called independence: (1) A is not deducible from B; (2) its negation - A is consistent with B; (3) there is a model of B that is not a model of A; e.g., the question of the non-deducibility of the parallel axiom from the other Euclidean axioms is equivalent to that of the consistency of its negation with them, i.e. of non-Euclidean geometry. Independence results may be not absolute but relative, of the form: if B is consistent (or has a model), then B together with - A is (or does); e.g. models of non-Euclidean geometry are built within Euclidean geometry. In another sense, a set B is said to be independent if it is irredundant, i.e., each hypothesis in B is independent of the others; in yet another sense, A is said to be independent of B if it is undecidable by B, i.e., both independent of and consistent with B. The incompleteness theorems of Gödel are independence results, prototypes for many further proofs of undecidability by subsystems of classical mathematics, or by classical mathematics as a whole, as formalized in ZermeloFraenkel set theory with the axiom of choice (ZF ! AC or ZFC). Most famous is the undecidability of the continuum hypothesis, proved consistent relative to ZFC by Gödel, using his method of constructible sets, and independent relative to ZFC by Paul J. Cohen, using his method of forcing. Rather than build models from scratch by such methods, independence (consistency) for A can also be established by showing A implies (is implied by ) some A* already known independent (consistent). Many suitable A* (Jensen’s Diamond, Martin’s Axiom, etc.) are now available. Philosophically, formalism takes A’s undecidability by ZFC to show the question of A’s truth meaningless; Platonism takes it to establish the need for new axioms, such as those of large cardinals. (Considerations related to the incompleteness theorems show that there is no hope even of a relative consistency proof for these axioms, yet they imply, by way of determinacy axioms, many important consequences about real numbers that are independent of ZFC.) With non-classical logics, e.g. second-order logic, (1)–(3) above may not be equivalent, so several senses of independence become distinguishable. The question of independence of one axiom from others may be raised also for formalizations of logic itself, where many-valued logics provide models.

Indeterminacy. Grice was always cautious and self-apologetic. “I’m not expecting that you’ll find this to be a complete theory of implication, but that was not my goal, and the endeavour should be left for another day, etc.” But consider the detail into which he, like any other philosopher before, went when it came to what he called the ‘catalyst’ tests or ideas or tests or ideas for the implicatum. In “Causal Theory” there are FOUR ideas. It is good to revise the treatment in “Causal.” He proposes two ideas with the first two examples and two further ideas with the two further examples. Surely his goal is to apply the FOUR ideas to his own example of the pillar box. Grice notes re: “You have not ceased eating iron” – the cxample is “a stock case of what is sometimes called " prcsupposition " and it is often held that here 1he truth of what is irnplicd is a necessary condition of the original statement's beirrg cither true or false.” So the first catalyst in the first published version concerns the value, or satisfactory value. This will be retained and sub-grouped in Essay II. “It is often held” Implicture: but often not, and trust me I won’t. “that here the truth of what is implied [implicated in the negative, entailed in the affirmative] is a necessary condition of the original statement's being either true or false.” So the first catalyst in the first published version concerns the value, or satisfactory value. This will be retained and sub-grouped in Essay II. “This might be disputed, but it is at least arguable that it is so, and its being arguable might be enough to distinguish this type of case from others.” So he is working on a ‘distinctive feature’ model. And ‘feature’ is exactly the expression he uses in Essay II. He is looking for ‘distinctive features’ for this or that implication. When phonologists speak of ‘distinctive feature’ they are being philosophical or semioticians.“I shall however for convenience assume that the common view mentioned is correct.”“This consideration clearly distinguishes “you have not ceased eating iron” from [a case of a conventional implicatum] “poor BUT honest.”“Even if the implied proposition were false, i.e. if there were no reason in the world to contrast poverty with honesty either in general or in her case, the original statement COULD still be false.” “She [is]  poor but she [is] honest” would be false if for example she were rich and dishonest.”“One might perhaps be less comfortable about assenting to its TRUTH if the implied contrast did not in fact obtain; but the possibility of falsity is enough for the immediate purpose.”“My next experiment [test, litmus idea – that he’ll apply as one of the criteria to provide distinctive features for this or that implicatum, with a view to identify the nature of the animal that a conversational implicatum is] on these examples is to ask what it is in each case which could properly be said to be the vehicle of implication (to do the implying).”In Essay II, since he elaborates this at an earlier stage than when he is listing the distinctive features, he does not deal much. It is understood that in Essay II by the time he is listing the distinctive features, the vehicle is the UTTERER. But back in “Causal,” he notes: “There are AT LEAST FOUR candidates, not necessarily mutually exclusive.”“Supposing someone to have ‘uttered’ one or other of [the] sample sentences, we may ask whether the vehicle of implication would be (FIRST) WHAT the emissor communicated (or asserted or stated or explicitly conveyed), or (SECOND) the emissor himself ("Surely you’re not  implying that ….’ ) or (THIRD) the utterance  (FOURTH) his communicating, or explicitly conveying that (or again his explicitly conveying that in that way); or possibly some plurality of these items.”“As regards the first option for the vehicle, ‘what the emissor has explicitly conveyed,’ Grice takes it that “You have not ceased eating iron” and “Poor but honest” may differ.It seems correct for Grice to say in the case of “eating iron” that indeed it is the case that it is what he emissor explicitly conveys which implies that Smith has been eating iron.On the other hand, Grice feels it would be ‘incorrect,’ or improper, or bad, or unnatural or artificial, to say in the case of “poor but honest” that it is the case. Rather it is NOT the case that  it is WHAT the emissor explicitly conveys which implies that there is a contrast between, e. g., honesty and poverty.”“A sub-test on which Grice would rely is the following.If accepting that the conventional implicatum holds (contrast between honesty and poverty) involves the emissor in accepting an hypothetical or conditional ‘if p, q,’ where 'p’ represents the original statement (“She [is] poor and she [is] honest) and 'q' represents what is implied (“There is a contrast between honesty and poverty”), it is the case that it is what the emissor explicitly conveys which is a (or the) vehicle of implication. If that chain of acceptances does not hold, it is not. To apply this rule to the “eat iron” and “poor but honest”, if the emissor accepts the implication alleged to hold in the case of “eat iron”, I should feel COMPELLED (forced, by the force of entailment) to accept the conditional or hypothetical "If you have not ceased eating iron, you may have never started.”[In “Causal,” Grice has yet not stressed the asymmetry between the affirmative and the negative in alleged cases of presupposition. When, due to the success of his implicatum, he defines the presuppositum as a form of implicatum, he does stress the asymmetry: the entailment holds for the affirmative, and the implicatum for the negative). On the other hand, when it comes to a CONVENTIONAL implicatum (“poor but honest”) if the emissor accepted the alleged implication in the case of “poor but honest”, I should NOT feel compelled to accept the conditional or hypothetical "If she was poor but honest, there is some contrast between poverty and honesty, or between her poverty and her honesty." Which would yield that in the presuppositum case, we have what is explicitly conveyed as a vehicle, but not in the case of the conventional implicatum.The rest of the candidates (Grice lists four and allows for a combination) can be dealt with more cursorily.As regards OPTION II (second):Grice should be inclined to say with regard to both “eat iron” and “poor but honest” that the emissor could be said to have implied whatever it is that is irnplied.As regards Option III (third: the utterance): In the case of “poor but honest” it seems fairly clear that the utterance could be said, if metabolically, and animistically, to ‘imply’ a contrast.It is much less clear whether in the case of “eat iron” the utterance could be said to ‘imply’ that Smith has been eating iron.As for option IV, in neither case would it be evidently appropriate (correct, natural) to speak of the emissor’s explicitly conveying that, or of his explicitly conveying that in that way, as ‘implying’ what is implied. A third catalyst idea with which Grice wish to assail my two examples is really a TWIN idea, or catalyst, or test [That’s interesting – two sides of the same coin] that of the detachability or cancellability of the implication. Consider “eat iron.”One cannot find an alternative utterance which could be used to assert explicitly just what the utterance “Smith has not ceased from eating iron" might be used to convey explicitly, such that when this alternative utterance is used the implication that Smith never started eating iron is absent. Any way of (or any utterance uttered with a view to) conveying explicitly what is explicitly conveyed in (1) involves the implication in question. Grice expresses this fact – which he mentioned in seminars, but this is the first ‘popularisation’ -- by saying that in the case of (l) the implication is NOT detachable FROM what is asserted (or simpliciter, is not detachable). Furthermore, and here comes the twin of CANCELLABILITY: one cannot take any form of words for which both what is asserted and what is implied is the same as for (l), AND THEN ADD a further clause withholding commitment from what would otherwise be implied, with the idea of ANNULLING THE IMPLICATUM *without* ANNULLING annulling the EXPLICITUM.  One cannot intelligibly say " Smith has left off beating his wife but I do not mean to imply that he has been beating her." But one surely can intelligibly say, “You have not ceased eating iron because you never started.”While Grice uses “Smith,” the sophisma (or Griceisma) was meant in the second person, to test the tutee’s intelligence (“Have you stopped beating your dog?”). The point is that the tutee will be offended – whereas he shouldn’t, and answer, “I never started, and I never will.”Grice expresses this fact by saying that in the case of ‘eat iron’ the implication is not cancellable or annullable (without cancelling or annulling the assertion). If we turn to “poor but honest” we find, Grice thinks, that there is quite a strong case for saying that here the implication IS detachable. Therc sccms quite a good case for maintaining that if, instead of saying " She is poor but she is honcst " I were to say, alla Frege, without any shade, " She is poor AND she is honcst", I would assert just what I would havc asscrtcct ii I had used thc original senterrce; but there would now be no irnplication of a contrast between e.g', povery and honesty. Of course, this is not a philosophical example, and it would be good to revise what Frege thought about ‘aber.’ By the time Grice is lecturing “Causal Theory” he had lectured for the Logic Paper for Strawson before the war, so Whitehead and Russell are in the air.Surely in Anglo-Saxon, the contrast is maintained, since ‘and’ means ‘versus.’“She is poor contra her being honest.”Oddly, the same contrariety is present in Deutsche, that Frege speaks, with ‘UND.”It’s different with Roman “et.” While Grecian ‘kai,’ even Plato thought barbaric!The etymology of ‘by-out’ yields ‘but.’So Grice is thinking that he can have a NEUTRAL conjoining – but ‘and’ has this echo of contrariety, which is still present in ‘an-swer, i. e. and-swear, to contradict. Perhaps a better neutral version would be. Let’s start with the past version and then the present tense version.“She was pooo-ooor, she was honest, and her parents were the same, till she met a city feller, and she lost her honest name.”In terms of the concepts CHOSEN, the emissor wants to start the ditty with pointing to the fact that she is poor – this is followed by stating that she is honest. There’s something suspicious about that.I’m sure a lady may feel offended without the ‘and’ OR ‘but’ – just the mere ‘succession’ or conjoining of ‘poor’ as pre-ceding the immediate ‘honest’ ‘triggers’ an element of contrast. The present tense seems similar: “She is poooor, she is honest, and her parents are the same, but she’ll meet a city feller, and she’ll lose her honest name.”The question whether, in thre case of ‘poor but honest,’ the implication is cancellable, is slightly more cornplex, which shouldn’t if the catalysts are thought of as twins.There is a way in which we may say that it is not cancellable, or annullable.Imagine a Tommy marching  and screaming: “She is poor but she is honest,”“HALT!” the sargent shouts.The Tommy catches the implicature:“though of course, sir, I do not mean to imply, sir, that there is any contrast, sir, between her poverty, sir, and her honesty, sir.”As Grice notes, this would be a puzzling and eccentric thing for a Tommy to engage in.And though the sargent might wish to quarrel with the tommy (Atkins – Tommy Atkins is the name”), an Oxonian philosopher should NOT go so far as to say that the tommy’s utterance is unintelligible – or as Vitters would say, ‘nunsense.’The sargent should rather suppose, or his lieutenant, since he knows more, that private Tommy Atkins has adopted a “most pecooliar” way of conveying the news that she was poor and honest.The sargent’s argument to the lieu-tenant:“Atkins says he means no disrespect, sir, but surely, sir, just conjoining poverty and honesty like that makes one wonder.”“Vitters: this is a Cockney song! You’re reading too much into it!”“Cockney? And why the citty feller, then – aren’t Cockneys citty fellers. I would rather, sir, think it is what Sharp would call a ‘sharp’ folk, sir, song, sir.”

The fourth and last test Grice imposes on his examples is to ask whether we would be inclined to regard the fact that the appropriate (or corresponding, since they are hardly appropriate – either of them! – Grice changes the tune as many Oxford philosophers of ordinary language do when some female joins the Union) implication is present as being a matter of the, if we may be metabolic and animistic, ‘meaning’ of some particular word or phrase occurring in the sentences in question. Grice is aware and thus grants that this may not be always a very clear or easy question to answer.Nevertheless, Grice risks the assertion that we would be fairly happy and contented to say that, as regards ‘poor but honest,’ the fact that the implication obtains is a matter of the ‘meaning’ of 'but ' – i. e. what Oxonians usually mean when they ‘but.’So far as “he has not ceased from…’ is concerned we should have at least some inclination to say that the presence of the implication is a matter of the, metabolically, ‘meaning’ of some of the words in the sentence, but we should be in some difficulty when it came to specifying precisely which this word, or words are, of which this is true. Well, it’s semantics. Why did Roman think that it was a good thing to create a lexeme, ‘cease.’“Cease” means “stop,” or ‘leave off.”It is not a natural verb, like ‘eat.’A rational creature felt the need to have this concept: ‘stop,’ ‘leave off,’ ‘cease.’The communication-function it serves is to indicate that SOMETHING has been taken place, and then this is no longer the case.“The fire ceased,” one caveman said to his wife.The wife snaps back – this is the Iron Age:“Have you ceased eating iron, by the way, daa:ling?”“I never started!”So it’s the ‘cease’ locution that does the trick – or equivalents, i.e. communication devices by which this or that emissor explicitly convey more or less the same thing: a halting of some activity.Surely the implication has nothing to do with the ‘beat’ and the ‘wife.’After third example (‘beautiful handwriting) introduced, Grice goes back to IDEA OR TEST No. 1 (the truth-value thing). Grice notes that it is plain that there is no case at all for regarding the truth of what is implied here (“Strawson is hopeless at philosophy”) as a pre-condition of the truth or falsity of what the tutor has asserted.A denial of the truth of what is implied would have no bearing at all on whether what I have asserted is true or false. So ‘beautiful handwring’ is much closer to ‘poor but honest’ than ‘cease eating iron’ in this respect. Next, as for the vehicle we have the at least four options and possible combinations.The emissor, the tutor, could certainly be said to have implied that Strawson is hopeless (provided that this is what the tutor intended to ‘get across’) and the emissor’s, the tutor’s explicitly saying that (at any rate the emissor’s saying that and no more) is also certainly a vehicle of implication. On the other hand the emissor’s words and what the emissor explicitly conveys are, Grice thinks, not naturally here characterised as the ‘vehicle’ of implication. “Beautiful handwriting” thus differs from BOTH “don’t cease eating iron” and “poor but honest” – so the idea is to have a table alla distinctive features, with YES/NO questions answered for each of the four implication, and the answers they get.As for the third twin, the result is as expected: The implication is cancellable but not detachable. And it looks as if Grice created the examples JUST to exemplify those criteria.If the tutor adds, 'I do not of course mean to imply that Strawson is no good at philosophy” the whole utterance is intelligible and linguistically impeccable, even though it may be extraordinary tutorial behaviour – at the other place, not Oxford --.The tutor can no longer be said to have, or be made responsible for having implied that Strawson was no good, even though perhaps that is what Grice’s colleagues might conclude to be the case if Grice had nothing else to say. The implication is not however, detachable.Any other way of making, in the same context of utterance, just the assertion I have made would involve the same implication.“His calligraphy is splendid and he is on time.”“Calligraphy splendid,” Ryle objected. “That’s slightly oxymoronic, Grice – ‘kallos agathos’”Finally, for TEST No. 4, ‘meaning’ of expression? The fact that the implication holds is surely NOT a matter of any particular word or phrase within the sentence which I have uttered.It is just the whole sentence. Had he gone tacit and say,“Beautiful handwriting!”Rather than“He has beautiful handwriting.”The implication SEEMS to be a matter of two particular words: the handwriting word, viz. ‘handwriting.’ And the ‘beautiful’ word, i. e. ‘beautiful.’Any lexeme expressing same concept, ‘Calligraphy unique!’would do the trick because this is damn by faint praise, or suggestio falsi, suppressio veri. So in this respect “Beautiful handwring” is certainly different from “Poor but honest” and, possibly different from “Don’t cease to eat iron!”One obvious fact should be mentioned before one passes to the fourth example (“kitchen or bedroom”).This case of implication is unlike the others in that the utterance of the sentence "Strawson has beautiful handwriting" does not really STANDARDLY involve the implication here attributed to it (but cf. “We should have lunch together sometime” meaning “Get lost” – as Grice said, “At Oxford, that’s the standard – that’s what the ‘expression’ “means”); it requires a special context (that it should be uttered at Collections) to attach the implication to its utterance. More generally: it requires a special scenario (one should avoid the structuralist Derrideian ‘context’ cf. Grice, “The general theory of context”). If back in the house, Mrs. Grice asks, “He has beautiful handwriting,” while not at Collections, the implicature would hold. Similarly at the “Lamb and Flag,” or “Bird and Baby.”But one gets Grice’s point. The scenario is one where Strawson is being assessed or evaluated AS A PHILOSOPHER. Spinoza’s handwriting was, Stuart Hampshire said, “terrible – which made me wonder at first whether I should actually waste my time with him.”After fourth and last example is introduced (“kitchen or bedroom”): in the case of the Test No. I (at least four possible vehicles) one can produce a strong argument in favour of holding that the fulfllment of the implication of the speaker's ignorance (or that he is introducing “or” on grounds other than Whitehead’s and Russell’s truth-functional ones) is not a precaution (or precondition) of the truth or falsity of the disjunctive statement. Suppose that the emissor KNOWS that his wife IS in the KITCHEN, that the house has only two rooms, and no passages. Even though the utterer knows that his wife is in the kitchen (as per given), the utterer can certainly still say truly (or rather truthfully) "She is IN THE HOUSE.”SCENARIOA: Where is your wife? ii. Where in your house is your wife?B: i. In the kitchen. ii. In the bedroom. iiia. She’s in the house, don’t worry – she’s in the house, last time I checked. iii. In the HOUSE (but inappropriate if mentioned in the question – unless answered: She’s not. iv. In the kitchen or in the bedroom (if it is common ground that the house only has two rooms there are more options) vi. v. I’m a bachelor.  vi. If she’s not in the bedroom, she is in the kitchen. vii. If she’s not in the kitchen, she’s in the bedroom. viii. Verbose but informative: “If she’s not in the bedroom she’s in the kitchen, and she’s not in the kitchen” Or consider By uttering “She is in the house,” the utterer is answering in a way that he is merely not being as informative as he could bc if need arose.  But the true proposition [cf. ‘propositional complex’] that his wife is IN THE HOUSE together with the true proposition that ‘THE HOUSE’ consists entirely of a ‘kitchen’ and a ‘bedroom,’ ENTAIL or yield the proposition that his wife is in the kitchen or in the bedroom. But IF to express the proposition p (“My wife is in the house, that much I can tell”) in certain circumstances (a house consisting entirely of a kitchen and a bedroom – an outback bathroom which actually belongs to the neighbour – cf. Blenheim) would be to speak truly, and p (“My wife is, do not worry, in the house”) togelher with another true proposition – assumed to be common ground, that the house consists entirely of a kitchen and a bedroom -- entails q (“My wife is in the kitchen OR in the bedroom”), surely to express what is entailed (“My wife is in the kitchen or in the bedroom”) in the same circvmstances must be, has to be to speak truly.  So we have to take it that the disjunctive statement – “kitchen or bedroom” -- does not fail to be TRUE or FALSE if the implied ignorance (or the implied consideration that the utterer is uttering ‘or’ on grounds other than the truth-functional ones that ‘introduce’ “or” for Gentzen) is in fact not realized, i. e. it is false. Secondly, as for Test No. 2 (the four or combo vehicles), Grice thinks it is fairly clear that in this case, as in the case of “beautiful handwriting”, we could say that the emissor had implies that he did not know (or that his ground is other than truth-functional – assuming that he takes the questioner to be interested in the specific location – i. e. to mean, “where IN THE HOUSE is your wife?”) and also that his conveying explicilty that (or his conveying explicitly that rather than something else, viz, in which room or where in the house she is, or ‘upstairs,’ or ‘downstairs,’ or ‘in the basement,’ or ‘in the attic,’ ‘went shopping,’ ‘at the greengrocer’ – ‘she’s been missing for three weeks’) implied that he did not know in which one of the two selected rooms his wife is ‘resident’ (and that he has grounds other than Gentzen’s truth-functional ones for the introduction of ‘or.’). Thirdly, the implication (‘kitchen or bedroom’) is in a way non-detachable, in that if in a given context the utterance of the disjunctive sentence would involve the implication that the emissor did not know in which room his his wife was (or strictly, that the emissor is proceeding along non-truth-functional grounds for the introduction of ‘or,’ or even more strictly still, that the emissor has grounds other than truth-functional for the uttering of the disjunction), this implication would also be involved in the utterance of any other form of words which would make the same disjunctive assertion (e.g., "Look, knowing her, the alternatives are she is either preparing some meal in the kitchen or snoozing in the bedroom;” “One of the following things is the case, I’m pretty confident. First thing: she is in the kitchen, since she enjoys watching the birds from the kitchen window. Second thing: she is in the bedroom, since she enjoys watching birds from the bedroom window.” Etymologically, “or” is short for ‘other,’ meaning second. So a third possibility: “I will be Anglo-Saxon: First, she is the kitchen. Second, she is in the bedroom.” “She is in the kitchen UNLESS she is in the bedroom”“She is in the kitchen IF SHE IS NOT in the bedroom.”“Well, it is not the case that she is in the KITCHEN *AND* in the bedroom, De Morgan!” She is in the kitchen, provided she is not in the bedroom” “If she is not in the kitchen, she is in the bedroom” “Bedroom, kitchen; one of the two.” “Kitchen, bedroom; check both just in case.”“Sleeping; alternatively, cooking – you do the maths.”“The choices are: bedroom and kitchen.”“My choices would be: bedroom and kitchen.”“I would think: bedroom? … kitchen?”“Disjunctively, bedroom – kitchen – kitchen – bedroom.”“In alternation: kitchen, bedroom, bedroom, kitchen – who cares?”“Exclusively, bedroom, kitchen.”ln another possible way, however, the implication could perhaps bc said to BE indeed detachable: for there will be some contexts of utterance (as Firth calls them) in which the ‘normal’ implication (that the utterer has grounds other than truth-functional for the utterance of a disjunction) will not hold.Here, for the first time, Grice brings a different scenario for ‘or’:“Thc Secretary of the Aristotelian Society, announcing ‘Our coming symposium will be in Oxford OR not take place at all” perhaps does not imply that he is has grounds other than truth-functional for the utterance of the disjunction. He is just being wicked, and making a bad-taste joke. This totally extraneous scenario points to the fact that the implication of a disjunction is cancellable.Once we re-apply it to the ‘Where in the hell in your house your wife is? I hear the noise, but can’t figure!’ Mutatis mutandi with the Secretary to The Aristotelian Socieety, a man could say, “My wife is in the kitchen or in the bedroorn.”in circumstances in which the implication (that the man has grounds other than truth-functional for the uttering of the disjunction) would normally be present, but he is not being co-operative – since one doesn’t HAVE to be co-operative (This may be odd, that one appeals to helpfulness everywhere but when it comes to the annulation!).So the man goes on, “Mind you, I am not saying that I do not know which.”This is why we love Grice. Why I love Grice. One would never think of finding that sort of wicked English humour in, say Strawson. Strawson yet says that Grice should ‘let go.’ But to many, Grice is ALWAYS humorous, and making philosophy fun, into the bargain, if that’s not the same thing. Everybody else at the Play Group (notably the ones Grice opposed to: Strawson, Austin, Hare, Hampshire, and Hart) would never play with him. Pears, Warnock, and Thomson would!“Mind you, I am not saying that I do not know which.”A: Where in the house is your wife? I need to talk to her.B: She is in the kitchen – or in the bedroom. I know where she is – but since you usually bring trouble, I will make you decide so that perhaps like Buridan’s ass, you find the choice impossible and refrain from ‘talking’ (i. e. bringing bad news) to her.A: Where is your wife? B: In the kitchen or in the bedroom. I know where she is. But I also know you are always saying that you know my wife so well. So, calculate, by the time of the day – it’s 4 a.m – where she could be. A: Where is your wife? B: In the bedroom or in the kitchen. I know where she is – but remember we were reading Heidegger yesterday? He says that a kitchen is where one cooks, and a bedroom is where one sleeps. So I’ll let you decide if Heidegger has been refuted, should you find her sleeping in the kitchen, or cooking in the bedroom.A: Where is your wife? B: In the kitchen or the bedroom. I know where she is. What you may NOT know, is that we demolished the separating wall. We have a loft now. So all I’ll say is that she may be in both!  All this might be unfriendly, unocooperative, and perhaps ungrammatical for Austen [Grice pronounced the surname so that the Aristotelian Society members might have a doubt] – if not Vitters, but, on the other hand, it would be a perfectly intelligible thing for a (married) man to say. We may not even GO to bachelors. Finally, the fact that the utterance of the disjunctive sentence normally or standardly or caeteris paribus involves the implication of the emissor's ignorance of the truth-values of the disjuncts (or more strictly, the implication of the emissor’s having grounds other than truth-functional for the uttering of the disjunctive) is, I should like to say, to be ‘explained’ – and Grice is being serious here, since Austin never cared to ‘explain,’ even if he could -- by reference to a general principle governing – or if that’s not too strong, guiding – conversation, at least of the cooperative kind the virtues of which we are supposed to be exulting to our tuttees. Exactly what this principle we should not go there. To explain why the implicatum that the emissor is having grounds other than truth-functional ones for the utterance of a disjunction one may appeal to the emissor being rational, assuming his emissee to be rational, and abiding by something that Grice does NOT state in the imperative form, but using what he calls a Hampshire modal (Grice divides the modals as Hampshire: ‘should,’ the weakest, ‘ought’ the Hare modal, the medium, and ‘must,’ Grice, the stronges)"One, a man, a rational man, should not make conversational move communicating ‘p’ which may be characterised (in strict terms of entailment) as weaker (i.e. poor at conversational fortitude) rather than a stronger (better at conversational fortitude) one unless there is a good reason for so doing." So Gentzen is being crazey-basey if he thinks:p; therefore, p or q.For who will proceed like that?“Or” is complicated, but so is ‘if.’ The Gentzen differs from the evaluation assignemt:‘p or q’ is 1 iff p is 1 or q is 1. When we speak of ‘truth-functional’ grounds it is this assignment above we are referring to.Of courseif p, p or q [a formulation of the Gentzen introduction]is a TAUTOLOGY [which is what makes the introduction a rule of inference].In terms of entailment P Or Q (independently)  Is stronger than ‘p v q’ In that either p or q entail ‘p or q’ but the reverse is not true. Grice says that he first thought of the pragmatic rule in terms of the theory of perception, and Strawson hints at this when he says in the footnote to “Introduction to Logical theory” that the rule was pointed out by his tutor in the Logic Paper, Grice, “in a different connection.” The logic paper took place before the war, so this is early enough in Grice’s career – so the ghosts of Whitehead and Russell were there! We can call the above ‘the principle of conversational fortitude.’ This is certainly not an adequate formulation but will perhaps be good enough for Grice’s purpose in “Causal.”

On the assumption that such a principle as this is of general application, one can DRAW or infer or explain the conclusion that the utterance of a disjunctive sentence would imply that the emissor has grounds other than truth-functional for the uttering of a disjunctum, given that, first, the obvious reason for not making a statemcnt which there is some call on one to make VALIDLY is that one is not in a position (or entitled) to make it, and given, second, the logical ‘fact’ that each disjunct entails the disjunctive, but not vice versa; which being so, each disjunct is stronger (bears more conversational ‘fortitude’) than the disjunctive. If the outline just given is on the right lines, Grice would wish to say, we have a reason for REFUSING (as Strawson would not!) in the case of “kitchen or bedroom” to regard the implication of the emissor having grounds other than truth-functional for the uttering of the disjunctive as being part of the ‘meaning’ (whatever that ‘means’) of 'or' – but I should doublecheck with O. P. Wood – he’s our man in ‘or’ – A man who knows about the logical relation between a disjunction and each disjunct, i. e. a man who has at least BROWSED Whitehead and Russell – and diregards Bradley’s exclusivist account -- and who also ‘knew,’ qua Kantian rational agent, about the alleged general principle or guiding conversational, could work out for hirnself, surely, that a disjunctive utterance would involve the implication which it does in fact involve. Grice insists, however, that his aim in discussing this last point – about the principle of conversational fortitude EXPLAING the generation of the implicatum -- has been merelyto indicate the position I would wish to take up, and not to argue scriously in favour of it. Grice’s main purpose in the excursus on implication was to introduce four ideas or catalysts, or tesets – TEST No. I: truth-value; TEST No. 2: Vehicle out of four; Test No. 3/Twin Test: Annulation and Non-Detachment (is there a positive way to express this – non-detached twins as opposed to CONJOINT twins), and Test No. 4 – ‘Meaning’ of expression? -- of which Grice then goes to make some use re: the pillar box seeming red.; and to provide some conception of the ways in which each of the four tests apply or fail to apply to various types of implication. By the numbering of it, it seems that by the time of Essay II he has, typically, added an extra. It’s FIVE catalysts now, but actually, since he has two of the previous tests all rolled up in one, it is SIX CATALSTS. He’ll go back to them in Essay IV (“Indicative conditionals” with regard to ‘if’), and in Presupposition and Conversational (with regard to Example I here: “You have not ceased eating iron”). Implicature.He needs those catalysts. Why? It seems like he is always thinking that someone will challenge him! This is Grice: “We can now show that, it having been stipulated as being what it is, a conversational implicatum must possess certain distinctive features, they are six. By using distinctive feature Grice is serious. He wants each of the six catalysts to apply to each type of ‘implicatum’, so that a table can be constructed. With answers yes/no. Or rather here are some catalyst ideas which will help us to determine or individuate. Six tests for implicatum as it were. SO THESE FEATURES – six of them – apply to three of the examples – not the ‘poor but honest’ – but the “you have not ceased eating iron,” “Beautiful handwriting,” and “Kitchen or bedroom.”First test – nothing about the ‘twin’ – it’s ANNULATION or CANCELLABILITY – as noted in “Causal Theory” – for two of the examples (‘beautiful handwriting’ and ‘kitchen or bedroom’ and NEGATIVE version of “You don’t cease to eat iron”) and the one of the pillar box – He adds a qualifier now: the annulation should best be IMPLICIT. But for the fastidious philosopher, he allows for an EXPLICITATION which may not sound grammatical enough to Austen (pronounced to rhyme with the playgroup master, or the kindergarten’s master). To assume the presence of a conversational implicatum, the philosopher (and emissee) has to assume that the principle of conversational co-operation (and not just conversational fortitude) is being observed.However, it is mighty possible to opt out of this and most things at Oxford, i. e. the observation of this principle of conversational cooperation (or the earlier principle of conversational fortitude).It follows then that now we CAN EXPLAIN WHY CANCELLABILITY IS A DISTINCTIVE FEATURE. He left it to be understood in “Causal.”It follows then, deductively, that an implicatum can be canceled (or annulled) in a particular case. The conversational implicatum may be, drearily – but if that’s what the fastidious philosopher axes -- explicitly canceled, if need there be, by the addition of a clause by which the utterer states or implies that he opts out (e. g. “The pillar box seems red but it is.” “Where is your wife?” “My lips are sealed”). Then again the conversational implicatum may be contextually (or implicitly) canceled, as Grice prefers (e. g. to a very honest person, who knows I disbelieve the examiner exists, “The loyalty examiner won’t be summoning you at any rate”). The utterance that usually would carry an implicatum is used on an occasion that makes it clear or obvious that the utterer IS opting out without having to bore his addressee by making this obviousness explicit. SECOND DISTINCTIVE FEATURE: CONJOINING, i.e. non-detachability.There is a second litmus test or catalyst idea.Insofar as the calculation that a implicatum is present requires, besides contextual and background information only an intuitive rational knowledge or understanding or processing of what has been explicitly conveyed (‘are you playing squash? B shows bandaged leg) (or the, shall we say, ‘conventional’ ‘arbitrary’ ‘commitment’ of the utterance), and insofar as the manner or style, of FORM, rather than MATTER, of expression should play at best absolutely no role in the calculation, it is NOT possible to find another way of explicitly conveying or putting forward the same thing, the same so-and-so (say that q follows from p) which simply ‘lacks’ the unnecessary implicatum in question -- except [will his excluders never end?] where some special feature of the substituted version [this other way which he says is not conceivable] is itself relevant to the determination of the implicatum (in virtue of this or that conversational maxims pertaining to the category of conversational mode. THIS BIG CAVEAT makes you wonder that Grice regretted making fun of Kant. By adopting jocularly the four conversational categories, he now finds himself in having to give an excuse or exception for those implicata generated by a flout to what he earlier referred to as the ‘desideratum of conversational clarity,’ and which he jocularly rephrased as a self-defeating maxim, ‘be perspicuous [sic], never mind perspicacious!’If we call this feature, as Grice does in “Causal Theory,” ‘non-detachability’ (or conjoining)– in that the implicatum cannot be detached or disjointed from any alternative expression that makes the same point -- one may expect the implicatum carried by this or that locution to have a high degree of non-detachability. ALTERNATIVES FOR “NOT” Not, it is not the case, it is false that. There’s nothing unique about ‘not’.ALTERNATIVES FOR “AND” and, nothing, furthermore, but. There isnothing unique about ‘and’ALTERNATIVES FOR “OR”: One of the following is true. There is nothing unique about ‘or’ALTERNATIVES FOR “IF” Provided. ‘There is nothing unique about ‘if’ALTERNATIVES FOR “THE” – There is at least one and at most one. And it exists. (existence and uniqueness). There is nothing unique about ‘the’.THIS COVERS STRAWSON’S first problem.What about the other English philosophers?AUSTIN – on ‘voluntarily’ ALTERNATIVES to ‘voluntarily,’ with the will, willingly, intentionally. Nothing unique about ‘voluntarily.’STRAWSON on ‘true’ – it is the case, redundance theory, nothing. Nothing unique about ‘true’HART ON good. To say that ‘x is commendable’ is to recommend x. Nothing unique about ‘good.’HART on ‘carefully.’ Da Vinci painted Mona Lisa carefully, with caution, with precaution. Nothing unique about ‘carefully.’THIRD LITMUS TEST or idea and ATTENDING THIRD  DISTINCTIVE FEATURE. THIRD DISTINCTIVE FEATURE is in the protasis of the conditional.The implicatum depends on the explicatum or explicitum, and a fortiori, the implicatum cannot INVOLVE anything that the explicatum involves – There is nothing about what an emissor explicitly conveys about “or” or a disjunctum in general, which has to do with the emissor having grounds other than truth-functional for the utterance of a disjunctum.The calculation of the presence of an implicatum presupposes an initial knowledge, or grasping, or understanding, or taking into account of the ‘conventional’ force (not in Austin’s sense, but translating Latin ‘vis’) of the expression the utterance of which carries the implicatum.A conversational implicatum will be a condition (but not a truth-condition), i. e. a condition that is NOT, be definition, on risk of circularity of otiosity, included in what the emissor explicitly conveys, i. e. the original specification of the expression's ‘conventional’ or arbitrary forceIf I’m saying that ‘seems’ INVOLVES, as per conventional force, ‘doubt or denial,’what’s my point? If Strawson is right that ‘if’ has the conventional force of conventionally committing the utterer with the belief that q follows from p, why bother? And if that were so, how come the implicatum is still cancellable?Though it may not be impossible for what starts life, so to speak, as a conversational implicature to become conventionalized, to suppose that this is so in a given case would require special justification. (Asking Lewis). So, initially at least, a conversational implicatum is, by definition and stipulation, not part of the sense, truth-condition, conventional force, or part of what is explicitly conveyed or put forward, or ‘meaning’ of the expression to the employment of which the impicatum attaches. FOURTH LITMUS TEST or catalyst idea. Mentioned in “Causal theory” YIELDS THE FOUTH DISICTINVE FEATURE and the FIFTH distinctive feature.FOURTH DISTINCTIVE FEATURE: in the protasis of the conditional – truth value.The alethic value – conjoined with the test about the VEHICLE --. He has these as two different tests – and correspondingly two distinctive features in “Causal”. The truth of a conversational implicatum is not required by (is not a condition for) the truth of what is said or explicitly conveyed (what is said or explicated – the explicatum or explicitum, or what is explicitly conveyed or communicated) may be true -- what is implicated may be false – that he has beautiful handwriting, that q follows from p, that the utterer is ENDORSING what someone else said, that the utterer is recommending x, that the person who is said to act carefully has taken precaution), FIFTH DISTINCTIVE FEATURE: vehicle – this is the FOURTH vehicle of the four he mentions in “Causal”: ‘what the emissor explicitly conveys,’ ‘the emissor himself,’ the emissor’s utterance, and fourth, the emissor’s explicitly conveying, or explicitly conveying it that way --. The apodosis of the conditional – or inferrability schema, since he uses ‘since,’ rather than ‘if,’ i. e. ‘GIVEN THAT p, q. Or ‘p; therefore, q’. The implicatum is NOT carried by what is said or the EXPLICATUM or EXPLICITUM, or is explicitly conveyed, but only by the ‘saying’ or EXPLICATING or EXPLICITING of what is said or of the explicatum or explicitum, or by 'putting it that way.’The fifth and last litmus test or catalyst idea YIELDS A SIXTH DISTINCTIVE FEATURE:Note that he never uses ‘first, second, etc.’ just the numerals, which in a lecture format, are not visible!SIXTH DISTINCTIVE FEATURE: INDETERMINACY. Due to the open character of the reasoning – and the choices available to fill the gap of the content of the propositional attitude that makes the conversational rational:“He is potentially dishonest.” “His colleagues are treacherous”Both implicata possible for “He hasn’t been to prison at his new job at the bank – yet.”Since, to calculate a conversational implicatum is to calculate what has to be supposed in order to preserve the supposition that the utterer is a rational, benevolent, altruist agent, and that the principle of conversational cooperation is being observed, and since there may be various possible specific explanations or alternatives that fill the gap here – as to what is the content of the psychological attitude to be ascribed to the utterer, a list of which may be open, or open-ended, the conversational implicatum in such cases will technically be an open-ended disjunction of all such specific explanations, which may well be infinitely non-numerable. Since the list of these IS open, the implicatum will have just the kind of INDETERMINACY or lack of determinacy that an implicatum appears in most cases to possess. indeterminacy of translation, a pair of theses derived, originally, from a thought experiment regarding radical translation first propounded by Quine in Word and Object (1960) and developed in his Ontological Relativity (1969), Theories and Things (1981), and Pursuit of Truth (1990). Radical translation is an imaginary context in which a field linguist is faced with the challenge of translating a hitherto unknown language. Furthermore, it is stipulated that the linguist has no access to bilinguals and that the language to be translated is historically unrelated to that of the linguist. Presumably, the only data the linguist has to go on are the observable behaviors of incompleteness indeterminacy of translation 422 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 422 native speakers amid the publicly observable objects of their environment. (1) The strong thesis of indeterminacy, indeterminacy of translation of theoretical sentences as wholes, is the claim that in the context of radical translation a linguist (or linguists) could construct a number of manuals for translating the (natives’) source language into the (linguists’) target language such that each manual could be consistent with all possible behavior data and yet the manuals could diverge with one another in countless places in assigning different target-language sentences (holophrastically construed) as translations of the same source-language sentences (holophrastically construed), diverge even to the point where the sentences assigned have conflicting truth-values; and no further data, physical or mental, could single out one such translation manual as being the uniquely correct one. All such manuals, which are consistent with all the possible behavioral data, are correct. (2) The weak thesis of indeterminacy, indeterminacy of reference (or inscrutability of reference), is the claim that given all possible behavior data, divergent target-language interpretations of words within a source-language sentence could offset one another so as to sustain different targetlanguage translations of the same source-language sentence; and no further data, physical or mental, could single out one such interpretation as the uniquely correct one. All such interpretations, which are consistent with all the possible behavioral data, are correct. This weaker sort of indeterminacy takes two forms: an ontic form and a syntactic form. Quine’s famous example where the source-language term ‘gavagai’ could be construed either as ‘rabbit’, ‘undetached rabbit part’, ‘rabbithood’, etc. (see Word and Object), and his proxy function argument where different ontologies could be mapped onto one another (see Ontological Relativity, Theories and Things, and Pursuit of Truth), both exemplify the ontic form of indeterminacy of reference. On the other hand, his example of the Japanese classifier, where a particular three-word construction of Japanese can be translated into English such that the third word of the construction can be construed with equal justification either as a term of divided reference or as a mass term (see Ontological Relativity and Pursuit of Truth), exemplifies the syntactic form of indeterminacy of reference.

indexical, a type of expression whose semantic value is in part determined by features of the context of utterance, and hence may vary with that context. Among indexicals are the personal pronouns, such as ‘I’, ‘you’, ‘he’, ‘she’, and ‘it’; demonstratives, such as ‘this’ and ‘that’; temporal expressions, such as ‘now’, ‘today’, ‘yesterday’; and locative expressions, such as ‘here’, ‘there’, etc. Although classical logic ignored indexicality, many recent practitioners, following Richard Montague, have provided rigorous theories of indexicals in the context of formal semantics. Perhaps the most plausible and thorough treatment of indexicals is by David Kaplan (b.1933; a prominent American philosopher of language and logic whose long-unpublished “Demonstratives” was especially influential; it eventually appeared in J. Almog, J. Perry, and H. Wettstein, eds., Themes from Kaplan, 1988). Kaplan argues persuasively that indexical singular terms are directly referential and a species of rigid designator. He also forcefully brings out a crucial lesson to be learned from indexicals, namely, that there are two types of meaning, which Kaplan calls “content” and “character.” A sentence containing an indexical, such as ‘I am hungry’, can be used to say different things in different contexts, in part because of the different semantic contributions made by ‘I’ in these contexts. Kaplan calls a term’s contribution to what is said in a context the term’s content. Though the content of an indexical like ‘I’ varies with its context, it will nevertheless have a single meaning in the language, which Kaplan calls the indexical’s character. This character may be conceived as a rule of function that assigns different contents to the indexical in different contexts.

indicatum. Οριστική oristike. The Romans were never sure about this. Literally for the Greeks it’s the ‘definitive’ – ‘horistike’ klesis, inclinatio or modus animae affectationem demonstrans indefinitivus – While indefinitivus is the transliteration, the Romans also used ‘finitivus’ ‘finitus,’ and ‘indicativus’ and ‘pronuntiativus’. ‘Grice distinguishes between the indicative mode and the informational mode. One can hardly inform oneself. Yet one can utter an utterance in the indicative mode without it being in what he calls the informational sub-mode. It’s interesting that Grice thinks he has to distinguish between the ‘informational’ and the mere ‘indicative.’ Oddly when he sets the goal to which ‘co-operation’ leads, it’s the informing/being informed, influencing/being influenced. Surely he could have simplified that by, as he later will, psi-transmission, whatever. So the emissor INDICATES, even in an imperative utterance, what his will is. All moves are primarily ‘exhibitive,’ (and the function of the mode is to EXPRESS the corresponding attitude). Only some moves are ‘protreptic.’ Grice was well aware, if perhaps not TOO aware, since Austin was so secretive, about Austin on the ‘perlocution.’ Because Austin wanted to deprieve the act from the cause of the act. Thus, Austin’s communicative act may have a causal intention, leading to this or that effect – but that would NOT be part of the philosopher’s interest. Suppose !p; whether the order is successful and Smith does get a job he is promised, it hardly matters to Kant, Austin, or Grice. Interestingly, ‘indicatum’ has the same root as ‘dic-‘, to say – but surely you don’t need to say to indicate, as in Grice’s favourite indicative mood: a hand wave signaling that the emissor knows the route or is about to leave the emissee.

indirect discourse, also called oratio obliqua, the use of words to report what others say, but without direct quotation. When one says “John said, ‘Not every doctor is honest,’ “ one uses the words in one’s quotation directly – one uses direct discourseto make an assertion about what John said. Accurate direct discourse must get the exact words. But in indirect discourse one can use other words than John does to report what he said, e.g., “John said that some physicians are not honest.” The words quoted here capture the sense of John’s assertion (the proposition he asserted). By extension, ‘indirect discourse’ designates the use of words in reporting beliefs. One uses words to characterize the proposition believed rather than to make a direct assertion. When Alice says, “John believes that some doctors are not honest,” she uses the words ‘some doctors are not honest’ to present the proposition that John believes. She does not assert the proposition. By contrast, direct discourse, also called oratio recta, is the ordinary use of words to make assertions.

indiscernibility of identicals, the principle that if A and B are identical, there is no difference between A and B: everything true of A is true of B, and everything true of B is true of A; A and B have just the same properties; there is no property such that A has it while B lacks it, or B has it while A lacks it. A tempting formulation of this principle, ‘Any two things that are identical have all their properties in common’, verges on nonsense; for two things are never identical. ‘A is numerically identical with B’ means that A and B are one and the same. A and B have just the same properties because A, that is, B, has just the properties that it has. This principle is sometimes called Leibniz’s law. It should be distinguished from its converse, Leibniz’s more controversial principle of the identity of indiscernibles. A contraposed form of the indiscernibility of identicals – call it the distinctness of discernibles – reveals its point in philosophic dialectic. If something is true of A that is not true of B, or (to say the same thing differently) if something is true of B that is not true of A, then A and B are not identical; they are distinct. One uses this principle to attack identity claims. Classical arguments for dualism attempt to find something true of the mind that is not true of anything physical. For example, the mind, unlike everything physical, is indivisible. Also, the existence of the mind, unlike the existence of everything physical, cannot be doubted. This last argument shows that the distinctness of discernibles requires great care of application in intentional contexts.

individuation, (1) in metaphysics, a process whereby a universal, e.g., cat, becomes instantiated in an individual – also called a particular e.g., Minina; (2) in epistemology, a process whereby a knower discerns an individual, e.g., someone discerns Minina. The double understanding of individuation raises two distinct problems: identifying the causes of metaphysical individuation, and of epistemological individuation. In both cases the causes are referred to as the principle of individuation. Attempts to settle the metaphysical and epistemological problems of individuation presuppose an understanding of the nature of individuality. Individuality has been variously interpreted as involving one or more of the following: indivisibility, difference, division within a species, identity through time, impredicability, and non-instantiability. In general, theories of individuation try to account variously for one or more of these. Individuation may apply to both substances (e.g., Minina) and their features (e.g., Minina’s fur color), generating two different sorts of theories. The theories of the metaphysical individuation of substances most often proposed identify six types of principles: a bundle of features (Russell); space indirect consequentialism individuation 424 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 424 and/or time (Boethius); matter (Aristotle); form (Averroes); a decharacterized, sui generis component called bare particular (Bergmann) or haecceity (Duns Scotus); and existence (Avicenna). Sometimes several principles are combined. For example, for Aquinas the principle of individuation is matter under dimensions (materia signata). Two sorts of objections are often brought against these views of the metaphysical individuation of substances. One points out that some of these theories violate the principle of acquaintance,since they identify as individuators entities for which there is no empirical evidence. The second argues that some of these theories explain the individuation of substances in terms of accidents, thus contradicting the ontological precedence of substance over accident. The two most common theories of the epistemological individuation of substances identify spatiotemporal location and/or the features of substances as their individuators; we know a thing as an individual by its location in space and time or by its features. The objections that are brought to bear against these theories are generally based on the ineffectiveness of those principles in all situations to account for the discernment of all types of individuals. The theories of the metaphysical individuation of the features of substances fall into two groups. Some identify the substance itself as the principle of individuation; others identify some feature(s) of the substance as individuator(s). Most accounts of the epistemological individuation of the features of substances are similar to these views. The most common objections to the metaphysical theories of the individuation of features attempt to show that these theories are either incomplete or circular. It is argued, e.g., that an account of the individuation of features in terms of substance is incomplete because the individuation of the substance must also be accounted for: How would one know what tree one sees, apart from its features? However, if the substance is individuated by its features, one falls into a vicious circle. Similar points are made with respect to the epistemological theories of the individuation of features. Apart from the views mentioned, some philosophers hold that individuals are individual essentially (per se), and therefore that they do not undergo individuation. Under those conditions either there is no need for a metaphysical principle of individuation (Ockham), or else the principle of individuation is identified as the individual entity itself (Suárez).

induction, (1) in the narrow sense, inference to a generalization from its instances; (2) in the broad sense, any ampliative inference – i.e., any inference where the claim made by the conclusion goes beyond the claim jointly made by the premises. Induction in the broad sense includes, as cases of particular interest: argument by analogy, predictive inference, inference to causes from signs and symptoms, and confirmation of scientific laws and theories. The narrow sense covers one extreme case that is not ampliative. That is the case of mathematical induction, where the premises of the argument necessarily imply the generalization that is its conclusion. Inductive logic can be conceived most generally as the theory of the evaluation of ampliative inference. In this sense, much of probability theory, theoretical statistics, and the theory of computability are parts of inductive logic. In addition, studies of scientific method can be seen as addressing in a less formal way the question of the logic of inductive inference. The name ‘inductive logic’ has also, however, become associated with a specific approach to these issues deriving from the work of Bayes, Laplace, De Morgan, and Carnap. On this approach, one’s prior probabilities in a state of ignorance are determined or constrained by some principle for the quantification of ignorance and one learns by conditioning on the evidence. A recurrent difficulty with this line of attack is that the way in which ignorance is quantified depends on how the problem is described, with different logically equivalent descriptions leading to different prior probabilities. Carnap laid down as a postulate for the application of his inductive logic that one should always condition on one’s total evidence. This rule of total evidence is usually taken for granted, but what justification is there for it? Good pointed out that the standard Bayesian analysis of the expected value of new information provides such a justification. Pure cost-free information always has non-negative expected value, and if there is positive probability that it will affect a decision, its expected value is positive. Ramsey made the same point in an unpublished manuscript. The proof generalizes to various models of learning uncertain evidence. A deductive account is sometimes presented indubitability induction 425 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 425 where induction proceeds by elimination of possibilities that would make the conclusion false. Thus Mill’s methods of experimental inquiry are sometimes analyzed as proceeding by elimination of alternative possibilities. In a more general setting, the hypothetico-deductive account of science holds that theories are confirmed by their observational consequences – i.e., by elimination of the possibilities that this experiment or that observation falsifies the theory. Induction by elimination is sometimes put forth as an alternative to probabilistic accounts of induction, but at least one version of it is consistent with – and indeed a consequence of – probabilistic accounts. It is an elementary fact of probability that if F, the potential falsifier, is inconsistent with T and both have probability strictly between 0 and 1, then the probability of T conditional on not-F is higher than the unconditional probability of T. In a certain sense, inductive support of a universal generalization by its instances may be a special case of the foregoing, but this point must be treated with some care. In the first place, the universal generalization must have positive prior probability. (It is worth noting that Carnap’s systems of inductive logic do not satisfy this condition, although systems of Hintikka and Niiniluoto do.) In the second place, the notion of instance must be construed so the “instances” of a universal generalization are in fact logical consequences of it. Thus ‘If A is a swan then A is white’ is an instance of ‘All swans are white’ in the appropriate sense, but ‘A is a white swan’ is not. The latter statement is logically stronger than ‘If A is a swan then A is white’ and a complete report on species, weight, color, sex, etc., of individual A would be stronger still. Such statements are not logical consequences of the universal generalization, and the theorem does not hold for them. For example, the report of a man 7 feet 11¾ inches tall might actually reduce the probability of the generalization that all men are under 8 feet tall. Residual queasiness about the foregoing may be dispelled by a point made by Carnap apropos of Hempel’s discussion of paradoxes of confirmation. ‘Confirmation’ is ambiguous. ‘E confirms H’ may mean that the probability of H conditional on E is greater than the unconditional probability of H, in which case deductive consequences of H confirm H under the conditions set forth above. Or ‘E confirms H’ may mean that the probability of H conditional on E is high (e.g., greater than .95), in which case if E confirms H, then E confirms every logical consequence of H. Conflation of the two senses can lead one to the paradoxical conclusion that E confirms E & P and thus P for any statement, P.

inductivism, a philosophy of science invented by Popper and P. K. Feyerabend as a foil for their own views. According to inductivism, a unique a priori inductive logic enables one to construct an algorithm that will compute from any input of data the best scientific theory accounting for that data.

INDUCTUM – not DEDUCTUM -- epapoge, Grecian term for ‘induction’. Especially in the logic of Aristotle, epagoge is opposed to argument by syllogism. Aristotle describes it as “a move from particulars to the universal.” E.g., premises that the skilled navigator is the best navigator, the skilled charioteer the best charioteer, and the skilled philosopher the best philosopher may support the conclusion by epagoge that those skilled in something are usually the best at it. Aristotle thought it more persuasive and clearer than the syllogistic method, since it relies on the senses and is available to all humans. The term was later applied to dialectical arguments intended to trap opponents. R.C. epicheirema, a polysyllogism in which each premise represents an enthymematic argument; e.g., ‘A lie creates disbelief, because it is an assertion that does not correspond to truth; flattery is a lie, because it is a conscious distortion of truth; therefore, flattery creates disbelief’. Each premise constitutes an enthymematic syllogism. Thus, the first premise could be expanded into the following full-fledged syllogism: ‘Every assertion that does not correspond to truth creates disbelief; a lie is an assertion that does not correspond to truth; therefore a lie creates disbelief’. We could likewise expand the second premise and offer a complete argument for it. Epicheirema can thus be a powerful tool in oral polemics, especially when one argues regressively, first stating the conclusion with a sketch of support in terms of enthymemes, and then  if challenged to do so  expanding any or all of these enthymemes into standard categorical syllogisms. 

inferentia: cf essentia, sententia, prudentia, etc.. – see illatum -- Cf. illatio. Consequentia. Implicatio. Grice’s implicature and what the emissor implicates as a variation on the logical usage.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

infima species (Latin, ‘lowest species’), a species that is not a genus of any other species. According to the theory of classification, division, and definition that is part of traditional or Aristotelian logic, every individual is a specimen of some infima species. An infima species is a member of a genus that may in turn be a species of a more inclusive genus, and so on, until one reaches a summum genus, a genus that is not a species of a more inclusive genus. Socrates and Plato are specimens of the infima specis human being (mortal rational animal), which is a species of the genus rational animal, which is a species of the genus animal, and so on, up to the summum genus substance. Whereas two specimens of animal – e.g., an individual human and an individual horse – can differ partly in their essential characteristics, no two specimens of the infima species human being can differ in essence.

infinite-off predicament, or ∞-off predicament.

Infinity: “I know that there are infinitely many stars” – an example of a stupid thing to say by the man in the street. apeiron, Grecian term meaning ‘the boundless’ or ‘the unlimited’, which evolved to signify ‘the infinite’. Anaximander introduced the term to philosophy by saying that the source of all things was apeiron. There is some disagreement about whether he meant by this the spatially antinomy apeiron 33   33 unbounded, the temporally unbounded, or the qualitatively indeterminate. It seems likely that he intended the term to convey the first meaning, but the other two senses also happen to apply to the spatially unbounded. After Anaximander, Anaximenes declared as his first principle that air is boundless, and Xenophanes made his flat earth extend downward without bounds, and probably outward horizontally without limit as well. Rejecting the tradition of boundless principles, Parmenides argued that “what-is” must be held within determinate boundaries. But his follower Melissus again argued that what-is must be boundless  in both time and space  for it can have no beginning or end. Another follower of Parmenides, Zeno of Elea, argued that if there are many substances, antinomies arise, including the consequences that substances are both limited and unlimited apeira in number, and that they are so small as not to have size and so large as to be unlimited in size. Rejecting monism, Anaxagoras argued for an indefinite number of elements that are each unlimited in size, and the Pythagorean Philolaus made limiters perainonta and unlimiteds apeira the principles from which all things are composed. The atomists Leucippus and Democritus conceived of a boundless universe, partly full of an infinite number of atoms and partly void; and in the universe are countless apeiroi worlds. Finally Aristotle arrived at an abstract understanding of the apeiron as “the infinite,” claiming to settle paradoxes about the boundless by allowing for real quantities to be infinitely divisible potentially, but not actually Physics III.48. The development of the notion of the apeiron shows how Grecian philosophers evolved ever more abstract philosophical ideas from relatively concrete conceptions.  Infinity -- Grice thougth that “There are infinitely many stars” was a stupid thing to say -- diagonal procedure, a method, originated by Cantor, for showing that there are infinite sets that cannot be put in one-to-one correspondence with the set of natural numbers i.e., enumerated. For example, the method can be used to show that the set of real numbers x in the interval 0 ‹ x m 1 is not enumerable. Suppose x0, x1, x2, . . . were such an enumeration x0 is the real correlated with 0; x1, the real correlated with 1; and so on. Then consider the list formed by replacing each real in the enumeration with the unique non-terminating decimal fraction representing it: The first decimal fraction represents x0; the second, x1; and so on. By diagonalization we select the decimal fraction shown by the arrows: and change each digit xnn, taking care to avoid a terminating decimal. This fraction is not on our list. For it differs from the first in the tenths place, from the second in the hundredths place, and from the third in the thousandths place, and so on. Thus the real it represents is not in the supposed enumeration. This contradicts the original assumption. The idea can be put more elegantly. Let f be any function such that, for each natural number n, fn is a set of natural numbers. Then there is a set S of natural numbers such that n 1 S S n 2 fn. It is obvious that, for each n, fn & S.  Infinity -- eternal return, the doctrine that the same events, occurring in the same sequence and involving the same things, have occurred infinitely many times in the past and will occur infinitely many times in the future. Attributed most notably to the Stoics and Nietzsche, the doctrine is antithetical to philosophical and religious viewpoints that claim that the world order is unique, contingent in part, and directed toward some goal. The Stoics interpret eternal return as the consequence of perpetual divine activity imposing exceptionless causal principles on the world in a supremely rational, providential way. The world, being the best possible, can only be repeated endlessly. The Stoics do not explain why the best world cannot be everlasting, making repetition unnecessary. It is not clear whether Nietzsche asserted eternal return as a cosmological doctrine or only as a thought experiment designed to confront one with the authenticity of one’s life: would one affirm that life even if one were consigned to live it over again without end? On either interpretation, Nietzsche’s version, like the Stoic version, stresses the inexorability and necessary interconnectedness of all things and events, although unlike the Stoic version, it rejects divine providence.  infinitary logic, the logic of expressions of infinite length. Quine has advanced the claim that firstorder logic (FOL) is the language of science, a position accepted by many of his followers. Howinferential justification infinitary logic 428 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 428 ever, many important notions of mathematics and science are not expressible in FOL. The notion of finiteness, e.g., is central in mathematics but cannot be expressed within FOL. There is no way to express such a simple, precise claim as ‘There are only finitely many stars’ in FOL. This and related expressive limitations in FOL seriously hamper its applicability to the study of mathematics and have led to the study of stronger logics. There have been various approaches to getting around the limitations by the study of so-called strong logics, including second-order logic (where one quantifies over sets or properties, not just individuals), generalized quantifiers (where one adds quantifiers in addition to the usual ‘for all’ and ‘there exists’), and branching quantifiers (where notions of independence of variables is introduced). One of the most fruitful methods has been the introduction of idealized “infinitely long” statements. For example, the above statement about the stars would be formalized as an infinite disjunction: there is at most one star, or there are at most two stars, or there are at most three stars, etc. Each of these disjuncts is expressible in FOL. The expressive limitations in FOL are closely linked with Gödel’s famous completeness and incompleteness theorems. These results show, among other things, that any attempt to systematize the laws of logic is going to be inadequate, one way or another. Either it will be confined to a language with expressive limitations, so that these notions cannot even be expressed, or else, if they can be expressed, then an attempt at giving an effective listing of axioms and rules of inference for the language will fall short. In infinitary logic, the rules of inference can have infinitely many premises, and so are not effectively presentable. Early work in infinitary logic used cardinality as a guide: whether or not a disjunction, conjunction, or quantifier string was permitted had to do only with the cardinality of the set in question. It turned out that the most fruitful of these logics was the language with countable conjunctions and finite strings of first-order quantifiers. This language had further refinements to socalled admissible languages, where more refined set-theoretic considerations play a role in determining what counts as a formula. Infinitary languages are also connected with strong axioms of infinity, statements that do not follow from the usual axioms of set theory but for which one has other evidence that they might well be true, or at least consistent. In particular, compact cardinals are infinite cardinal numbers where the analogue of the compactness theorem of FOL generalizes to the associated infinitary language. These cardinals have proven to be very important in modern set theory. During the 1990s, some infinitary logics played a surprising role in computer science. By allowing arbitrarily long conjunctions and disjunctions, but only finitely many variables (free or bound) in any formula, languages with attractive closure properties were found that allowed the kinds of inductive procedures of computer science, procedures not expressible in FOL. -- infinite regress argument, a distinctively philosophical kind of argument purporting to show that a thesis is defective because it generates an infinite series when either (form A) no such series exists or (form B) were it to exist, the thesis would lack the role (e.g., of justification) that it is supposed to play. The mere generation of an infinite series is not objectionable. It is misleading therefore to use ‘infinite regress’ (or ‘regress’) and ‘infinite series’ equivalently. For instance, both of the following claims generate an infinite series: (1) every natural number has a successor that itself is a natural number, and (2) every event has a causal predecessor that itself is an event. Yet (1) is true (arguably, necessarily true), and (2) may be true for all that logic can say about the matter. Likewise, there is nothing contrary to logic about any of the infinite series generated by the suppositions that (3) every free act is the consequence of a free act of choice; (4) every intelligent operation is the result of an intelligent mental operation; (5) whenever individuals x and y share a property F there exists a third individual z which paradigmatically has F and to which x and y are somehow related (as copies, by participation, or whatnot); or (6) every generalization from experience is inductively inferable from experience by appeal to some other generalization from experience. What Locke (in the Essay concerning Human Understanding) objects to about the theory of free will embodied in (3) and Ryle (in The Concept of Mind) objects to about the “intellectualist leginfinite, actual infinite regress argument 429 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 429 end” embodied in (4) can therefore be only that it is just plain false as a matter of fact that we perform an infinite number of acts of choice or operations of the requisite kinds. In effect their infinite regress arguments are of form A: they argue that the theories concerned must be rejected because they falsely imply that such infinite series exist. Arguably the infinite regress arguments employed by Plato (in the Parmenides) regarding his own theory of Forms and by Popper (in the Logic of Scientific Discovery) regarding the principle of induction proposed by Mill, are best construed as having form B, their objections being less to (5) or (6) than to their epistemic versions: (5*) that we can understand how x and y can share a property F only if we understand that there exists a third individual (the “Form” z) which paradigmatically has F and to which x and y are related; and (6*) that since the principle of induction must itself be a generalization from experience, we are justified in accepting it only if it can be inferred from experience by appeal to a higherorder, and justified, inductive principle. They are arguing that because the series generated by (5) and (6) are infinite, the epistemic enlightenment promised by (5*) and (6*) will forever elude us. When successful, infinite regress arguments can show us that certain sorts of explanation, understanding, or justification are will-o’-thewisps. As Passmore has observed (in Philosophical Reasoning) there is an important sense of ‘explain’ in which it is impossible to explain predication. We cannot explain x’s and y’s possession of the common property F by saying that they are called by the same name (nominalism) or fall under the same concept (conceptualism) any more than we can by saying that they are related to the same form (Platonic realism), since each of these is itself a property that x and y are supposed to have in common. Likewise, it makes no sense to try to explain why anything at all exists by invoking the existence of something else (such as the theist’s God). The general truths that things exist, and that things may have properties in common, are “brute facts” about the way the world is. Some infinite regress objections fail because they are directed at “straw men.” Bradley’s regress argument against the pluralist’s “arrangement of given facts into relations and qualities,” from which he concludes that monism is true, is a case in point. He correctly argues that if one posits the existence of two or more things, then there must be relations of some sort between them, and then (given his covert assumption that these relations are things) concludes that there must be further relations between these relations ad infinitum. Bradley’s regress misfires because a pluralist would reject his assumption. Again, some regress arguments fail because they presume that any infinite series is vicious. Aquinas’s regress objection to an infinite series of movers, from which he concludes that there must be a prime mover, involves this sort of confusion. -- infinity, in set theory, the property of a set whereby it has a proper subset whose members can be placed in one-to-one correspondence with all the members of the set, as the even integers can be so arranged in respect to the natural numbers by the function f(x) = x/2, namely: Devised by Richard Dedekind in defiance of the age-old intuition that no part of a thing can be as large as the thing, this set-theoretical definition of ‘infinity’, having been much acclaimed by philosophers like Russell as a model of conceptual analysis that philosophers were urged to emulate, can elucidate the putative infinity of space, time, and even God, his power, wisdom, etc. If a set’s being denumerable – i.e., capable of having its members placed in one-to-one correspondence with the natural numbers – can well appear to define much more simply what the infinity of an infinite set is, Cantor exhibited the real numbers (as expressed by unending decimal expansions) as a counterexample, showing them to be indenumerable by means of his famous diagonal argument. Suppose all the real numbers between 0 and 1 are placed in one-to-one correspondence with the natural numbers, thus: Going down the principal diagonal, we can construct a new real number, e.g., .954 . . . , not found in the infinite “square array.” The most important result in set theory, Cantor’s theorem, is denied its full force by the maverick followers infinity infinity 430 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 430 of Skolem, who appeal to the fact that, though the real numbers constructible in any standard axiomatic system will be indenumerable relative to the resources of the system, they can be seen to be denumerable when viewed from outside it. Refusing to accept the absolute indenumerability of any set, the Skolemites, in relativizing the notion to some system, provide one further instance of the allure of relativism. More radical still are the nominalists who, rejecting all abstract entities and sets in particular, might be supposed to have no use for Cantor’s theorem. Not so. Assume with Democritus that there are infinitely many of his atoms, made of adamant. Corresponding to each infinite subset of these atoms will be their mereological sum or “fusion,” namely a certain quantity of adamant. Concrete entities acceptable to the nominalist, these quantities can be readily shown to be indenumerable. Whether Cantor’s still higher infinities beyond F1 admit of any such nominalistic realization remains a largely unexplored area. Aleph-zero or F0 being taken to be the transfinite number of the natural numbers, there are then F1 real numbers (assuming the continuum hypothesis), while the power set of the reals has F2 members, and the power set of that F3 members, etc. In general, K2 will be said to have a greater number (finite or transfinite) of members than K1 provided the members of K1 can be put in one-to-one correspondence with some proper subset of K2 but not vice versa. Skepticism regarding the higher infinities can trickle down even to F0, and if both Aristotle and Kant, the former in his critique of Zeno’s paradoxes, the latter in his treatment of cosmological antinomies, reject any actual, i.e. completed, infinite, in our time Dummett’s return to verificationism, as associated with the mathematical intuitionism of Brouwer, poses the keenest challenge. Recognition-transcendent sentences like ‘The total number of stars is infinite’ are charged with violating the intersubjective conditions required for a speaker of a language to manifest a grasp of their meaning.

THE INFORMALISTS – A Group under which Grice situated his post-generational Strawson and his pre-generational Ryle. informal fallacy, an error of reasoning or tactic of argument that can be used to persuade someone with whom you are reasoning that your argument is correct when really it is not. The standard treatment of the informal fallacies in logic textbooks draws heavily on Aristotle’s list, but there are many variants, and new fallacies have often been added, some of which have gained strong footholds in the textbooks. The word ‘informal’ indicates that these fallacies are not simply localized faults or failures in the given propositions (premises and conclusion) of an argument to conform to a standard of semantic correctness (like that of deductive logic), but are misuses of the argument in relation to a context of reasoning or type of dialogue that an arguer is supposed to be engaged in. Informal logic is the subfield of logical inquiry that deals with these fallacies. Typically, informal fallacies have a pragmatic (practical) aspect relating to how an argument is being used, and also a dialectical aspect, pertaining to a context of dialogue – normally an exchange between two participants in a discussion. Both aspects are major concerns of informal logic. Logic textbooks classify informal fallacies in various ways, but no clear and widely accepted system of classification has yet become established. Some textbooks are very inventive and prolific, citing many different fallacies, including novel and exotic ones. Others are more conservative, sticking with the twenty or so mainly featured in or derived from Aristotle’s original treatment, with a few widely accepted additions. The paragraphs below cover most of these “major” or widely featured fallacies, the ones most likely to be encountered by name in the language of everyday educated conversation. The genetic fallacy is the error of drawing an inappropriate conclusion about the goodness or badness of some property of a thing from the goodness or badness of some property of the origin of that thing. For example, ‘This medication was derived from a plant that is poisonous; therefore, even though my physician advises me to take it, I conclude that it would be very bad for me if I took it.’ The error is inappropriately arguing from the origin of the medication to the conclusion that it must be poisonous in any form or situation. The genetic fallacy is often construed very broadly making it coextensive with the personal attack type of argument (see the description of argumentum ad hominem below) that condemns a prior argument by condemning its source or proponent. Argumentum ad populum (argument to the people) is a kind of argument that uses appeal to popular sentiments to support a conclusion. Sometimes called “appeal to the gallery” or “appeal to popular pieties” or even “mob appeal,” this kind of argument has traditionally been portrayed as fallacious. However, there infinity, axiom of informal fallacy 431 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 431 need be nothing wrong with appealing to popular sentiments in argument, so long as their evidential value is not exaggerated. Even so, such a tactic can be fallacious when the attempt to arouse mass enthusiasms is used as a substitute to cover for a failure to bring forward the kind of evidence that is properly required to support one’s conclusion. Argumentum ad misericordiam (argument to pity) is a kind of argument that uses an appeal to pity, sympathy, or compassion to support its conclusion. Such arguments can have a legitimate place in some discussions – e.g., in appeals for charitable donations. But they can also put emotional pressure on a respondent in argument to try to cover up a weak case. For example, a student who does not have a legitimate reason for a late assignment might argue that if he doesn’t get a high grade, his disappointed mother might have a heart attack. The fallacy of composition is the error of arguing from a property of parts of a whole to a property of the whole – e.g., ‘The important parts of this machine are light; therefore this machine is light.’ But a property of the parts cannot always be transferred to the whole. In some cases, examples of the fallacy of composition are arguments from all the parts to a whole, e.g. ‘Everybody in the country pays her debts. Therefore the country pays its debts.’ The fallacy of division is the converse of that of composition: the error of arguing from a property of the whole to a property of its parts – e.g., ‘This machine is heavy; therefore all the parts of this machine are heavy.’ The problem is that the property possessed by the whole need not transfer to the parts. The fallacy of false cause, sometimes called post hoc, ergo propter hoc (after this, therefore because of this), is the error of arguing that because two events are correlated with one another, especially when they vary together, the one is the cause of the other. For example, there might be a genuine correlation between the stork population in certain areas of Europe and the human birth rate. But it would be an error to conclude, on that basis alone, that the presence of storks causes babies to be born. In general, however, correlation is good, if sometimes weak, evidence for causation. The problem comes in when the evidential strength of the correlation is exaggerated as causal evidence. The apparent connection could just be coincidence, or due to other factors that have not been taken into account, e.g., some third factor that causes both the events that are correlated with each other. The fallacy of secundum quid (neglecting qualifications) occurs where someone is arguing from a general rule to a particular case, or vice versa. One version of it is arguing from a general rule while overlooking or suppressing legitimate exceptions. This kind of error has also often been called the fallacy of accident. An example would be the argument ‘Everyone has the right to freedom of speech; therefore it is my right to shout “Fire” in this crowded theater if I want to.’ The other version of secundum quid, sometimes also called the fallacy of converse accident, or the fallacy of hasty generalization, is the error of trying to argue from a particular case to a general rule that does not properly fit that case. An example would be the argument ‘Tweetie [an ostrich] is a bird that does not fly; therefore birds do not fly’. The fault is the failure to recognize or acknowledge that Tweetie is not a typical bird with respect to flying. Argumentum consensus gentium (argument from the consensus of the nations) is a kind that appeals to the common consent of mankind to support a conclusion. Numerous philosophers and theologians in the past have appealed to this kind of argument to support conclusions like the existence of God and the binding character of moral principles. For example, ‘Belief in God is practically universal among human beings past and present; therefore there is a practical weight of presumption in favor of the truth of the proposition that God exists’. A version of the consensus gentium argument represented by this example has sometimes been put forward in logic textbooks as an instance of the argumentum ad populum (described above) called the argument from popularity: ‘Everybody believes (accepts) P as true; therefore P is true’. If interpreted as applicable in all cases, the argument from popularity is not generally sound, and may be regarded as a fallacy. However, if regarded as a presumptive inference that only applies in some cases, and as subject to withdrawal where evidence to the contrary exists, it can sometimes be regarded as a weak but plausible argument, useful to serve as a provisional guide to prudent action or reasoned commitment. Argumentum ad hominem (literally, argument against the man) is a kind of argument that uses a personal attack against an arguer to refute her argument. In the abusive or personal variant, the character of the arguer (especially character for veracity) is attacked; e.g., ‘You can’t believe what Smith says – he is a liar’. In evaluating testimony (e.g., in legal cross-examination), attacking an arguer’s character can be legitimate in some cases. Also in political debate, character can be a legitimate issue. However, ad hominem arguinformal fallacy informal fallacy 432 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 432 ments are commonly used fallaciously in attacking an opponent unfairly – e.g., where the attack is not merited, or where it is used to distract an audience from more relevant lines of argument. In the circumstantial variant, an arguer’s personal circumstances are claimed to be in conflict with his argument, implying that the arguer is either confused or insincere; e.g., ‘You don’t practice what you preach’. For example, a politician who has once advocated not raising taxes may be accused of “flip-flopping” if he himself subsequently favors legislation to raise taxes. This type of argument is not inherently fallacious, but it can go badly wrong, or be used in a fallacious way, for example if circumstances changed, or if the alleged conflict was less serious than the attacker claimed. Another variant is the “poisoning the well” type of ad hominem argument, where an arguer is said to have shown no regard for the truth, the implication being that nothing he says henceforth can ever be trusted as reliable. Yet another variant of the ad hominem argument often cited in logic textbooks is the tu quoque (you-too reply), where the arguer attacked by an ad hominem argument turns around and says, “What about you? Haven’t you ever lied before? You’re just as bad.” Still another variant is the bias type of ad hominem argument, where one party in an argument charges the other with not being honest or impartial or with having hidden motivations or personal interests at stake. Argumentum ad baculum (argument to the club) is a kind of argument that appeals to a threat or to fear in order to support a conclusion, or to intimidate a respondent into accepting it. Ad baculum arguments often take an indirect form; e.g., ‘If you don’t do this, harmful consequences to you might follow’. In such cases the utterance can often be taken as a threat. Ad baculum arguments are not inherently fallacious, because appeals to threatening or fearsome sanctions – e.g., harsh penalties for drunken driving – are not necessarily failures of critical argumentation. But because ad baculum arguments are powerful in eliciting emotions, they are often used persuasively as sophistical tactics in argumentation to avoid fulfilling the proper requirements of a burden of proof. Argument from authority is a kind of argument that uses expert opinion (de facto authority) or the pronouncement of someone invested with an institutional office or title (de jure authority) to support a conclusion. As a practical but fallible method of steering discussion toward a presumptive conclusion, the argument from authority can be a reasonable way of shifting a burden of proof. However, if pressed too hard in a discussion or portrayed as a better justification for a conclusion than the evidence warrants, it can become a fallacious argumentum ad verecundiam (see below). It should be noted, however, that arguments based on expert opinions are widely accepted both in artificial intelligence and everyday argumentation as legitimate and sound under the right conditions. Although arguments from authority have been strongly condemned during some historical periods as inherently fallacious, the current climate of opinion is to think of them as acceptable in some cases, even if they are fallible arguments that can easily go wrong or be misused by sophistical persuaders. Argumentum ad judicium represents a kind of knowledge-based argumentation that is empirical, as opposed to being based on an arguer’s personal opinion or viewpoint. In modern terminology, it apparently refers to an argument based on objective evidence, as opposed to somebody’s subjective opinion. The term appears to have been invented by Locke to contrast three commonly used kinds of arguments and a fourth special type of argument. The first three types of argument are based on premises that the respondent of the argument is taken to have already accepted. Thus these can all be called “personal” in nature. The fourth kind of argument – argumentum ad judicium – does not have to be based on what some person accepts, and so could perhaps be called “impersonal.” Locke writes that the first three kinds of arguments can dispose a person for the reception of truth, but cannot help that person to the truth. Only the argumentum ad judicium can do that. The first three types of arguments come from “my shamefacedness, ignorance or error,” whereas the argumentum ad judicium “comes from proofs and arguments and light arising from the nature of things themselves.” The first three types of arguments have only a preparatory function in finding the truth of a matter, whereas the argumentum ad judicium is more directly instrumental in helping us to find the truth. Argumentum ad verecundiam (argument to reverence or respect) is the fallacious use of expert opinion in argumentation to try to persuade someone to accept a conclusion. In the Essay concerning Human Understanding (1690) Locke describes such arguments as tactics of trying to prevail on the assent of someone by portraying him as irreverent or immodest if he does not readily yield to the authority of some learned informal fallacy informal fallacy 433 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 433 opinion cited. Locke does not claim, however, that all appeals to expert authority in argument are fallacious. They can be reasonable if used judiciously. Argumentum ad ignorantiam (argument to ignorance) takes the following form: a proposition a is not known or proved to be true (false); therefore A is false (true). It is a negative type of knowledge-based or presumptive reasoning, generally not conclusive, but it is nevertheless often non-fallacious in balance-of-consideration cases where the evidence is inconclusive to resolve a disputed question. In such cases it is a kind of presumption-based argumentation used to advocate adopting a conclusion provisionally, in the absence of hard knowledge that would determine whether the conclusion is true or false. An example would be: Smith has not been heard from for over seven years, and there is no evidence that he is alive; therefore it may be presumed (for the purpose of settling Smith’s estate) that he is dead. Arguments from ignorance ought not to be pressed too hard or used with too strong a degree of confidence. An example comes from the U.S. Senate hearings in 1950, in which Senator Joseph McCarthy used case histories to argue that certain persons in the State Department should be considered Communists. Of one case he said, “I do not have much information on this except the general statement of the agency that there is nothing in the files to disprove his Communist connections.” The strength of any argument from ignorance depends on the thoroughness of the search made. The argument from ignorance can be used to shift a burden of proof merely on the basis of rumor, innuendo, or false accusations, instead of real evidence. Ignoratio elenchi (ignorance of refutation) is the traditional name, following Aristotle, for the fault of failing to keep to the point in an argument. The fallacy is also called irrelevant conclusion or missing the point. Such a failure of relevance is essentially a failure to keep closely enough to the issue under discussion. Suppose that during a criminal trial, the prosecutor displays the victim’s bloody shirt and argues at length that murder is a horrible crime. The digression may be ruled irrelevant to the question at issue of whether the defendant is guilty of murder. Alleged failures of this type in argumentation are sometimes quite difficult to judge fairly, and a ruling should depend on the type of discussion the participants are supposed to be engaged in. In some cases, conventions or institutional rules of procedure – e.g. in a criminal trial – are aids to determining whether a line of argumentation should be judged relevant or not. Petitio principii (asking to be granted the “principle” or issue of the discussion to be proved), also called begging the question, is the fallacy of improperly arguing in a circle. Circular reasoning should not be presumed to be inherently fallacious, but can be fallacious where the circular argument has been used to disguise or cover up a failure to fulfill a burden of proof. The problem arises where the conclusion that was supposed to be proved is presumed within the premises to be granted by the respondent of the argument. Suppose I ask you to prove that this bicycle (the ownership of which is subject to dispute) belongs to Hector, and you reply, “All the bicycles around here belong to Hector.” The problem is that without independent evidence that shows otherwise, the premise that all the bicycles belong to Hector takes for granted that this bicycle belongs to Hector, instead of proving it by properly fulfilling the burden of proof. The fallacy of many questions (also called the fallacy of complex question) is the tactic of packing unwarranted presuppositions into a question so that any direct answer given by the respondent will trap her into conceding these presuppositions. The classical case is the question, “Have you stopped beating your spouse?” No matter how the respondent answers, yes or no, she concedes the presuppositions that (a) she has a spouse, and (b) she has beaten that spouse at some time. Where one or both of these presumptions are unwarranted in the given case, the use of this question is an instance of the fallacy of many questions. The fallacy of equivocation occurs where an ambiguous word has been used more than once in an argument in such a way that it is plausible to interpret it in one way in one instance of its use and in another way in another instance. Such an argument may seem persuasive if the shift in the context of use of the word makes these differing interpretations plausible. Equivocation, however, is generally seriously deceptive only in longer sequences of argument where the meaning of a word or phrase shifts subtly but significantly. A simplistic example will illustrate the gist of the fallacy: ‘The news media should present all the facts on anything that is in the public interest; the public interest in lives of movie stars is intense; therefore the news media should present all the facts on the private lives of movie stars’. This argument goes from plausible premises to an implausible conclusion by trading on the ambiguity of ‘public interest’. In one sense informal fallacy informal fallacy 434 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:40 AM Page 434 it means ‘public benefit’ while in another sense it refers to something more akin to curiosity. Amphiboly (double arrangement) is a type of traditional fallacy (derived from Aristotle’s list of fallacies) that refers to the use of syntactically ambiguous sentences like ‘Save soap and waste paper’. Although the logic textbooks often cite examples of such sentences as fallacies, they have never made clear how they could be used to deceive in a serious discussion. Indeed, the example cited is not even an argument, but simply an ambiguous sentence. In cases of some advertisements like ‘Two pizzas for one special price’, however, one can see how the amphiboly seriously misleads readers into thinking they are being offered two pizzas for the regular price of one. Accent is the use of shifting stress or emphasis in speech as a means of deception. For example, if a speaker puts stress on the word ‘created’ in ‘All men were created equal’ it suggests (by implicature) the opposite proposition to ‘All men are equal’, namely ‘Not all men are (now) equal’. The oral stress allows the speaker to covertly suggest an inference the hearer is likely to draw, and to escape commitment to the conclusion suggested by later denying he said it. The slippery slope argument, in one form, counsels against some contemplated action (or inaction) on the ground that, once taken, it will be a first step in a sequence of events that will be difficult to resist and will (or may or must) lead to some dangerous (or undesirable or disastrous) outcome in the end. It is often argued, e.g., that once you allow euthanasia in any form, such as the withdrawal of heroic treatments of dying patients in hospitals, then (through erosion of respect for human life), you will eventually wind up with a totalitarian state where old, feeble, or politically troublesome individuals are routinely eliminated. Some slippery slope arguments can be reasonable, but they should not be put forward in an exaggerated way, supported with insufficient evidence, or used as a scare tactic.

informal logic, also called practical logic, the use of logic to identify, analyze, and evaluate arguments as they occur in contexts of discourse in everyday conversations. In informal logic, arguments are assessed on a case-by-case basis, relative to how the argument was used in a given context to persuade someone to accept the conclusion, or at least to give some reason relevant to accepting the conclusion.

INFORMATIONAL. Grice distinguishes between the indicative and the informational. “Surely it is stupid to inform myself, but not Strawson, that it is raining. Grammarians don’t care, but I do!” information theory, also called communication theory, a primarily mathematical theory of communication. Prime movers in its development include Claude Shannon, H. Nyquist, R. V. L. Hartley, Norbert Wiener, Boltzmann, and Szilard. Original interests in the theory were largely theoretical or applied to telegraphy and telephony, and early development clustered around engineering problems in such domains. Philosophers (Bar-Hillel, Dretske, and Sayre, among others) are mainly interested in information theory as a source for developing a semantic theory of information and meaning. The mathematical theory has been less concerned with the details of how a message acquires meaning and more concerned with what Shannon called the “fundamental problem of communication” – reproducing at one point either exactly or approximately a message (that already has a meaning) selected at another point. Therefore, the two interests in information – the mathematical and the philosophical – have remained largely orthogonal. Information is an objective (mind-independent) entity. It can be generated or carried by messages (words, sentences) or other products of cognizers (interpreters). Indeed, communication theory focuses primarily on conditions involved in the generation and transmission of coded (linguistic) messages. However, almost any event can (and usually does) generate information capable of being encoded or transmitted. For example, Colleen’s acquiring red spots can contain information about Colleen’s having the measles and graying hair can carry information about her grandfather’s aging. This information can be encoded into messages about measles or aging (respectively) and transmitted, but the information would exist independently of its encoding or transmission. That is, this information would be generated (under the right conditions) by occurrence of the measles-induced spots and the age-induced graying themselves – regardless of anyone’s actually noticing. This objective feature of information explains its potential for epistemic and semantic development by philosophers and cognitive scientists. For example, in its epistemic dimension, a single (event, message, or Colleen’s spots) that contains informal logic information theory 435 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:40 AM Page 435 (carries) the information that Colleen has the measles is something from which one (mom, doctor) can come to know that Colleen has the measles. Generally, an event (signal) that contains the information that p is something from which one can come to know that p is the case – provided that one’s knowledge is indeed based on the information that p. Since information is objective, it can generate what we want from knowledge – a fix on the way the world objectively is configured. In its semantic dimension, information can have intentionality or aboutness. What is happening at one place (thermometer reading rising in Colleen’s mouth) can carry information about what is happening at another place (Colleen’s body temperature rising). The fact that messages (or mental states, for that matter) can contain information about what is happening elsewhere, suggests an exciting prospect of tracing the meaning of a message (or of a thought) to its informational origins in the environment. To do this in detail is what a semantic theory of information is about. The mathematical theory of information is purely concerned with information in its quantitative dimension. It deals with how to measure and transmit amounts of information and leaves to others the work of saying what (how) meaning or content comes to be associated with a signal or message. In regard to amounts of information, we need a way to measure how much information is generated by an event (or message) and how to represent that amount. Information theory provides the answer. Since information is an objective entity, the amount of information associated with an event is related to the objective probability (likelihood) of the event. Events that are less likely to occur generate more information than those more likely to occur. Thus, to discover that the toss of a fair coin came up heads contains more information than to discover this about the toss of a coin biased (.8) toward heads. Or, to discover that a lie was knowingly broadcast by a censored, state-run radio station, contains less information than that a lie was knowingly broadcast by a non-censored, free radio station (say, the BBC). A (perhaps surprising) consequence of associating amounts of information with objective likelihoods of events is that some events generate no information at all. That is, that 55 % 3125 or that water freezes at 0oC. (on a specific occasion) generates no information at all – since these things cannot be otherwise (their probability of being otherwise is zero). Thus, their occurrence generates zero information. Shannon was seeking to measure the amount of information generated by a message and the amount transmitted by its reception (or about average amounts transmissible over a channel). Since his work, it has become standard to think of the measure of information in terms of reductions of uncertainty. Information is identified with the reduction of uncertainty or elimination of possibilities represented by the occurrence of an event or state of affairs. The amount of information is identified with how many possibilities are eliminated. Although other measures are possible, the most convenient and intuitive way that this quantity is standardly represented is as a logarithm (to the base 2) and measured in bits (short for how many binary digits) needed to represent binary decisions involved in the reduction or elimination of possibilities. If person A chooses a message to send to person B, from among 16 equally likely alternative messages (say, which number came up in a fair drawing from 16 numbers), the choice of one message would represent 4 bits of information (16 % 24 or log2 16 % 4). Thus, to calculate the amount of information generated by a selection from equally likely messages (signals, events), the amount of information I of the message s is calculated I(s) % logn. If there is a range of messages (s1 . . . sN) not all of which are equally likely (letting (p (si) % the probability of any si’s occurrence), the amount of information generated by the selection of any message si is calculated I(si) % log 1/p(si) % –log p(si) [log 1/x % –log x] While each of these formulas says how much information is generated by the selection of a specific message, communication theory is seldom primarily interested in these measures. Philosophers are interested, however. For if knowledge that p requires receiving the information that p occurred, and if p’s occurrence represents 4 bits of information, then S would know that p occurred only if S received information equal to (at least) 4 bits. This may not be sufficient for S to know p – for S must receive the right amount of information in a non-deviant causal way and S must be able to extract the content of the information – but this seems clearly necessary. Other measures of information of interest in communication theory include the average information, or entropy, of a source, information theory information theory 436 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:40 AM Page 436 I(s) % 9p(si) $ I(si), a measure for noise (the amount of information that person B receives that was not sent by person A), and for equivocation (the amount of information A wanted or tried to send to B that B did not receive). These concepts from information theory and the formulas for measuring these quantities of information (and others) provide a rich source of tools for communication applications as well as philosophical applications. informed consent, voluntary agreement in the light of relevant information, especially by a patient to a medical procedure. An example would be consent to a specific medical procedure by a competent adult patient who has an adequate understanding of all the relevant treatment options and their risks. It is widely held that both morality and law require that no medical procedures be performed on competent adults without their informed consent. This doctrine of informed consent has been featured in case laws since the 1950s, and has been a focus of much discussion in medical ethics. Underwritten by a concern to protect patients’ rights to self-determination and also by a concern with patients’ well-being, the doctrine was introduced in an attempt to delineate physicians’ duties to inform patients of the risks and benefits of medical alternatives and to obtain their consent to a particular course of treatment or diagnosis. Interpretation of the legitimate scope of the doctrine has focused on a variety of issues concerning what range of patients is competent to give consent and hence from which ones informed consent must be required; concerning how much, how detailed, and what sort of information must be given to patients to yield informed consent; and concerning what sorts of conditions are required to ensure both that there is proper understanding of the information and that consent is truly voluntary rather than unduly influenced by the institutional authority of the physician.

Ingarden, Roman Witold (1893–1970), the leading Polish phenomenologist, who taught in Lvov and Cracow and became prominent in the English-speaking world above all through his work in aesthetics and philosophy of literature. His Literary Work of Art (German 1931, English 1973) presents an ontological account of the literary work as a stratified structure, including word sounds and meanings, represented objects and aspects, and associated metaphysical and aesthetic qualities. The work forms part of a larger ontological project of combating the transcendental idealism of his teacher Husserl, and seeks to establish the essential difference in structure between minddependent ‘intentional’ objects and objects in reality. Ingarden’s ontological investigations are set out in his The Controversy over the Existence of the World (Polish 1947/48, German 1964–74, partial English translation as Time and Modes of Being, 1964). The work rests on a tripartite division of formal, material, and existential ontology and contains extensive analyses of the ontological structures of individual things, events, processes, states of affairs, properties and relations. It culminates in an attempted refutation of idealism on the basis of an exhaustive account of the possible relations between consciousness and reality.

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.)

insinuatum: Oddly, Ryle found an ‘insinuation’ abusive, which Russell found abusive. When McGuinness listed the abusive terms by Gellner, ‘insinuation’ was one of them, so perhaps Grice should take note! insinuation insinuate. The etymology is abscure. Certainly not Ciceronian. 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. Intransitive meaning "hint obliquely" is from 1560s. The problem is that Grice possibly used it transitively, with a ‘that’-clause. “Emissor E communicates that p, via insinuation,” i.e. E insinuates that p.” In fact, there’s nothing odd with the ‘that’-clause following ‘insinuate.’ Obviosuly, Grice will be saying that what is a mere insinuation it is taken by Austin, Strawson, Hart or Hare or Hampshire – as he criticizes him in the “Mind” article on intention and certainty -- (to restrict to mistakes by the play group) as part of the ‘analysans.’ `Refs. D. Holdcroft, “Forms of indirect communication,” Journal of Rhetoric.

insolubilia, sentences embodying a semantic antinomy such as the liar paradox. Insolubilia were used by late medieval logicians to analyze self-nullifying sentences, the possibility that all sentences imply that they are true, and the relation between spoken, written, and mental language. At first, theorists focused on nullification to explicate a sentence like ‘I am lying’, which, when spoken, entails that the speaker “says nothing.” Bradwardine suggested that such sentences signify that they are at once true and false, prompting Burley to argue that all sentences imply that they are true. Roger Swineshead used insolubilia to distinguish between truth and correspondence to reality; while ‘This sentence is false’ is itself false, it corresponds to reality, while its contradiction, ‘This sentence is not false,’ does not, although the latter is also false. Later, Wyclif used insolubilia to describe the senses in which a sentence can be true, which led to his belief in informed consent insolubilia 437 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:40 AM Page 437 the reality of logical beings or entities of reason, a central tenet of his realism. Pierre d’Ailly used insolubilia to explain how mental language differs from spoken and written language, holding that there are no mental language insolubles, but that spoken and written language lend themselves to the phenomenon by admitting a single sentence corresponding to two distinct mental sentences.

Institution – Grice speaks of the institution of decision as the goal of conversation -- institution. (1) An organization such as a corporation or college. (2) A social practice such as marriage or making promises. (3) A system of rules defining a possible form of social organization, such as capitalist versus Communist principles of economic exchange. In light of the power of institutions to shape societies and individual lives, writers in professional ethics have explored four main issues. First, what political and legal institutions are feasible, just, and otherwise desirable (Plato, Republic; Rawls, A Theory of Justice)? Second, how are values embedded in institutions through the constitutive rules that define them (for example, “To promise is to undertake an obligation”), as well as through regulatory rules imposed on them from outside, such that to participate in institutions is a value-laden activity (Searle, Speech Acts, 1969)? Third, do institutions have collective responsibilities or are the only responsibilities those of individuals, and in general how are the responsibilities of individuals, institutions, and communities related? Fourth, at a more practical level, how can we prevent institutions from becoming corrupted by undue regard for money and power (MacIntyre, After Virtue, 1981) and by patriarchal prejudices (Susan Moller Okin, Justice, Gender, and the Family, 1989)? -- institutional theory of art, the view that something becomes an artwork by virtue of occupying a certain position within the context of a set of institutions. George Dickie originated this theory of art (Art and the Aesthetic, 1974), which was derived loosely from Arthur Danto’s “The Artworld” (Journal of Philosophy, 1964). In its original form it was the view that a work of art is an artifact that has the status of candidate for appreciation conferred upon it by some person acting on behalf of the art world. That is, there are institutions – such as museums, galleries, and journals and newspapers that publish reviews and criticism – and there are individuals who work within those institutions – curators, directors, dealers, performers, critics – who decide, by accepting objects or events for discussion and display, what is art and what is not. The concept of artifactuality may be extended to include found art, conceptual art, and other works that do not involve altering some preexisting material, by holding that a use, or context for display, is sufficient to make something into an artifact. This definition of art raises certain questions. What determines – independently of such notions as a concern with art – whether an institution is a member of the art world? That is, is the definition ultimately circular? What is it to accept something as a candidate for appreciation? Might not this concept also threaten circularity, since there could be not only artistic but also other kinds of appreciation?

Griceian aesthetic instrumetalism according to Catherine Lord. instrumentalism, in its most common meaning, a kind of anti-realistic view of scientific theories wherein theories are construed as calculating devices or instruments for conveniently moving from a given set of observations to a predicted set of observations. As such the theoretical statements are not candidates for truth or reference, and the theories have no ontological import. This view of theories is grounded in a positive distinction between observation statements and theoretical statements, and the according of privileged epistemic status to the former. The view was fashionable during the era of positivism but then faded; it was recently revived, in large measure owing to the genuinely perplexing character of quantum theories in physics. ’Instrumentalism’ has a different and much more general meaning associated with the pragmatic epistemology of Dewey. Deweyan instrumentalism is a general functional account of all concepts (scientific ones included) wherein the epistemic status of concepts and the rationality status of actions are seen as a function of their role in integrating, predicting, and controlling our concrete interactions with our experienced world. There is no positivistic distinction instantiation instrumentalism 438 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:40 AM Page 438 between observation and theory, and truth and reference give way to “warranted assertability.”

intellectus (dianoia) “intelligere,” originally meaning to comprehend, appeared frequently in Cicero, then underwent a slippage in its passive form, “intelligetur,” toward to understand, to communicate, to mean, ‘to give it to be understood.’ What is understood – INTELLECTUM -- by an expression can be not only its obvious sense but also something that is connoted, implied, insinuated, IMPLICATED, as Grice would prefer. 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 Intellectus -- dianoia, Grecian term for the faculty of thought, specifically of drawing conclusions from assumptions and of constructing and following arguments. The term may also designate the thought that results from using this faculty. We would use dianoia to construct a mathematical proof; in contrast, a being  if there is such a being it would be a god  that could simply intuit the truth of the theorem would use the faculty of intellectual intuition, noûs. In contrast with noûs, dianoia is the distinctly human faculty of reason. Plato uses noûs and dianoia to designate, respectively, the highest and second levels of the faculties represented on the divided line Republic 511de.  PLATO. E.C.H. dialectical argument dianoia 233   233 dichotomy paradox. Refs: Grice, “The criteria of intelligence.”

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. intension, the meaning or connotation of an expression, as opposed to its extension or denotation, which consists of those things signified by the expression. The intension of a declarative sentence is often taken to be a proposition and the intension of a predicate expression (common noun, adjective) is often taken to be a concept. For Frege, a predicate expression refers to a concept and the intension or Sinn (“sense”) of a predicate expression is a mode of presentation distinct from the concept. Objects like propositions or concepts that can be the intension of terms are called intensional objects. (Note that ‘intensional’ is not the same word as ‘intentional’, although the two are related.) The extension of a declarative sentence is often taken to be a state of affairs and that of a predicate expression to be the set of objects that fall under the concept which is the intension of the term. Extension is not the same as reference. For example, the term ‘red’ may be said to refer to the property redness but to have as its extension the set of all red things. Alternatively properties and relations are sometimes taken to be intensional objects, but the property redness is never taken to be part of the extension of the adjective ‘red’. intensionality, failure of extensionality. A linguistic context is extensional if and only if the extension of the expression obtained by placing any subexpression in that context is the same as the extension of the expression obtained by placing in that context any subexpression with the same extension as the first subexpression. Modal, intentional, and direct quotational contexts are main instances of intensional contexts. Take, e.g., sentential contexts. The extension of a sentence is its truth or falsity (truth-value). The extension of a definite description is what it is true of: ‘the husband of Xanthippe’ and ‘the teacher of Plato’ have the same extension, for they are true of the same man, Socrates. Given this, it is easy to see that ‘Necessarily, . . . was married to Xanthippe’ is intensional, for ‘Necessarily, the husband of Xanthippe was married to Xanthippe’ is true, but ‘Necessarily, the teacher of Plato was married to Xanthippe’ is not. Other modal terms that generate intensional contexts include ‘possibly’, ‘impossibly’, ‘essentially’, ‘contingently’, etc. Assume that Smith has heard of Xanthippe but not Plato. ‘Smith believes that . . . was married to Xanthippe’ is intensional, for ‘Smith believes that the husband of Xanthippe was married to Xanthippe’ is true, but ‘Smith believes that the teacher of Plato was married to Xanthippe’ is not. Other intentional verbs that generate intensional contexts include ‘know’, ‘doubt’, ‘wonder’, ‘fear’, ‘intend’, ‘state’, and ‘want’. ‘The fourth word in “. . . “ has nine letters’ is intensional, for ‘The fourth word in “the husband of Xanthippe” has nine letters’ is true but ‘the fourth word in “the teacher of Plato” has nine letters’ is not. intensional logic, that part of deductive logic which treats arguments whose validity or invalidity depends on strict difference, or identity, of meaning. The denotation of a singular term (i.e., a proper name or definite description), the class of things of which a predicate is true, and the truth or falsity (the truth-value) of a sentence may be called the extensions of these respective linguistic expressions. Their intensions are their meanings strictly so called: the (individual) concept conveyed by the singular term, the property expressed by the predicate, and the proposition asserted by the sentence. The most extensively studied part of formal logic deals largely with inferences turning only on extensions. One principle of extensional logic is that if two singular terms have identical denotations, the truth-values of corresponding sentences containing the terms are identical. Thus the inference from ‘Bern is the capital of Switzerland’ to ‘You are in Bern if and only if you are in the capital of Switzerland’ is valid. But this is invalid: ‘Bern is the capital of Switzerland. Therefore, you believe that you are in Bern if and only if you believe that you are in the capital of Switzerland.’ For one may lack the belief instrumental rationality intensional logic 439 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:40 AM Page 439 that Bern is the capital of Switzerland. It seems that we should distinguish between the intensional meanings of ‘Bern’ and of ‘the capital of Switzerland’. One supposes that only a strict identity of intension would license interchange in such a context, in which they are in the scope of a propositional attitude. It has been questioned whether the idea of an intension really applies to proper names, but parallel examples are easily constructed that make similar use of the differences in the meanings of predicates or of whole sentences. Quite generally, then, the principle that expressions with the same extension may be interchanged with preservation of extension of the containing expression, seems to fail for such “intensional contexts.” The range of expressions producing such sensitive contexts includes psychological verbs like ‘know’, ‘believe’, ‘suppose’, ‘assert’, ‘desire’, ‘allege’, ‘wonders whether’; expressions conveying modal ideas such as necessity, possibility, and impossibility; some adverbs, e.g. ‘intentionally’; and a large number of other expressions – ’prove’, ‘imply’, ‘make probable’, etc. Although reasoning involving some of these is well understood, there is not yet general agreement on the best methods for dealing with arguments involving many of these notions.

intentionalism: Grice analyses ‘intend’ in two prongs; the first is a willing-clause, and the second is a causal clause about the willing causing the action. It’s a simplified account that he calls Prichardian because he relies on ‘willin that.’ The intender intends that some action takes place. It does not have to be an action by the intender. Cf. Suppes’s specific section. when Anscombe comes out with her “Intention,” Grice’s Play Group does not know what to do. Hampshire is almost finished with his “Thought and action” that came out the following year. Grice is lecturing on how a “dispositional” reductive analysis of ‘intention’ falls short of his favoured instrospectionalism. Had he not fallen for an intention-based semantics (or strictly, an analysis of "U means that p" in terms of U intends that p"), Grice would be obsessed with an analysis of ‘intending that …’ James makes an observation about the that-clause. I will that the distant table slides over the floor toward me. It does not. The Anscombe Society. Irish-born Anscombe’s views are often discussed by Oxonian philosophers. She brings Witters to the Dreaming Spires, as it were. Grice is especially connected with Anscombes reflections on intention. While he favoures an approach such as that of Hampshire in Thought and Action, Grice borrows a few points from Anscombe, notably that of direction of fit, originally Austin’s. Grice explicitly refers to Anscombe in “Uncertainty,” and in his reminiscences he hastens to add that Anscombe would never attend any of the Saturday mornings of the play group, as neither does Dummett. The view of Ryle is standardly characterised as a weaker or softer version of behaviourism According to this standard interpretation, the view by Ryle is that a statements containin this or that term relating to the ‘soul’ can be translated, without loss of meaning, into an ‘if’ utterance about what an agent does. So Ryle, on this account, is to be construed as offering a dispositional analysis of a statement about the soul into a statement about behaviour. It is conceded that Ryle does not confine a description of what the agent does to purely physical behaviour—in terms, e. g. of a skeletal or a muscular description. Ryle is happy to speak of a full-bodied action like scoring a goal or paying a debt. But the soft behaviourism attributed to Ryle still attempts an analysis or translation of statement about the soul into this or that dispositional statement which is itself construed as subjunctive if describing what the agent does. Even this soft behaviourism fails. A description of the soul is not analysable or translatable into a statement about behaviour or praxis even if this is allowed to include a non-physical descriptions of action. The list of conditions and possible behaviour is infinite since any one proffered translation may be ‘defeated,’ as Hart and Hall would say, by a slight alteration of the circumstances. The defeating condition in any particular case may involve a reference to a fact about the agent’s soul, thereby rendering the analysis circular. In sum, the standard interpretation of Ryle construes him as offering a somewhat weakened form of reductive behaviourism whose reductivist ambition, however weakened, is nonetheless futile. This characterisation of Ryle’s programme is wrong. Although it is true that he is keen to point out the disposition behind this or that concept about the soul, it would be wrong to construe Ryle as offering a programme of analysis of a ‘soul’ predicate in terms of an ‘if’ utterance. The relationship between a ‘soul’ predicate and the ‘if’ utterance with which he unpack it is other than that required by this kind of analysis. It is helpful to keep in mind that Ryle’s target is the official doctrine with its eschatological commitment. Ryle’s argument serves to remind one that we have in a large number of cases ways of telling or settling disputes, e. g., about someone’s character or intellect. If A disputes a characterisation of Smith as willing that p, or judging that p, B may point to what Smith says and does in defending the attribution, as well as to features of the circumstances. But the practice of giving a reason of this kind to defend or to challenge an ascription of a ‘soul’ predicates would be put under substantial pressure if the official doctrine is correct. For Ryle to remind us that we do, as a matter of fact, have a way of settling disputes about whether Smith wills that he eat an apple is much weaker than saying that the concept of willing is meaningless unless it is observable or verifiable; or even that the successful application of a soul predicate requires that we have a way of settling a dispute in every case. Showing that a concept is one for which, in a large number of cases, we have an agreement-reaching procedure, even if it do not always guarantee success, captures an important point, however: it counts against any theory of, e. g., willing that would render it unknowable in principle or in practice whether or not the concept is correctly applied in every case. And this is precisely the problem with the official doctrine (and is still a problem, with some of its progeny. Ryle points out that there is a form of dilemma that pits the reductionist against the dualist: those whose battle-cry is ‘nothing but…’ and those who insist on ‘something else as well.’ Ryle attempts a dissolution of the dilemma by rejecting the two horns; not by taking sides with either one, though part of what dissolution requires in this case, as in others, is a description of how each side is to be commended for seeing what the other side does not, and criticised for failing to see what the other side does. The attraction of behaviourism, Ryle reminds us, is simply that it does not insist on an occult happening as the basis upon which a ‘soul’ term is given meaning, and points to a perfectly observable criterion that is by and large employed when we are called upon to defend or correct our employment of a ‘soul’ term. The problem with behaviourism is that it has a too-narrow view both of what counts as behaviour and of what counts as observable. Then comes Grice to play with meaning and intending, and allowing for deeming an avowal of this or that souly state as, in some fashion, incorrigible. For Grice, while U does have, ceteris paribus privileged access to each state of his soul, only his or that avowal of this or that souly state is deemed incorrigible. This concerns communication as involving intending. Grice goes back to this at Brighton. He plays with G judges that it is raining, G judges that G judges that it is raining. Again, Grice uses a subscript: “G judges₂ that it is raining.” If now G expresses that it is raining, G judges₂ that it is raining. A second-order avowal is deemed incorrigible. It is not surprising the the contemporary progeny of the official doctrine sees a behaviourist in Grice. Yet a dualist is badly off the mark in his critique of Grice. While Grice does appeal to a practice and a habif, and even the more technical ‘procedure’ in the ordinary way as ‘procedure’ is used in ordinary discussion. Grice does not make a technical concept out of them as one expect of some behavioural psychologist, which he is not. He is at most a philosophical psychologist, and a functionalist one, rather than a reductionist one. There is nothing in any way that is ‘behaviourist’ or reductionist or physicalist about Grice’s talk. It is just ordinary talk about behaviour. There is nothing exceptional in talking about a practice, a customs, or a habit regarding communication. Grice certainly does not intend that this or that notion, as he uses it, gives anything like a detailed account of the creative open-endedness of a communication-system. What this or that anti-Griceian has to say IS essentially a diatribe first against empiricism (alla Quine), secondarily against a Ryle-type of behaviourism, and in the third place, Grice. In more reasoned and dispassionate terms, one would hardly think of Grice as a behaviourist (he in fact rejects such a label in “Method”), but as an intentionalist. When we call Grice an intentionalist, we are being serious. As a modista, Grice’s keyword is intentionalism, as per the good old scholastic ‘intentio.’ We hope so. This is Aunt Matilda’s conversational knack. Grice keeps a useful correspondence with Suppes which was helpful. Suppes takes Chomsky more seriously than an Oxonian philosopher would. An Oxonian philosopher never takes Chomsky too seriously. Granted, Austin loves to quote “Syntactic Structures” sentence by sentence for fun, knowing that it would never count as tutorial material. Surely “Syntactic Structures” would not be a pamphlet a member of the play group would use to educate his tutee. It is amusing that when he gives the Locke lectures, Chomsky cannot not think of anything better to do but to criticise Grice, and citing him from just one reprint in the collection edited by, of all people, Searle. Some gratitude. The references are very specific to Grice. Grice feels he needs to provide, he thinks, an analysis ‘mean’ as metabolically applied to an expression. Why? Because of the implicatum. By uttering x (thereby explicitly conveying that p), U implicitly conveys that q iff U relies on some procedure in his and A’s repertoire of procedures of U’s and A’s communication-system. It is this talk of U’s being ‘ready,’ and ‘having a procedure in his repertoire’ that sounds to New-World Chomsky too Morrisian, as it does not to an Oxonian. Suppes, a New-Worlder, puts himself in Old-Worlder Grice’s shoes about this. Chomsky should never mind. When an Oxonian philosopher, not a psychologist, uses ‘procedure’ and ‘readiness,’ and having a procedure in a repertoire, he is being Oxonian and not to be taken seriously, appealing to ordinary language, and so on. Chomsky apparently does get it. Incidentally, Suppess has defended Grice against two other targets, less influential. One is Hungarian-born J. I. Biro, who does not distinguish between reductive analysis and reductionist analysis, as Grice does in his response to Somervillian Rountree-Jack. The other target is perhaps even less influential: P. Yu in a rather simplistic survey of the Griceian programme for a journal that Grice finds too specialized to count, “Linguistics and Philosophy.” Grice is always ashamed and avoided of being described as “our man in the philosophy of language.” Something that could only have happened in the Old World in a red-brick university, as Grice calls it.  Suppes contributes to PGRICE with an excellent ‘The primacy of utterers meaning,’ where he addresses what he rightly sees as an unfair characterisations of Grice as a behaviourist. Suppes’s use of “primacy” is genial, since its metabole which is all about. Biro actually responds to Suppes’s commentary on Grice as proposing a reductive but not reductionist analysis of meaning. Suppes rightly characterises Grice as an Oxonian ‘intentionalist’ (alla Ogden), as one would characterize Hampshire, with philosophical empiricist, and slightly idealist, or better ideationalist, tendencies, rather. Suppes rightly observes that Grice’ use of such jargon is meant to impress. Surely there are more casual ways of referring to this or that utterer having a basic procedure in his repertoire. It is informal and colloquial, enough, though, rather than behaviouristically, as Ryle would have it. Grice is very happy that in the New World Suppes teaches him how to use ‘primacy’ with a straight face! Intentionalism is also all the vogue in Collingwood reading Croce, and Gardiner reading Marty via Ogden, and relates to expression. In his analysis of intending Grice is being very Oxonian, and pre-Austinian: relying, just to tease leader Austin, on Stout, Wilson, Bosanquet, MacMurray, and Pritchard. Refs.: There are two sets of essays. An early one on ‘disposition and intention,’ and the essay for The British Academy (henceforth, BA). Also his reply to Anscombe and his reply to Davidson. There is an essay on the subjective condition on intention. Obviously, his account of communication has been labeled the ‘intention-based semantic’ programme, so references under ‘communication’ above are useful. BANC.Grice's reductIOn, or partial reduction anyway, of meamng to intention places a heavy load on the theory of intentions. But in the articles he has written about these matters he has not been very explicit about the structure of intentIOns. As I understand his position on these matters, it is his view that the defence of the primacy of utterer's meaning does not depend on having worked out any detailed theory of intention. It IS enough to show how the reduction should be thought of in a schematic fashion in order to make a convincing argument. I do think there is a fairly straightforward extenSIOn of Grice's ideas that provides the right way of developing a theory of intentIOns appropnate for Ius theory of utterer's meaning. Slightly changing around some of the words m Grice we have the following The Primacy of Utterer's Meaning 125 example. U utters '''Fido is shaggy", if "U wants A to think that U thinks that Jones's dog is hairy-coated.'" Put another way, U's intention is to want A to think U thinks that Jones's dog is hairy-coated. Such intentions clearly have a generative structure similar but different from the generated syntactic structure we think of verbal utterances' having. But we can even say that the deep structures talked about by grammarians of Chomsky's ilk could best be thought of as intentions. This is not a suggestion I intend to pursue seriously. The important point is that it is a mistake to think about classifications of intentions; rather, we should think in terms of mechanisms for generating intentions. Moreover, it seems to me that such mechanisms in the case of animals are evident enough as expressed in purposeful pursuit of prey or other kinds of food, and yet are not expressed in language. In that sense once again there is an argument in defence of Grice's theory. The primacy of utterer's meaning has primacy because of the primacy of intention. We can have intentions without words, but we cannot have words of any interest without intentions. In this general context, I now turn to Biro's (1979) interesting criticisms of intentionalism in the theory of meaning. Biro deals from his own standpoint with some of the issues I have raised already, but his central thesis about intention I have not previously discussed. It goes to the heart of controversies about the use of the concept of intention to explain the meaning of utterances. Biro puts his point in a general way by insisting that utterance meaning must be separate from and independent of speaker's meaning or, in the terminology used here, utterer's meaning. The central part of his argument is his objection to the possibility of explaining meaning in terms of intentions. Biro's argument goes like this: 1. A central purpose of speech is to enable others to learn about the speaker's intentions. 2. It will be impossible to discover or understand the intentions of the speaker unless there are independent means for understanding what he says, since what he says will be primary evidence about his intentions. 3. Thus the meaning of an utterance must be conceptually independent of the intentions of the speaker. This is an appealing positivistic line. The data relevant to a theory or hypothesis must be known independently of the hypothesis. Biro is quick to state that he is not against theoretical entities, but the way in which he separates theoretical entities and observable facts makes clear the limited role he wants them to play, in this case the theoretical entities being intentions. The central idea is to be found in the following passage: The point I am insisting on here is merely that the ascription of an intention to an agent has the character of an hypothesis, something invoked to explain phenomena which may be described independently of that explanation (though not necessarily independently of the fact that they fall into a class for which the hypothesis in question generally or normally provides an explanation). (pp. 250-1.) [The italics are Biro's.] Biro's aim is clear from this quotation. The central point is that the data about intentions, namely, the utterance, must be describable independently of hypotheses about the intentions. He says a little later to reinforce this: 'The central pointis this: it is the intention-hypothesis that is revisable, not the act-description' (p. 251). Biro's central mistake, and a large one too, is to think that data can be described independently of hypotheses and that somehow there is a clean and simple version of data that makes such description a natural and inevitable thing to have. It would be easy enough to wander off into a description of such problems in physics, where experiments provide a veritable wonderland of seemingly arbitrary choices about what to include and what to exclude from the experimental experience as 'relevant data', and where the arbitrariness can only be even partly understood on the basis of understanding the theories bemg tested. Real data do not come in simple linear strips like letters on the page. Real experiments are blooming confusions that never get sorted out completely but only partially and schematically, as appropriate to the theory or theories being tested, and in accordance with the traditions and conventions of past similar experiments. makes a point about the importance of convention that I agree but it is irrelevant to my central of controversy with  What I say about experiments is even more true of undisciplined and unregulated human interactiono Experiments, especially in physics, are presumably among the best examples of disciplined and structured action. Most conversations, in contrast, are really examples of situations of confusion that are only straightened out under strong hypotheses of intentions on the of speakers and listeners as well. There is more than one level at which the takes The Primacy of Utterer's Meaning 127 place through the beneficent use of hypotheses about intentions. I shall not try to deal with all of them here but only mention some salient aspects. At an earlier point, Biro says:The main reason for introducing intentions into some of these analyses is precisely that the public (broadly speaking) features of utterances -the sounds made, the circumstances in which they are made and the syntactic and semantic properties of these noises considered as linguistic items-are thought to be insufficient for the specification of that aspect of the utterance which we call its meaning. [po 244.] If we were to take this line of thought seriously and literally, we would begin with the sound pressure waves that reach our ears and that are given the subtle and intricate interpretation required to accept them as speech. There is a great variety of evidence that purely acoustical concepts are inadequate for the analysis of speech. To determine the speech content of a sound pressure wave we need extensive hypotheses about the intentions that speakers have in order to convert the public physical features of utterances into intentional linguistic items. Biro might object at where I am drawing the line between public and intentional, namely, at the difference between physical and linguistic, but it would be part of my thesis that it is just because of perceived and hypothesized intentions that we are mentally able to convert sound pressure waves into meaningful speech. In fact, I can envisage a kind of transcendental argument for the existence of intentions based on the impossibility from the standpoint of physics alone of interpreting sound pressure waves as speech. Biro seems to have in mind the nice printed sentences of science and philosophy that can be found on the printed pages of treatises around the world. But this is not the right place to begin to think about meaning, only the end point. Grice, and everybody else who holds an intentional thesis about meaning, recognizes the requirement to reach an account of such timeless sentence meaning or linguistic meaning.In fact, Grice is perhaps more ready than I am to concede that such a theory can be developed in a relatively straightforward manner. One purpose of my detailed discussion of congruence of meaning in the previous section is to point out some of the difficulties of having an adequate detailed theory of these matters, certainly an adequate detailed theory of the linguistic meaning or the sentence meaning. Even if I were willing to grant the feasibility of such a theory, I would not grant the use of it that Biro has made. For the purposes of this discussion printed text may be accepted as well-defined, theoryindependent data. (There are even issues to be raised about the printed page, but ones that I will set aside in the present context. I have in mind the psychological difference between perception of printed letters, words, phrases, or sentences, and that of related but different nonlinguistic marks on paper.) But no such data assumptions can be made about spoken speech. Still another point of attack on Biro's positivistic line about data concerns the data of stress and prosody and their role in fixing the meaning of an utterance. Stress and prosody are critical to the interpretation of the intentions of speakers, but the data on stress and prosody are fleeting and hard to catch on the fly_ Hypotheses about speakers' intentions are needed even in the most humdrum interpret atins of what a given prosodic contour or a given point of stress has contributed to the meaning of the utterance spoken. The prosodic contour and the points of stress of an utterance are linguistic data, but they do not have the independent physical description Biro vainly hopes for. Let me put my point still another way. I do not deny for a second that conventions and traditions of speech play a role in fixing the meaning of a particular utterance on a particular occasion. It is not a matter of interpretmg afresh, as if the universe had just begun, a particular utterance in terms of particular intentions at that time and place without dependence upon past prior mtentions and the traditions of spoken speech that have evolved in the community of which the speaker and listener are a part. It is rather that hypotheses about intentions are operating continually and centrally in the interpretation of what is said. Loose, live speech depends upon such active 'on-line' interpretation of intention to make sense of what has been said. If there were some absolutely agreed-upon concept of firm and definite linguistlc meaning that Biro and others could appeal to, then it might be harder to make the case I am arguing for. But I have already argued in the discussion of congruence of meaning that this is precisely what is not the case. The absence of any definite and satisfactory theory of linguistic meaning argues also for movmg back to the more concrete and psychologically richer concept of utterer's meaning. This is the place to begin the theory of meaning, and this Itself rests to a very large extent on the concept of intention -- intention, (1) a characteristic of action, as when one acts intentionally or with a certain intention; (2) a feature of one’s mind, as when one intends (has an intention) to act in a certain way now or in the future. Betty, e.g., intentionally walks across the room, does so with the intention of getting a drink, and now intends to leave the party later that night. An important question is: how are (1) and (2) related? (See Anscombe, Intention, 1963, for a groundbreaking treatment of these and other basic problems concerning intention.) Some philosophers see acting with an intention as basic and as subject to a three-part analysis. For Betty to walk across the room with the intention of getting a drink is for Betty’s walking across the room to be explainable (in the appropriate way) by her desire or (as is sometimes said) pro-attitude in favor of getting a drink and her belief that walking across the room is a way of getting one. On this desire-belief model (or wantbelief model) the main elements of acting with an intention are (a) the action, (b) appropriate desires (pro-attitudes) and beliefs, and (c) an appropriate explanatory relation between (a) and (b). (See Davidson, “Actions, Reasons, and Causes” in Essays on Actions and Events, 1980.) In explaining (a) in terms of (b) we give an explanation of the action in terms of the agent’s purposes or reasons for so acting. This raises the fundamental question of what kind of explanation this is, and how it is related to explanation of Betty’s movements by appeal to their physical causes. What about intentions to act in the future? Consider Betty’s intention to leave the party later. Though the intended action is later, this intention may nevertheless help explain some of Betty’s planning and acting between now and then. Some philosophers try to fit such futuredirected intentions directly into the desire-belief model. John Austin, e.g., would identify Betty’s intention with her belief that she will leave later because of her desire to leave (Lectures on Jurisprudence, vol. I, 1873). Others see futuredirected intentions as distinctive attitudes, not to be reduced to desires and/or beliefs. How is belief related to intention? One question here is whether an intention to A requires a belief that one will A. A second question is whether a belief that one will A in executing some intention ensures that one intends to A. Suppose that Betty believes that by walking across the room she will interrupt Bob’s conversation. Though she has no desire to interrupt, she still proceeds across the room. Does she intend to interrupt the conversation? Or is there a coherent distinction between what one intends and what one merely expects to bring about as a result of doing what one intends? One way of talking about such cases, due to Bentham (An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation, 1789), is to say that Betty’s walking across the room is “directly intentional,” whereas her interrupting the conversation is only “obliquely intentional” (or indirectly intentional). -- intentional fallacy, the (purported) fallacy of holding that the meaning of a work of art is fixed by the artist’s intentions. (Wimsatt and Beardsintensive magnitude intentional fallacy 440 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:40 AM Page 440 ley, who introduced the term, also used it to name the [purported] fallacy that the artist’s aims are relevant to determining the success of a work of art; however, this distinct usage has not gained general currency.) Wimsatt and Beardsley were formalists; they held that interpretation should focus purely on the work of art itself and should exclude appeal to biographical information about the artist, other than information concerning the private meanings the artist attached to his words. Whether the intentional fallacy is in fact a fallacy is a much discussed issue within aesthetics. Intentionalists deny that it is: they hold that the meaning of a work of art is fixed by some set of the artist’s intentions. For instance, Richard Wollheim (Painting as an Art) holds that the meaning of a painting is fixed by the artist’s fulfilled intentions in making it. Other intentionalists appeal not to the actual artist’s intentions, but to the intentions of the implied or postulated artist, a construct of criticism, rather than a real person. See also AESTHETIC FORMALISM, AESTHETICS, INTENTION. B.Ga. intentionality, aboutness. Things that are about other things exhibit intentionality. Beliefs and other mental states exhibit intentionality, but so, in a derived way, do sentences and books, maps and pictures, and other representations. The adjective ‘intentional’ in this philosophical sense is a technical term not to be confused with the more familiar sense, characterizing something done on purpose. Hopes and fears, for instance, are not things we do, not intentional acts in the latter, familiar sense, but they are intentional phenomena in the technical sense: hopes and fears are about various things. The term was coined by the Scholastics in the Middle Ages, and derives from the Latin verb intendo, ‘to point (at)’ or ‘aim (at)’ or ‘extend (toward)’. Phenomena with intentionality thus point outside of themselves to something else: whatever they are of or about. The term was revived by the nineteenth-century philosopher and psychologist Franz Brentano, who claimed that intentionality defines the distinction between the mental and the physical; all and only mental phenomena exhibit intentionality. Since intentionality is an irreducible feature of mental phenomena, and since no physical phenomena could exhibit it, mental phenomena could not be a species of physical phenomena. This claim, often called the Brentano thesis or Brentano’s irreducibility thesis, has often been cited to support the view that the mind cannot be the brain, but this is by no means generally accepted today. There was a second revival of the term in the 1960s and 1970s by analytic philosophers, in particular Chisholm, Sellars, and Quine. Chisholm attempted to clarify the concept by shifting to a logical definition of intentional idioms, the terms used to speak of mental states and events, rather than attempting to define the intentionality of the states and events themselves. Intentional idioms include the familiar “mentalistic” terms of folk psychology, but also their technical counterparts in theories and discussions in cognitive science, ‘X believes that p,’ and ‘X desires that q’ are paradigmatic intentional idioms, but according to Chisholm’s logical definition, in terms of referential opacity (the failure of substitutivity of coextensive terms salva veritate), so are such less familiar idioms as ‘X stores the information that p’ and ‘X gives high priority to achieving the state of affairs that q’. Although there continue to be deep divisions among philosophers about the proper definition or treatment of the concept of intentionality, there is fairly widespread agreement that it marks a feature – aboutness or content – that is central to mental phenomena, and hence a central, and difficult, problem that any theory of mind must solve.

intersubjective – conversational intersubjectivity. Philosophical sociology – While Grice saw himself as a philosophical psychologist, he would rather be seen dead than as a philosophical sociologist – ‘intersubjective at most’! -- Comte: A. philosopher and sociologist, the founder of positivism. He was educated in Paris at l’École Polytechnique, where he briefly taught mathematics. He suffered from a mental illness that occasionally interrupted his work. In conformity with empiricism, Comte held that knowledge of the world arises from observation. He went beyond many empiricists, however, in denying the possibility of knowledge of unobservable physical objects. He conceived of positivism as a method of study based on observation and restricted to the observable. He applied positivism chiefly to science. He claimed that the goal of science is prediction, to be accomplished using laws of succession. Explanation insofar as attainable has the same structure as prediction. It subsumes events under laws of succession; it is not causal. Influenced by Kant, he held that the causes of phenomena and the nature of things-in-themselves are not knowable. He criticized metaphysics for ungrounded speculation about such matters; he accused it of not keeping imagination subordinate to observation. He advanced positivism for all the sciences but held that each science has additional special methods, and has laws not derivable by human intelligence from laws of other sciences. He corresponded extensively with J. S. Mill, who Comte, Auguste Comte, Auguste 168   168 encouraged his work and discussed it in Auguste Comte and Positivism 1865. Twentieth-century logical positivism was inspired by Comte’s ideas. Comte was a founder of sociology, which he also called social physics. He divided the science into two branches  statics and dynamics dealing respectively with social organization and social development. He advocated a historical method of study for both branches. As a law of social development, he proposed that all societies pass through three intellectual stages, first interpreting phenomena theologically, then metaphysically, and finally positivistically. The general idea that societies develop according to laws of nature was adopted by Marx. Comte’s most important work is his six-volume Cours de philosophie positive Course in Positive Philosophy, 183042. It is an encyclopedic treatment of the sciences that expounds positivism and culminates in the introduction of sociology.

intervening variable, in psychology, a state of an organism or person postulated to explain behavior and defined in terms of its causes and effects rather than its intrinsic properties. A food drive, conceived as an intervening variable, may be defined in terms of the number of hours without food (causes) and the strength or robustness of efforts to secure it (effects) rather than in terms of hungry feeling (intrinsic property). There are at least three reasons for postulating intervening variables. First, time lapse between stimulus and behavior may be large, as when an animal eats food found hours earlier. Why didn’t the animal eat when it first discovered food? Perhaps at the time of discovery, it had already eaten, so food drive was reduced. Second, the same animal or person may act differently in the same sort of situation, as when we eat at noon one day but delay until 3 p.m. the next. Again, this may be because of variation in food drive. Third, behavior may occur in the absence of external stimulation, as when an animal forages for food. This, too, may be explained by the strength of the food drive. Intervening variables have been viewed, depending on the background theory, as convenient fictions or as psychologically real states.

intuition, a non-inferential knowledge or grasp, as of a proposition, concept, or entity, that is not based on perception, memory, or introspection; also, the capacity in virtue of which such cognition is possible. A person might know that 1 ! 1 % 2 intuitively, i.e., not on the basis of inferring it from other propositions. And one might know intuitively what yellow is, i.e., might understand the concept, even though ‘yellow’ is not definable. Or one might have intuitive awareness of God or some other entity. Certain mystics hold that there can be intuitive, or immediate, apprehension of God. Ethical intuitionists hold both that we can have intuitive knowledge of certain moral concepts that are indefinable, and that certain propositions, such as that pleasure is intrinsically good, are knowable through intuition. Self-evident propositions are those that can be seen (non-inferentially) to be true once one fully understands them. It is often held that all and only self-evident propositions are knowable through intuition, which is here identified with a certain kind of intellectual or rational insight. Intuitive knowledge of moral or other philosophical propositions or concepts has been compared to the intuitive knowledge of grammaticality possessed by competent users of a language. Such language users can know immediately whether certain sentences are grammatical or not without recourse to any conscious reasoning.

Ionian philosophy, the characteristically naturalist and rationalist thought of Greek philosophers of the sixth and fifth centuries B.C. who were active in Ionia, the region of ancient Greek colonies on the coast of Asia Minor and adjacent islands. First of the Ionian philosophers were the three Milesians.

Irigaray, Luce (b.1930), French feminist philosopher and psychoanalyst. Her earliest work was in psychoanalysis and linguistics, focusing on the role of negation in the language of schizophrenics (Languages, 1966). A trained analyst with a private practice, she attended Lacan’s seminars at the École Normale Supérieure and for several years taught a course in the psychoanalysis department at Vincennes. With the publication of Speculum, De l’autre femme(Speculum of the Other Woman) in 1974 she was dismissed from Vincennes. She argues that psychoanalysis, specifically its attitude toward women, is historically and culturally determined and that its phallocentric bias is treated as universal truth. With the publication of Speculum and Ce Sexe qui n’en est pas un (This Sex Which Is Not One) in 1977, her work extends beyond psychoanalysis and begins a critical examination of philosophy. Influenced primarily by Hegel, Nietzsche, and Heidegger, her work is a critique of the fundamental categories of philosophical thought: one/many, identity/difference, being/non-being, rational/irrational, mind/body, form/matter, transcendental/sensible. She sets out to show the concealed aspect of metaphysical constructions and what they depend on, namely, the unacknowledged mother. In Speculum, the mirror figures as interpretation and criticism of the enclosure of the Western subject within the mirror’s frame, constituted solely through the masculine imaginary. Her project is one of constituting the world – and not only the specular world – of the other as woman. This engagement with the history of philosophy emphasizes the historical and sexual determinants of philosophical discourse, and insists on bringing the transcendental back to the elements of the earth and embodiment. Her major contribution to philosophy is the notion of sexual difference. An Ethics of Sexual Difference (1984) claims that the central contemporary philosophical task is to think through sexual difference. Although her notion of sexual difference is sometimes taken to be an essentialist view of the feminine, in fact it is an articulation of the difference between the sexes that calls into question an understanding of either the feminine or masculine as possessing a rigid gender identity. Instead, sexual difference is the erotic desire for otherness. Insofar as it is an origin that is continuously differentiating itself from itself, it challenges Aristotle’s understanding of the arche as solid ground or hypokeimenon. As aition or first cause, sexual difference is responsible for something coming into being and is that to which things are indebted for their being. This indebtedness allows Irigaray to formulate an ethics of sexual difference. Her latest work continues to rethink the foundations of ethics. Both Towards a Culture of Difference (1990) and I Love To You (1995) claim that there is no civil identity proper to women and therefore no possibility of equivalent social and political status for men and women. She argues for a legal basis to ground the reciprocity between the sexes; that there is no living universal, that is, a universal that reflects sexual difference; and that this lack of a living universal leads to an absence of rights and responsibilities which reflects both men and women. She claims, therefore, that it is necessary to “sexuate” rights. These latest works continue to make explicit the erotic and ethical project that informs all her work: to think through the dimension of sexual difference that opens up access to the alliances between living beings who are engendered and not fabricated, and who refuse to sacrifice desire for death, power, or money.

Iron-Age metaphysics -- Euclidean geometry, the version of geometry that includes among its axioms the parallel axiom, which asserts that, given a line L in a plane, there exists just one line in the plane that passes through a point not on L but never meets L. The phrase ‘Euclidean geometry’ refers both to the doctrine of geometry to be found in Euclid’s Elements fourth century B.C. and to the mathematical discipline that was built on this basis afterward. In order to present properties of rectilinear and curvilinear curves in the plane and solids in space, Euclid sought definitions, axioms, ethics, divine command Euclidean geometry 290   290 and postulates to ground the reasoning. Some of his assumptions belonged more to the underlying logic than to the geometry itself. Of the specifically geometrical axioms, the least self-evident stated that only one line passes through a point in a plane parallel to a non-coincident line within it, and many efforts were made to prove it from the other axioms. Notable forays were made by G. Saccheri, J. Playfair, and A. M. Legendre, among others, to put forward results logically contradictory to the parallel axiom e.g., that the sum of the angles between the sides of a triangle is greater than 180° and thus standing as candidates for falsehood; however, none of them led to paradox. Nor did logically equivalent axioms such as that the angle sum equals 180° seem to be more or less evident than the axiom itself. The next stages of this line of reasoning led to non-Euclidean geometry. From the point of view of logic and rigor, Euclid was thought to be an apotheosis of certainty in human knowledge; indeed, ‘Euclidean’ was also used to suggest certainty, without any particular concern with geometry. Ironically, investigations undertaken in the late nineteenth century showed that, quite apart from the question of the parallel axiom, Euclid’s system actually depended on more axioms than he had realized, and that filling all the gaps would be a formidable task. Pioneering work done especially by M. Pasch and G. Peano was brought to a climax in 9 by Hilbert, who produced what was hoped to be a complete axiom system. Even then the axiom of continuity had to wait for the second edition! The endeavor had consequences beyond the Euclidean remit; it was an important example of the growth of axiomatization in mathematics as a whole, and it led Hilbert himself to see that questions like the consistency and completeness of a mathematical theory must be asked at another level, which he called metamathematics. It also gave his work a formalist character; he said that his axiomatic talk of points, lines, and planes could be of other objects. Within the Euclidean realm, attention has fallen in recent decades upon “neo-Euclidean” geometries, in which the parallel axiom is upheld but a different metric is proposed. For example, given a planar triangle ABC, the Euclidean distance between A and B is the hypotenuse AB; but the “rectangular distance” AC ! CB also satisfies the properties of a metric, and a geometry working with it is very useful in, e.g., economic geography, as anyone who drives around a city will readily understand.  Grice: "Much the most significant opposition to my type of philosophising comes from those like Baron Russell who feel that ‘ “ordinary-language” philosophy’ is an affront to science and to intellectual progress, and who regard exponents like me as wantonly dedicating themselves to what the Baron calls 'stone-age metaphysics', "The Baron claims that 'stone-age metaphysics' is the best that can be dredged up from a ‘philosophical’ study of an ‘ordinary’ language, such as Oxonian, as it ain't. "The use made of Russell’s phrase ‘stone-age metaphysics’ has more rhetorical appeal than argumentative force."“Certainly ‘stone-age’ *physics*, if by that we mean a 'primitive' (as the Baron puts it -- in contrast to 'iron-age physics') set of hypotheses about how the world goes which might conceivably be embedded somehow or other in an ‘ordinary’ language such as Oxonian, does not seem to be a proper object for first-order devotion -- I'll grant the Baron that!"“But this fact should *not* prevent something derivable or extractable from ‘stone-age’ (if not 'iron-age') *physics*, perhaps some very general characterization of the nature of reality, from being a proper target for serious research.”"I would not be surprised if an extractable characterization of this may not be the same as that which is extractable from, or that which underlies, the Baron's favoured iron-age physics!"

irrationality, unreasonableness. Whatever it entails, irrationality can characterize belief, desire, intention, and action. intuitions irrationality 443 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:40 AM Page 443 Irrationality is often explained in instrumental, or goal-oriented, terms. You are irrational if you (knowingly) fail to do your best, or at least to do what you appropriately think adequate, to achieve your goals. If ultimate goals are rationally assessable, as Aristotelian and Kantian traditions hold, then rationality and irrationality are not purely instrumental. The latter traditions regard certain specific (kinds of) goals, such as human well-being, as essential to rationality. This substantialist approach lost popularity with the rise of modern decision theory, which implies that, in satisfying certain consistency and completeness requirements, one’s preferences toward the possible outcomes of available actions determine what actions are rational and irrational for one by determining the personal utility of their outcomes. Various theorists have faulted modern decision theory on two grounds: human beings typically lack the consistent preferences and reasoning power required by standard decision theory but are not thereby irrational, and rationality requires goods exceeding maximally efficient goal satisfaction. When relevant goals concern the acquisition of truth and the avoidance of falsehood, epistemic rationality and irrationality are at issue. Otherwise, some species of non-epistemic rationality or irrationality is under consideration. Species of non-epistemic rationality and irrationality correspond to the kind of relevant goal: moral, prudential, political, economic, aesthetic, or some other. A comprehensive account of irrationality will elucidate epistemic and non-epistemic irrationality as well as such sources of irrationality as weakness of will and ungrounded belief.

is, third person singular form of the verb ‘be’, with at least three fundamental senses that philosophers distinguish according to the resources required for a proper logical representation. The ‘is’ of existence (There is a unicorn in the garden: Dx (Ux8Gx)) uses the existential quantifier. The ‘is’ of identity (Hesperus is Phosphorus: j % k) employs the predicate of identity. The ‘is’ of predication (Samson is strong: Sj) merely juxtaposes predicate symbol and proper name. Some controversy attends the first sense. Some (notably Meinong) maintain that ‘is’ applies more broadly than ‘exists,’ the former producing truths when combined with ‘deer’ and ‘unicorn’ and the latter producing truths when combined with ‘deer’ but not ‘unicorn’. Others (like Aquinas) take ‘being’ (esse) to denote some special activity that every existing object necessarily performs, which would seem to imply that with ‘is’ they attribute more to an object than we do with ‘exists’. Other issues arise in connection with the second sense. Does Hesperus is Phosphorus, for example, attribute anything more to the heavenly body than its identity with itself? Consideration of such a question led Frege to conclude that names (and other meaningful expressions) of ordinary language have a “sense” or “mode of presenting” the object to which they refer that representations within our standard, extensional logical systems fail to expose. The distinction between the ‘is’ of identity and the ‘is’ of predication parallels Frege’s distinction between object and concept: words signifying objects stand to the right of the ‘is’ of identity and those signifying concepts stand to the right of the ‘is’ of predication. Although it seems remarkable that so many deep and difficult philosophical concepts should link to a single short and commonplace word, we should perhaps not read too much into that observation. Some languages divide the various roles played by English’s compact copula among several constructions, and others use the corresponding word for other purposes.

Islamic Neoplatonism, a Neoplatonism constituting one of several philosophical tendencies adopted by Muslim philosophers. Aristotle was well known and thoroughly studied among those thinkers in the Islamic world specifically influenced by ancient Greek philosophy; Plato less so. In part both were understood in Neoplatonic terms. But, because the Enneads came to be labeled mistakenly the Theology of Aristotle, the name of ‘Plotinus’ had no significance. A similar situation befell the other ancient Neoplatonists. The Theology and other important sources of Neoirredundant Islamic Neoplatonism 444 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:40 AM Page 444 platonic thinking were, therefore, often seen as merely the “theological” speculations of the two major Greek philosophical authorities – mainly Aristotle: all of this material being roughly equivalent to something Islamic Neoplatonists called the “divine Plato.” For a few Islamic philosophers, moreover, such as the critically important al-Farabi, Neoplatonism had little impact. They followed a tradition of philosophical studies based solely on an accurate knowledge of Aristotle plus the political teachings of Plato without this “theology.” In the works of less avowedly “philosophical” thinkers, however, a collection of falsely labeled remnants of ancient Neoplatonism – bits of the Enneads, pieces of Proclus’s Elements of Theology (notably the Arabic version of the famous Liber de causis), and various pseudo-epigraphic doxographies full of Neoplatonic ideas – gave rise to a true Islamic Neoplatonism. This development followed two distinct paths. The first and more direct route encompassed a number of tenth-century authors who were attracted to Neoplatonic theories about God’s or the One’s complete and ineffable transcendence, about intellect’s unity and universality, and about soul as a hypostatic substance having continual existence in a universal as well as a particular being, the latter being the individual human soul. These doctrines held appeal as much for their religious as for their philosophical utility. A second form of Neoplatonism arose in the intellectual elements of Islamic mysticism, i.e., Sufism. There, the influence of Plotinus’s concept of the ecstatic confrontation and ultimate union with the One found a clear, although unacknowledged, echo. In later periods, too, the “divine Plato” enjoyed a revival of importance via a number of influential philosophers, such as Suhrawardi of Aleppo (twelfth century) and Mulla Fadra (seventeenth century), who were interested in escaping the narrow restrictions of Peripatetic thought.

-ism: used by Grice derogatorily. In his ascent to the City of the Eternal Truth, he meets twelve –isms, which he orders alphabetically. These are: Empiricism. Extensionalism. Functionalism. MaterialismMechanism. Naturalism. Nominalism. Phenomenalism. Positivism. Physicalism. Reductionism. Scepticism. Grice’s implicatum is that each is a form of, er, minimalism, as opposed to maximalism. He also seems to implicate that, while embracing one of those –isms is a reductionist vice, embracing their opposites is a Christian virtue – He explicitly refers to the name of Bunyan’s protagonist, “Christian” – “in a much more publicized journey, I grant.” So let’s see how we can correlate each vicious heathen ism with the Griceian Christian virtuous ism. Empiricism. “Surely not all is experience. My bones are not.” Opposite: Rationalism. Extensionalism. Surely the empty set cannot end up being the fullest! Opposite Intensionalism. Functionalism. What is the function of love? We have to extend functionalism to cover one’s concern for the other – And also there’s otiosity. Opposite: Mentalism. Materialism – My bones are ‘hyle,’ but my eternal soul isn’t. Opposite Spiritualism.  Mechanism – Surely there is finality in nature, and God designed it. Opposite Vitalism. Naturalism – Surely Aristotle meant something by ‘ta meta ta physica,’ There is a transnatural realm. Opposite: Transnaturalism.  Nominalism. Occam was good, except with his ‘sermo mentalis.’ Opposite: Realism. Phenomenalism – Austin and Grice soon realised that Berlin was wrong. Opposite ‘thing’-language-ism. Positivism – And then there’s not. Opposite: Negativism.  Physicalism – Surely my soul is not a brain state. Opposite: Transnaturalism, since Physicalismm and Naturalism mean the same thing, ony in Greek, the other in Latin.  Reductionism – Julie is wrong when she thinks I’m a reductionist. Opposite: Reductivism.  Scepticism: Surely there’s common sense. Opposite: Common-Sensism. Refs: H. P. Grice, “Prejudices and predilections; which become, the life and opinions of H. P. Grice,” The Grice Papers, BANC.

Isocrates (436–338 B.C.), Greek rhetorician and teacher who was seen as the chief contemporary rival of Plato. A pupil of Socrates and also of Gorgias, he founded a school in about 392 that attracted many foreign students to Athens and earned him a sizable income. Many of his works touch on his theories of education; Against the Sophists and On the Antidosis are most important in this respect. The latter stands to Isocrates as the Apology of Plato stands to Socrates, a defense of his life’s work against an attack not on his life, but on his property. The aim of his teaching was good judgment in practical affairs, and he believed his contribution to Greece through education more valuable than legislation could possibly be. He repudiated instruction in theoretical philosophy, and insisted on distinguishing his teaching of rhetoric from the sophistry that gives clever speakers an unfair advantage. In politics he was a Panhellenic patriot, and urged the warring Greek city-states to unite under strong leadership and take arms against the Persian Empire. His most famous work, and the one in which he took the greatest pride, was the Panegyricus, a speech in praise of Athens. In general, he supported democracy in Athens, but toward the end of his life complained bitterly of abuses of the system.

iota – iota operator used by Grice. Peano uses iota as short for “isos,” Grecian for ‘Same”. Peano defines “ix” as “the class of whatever is the same as x”. Peano then looked for a symbol for the inverse for this. He first uses a negated iota, and then an inverted iota, so that inverted iota x reads “the sole [unique] member of x”

  “ι” read as “the” -- s the inverted iota or description operator and is used in expressions for definite descriptions, such as “(ιx)ϕx(ιx)ϕx,” which is read: the x such that ϕxϕx). [(ιx)ϕx(ιx)ϕx] -- a definite description in brackets. This is a scope indicator for definite descriptions. The topic of ‘description’ is crucial for Grice, and he regrets Russell focused on the definite rather than the indefinite descriptor. As a matter of fact, while Grice follows the custom of referring to the “Russellian expansion” of iota, he knows it’s ultimately the “Peanoian” expansion. Indeed, Peano uses the non-inverted iota “i” for the unit class. For the ONLY or UNIQUE member of this class, i. e. the definite article “the,” Peano uses the inverted iota (cf. *THE* Twelve Apostles). (On occasion Peano uses the denied iota for that).  Peano’s approach to ‘the’ evolve in at least three stages towards a greater precision in the treatment of the description, both definite and indefinite. Peano introducesin 1897  the fundamental definition of the unit class as the class such that ALL of its members are IDENTICAL. In Peanoian symbols, ix = ye (y = x). Peano approaches the UNIQUE OR ONLY member of such a class, by way of an indirect definition: “x = ia • = • a = ix.” Regarding the analysis of the definite article “the,” Peano makes the crucial point that every ‘proposition’ or ‘sentence’ containing “the” (“The apostles were twelve”) can be offered a reductive AND REDUCTIONIST analysis, first, to. the for,? ia E b, and, second, to the inclusion of the class in the class (a b), which already supposes the elimination of “i.” Peano notes he can avoid an identity whose first member contains “I” (1897:215). One difference between Peano’s and Russell's treatment of classes in the context of the theory of description is that, while, for Peano, a description combines a class abstract with the inverse of the unit class operator, Russell restricts the free use of a class abstract due the risk of paradox generation. For Peano, it is necessary that there EXIST the class (‘apostle’), and he uses for this the symbol ‘I,’ which indicates that the class is not vacuous, void, or empty, and that it have a unique member, the set of twelve apostles. If either of these two conditions – existence and uniqueness -- are not met, the symbol is meaningless, or pointless. Peano offers various instances for handling the symbol of the inverted iota, and the way in which -- starting from that ‘indirect’ or implicit definition, it can be eliminated altogether. One example is of particular interest, as it states a link between the reductionist analysis of the inverted iota and the problem of what Peano calls ‘doubtful’ existence (rather than vacuous, void, or empty). Peano starts by defining the superlative ‘THE greatEST number of a class of real numbers’ as ‘THE number n such that there is no number of this class being greater than n.’ Peano warns that one should not infer from this definition the ‘existence’ of the aforementioned greatEST number. Grice does not quite consider this in the ‘definite description’ section of “Vacuous name” but gives a similar example: “The climber on hands and knees of Mt. Everest does not exist. He was invented by the journalists.” And in other cases where there is a NON-IDENTIFICATORY use of ‘the’, which Grice symbolises as ‘the,’ rather than ‘THE’: “The butler certainly made a mess with our hats and coats – whoever he is --.” As it happens Strawson mistook the haberdasher to be the butler. So that Strawson is MIS-IDENTIFYING the denotatum as being ‘the butler’ when it is ‘the haberdasher.’ The butler doesn’t really exist. Smith dressed the haberdasher as a butler and made him act as one just to impress. Similarly, as per Russell’s ‘Prince George soon found out that ‘the author of Waverley’ did not exist,” (variant of his example). Similarly, Peano proves that we can speak legitimately of “THE GREATEST real number” even if we have doubts it ‘exists. He just tweaks the original definition to obtain a different expression where “I” is dropped out. For Peano, then, the reductionist analysis of the definite article “the” is feasible and indeed advisable for a case of ‘doubtful’ existence. Grice does not consider ‘doubtful’ but he may. “The climber on hands and knees of Mt Everest may, but then again may not, attend the party the Merseyside Geographical Society is giving in his honour. He will attend if he exists; he will not attend if he doesn’t.” Initially, Peano thinks “I” need not be equivalent to, in the sense of systematically replaced by, the two clauses (indeed three) in the expansion which are supposed to give the import of ‘the,’ viz. existence and uniqueness (subdivided in ‘at least’ and ‘at most’). His reductionism proves later to be absolute. He starts from the definition in terms of the unit class. He goes on to add a series of "possible" definitions -- allowing for alternative logical orders. One of this alternative definitions is stipulated to be a strict equivalence, about which he had previously been sceptical. Peano asserts that the only unque individual belongs to a unit.  Peano does not put it in so many words that this expression is meaningless. In the French translation, what he said is Gallic: “Nous ne donnons pas de signification a ce symbole si la classe a est nulle, ou si elle contient plusieurs individus.” “We don’t give signification to this symbol IF the class is void, or if the class contains more than one individual.” – where we can see that he used ‘iota’ to represent ‘individus,’ from Latin ‘individuum,’ translating Greek ‘a-tomos.’ So it is not meant to stand for Greek ‘idion,’ as in ‘idiosyncratic.’ But why did he choose the iota, which is a Grecian letter. Idion is in the air (if not ‘idiot.’). Thus, one may take the equivalence in practice, given that if the three conditions in the expansion are met, the symbol cannot be used at all. There are other ways of providing a reductionist analysis of the same symbols according to Peano, e. g., laE b. = : a = tx. :Jx • Xc b class (a) such that it belongs to another class (b) is equal to the EXISTENCE of exactly one (at least one and at most one) idiosyncratic individual or element such that this idiosyncratic individual is a member of that class (b), i. e. "the only or unique (the one member) member of a belongs to b" is to be held equivalent to ‘There is at least one x such that, first, the unit class a is equal to the class constituted by x, and, second, x belongs to b.’ Or, ‘The class of x such that a is the class constituted by x, and that x belongs to b, is not an empty class, and that it have a unique member.” This is exactly Russell's tri-partite expansion referred to Russell (‘on whom Grice heaped all the praise,’ to echo Quine). Grice was not interested in history, only in rebutting Strawson. Of course, Peano provides his conceptualisations in terms of ‘class’ rather than, as Russell, Sluga [or ‘Shuga,’ as Cole reprints him] and Grice do, in terms of the ‘propositional function,’ i. e.  Peano reduces ‘the’ in terms of a property or a predicate, which defins a class. Peano reads the membership symbol as "is,” which opens a new can of worms for Grice: “izzing” – and flies out of the fly bottle. Peano is well aware of the importance of his device to eliminate the definite article “the” to more ‘primitive’ terms. That is why Peano qualifies his definition as an "expriment la P[proposition] 1 a E b sous une autre forme, OU ne figure plus le signe i; puisque toute P contenant le signe i a est REDUCTIBLE ala forme ia E b, OU best une CIs, on pourra ELIMINER le signe i dans toute P.” The once received view that the symbol "i" is for Peano undefinable and primitive has now been corrected.  Before making more explicit the parallelism with Whitehead’s and Russell's and Grice’s theory of description (vide Quine, “Reply to H. P. Grice”) we may consider a few potential problems. First, while it is true that the symbol ‘i’ has been given a ‘reductionist analysis’, in the definiens we still see the symbol of the unit class, which would refer somehow to the idea that is symbolized by ''ix’. Is this a sign of circularity, and evidence that the descriptor has not been eliminated? For Peano, there are at least two ways of defining a symbol of the unit class without using ‘iota’ – straight, inverted, or negated. One way is directly replacing ix by its value: y 3(y = x). We have: la E b • =: 3x 3{a =y 3(y =x) • X E b},  which expresses the same idea in a way where a reference to iota has disappeared. We can read now "the only member of a belongs to b" as "there is at least one x such that (i) the unit class a is equal to all the y such that y =x, and (ii) x belongs to b" (or "the class of x such that they constitute the class of y, and that they constitute the class a, and that in addition they belong to the class b, is not an empty class"). The complete elimination underlies the mentioned definition. Peano is just not interested in making the point explicit. A second way is subtler. By pointing out that, in the "hypothesis" preceding the quoted definition, it is clearly stated that the class "a" is defined as the unit class in terms of the existence and identity of all of their members (i.e. uniqueness): a E Cis. 3a: x, yEa. X = y: bE CIs • : This is why "a" is equal to the expression ''tx'' (in the second member). One may still object that since "a" can be read as "the unit class", Peano does not quite provide a ‘reductionist’ analysis as it is shown through the occurrence of these words in some of the readings proposed above. However, the hypothesis preceding the definition only states that the meaning of the symbols which are used in the second member is to be. Thus, "a" is stated as "an existing unit class", which has to be understood in the following way: 'a' stands for a non-empty class that all of its members are identical. We can thus can "a", wherever it occurs, by its meaning, given that this interpretation works as only a purely ‘nominal’ definition, i.e. a convenient abbreviation. However, the actual substitution would lead us to rather complicated prolixic expressions that would infringe Grice’s desideratum of conversational clarity. Peano's usual way of working can be odd. Starting from this idea, we can interpret the definition as stating that "ia Eb" is an abbreviation of the definiens and dispensing with the conditions stating existence and uniqueness in the hypothesis, which have been incorporated to their new place. The hypothesis  contains only the statement of "a" and" b" as being classes, and the definition amounts to: a, bECls.::J :. ME b. =:3XE([{3aE[w, zEa. ::Jw•z' w= z]} ={ye (y= x)}] • XE b). Peano’s way is characterized as the constant search for SHORTER, briefer, and more conveniente expressions – which is Grice’s solution to Strawson’s misconception – there is a principle of conversational tailoring. It is quite understandable that Peano prefers to avoid long expansions. The important thing is not the intuitive and superficial similarity between the symbols "ia" and ''ix'', caused simply by the appearance of the Greek letter iota in both cases, or the intuitive meaning of  "the unit class.” What is key are the conditions under which these expressions have been introduced in Peano’s system, which are completely clear and quite explicit in the first definition. It may still be objected that Peano’s elimination of ‘the’ is a failure in that it derives from Peano's confusion between class membership and class inclusion -- a singleton class would be its sole member – but these are not clearly distinct notions. It follows that (iii) "a" is both a class and, according to the interpretation of the definition, an individual (iv), as is shown by joining the hypothesis preceding the definition and the definition itself. The objection derives from the received view on Peano, according to which his logic is, compared to Whitehead’s and Russell’s, not strict or formal enough, but also contains some important confusions here and there.  And certainly Russell would be more than happy to correct a minor point. Russell always thinks of Peano and his school as being strangely free of confusions or mistakes. It may be said that Peano indeed ‘confuses’ membership with inclusion (cf. Grice ‘not confused, but mistaken’) given that it was he himself who, predating Frege, introduces the distinction with the symbol "e.” If the objection amounts to Peano admitting that the symbol for membership holds between class A and class B, it is true that this is the case when Peano uses it to indicate the meaning of some symbols, but only through the reading of "is,” which could be" 'a and b being classes, "the only member of a belongs to b,” to be the same as "there is at least one x such that (i) 'there is at least one a such that for ,': and z belonging to a,. w = z' is equal to y such that y =. x' , and (ii) x belongs to b ,where both the iota and the unit class are eliminated in the definiens. There is a similar apparent vicious circularity in Frege's definition of number. "k e K" as "k is a class"; see also the hypothesis from above for another example).  This by no means involves confusion, and is shown by the fact that Peano soon adds four definite properties distinguishing precisely both class inclusion and class membership,, which has Russell himself preserving the useful and convenient reading.  "ia" does not stand for the singleton class. Peano states pretty clearly that" 1" (T)  makes sense only when applied to this or that individual, and ''t'' as applied to this or that class, no matter what symbols is used for these notions. Thus, ''ta'', like "tx" have to be read as "the class constituted by ...", and" la" as "the only member of a". Thus, although Peano never uses "ix" (because he is thinking in terms of this or that class), had he done so its meaning, of course, would have been exactly the same as "la", with no confusion at all. "a" stands for a class because it is so stated in the hypothesis, although it can represent an individual when preceded by the descriptor, and together with it, i.e. when both constitute a new symbol as a. Peano's habit is better understood by interpreting what he is saying it in terms of a propositional function, and then by seeing" la" as being somewhat similar to x, no matter what reasons of convenience led him to prefer symbols generally used for classes ("a" instead of"x"). There is little doubt that this makes the world of a difference for Russell and Sluga (or Shuga) but not Strawson or Grice, or Quine (“I’m sad all the praise was heaped by Grice on Russell, not Peano”). For Peano the inverted iota is the symbol for an operator on a class, it leads us to a different ‘concept’ when it flanks a term, and this is precisely the point Shuga (or Sluga) makes to Grice – ‘Presupposition and conversational implicature” – the reference to Shuga was omitted in the reprint in Way of Words). In contrast, for Russell, the iota operator is only a part of what Whitehead and Russell call an ‘incomplete’ symbol. In fact, Grice borrows the complete-incomplete distinction from Whitehead and Russell. For Peano, the descriptor can obviously be given a reductionist eliminationist analysis only in conjunction with the rest of the ‘complete’ symbol, "ia e b.’ Whitehead’s and Russell’s point, again, seems drawn from Peano. And there is no problem when we join the original hypothesis with the definition, “a eCis. 3a: x, yea. -::Jx,y. x =y: be CIs • :. . la e b. =: 3x 3(a =tx. x e b). If it falls within the scope of the quantifier in the hypothesis, “a” is a variable which occurs both free and bound in the formula – And it has to be a variable, since qua constant, no quantifier is needed. It is not clear what Peano’s position would have been. Admittedly, Peano – living always in a rush in Paris -- does not always display the highest standards of Oxonian clarity between the several uses of, say, "existence" involved in his various uses of this or that quantifier. In principle, there would be no problem when a variable appears both bound and free in the same expression. And this is so because the variable appears bound in one occurrence and free in another. And one cannot see how this could affect the main claim. The point Grice is making here (which he owes to ‘Shuga’) is to recognise the fundamental similarities in the reductionist analysis of “the” in Peano and Russell. It is true that Russell objects to an ‘implicit’ or indirect definition under a hypothesis. He would thus have rejected the Peanoian reductionist analysis of “the.” However, Whitehead and Russell rejects an ‘implicit’ definition under a hypothesis in the specific context of the “unrestricted’ variable of “Principia.” Indeed, Russell had been using, before Whitehead’s warning, this type of ‘implicit’ definition under a hypothesis for a long period the minute he mastered Peano's system. It is because Russell interprets a definition under a hypothesis as Peano does, i.e. merely as a device for fixing the denotatum of this or that symbol in an interpreted formula. When one reads after some symbolic definition, things like "'x' being ... " or" 'y' being ... ", this counts as a definition under a hypothesis, if only because the denotatum of the symbol has to be determined. Even if Peano's reductionist analysis of “the” fails because it within the framework of a merely conditional definition, the implicature of his original insight (“the” is not primitive) surely influences Whitehead and Russell. Peano is the first who introduces the the distinction between a free (or ‘real’) and a bound (or ‘apparent’) variable, and, predating, Frege -- existential and universal quantification, with an attempt at a substitutional theory based the concept of a ‘proposition,’ without relying on the concepts of ‘class’ or ‘propositional function.’ It may be argued that Peano could hardly may have thought that he eliminated “the.” Peano continues to use “the” and his whole system depends on it. Here, a Griceian practica reason can easily explain Peano’s retaining “the” in a system in cases where the symbol is merely the abbreviation of something that is in principle totally eliminable.In the same vein, Whitehead and Russell do continue to use “the” after the tripartite expansion. Peano, like Whitehead and Russell after him, undoubtedly thinks, and rightly, too, that the descriptor IS eliminable.If he does not flourish this elimination with by full atomistic philosophic paraphernalia which makes Russell's theory of description one of the most important logical successes of Cambridge philosopher – that was admired even at Oxford, if by Grice if not by Strawson, that is another thing. Peano somewhat understated the importance of his reductionist analysis, but then again, his goal is very different from Whitehead’s and Russell's logicism. And different goals for different strokes. In any case, the reductionist analysis of “the” is worked out by Peano with essentially the same symbolic resources that Whitehead and  Russell employ. In a pretty clear fashion, coming from him, Peano states two of the three conditions -- existence and uniqueness – subdivided into ‘at least and at most --, as being what it is explicitly conveyed by “the.” That is why in a negation of a vacuous description, being true, the existence claim, within the scope of the negation, is an annullable implicature, while in an affirmation, the existence claim is an entailment rendering the affirmation that predicates a feature of a vacuous definite description is FALSE. Peano has enough symbolic techniques for dispensing with ‘the’, including those required for constructing a definition in use. If he once rather cursorily noted that for Peano, “i” (‘the’) is primitive and indefinable, Quine later recognised Peano’s achievement, and he was “happy to get straight on Peano” on descriptions, having checked all the relevant references and I fully realising that he was wrong when he previously stated that the iota descriptor was for Peano primitive and indefinable. Peano deserves all the credit for the reductionist analysis that has been heaped on Whitehead and Russell, except perhaps for Whitehead’s and Russell’s elaboration on the philosophical lesson of a ‘contextual’ definition.For Peano, “the” cannot be defined in isolation; only in the context of the class (a) from which it is the UNIQUE member (la), and also in the context of the (b) from which that class is a member, at least to the extent that the class a is included in the class b. This carries no conflation of membership and inclusion. It is just a reasonable reading of " 1a Eb". "Ta" is just meaningless if the conditions of existence and uniqueness (at least and at most) are not fulfilled. Surely it may be argued that Peano’s reductionist analysis of “the” is not exactly the same as Whitehead’s and Russell's. Still, in his own version, it surely influenced Whitehead and Russell. In his "On Fundamentals,” Russell includes a definition in terms analogous to Peano's, and with almost the same symbols. The alleged improvement of Whitehead’s and Russell’s definition is in clarity. The concept of a ‘propositional function’ is indeed preferable to that of class membership. Other than that, the symbolic expression of the the three-prong expansive conditions -- existence and uniqueness (at least and at most) -- is preserved. Russell develops Peano’s claim to the effect that “ia” cannot be defined alone, but always in the context of a class, which Russell translates as ‘the context of a propositional function.’ His version in "On Denoting” is well known. In an earlier  letter to Jourdain, dated, Jan. 3, 1906 we read: “'JI( lX) (x) • =•(:3b) : x. =x. X = b: 'JIb.” (They never corresponded about the things Strawson corresponded with Grice – cricket). As G. Landini has pointed out, there is even an earlier occurrence of this definition in Russell’s "On Substitution" with only very slight symbolic differences. We can see the heritage from Peano in a clear way if we compare the definition with the version for classes in the letter to Jourdain: 'JI(t'u) • = : (:3b) : xEU. =x. X = b: 'JIb. Russell can hardly be accused of plagiarizing Peano; yet all the ideas and the formal devices which are important for the reductionist analysis of “the” were developed by in Peano, complete with conceptual and symbolic resources, and which Russell acknowledged that he studied in detail before formulating his own theory in “On denoting.” Regarding Meinong’s ontological jungle, for Russell, the principle of ‘subsistence disappears as a consequence of the reductionist analysis of “the,” which is an outcome of Russell’s semantic monism. Russell's later attitude to Meinong as his main enemy is a comfortable recourse (Griffin I977a).  As for Bocher, Russell himself admits some influence from his nominalism. Bacher describes mathematical objects as "mere symbols"  and advises Russell to follow this line of work in a letter, two months before Russell's key idea. The 'class as one' is merely a symbol or name which we choose at pleasure.” It is important to mention MacColl who he speaks of "symbolic universes", with things like a ‘round square.’MacColl also speaks of "symbolic ‘existence’". Indeed, Russell publishes “On denoting” as a direct response to MacColl. Refs.: P. Benacerraf and H. Putnam, “Philosophy of Mathematics, 2nd ed.Cambridge.; M. Bocher, 1904a. "The Fundamental Conceptions and Methods of Mathematics", Bulletin of the American Mathematical Society; M. A. E. Dummett, The Interpretation of Frege's Philosophy; Duckworth), G. Frege, G., Die Grundlagen der Arithmetik (Breslau: Koebner), tr. J.  L. Austin, The Foundations of Arithmetic, Blackwell, Partial English trans. (§§55-91, 106-1O7) by M. S. Mahoney in Benacerraf and Putnam; "Uber Sinn und Bedeutung". Trans. as "On Sense and Reference" in Frege 1952a, pp. 56-78. --, I892b. "Uber Begriff und Gegenstand". Trans. as "On Concept and Object" in Frege I952a, pp. 42-55. --, I893a. Grungesetze der Arithmetik, Vol. I Gena: Pohle). Partial English trans. by M. Furth, The Basic Laws ofArithmetic (Berkeley: U. California P., 1964). --, I906a. "Uber die Grundlagen der Geometrie", Jahresbericht der deutschen Mathematiker-Vereinigung, 15 (1906): 293-309, 377-403, 423-30. English trans. by Eike-Henner WKluge as "On the Foundations of Geometry", in On the Foundations of Geometry and Formal Theories of Arithmetic (New Haven and London, Yale U. P., 1971). --, I952a. Translations from the Philosophical Writings of Gottlob Frege, tr. by P. T. Geach and M. Black (Oxford: Blackwell). Grattan-Guinness, L, I977a. Dear Russell-Dear Jourdain (London: Duckworth). Griffin, N., I977a. "Russell's 'Horrible Travesty' of Meinong", Russell, nos. 25- 28: 39-51. E. D. Klemke, ed., I970a. Essays on Bertrand Russell (Urbana: U. Illinois P.). Largeault, ]., I97oa. Logique et philosophie chez Frege (Paris: Nauwelaerts). MacColl, H., I905a. "Symbolic Reasoning". Repr. in Russell I973a, pp. 308-16. Mosterfn, ]., I968a. "Teoria de las descripciones" (unpublished PH.D. thesis, U. of Barcelona). Peano, G., as. Opere Scelte, ed. U. Cassina, 3 vols. (Roma: Cremonese, 1957- 59)· --, I897a. "Studii di logica matematica". Repr. in 05,2: 201-17. --, I897b. "Logique mathematique". Repr. in 05,2: 218-81. --, I898a. "Analisi della teoria dei vettori". Repr. in 05,3: 187-2°7. --, I90oa. "Formules de logique mathematique". Repr. in 05,2: 304-61. W. V. O. Quine, 1966a. "Russell's Ontological Development", Journal of Philosophy, 63: 657-67. Repr. in R. Schoenman, ed., Bertrand Russell: Philosopher of the Century (London: Allen and Unwin,1967). Resnik, M., I965a. "Frege's Theory of Incomplete Entities", Philosophy of Science, 32: 329-41. E. A. Rodriguez-Consuegra, 1987a. "Russell's Logicist Definitions of Numbers 1899-1913: Chronology and Significance", History and Philosophy of Logic, 8:141- 69. --, I988a. "Elementos logicistas en la obra de Peano y su escuela", Mathesis, 4: 221-99· --, I989a. "Russell's Theory ofTypes, 1901-1910: Its Complex Origins in the Unpublished Manuscripts", History and Philosophy ofLogic, 10: 131-64. --, I990a. "The Origins of Russell's Theory of Descriptions according to the Unpublished Manuscripts", Russell, n.s. 9: 99-132. --, I99Ia. The Mathematical Philosophy of BertrandRussell: Origins and Development (Basel, Boston and Berlin: Birkhauser). --, I992a. "A New Angle on Russell's 'Inextricable Tangle' over Meaning and Denotation", Russell, n.s. 12 (1992): 197-207. Russell, B., I903a. "On the Meaning and Denotation ofPhrases", Papers 4: 283- 96. --, I905a. "The Existential Import of Propositions", Mind, 14: 398-401. Repr. in I973a, pp. 98-103. --, I905b. "On Fundamentals", Papers 4: 359....,.413. --, I905c. "On Denoting", Mind, 14: 479-93. Repr. in LK, pp. 41-56; Papers 4: 415-27. --, I905d "On Substitution". Unpublished ms. (McMaster U., RAl 220.010940b). --, I906a. "On the Substitutional Theory of Classes and Relations". In I973a, PP· 165-89· --, I908a. "Mathematical Logic as Based on the Theory ofTypes", American Journal of Mathematics, 30: 222-62. Repr. in LK, pp. 59-102. --, I973a. Essays in Analysis, ed. D. Lackey (London: Allen & Unwin). Skosnik, 1972a. "Russell's Unpublished Writings on Truth and Denoting", Russell, no. 7: 12-13. P. F. Strawson, 1950a. "On Referring". Repr. in Klemke I970a, pp. 147-72. Tichy, P., I988a. The Foundations of Frege's Logic (Berlin: de Gruyter). J. Walker, A Study o fFrege (Blackwell).