THESAVRVS GRICEIANVM IV

modified Occam’s razor: Grice was obsessed with ‘sense,’ and thought Oxonian philosohpers were multiplying it otiosely – notably L. J. Cohen (“The diversity of meaning”). The original razor is what Grice would have as ‘ontological,’ to which he opposes with in his ‘ontological marxism’. Entities should not be multiplied beyond the necessity of needing them as honest working entities. He keeps open house provided they come in help with the work. This restriction explains what Grice means by ‘necessity’ in the third lecture – a second sense does not do any work. The implicatum does.  Grice loved a razor, and being into analogy and focal meaning, if he HAD to have semantic multiplicity, for the case of ‘is,’ (being) or ‘good,’ it had to be a UNIFIED semantic multiplicity, as displayed by paronymy. The essay had circulated since the Harvard days, and it was also repr. in Pragmatics, ed. Cole for Academic Press. Personally, I prefer dialectica.  ‒ Grice. This is the third James lecture at Harvard. It is particularly useful for Grices introduction of his razor, M. O. R., or Modified Occams Razor, jocularly expressed by Grice as: Senses are not to be multiplied beyond necessity. An Englishing of the Ockhams Latinate, Entia non sunt multiplicanda præter necessitatem. But what do we mean sense. Surely Occam was right with his Entia non sunt multiplicanda præter necessitatem. We need to translate that alla linguistic turn. Grice jokes: Senses are not be multiplied beyond necessity. He also considers irony, stress (supra-segmental fourth-articulatory phonology), and truth, which the Grice Papers have under a special f. in the s. V . Three topics where the implicatum helps. He is a scoundrel may well be the implicatum of He is a fine friend. But cf. the pretense theory of irony. Grice, being a classicist, loved the etymological connection. With Stress, he was concerned with anti-Gettier uses of emphatic know: I KNOW. (Implicatum: I do have conclusive evidence). Truth (or  is true) sprang from the attention by Grice to that infamous Bristol symposium between Austin and Strawson. Cf. Moores paradox. Grice wants to defend correspondence theory of Austin against the performative approach of Strawson. If  is true implicates someone previously affirmed this, that does not mean a ditto implicatum is part of the entailment of a  is true utterance, further notes on logic and conversation, in Cole, repr. in a revised form, Modified Occams Razor, irony, stress, truth. The preferred citation should be the Harvard. This is originally the third James lecture, in a revised form.In that lecture, Grice introduced the M. O. R., or Modified Occams Razor. Senses are not be multiplied beyond necessity. The point is that entailment-cum-implicatum does the job that multiplied senses should not do! The Grice Papers contains in a different f. the concluding section for that lecture, on irony, stress, and truth. Grice went back to the Modified Occams razor, but was never able to formalise it! It is, as he concedes, almost a vacuous methodological thingy! It is interesting that the way he defines the alethic value of true alrady cites satisfactory. I shall use, to Names such a property, not true but factually satisfactory. Grices sympathies dont lie with Strawsons Ramsey-based redundance theory of truth, but rather with Tarskis theory of correspondence. He goes on to claim his trust in the feasibility of such a theory. It is, indeed, possible to construct a theory which treats truth as (primarily) a property, not true but factually satisfactory. One may see that point above as merely verbal and not involving any serious threat. Lets also assume that it will be a consequence, or theorem, of such a theory that there will be a class C of utterances (utterances of affirmative Subjects-predicate sentences [such as snow is white or the cat is on the mat of the dog is hairy-coated such that each member of C designates or refers to some item and indicates or predicates some class (these verbs to be explained within the theory), and is factually satisfactory if the item belongs to the class. Let us also assume that there can be a method of introducing a form of expression, it is true that /it is buletic that  and linking it with the notion of factually or alethic or doxastic satisfactory, a consequence of which will be that to say it is true that Smith is happy will be equivalent to saying that any utterance of class C which designates Smith and indicates the class of happy people is factually satisfactory (that is, any utterance which assigns Smith to the class of happy people is factually satisfactory. Mutatis mutandis for Let Smith be happy, and buletic satisfactoriness. The move is Tarskian. TBy stress, Grice means suprasegmental phonology, but he was too much of a philosopher to let that jargon affect him! Refs.: The locus classicus, if that does not sound too pretentious, is Essay 3 in WoW, but there are references elsewhere, such as in “Meaning Revisited,” and under ‘semantics.’ The only one who took up Grice’s challenge at Oxford was L. J. Cohen, “Grice on the particles of natural language,” which got a great response by Oxonian R. C. S. Walker (citing D. Bostock, a tutee of Grice), to which Cohen again responded “Can the conversationalist hypothesis be defended.” Cohen clearly centres his criticism on the razor. He had an early essay, citing Grice, on the DIVERSITY of meaning. Cohen opposes Grice’s conversationalist hypothesis to his own ‘semantic hypothesis’ (“Multiply senses all you want.”). T. D. Bontly explores the topic of Grice’s MOR. “Ancestors of this essay were presented at meetings of the Society for Philosophy and Psychology (Edmonton, Alberta), of the the Pacific Division of the American Philosophical Association (San Francisco, CA) and at the University of Connecticut. I am indebted to all three groups and particularly to the commentators D. Sanford (at the Society for Philosophy and Psychology) and M. Reimer (at the APA). Thanks also to the following for helpful comments or discussion (inclusive): F. Adams, A. Ariew, P. Bloom, M. Devitt, B. Enc, C. Gaulker, M. Lynch, R. Millikan, J. Pust, E. Sober, R. C. Stalnaker, D. W. Stampe, and S. Wheeler.” Bontly writes, more or less (I have paraphrased him a little, with good intentions, always!) “Some philosophers have appealed to a principle which H. P. Grice, in his third William James lecture, dubs Modified Occam’s Razor (henceforth, “M. O. R.”): “Senses – rather than ‘entities,’ as the inceptor from Ockham more boringly has it -- are not to be multiplied beyond necessity’.” What is ‘necessity’? Bontly: “Superficially, Grice’s “M. O. R.” seems a routine application of Ockham’s principle of parsimony: ‘entities are not to be multiplied beyond necessity. Now, parsimony arguments, though common in science, are notoriously problematic, and their use by Grice faces one objection or two. Grice’s “M. O. R.” makes considerably more sense in light of certain assumptions about the psychological processes involved in language development, learning, and acquisition, and it describes recent *empirical*, if not philosophical or conceptual, of the type Grice seems mainly interested in -- findings that bear these assumptions out. [My] resulting account solves several difficulties that otherwise confront Grice’s “M. O. R.”, and it draws attention to problematic assumptions involved in using parsimony to argue for pragmatic accounts of the type of phenomena ‘ordinary-language’ philosophers were interested in. In more general terms, when an expression E has two or more uses – U1 and U2, say -- enabling its users to express two or more different meanings – M1 and M2, say -- one is tempted to assume that E is semantically (i.e. lexically) ambiguous, or polysemous, i.e., that some convention, constituting the language L, assign E these two meanings M1 and M2 corresponding to its two uses U1 and U2. One hears, for instance, that ‘or’ is ambiguous (polysemous) between a weak (inclusive) (‘p v q’) and a strong (exclusive) sense, ‘p w q.’ Grice actually feels that speaking of the meaning or sense of ‘or’ sounds harsh (“Like if I were asked what the meaning of ‘to’ is!”). But in one note from a seminar from Strawson he writes: “Jones is between Smith and Williams.” “I wouldn’t say that ‘between’ is ambiguous, even if we interpret the sentence in a physical sense, or in an ordering of merit, say.” Bontly: “Used exclusively, an utterance of ‘p or q’ (p v q) entails that ‘p’ and ‘q’ are NOT both true. Used inclusively, it does not. Still, ambiguity is not the only possible explanation.” (This reminds me of Atlas, “Philosophy WITHOUT ambiguity!” – ambitious title!). The phenomenon can also be approached pragmatically, from within the framework of a general theory conversation alla Grice. One could, e. g., first, maintain that ‘p or q’ is unambiguously monosemous inclusive and, second, apply Grice’s idea of an ‘implicatum’ to explain the exclusive.” I actually traced this, and found that O. P. Wood in an odd review of a logic textbook (by Faris) in “Mind,” in the 1950s, makes the point about the inclusive-exclusive distinction, pre-Griceianly! Grice seems more interested, as you later consider, the implicatum: “Utterer U has non-truth-functional grounds for uttering ‘p or q. Not really the ‘inclusive-exclusive’ distinction. Jennings deals with this in “The genealogy of disjunction,” and elsewhere, and indeed notes that ‘or’ may be a dead metaphor from ‘another.’  Bontly goes on: “On any such account, ‘p or q’ would have two uses U1 and U2 and two standard interpretations, I1 and I2, but NEVER two ‘conventional’ meanings,” M1 and M2 Or take ‘and’ (p.q) which (when used as a sentential connective) ordinarily stands for truth-functional conjunction (as in 1a, below). Often enough, though, ‘p and q’ seems to imply temporal priority (1b), while in other cases it suggests causal priority (1c). (1) a. Bill bought a shirt and Christy [bought] a sweater. b. Adam took off his shoes and [he] got into bed. c. “Jack fell down and [he] broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling o:ter.” (to rhyme with ‘water’ in an earlier line.”Apparently Grice loved this nursery rhyme too, “Jack is an Englishman; he must, therefore, be brave,” Jill says.” (Grice, “Aspects of reason.”)Bontly: “Again, one suspects an ambiguity, M1 and M2, but Grice argues that a ‘conversational’ explanation is available and preferable. According to the ‘pragmatist’ or ‘conversationalist’ hypothesis’ (as I shall call it), a temporal or a causal reading of “and” (p.q) may be part of what the UTTERER means, but such a reading I2, are not part of what the sentence means, or the word _and_ means, and thus belong in a general theory of conversation, not the grammar of a specific language.” Oddly, I once noticed that Chomsky, of all people, and since you speak of ‘grammar,’ competence, etc. refers to “A.” Albert? P. Grice in his 1966! Aspects of the theory of syntax. “A. P. Grice wants to say that the temporal succession is not part of the meaning of ‘and.’” I suspect one of Grice’s tutees at Oxford was spreading the unauthorized word! Bontly: “Many an alleged ambiguity seems amenable to Grice’s conversationalist hypothesis. Besides the sentential connectives or truth-functors, a pragmatic explanation has been applied fruitfully to quantifiers (Grice lists ‘all’ and ‘some (at least one’), definite descriptions (Grice lists ‘the,’ ‘the murderer’), the indefinite description (‘a finger’, much discussed by Grice, “He’s meeting a woman this evening.”), the genitive construction (‘Peter’s bat’), and the indirect speech act (‘Can you pass the salt?’) — to mention just a few. The literature on the Griceian treatment of these phenomena is extensive. Some classic treatments are found in the oeuvre of philosophers like Grice, Bach, Harnish, and Davis, and linguists like Horn, Gazdar, and Levinson. But the availability of a pragmatic explanation poses an interesting methodological problem. Prima facie, the alleged ‘ambiguity’ M1 and M2, can now be explained either semantically (by positing two or more senses S1 and S2, or M1 and M2, of expression E) or pragmatically (by positing just one sense (S) plus one super-imposed implicature, I).Sometimes, of course, one approach or the other is transparently inadequate. When the ‘use’ of E cannot be derived from a general conversational principle, the pragmatic explanation seems a non-starter.” Not for a radically radical pragmatist like Atlas! Ambitious! Similarly, an ambiguity- or polysemy- based explanation seems out of the question where the interpretation of E at issue is highly context-dependent.” (My favourite is Grice on “a,” that you analyse in term of ‘developmental’ or ontogenetical pragmatics – versus Millikan’s phylogenetical! But, in many cases, a semantic, or polysemy, and a conversational explanations both appear plausible, and the usual data — Grice’s intuitions about how the expression can and cannot be used, should or shouldn’t beused — appear to leave the choice of one of the two hypotheses under-determined.These were the cases that most interest Grice, the philosopher, since they impinge on various projects in philosophical analysis. (Cf. Grice, 1989, pp. 3–21 and passim).” Notably the ‘ordinary-language’ philosophy ‘project,’ I would think. I love the fact that in the inventory of philosophers who are loose about this (as in the reference you mention above, pp. 3-21, he includes himself in “Causal theory of perception”! “To adjudicate these border-line cases, Grice (1978) proposes a methodological principle which he dubs “Modified Occam’s Razor,” M. O. R.” ‘Senses are not to be multiplied beyond necessity.’ (1978, pp. 118–119) “(I follow Grice in using the Latinate ‘Occam’ rather than the Anglo-Saxon ‘Ockham’ which is currently preferred). More fully, the idea is that one should not posit an alleged special, stronger SENSE S2, for an expression E when a general conversational principle suffices to explain why E, which bears only Sense 1, S1, receives a certain interpretation or carries implicatum I. Thus, if the ‘use’ (or an ‘use’) of E can be explained pragmatically, other things being equal, the use should be explained pragmatically.” Griceians appeal to M. O. R. quite often,” pragmatically bearded or not! (I love Quine’s idea that Occam’s razor was created to shave Plato’s beard. Cfr. Schiffer’s anti-shave! It is affirmed, in spirit if not letter, by philosopher/linguist Atlas and Levinson, philosopher/linguist Bach, Bach and philosopher Harnish, Horn, Levinson, Morgan, linguist/philosopher Neale, philosopher Searle, philosopher Stalnaker, philosopher Walker (of Oxford), and philosopher Ziff” (I LOVE Ziff’s use, seeing that he could be otherwise so anti-Griceian, vide Martinich, “On Ziff on Grice on meaning,” and indeed Stampe (that you mention) on Ziff on Grice on meaning. One particularly forceful statement is found in “of all people” Kripke, who derides the ambiguity hypothesis as ‘the lazy man’s approach in philosophy’ and issues a strong warning.” When I read that, I was reminded that Stampe, in some unpublished manuscripts, deals with the loose use of Griceian ideas by Kripke. Stampe discusses at length, “Let’s get out of here, the cops are coming.” Stampe thinks Kripke is only superficially a Griceian! Kripke: “‘Do not posit an ambiguity unless you are really forced to, unless there are really compelling theoretical (or intuitive) grounds to suppose that an ambiguity really is present’ (1977, p. 20). A similar idea surfaces in Ruhl’s principle of “mono-semic” bias’. One’s initial effort is directed toward determining a UNITARY meaning S1 for a lexical item E, trying to attribute apparent variations (S2) in meaning to other factors. If such an effort fails, one tries to discover a means of relating the distinct meanings S1 and S2. If this effort fails, there are several words: E1 and E2 (1989, p. 4).” Grice’s ‘vice’ and Grice’s ‘vyse,’ different words in English, same in Old Roman (“violent.”). Ruhl’s position differs from Grice’s approach. Whereas Grice takes word-meaning to be its WEAKEST exhibited meaning, Ruhl argues that word-meaning can be so highly abstract or schematic as to provide only a CORE of meaning, making EVEN the weakest familiar reading a pragmatic specialisation.” Loved that! Ruhl as more Griceian than Grice! Indeed, Grice is freely using the very abstract notion of a Fregeian ‘sense,’ with the delicacy you would treat a brick! “The difference between Grice’s and Ruhl’s positions raises issues beyond the scope of the present essay (though see Atlas, 1989, for further discussion).”  I will! Atlas knows everything you wanted to know, and more, especially when it comes to linguists! He has a later book with ‘implicature’ in its subtitle. “Considering the central role that “M. O. R.” plays in Grice’s programme, one is thus surprised to find barely any attention paid to whether it is a good principle — to whether it is true that a pragmatic explanation, when available, is in general more likely to be true than its ‘ambiguity’ or polysemy, or bi-semy, or aequi-vocal rival.” Trying to play with this, I see that Grice loves ‘aequi-vocal.’ He thinks that ‘must’ is ‘aequi-vocal’ between an alethic and a practical ‘use.’ It took me some time to process that! He means that since it’s the ‘same,’ ‘aequi’, ‘voice’, vox’. So ‘aequi-vocal’ IS ‘uni-vocal.’ The Aristotelian in Grice, I guess! “Grice himself offers vanishingly little argument.” How extended is a Harvard philosophical audience’s attention-span? “Examining just two (out of the blue, unphilosophical) cases where we seem happy to attribute a secondary or derivative sense S2 to one word or expression E, but not another, Grice notes that, in both cases, the supposition that the expression E has an additional sense S2 is not superfluous, or unparsimonious, accounting for certain facets of the use of E that cannot, apparently, be explained pragmatically.” I wonder if a radically radical pragmatist would agree! I never met a polysemous expression! Grice concludes that, therefore, ‘there is as yet no reason NOT to accept M. O. R. ’ (1978, p. 120) — faint praise for a principle so important to his philosophical programme! Besides this weak argument for “M. O. R.,” Grice (1978) also mentions a few independent, rather loose, tests for alleged ambiguity.” (“And how to fail them,” as Zwicky would have it!) But Grice’s rationale for “M. O. R.,” presumably, is a thought Grice does not bother to articulate, thinking perhaps that the principle’s name, its kinship with Occam’s famous razor, ‘Do not multiply entities beyond necessity,’ made its epistemic credentials sufficiently obvious already.” Plus, Harvard is very Occamist!“To lay it out, though, the thought is surely that parsimony -- and other such qualities as simplicity, generality, and unification -- are always prized in scientific (and philosophical?) explanation, the more parsimonious (etc.) of two otherwise equally adequate theories being ipso facto more likely to be true. If, as would seem to be the case, a pragmatic explanation were more parsimonious than its semantic, or ‘conventionalist,’ or ambiguity, or polysemic, or polysemy or bi-semic rival, the conversational explanation would be supported by an established, received, general principle of scientific inference.” I love your exploration of Newton on this below! Hypotheses non fingo! “Certainly, some such argument is on Grice’s mind when he names his principle as he does, and much the same thought surely lies behind Kripke’s references to ‘general methodological considerations’ and ‘considerations of economy’ Other ‘Griceian’ appeals to these theoretical virtues are even more transparent. Linguist J. L. Morgan tells us, for instance, that ‘Occam’s Razor dictates that we take a Gricean account of an indirect speech act as the correct analysis, lacking strong evidence to the contrary’ Philosopher Stalnaker argues that a major advantage accrues to a pragmatic treatment of Strawson’s presupposition in that ‘there will then be no need to complicate the semantics or the lexicon’” or introduce metaphysically dubious truth-value gaps! Linguist S. C. Levinson suggests that a major selling point for a conversational theory in general is that such a theory promises to ‘effect a radical simplification of the semantics’ and ‘approximately halve the size of the lexicon’.” So we don’t need to learn two words, ‘vyse’ and ‘vice.’ There can be little doubt, therefore, that a Griceian takes parsimony to argue for the pragmatic approach.” I use the rather pedantic and awful spelling “Griceian,” so that I can keep the pronunciation /grais/ and also because Fodor used it! And non-philosophers, too! “But a parsimony argument is notoriously problematic, and the argument for “M. O. R.” is no exception. The preference for a parsimonious theory is surprisingly difficult to justify, as is the assumption that a pragmatic explanation IS more parsimonious. This does not mean Grice’s “M. O. R.” is entirely without merit. On the contrary, Grice is right to hold that senses should not be multiplied, if a conversational principle will do.” But the justification for M. O. R. need have nothing to do with the idea that parsimony is, always and everywhere, a virtue in scientific theories.”  Also because we are dealing with philosophy, not science, here? What makes Grice’s “M. O. R.” reasonable, rather, is a set of assumptions about the psychological processes involved in language learning, development, and acquisition, and I will report some empirical (rather than conceptual, as Grice does) evidence that these assumptions are, at least, roughly correct. One disclaimer. While I shall defend Grice’s “M. O. R.,” and therefore the research programme initiated by Grice, it is not my goal here to vindicate any specific pragmatic account, nor to argue that any given linguistic phenomenon requires a pragmatic explanation.” This reminds me of Kilgariff, a Longman linguist. He has a lovely piece, “I don’t believe in word SENSE!” I think he found that Longman had, under ‘horse’: 1. Quadruped animal. 2. Painting of a horse, notably by Stubbs! He did not like that! Why would ‘sense,’ a Fregeian notion, have a place in something like ‘lexicography,’ that deals with corpuses and statistics? “The task is, rather, to understand the logic of a particular type of inference, a type of Griceian inference that can be and has been employed by a philosopher such as Grice who disagree on many other points of theory. Since it would be impossible within the confines of this essay to discuss these disagreements, or to do justice to the many ways in which Grice’s paradigm or programme has been revised and extended (palaeo-Griceians, neo-Griceians, post-Griceians), my discussion is confined to a few hackneyed examples hackneyed by Grice himself, and to Grice’s orthodox theory, if a departure therefrom will be noted where relevant. The conversational explanation of an alleged ambiguity or polysemy or bi-semy aims to show how an utterer U can take an expression E with one conventional meaning and use it as if it had other meanings as well. Typically, this requires showing how the utterer U’s intended message can be ‘inferred,’ with the aid of a general principle of communicative behaviour, from the conventional meaning or sense of the word E that U utters. In Grice’s pioneering account, for instance, the idea is that speech is subject to a Principle of Conversational Co-Operation (In earlier Oxford seminars, where he introduced ‘implicature’ he speaks of two principles in conflict: the principle of conversational self-interest, and the principle of conversational benevolence! I much love THAT than the rather artificial Kant scheme at Harvard). ‘Make your conversational contribution, or move, such as is required, at the stage at which it occurs, by the accepted purpose or direction of the conversational exchange in which you are engaged.’(1975, p. 44). “Sub-ordinate to the Principle of Conversational Co-Operation are four conversational maxims (he was jocularly ‘echoing’ Kant!) falling under the four Kantian conversational categories of Quality, Quantity, Relation, and Modus. Roughly: Make your contribution true. Kant’s quality has to do with affirmation and negation, rather. Make your contribution informative. Kant’s quantity has to do with ‘all’ and ‘one,’ rather. Make your contribution relevant. Kant’s relation God knows what it has to do with. Make your contribution perspicuous [sic]. Kant’s modus has to do with ‘necessary’ and ‘contingent.’ Grice actually has ‘sic’ in the original “Logic and Conversation.” It’s like the self-refuting Kantian. Also in ‘be brief (avoid unnecessary prolixity’” ‘proguard obfuscation,’ sort of thing? “… further specifying what cooperation entails (pp. 45–46).” It’s sad Grice did not remember about the principle of conversational benevolence clashing with the principle of conversational self-interest, or dismissed the idea, when he wrote that ‘retro-spective’ epilogue about the maxims, etc. Bontly: “Unlike the constitutive (to use Anscombe and Searle, not regulative) principles of a grammar, the Principle of Conversational Co-Operation and the conversational, universalisable, maxims are to be thought of not as an arbitrary convention – vide Lewis -- but rather as a rational STRATEGY or guideline (if ‘strategy’ is too strong) for achieving one’s communicative ends.” I DO think ‘strategy’ is too strong. A strategist is a general: it’s a zero-sum game, war. I think Grice’s idea is that U is a rational agent dealing with his addressee A, another rational agent. So, it’s not strategic rationality, but communicative rationality. But then I’m being an etymologist! Surely chess players speak of ‘strategies,’ but then they also speak of ‘check mate,” kill the king! Bontly quotes from Grice: “‘[A]nyone who cares about the goals that are central to conversation,’ says Grice, ought to find the principle of conversational cooperation eminently reasonable (p. 49).” If not rational! I love Grice’s /: rational/reasonable. He explores on this later, “The price of that pair of shoes is not reasonable, but hardly irrational!” Bontly: “Like a grammar, however, the principle of conversational co-operation is (supposedly) tacitly known (or assumed) by conversationalists, who can thus call on it to interpret each other’s conversational moves.” Exactly. Parents teach their children well, not to lie, etc. “These interpretive practices being mutual ‘knowledge,’ or common ground, moreover, an utterer U can plan on his co-conversationalist B using the principle of conversational cooperation, to interpret his own utterances, enabling him to convey a good deal of information (and influencing) implicitly by relying on others to infer his intended meaning.”INFORMING seems to do, because, although Grice makes a distinction between ‘informing’ and ‘influencing,’ he takes an ‘exhibitive’ approach. So “Close the door!” means “I WANT YOU To believe that I want you to close the door.” I.e. I’m informing – influencing VIA informing. “Detailed discussions of Grice’s principle of conversational cooperation are found in many of the essays collected in Grice (1989), as well as in the work by linguists like Levinson (1983) and linguist/philosopher Neale (1992). Extensions and refinements of Grice’s approach are developed by linguist Horn (1972), linguist/philosopher Bach and philosopher Harnish (1979), linguist Gazdar (1979), linguist/philosopher Atlas and philosopher Levinson (1981), anthropologist Sperber and linguist Wilson (1986), linguist/philosopher Bach (1994), linguisdt Levinson (2000), and linguist Carston (2002).). The Principle of conversational cooperation and its conversational maxims allow Grice to draw a distinction between two dimensions of an utterer’s meaning within the total significance.” I never liked that Grice uses “signification,” here when in “Meaning” he had said: “Words, for all that Locke said, are NOT signs.” “We apply ‘sign’ to traffic signals, not to ‘dog’.” Bontly: “That which is ‘closely related to the conventional meaning of the word’ uttered is what the utterer has SAID (1975, p. 44),” or the explicatum, or explicitum. That which must instead be inferred with the aid of the principle of conversational cooperation is what the utterer U has conversationally implicated, the IMPLICATUM (pp. 49–50), or implicitum. This dichotomy is in several ways oversimplified. First, Grice (1975, 1978) also makes room for ‘conventional’ implicatures (“She was poor BUT she was honest”) and non-conversational non-conventional implicatures (“Thank you,” abiding with the maxim, ‘be polite’), although these dimensions are both somewhat controversial (cf. Bach’s attack on conventional implicature) and can be set aside here. Also controversial is the precise delineation of Grice’s notion of what is said.” He grants he is using ‘say’ ‘artifiicially,’ which means, “natural TO ME!.” Some (anthropologist Sperber and linguist Wilson, 1986; linguist Carston, 1988, 2002; philosopher Recanati, 1993) hold that ‘what is said,’ the DICTUM, the explicatum, or explicitum, is significantly underdetermined by the conventional meaning of the word uttered, with the result that considerable pragmatic intrusive processing must occur even to recover what the utterer said.” And Grice allows that an implicatum can occur within the scope of an operator.“Linguist/philosopher Bach disagrees, though he does add an ‘intermediate’ dimension (that of conversational ‘impliciture’) which is, in part, pragmatically determined, enriched, or intruded. For my purpose, the important distinction is between that element of meaning which is conventional or ‘encoded’ and that element which is ‘inferred,’ ab-duced, or pragmatically determined, whether or not it is properly considered part of what is said,” in Grice’s admittedly artificial use of this overused verb! (“A horse says neigh!”) A conversational implicatum can itself be either particularized (henceforth, PCIs) or generalized (GCIs) (56).” Most familiar examples of implicature are particularised, where the inference to the utterer U’s intended meaning relies on a specific assumption regarding the context of utterance.” Grice’s first example, possibly, “Jones has beautiful handwriting” (Grice 1961).“Alter that context much at all and the implicatum will simply disappear, perhaps to be replaced by another. With a generalised implicatum, on the other hand, the inference or abduction to U’s intended interpretation is relatively context-independent, going through unless special clues to the contrary are provided to defeat it.”Love the ‘defeat.’ Levinson cites one of Grice’s unpublications as “Probability, defeasibility, and mood operators,” where Grice is actually writing, “desirability.”! “For instance, an utterance of the sentence” ‘SOME residents survived the earth-quake,’ would quite generally, absent any special clues to the contrary, seem to implicate that not all survived. All survived, alas, seems to be, to some, no news. Cruel world. No special ‘stage-setting’ has to be provided to make the implicatum appreciable. No particular context needs to be assumed in order to calculate the likely intended meaning. All one needs to know is that an utterer U who thought that everyone, all residents survived the earthquake (or that none did?) would probably make this stronger assertion (in keeping with Grice’s first sub-maxim of Quantity: ‘Make your contribution as informative as required’).” Perhaps it’s best to deal with buildings. “Some – some 75%, I would say -- of the buildings did not collapse after the earth-quake on the tiny island, and fortunately, no fatalities need be reported. It wasn’t such a big earth-quake as pessimist had predicted.” “A Gricean should maintain that the ‘ambiguity’ of “some” -> “not all” canvassed at the outset can all be explained in terms of a generalized conversational implicatum. For instance, linguist Horn shows, in his PhD on English, how an exclusive use of ‘or’ can be treated as a consequence of the maxim of Quantity. Roughly, since ‘p AND q’ is always ‘more informative,’ stronger, than ‘p or q’, an utterer U’s choosing to assert only the disjunction would ordinarily indicate that he takes one or the other disjunct to be false. He could assert the conjunction anyway, but then he would be violating Grice’s first submaxim of Quality: ‘Do not say what you believe to be false’ For similar reasons, the assertion of a disjunction would ordinarily seem to implicate that the utterer U does not know which disjunct is true (otherwise he would assert that disjunct rather than the entire disjunction) and hence, and this is the way Grice puts it, which is technically, the best way, that the utterer wants to be ‘interpreted’ as having some ‘non-truth-functional grounds’ for believing the disjunction (philosopher Grice, 1978; linguist Gazdar, 1979).  For recall that this all goes under the scope of a psychological attitude. In “Method in psychological philosophy: from the banal to the bizarre,” repr. in “The conception of value,” Grice considers proper disjunctions: “The eagle is not sure whether to attack the rabbit or the dove.” I think Loar plays with this too in his book for Cambridge on meaning and mind and Grice. “Grice (1981) takes a similar line with regard to asymmetric uses of ‘and’.” Indeed, I loved his “Jones got into bed and took off his clothes, but I do not want to suggest in that order.” “Is that a linguistic offence?” Don’t think so!” “The fourth submaxim of Manner,” ‘be orderly’ -- I tend to think this is ad-hoc and that Grice had this maxim JUST to explain away the oddity of “She got a children and married,” by Strawson in Strawson 1952. “says that utterers should be ‘orderly,’ and when describing a sequence of events, an orderly presentation would normally describe the events in the order in which they occurred. So an utterance of  (1b) (‘Jones took off his trousers – he had taken off his shoes already -- and got into bed.’ “would ordinarily (unless the utterer U ‘indicates’ otherwise) implicate that Jones did so in that order, hence the temporal reading of ‘and’.” “(Grice’s (1981) account of asymmetric ‘and’ seems NOT to account for causal interpretations like (1c).”Ryle says in “Informal logic,” 1953, in Dilemmas, “She felt ill and took arsenic,” has the conscript ‘and’ of Whitehead and Russell, not the ‘civil’ ‘and’ of the informalist. “Oxonian philosopher R. C. S. Walker – what took him to respond to Cohen? Walker quotes from Bostock, who was Grice’s tutee at St. John’s -- (1975, p. 136) suggests that the causal reading can be derived from the maxim of Relation.”Nowell-Smith had spoken of ‘be relevant’ in Ethics. But Grice HAD to be a Kantian!“Since conversationalists are expected to make their utterances relevant, one expects that conjoined sentences will ‘have some bearing to one another’, often a causal bearing. More nearly adequate accounts of the temporal and causal uses of ‘and’ (so-called ‘conjunction buttressing’) are found in linguist/philosopher Atlas and linguist Levinson (1981) and in linguist Levinson (1983, 2000). Linguist Carston (1988, 2002) develops a rival pragmatic account within the framework of anthropologist Sperber’s and linguist Wilson’s Relevance Theory, on which temporal and causal readings are explicatures rather than implicatures. For the purposes of this essay, it is immaterial which of these accounts best accords with the data. In these and many other cases, it seems that a general principle regarding communicative RATIONALITY can provide an alternative to positing a semantic ambiguity.”Williamson is lecturing at Yale that ‘rationality’ has little to do with it!“But a Gricean goes a step further and claims that the implicatum account (when available) is BETTER than an ambiguity or polysemy account. One possible argument for the stronger thesis is that the various specialised uses of ‘or’ (etc.) bear all the usual hallmarks of a conversational implicatum. An implicatum is: calculable (i.e. derivable from what is said or dictum or explicatum or explicitum via the Principle of conversational cooperation and the conversational maxims); cancellable (retractable without contradiction), and; non-detachable (incapable of being paraphrased away) Grice, 1975, pp. 50 and 57–58). They ought also to be, sort of, universal.” (Cf. Elinor Keenan Ochs, “The universality of conversational implicature.” I hope Williamson considers this. In Madagascar, they have other ‘norms’ of conversation: since speakers are guarded, implicata to the effect, “I don’t know” are never invited! Unlike the true lexical ambiguity that arises from a language-specific convention, an implicatum derives rather from general features of communicative RATIONALITY and should thus be similar across different languages (philosopher Kripke, 1977; linguist Levinson, 1983).”I’m not sure. Cfr. Ochs in Madagascar. But she is a linguist/anthropologist, rather than a philosopher? From a philosophical point of view, perhaps the best who treated this issues is English philosopher Martin Hollis in his essays on ‘rationality’ and ‘relativism’ (keywords!)“Since the ‘ambiguity’ in question here has all these features, at least to some degree, the implicatum approach may well seem irresistible. It is well known, however, that none of the features listed on various occasions by Grice are sufficient (individually or jointly) to establish the presence of a conversational implicatum (Grice, 1978; linguist Sadock, 1978). Take calculability.” Or how to ‘work it out,’ to keep it Anglo-Saxon, as pretentious Grice would not! The main difficulty is that a conversationalimplicatum can become fossilized, or ‘conventionalised’ over time but remain calculable nonetheless, as happens with some ‘dead’ metaphors — one-time non-literal uses which congealed into a new conventional meaning.” A linguist at Berkeley worked on this, Traugott, on items in the history of the English language, or H-E-L, for short, H.O.T.E.L, history of the English language. I don’t think Grice considers this. He sticks with old Roman ‘animal’ -> ‘non-human’, strictly, having a ‘soul,’ or animus, anima. (I think Traugott’s focus was on verb forms, like “I have eaten,” meaning, literally, “I possess eating,” or something. But she does quote Grice and speaks of fossilization. “For instance, the expression.” ‘S went to the bathroom’ (Jones?) could, for obvious reasons, be used with its original, compositional, meaning to implicate that S ‘relieved himself’.” “The intended meaning would still be calculable today.”Or “went to powder her nose?” (Or consider the pre-Griceian (?) child’s overinformative, standing from table at dinner, “I’m going to the bathroom to do number 2 (unless he is flouting the maxim). “But the use has been absorbed, or encoded into some people’s grammar, as witnessed by the fact that  ‘S went to the bathroom on the living room carpet.’ is not contradictory (linguist J. L. Morgan, 1978; linguist Sadock, 1978).”I wonder what some contextualists at Yale (De Rose) would say about that!? Cf. Jason Stanley, enfant terrible. “Grice’s cancellability is similarly problematic. While one may cancel the exclusive interpretation of ‘p or q’ (e.g. by adding ‘or possibly both’), the added remark could just as well be disambiguating an ambiguous utterance as canceling the implicatum (philosopher Walker, 1975; linguist Sadock, 1978).”Excellent POINT! Walker would be fascinated to see that Grice once coined ‘disimplicature’ for some loose uses. “Macbeth saw Banquo.” “That tie is yellow under that light, but orange under this one.” Actually, Grice creates ‘disimplicature’ to refute Davidson on intending: “Jones intends to climb Mt Everest next weekend.” Intending DOES entail BELIEF, but people abuse ‘intend’ and use it ‘loosely,’ with one sense dropped. Similarly, Grice says, with “You’re the cream in my coffee,” where the ‘disimplicature’ is TOTAL!“Non-detachability fares no better. When two sentences are synonymous (if there is, pace Quine, such a thing), utterances of them ought to generate the same implicatum. But they will also have the same semantic implications, so the non-detachability of an alleged implicatum shows very little if anything at all (linguist Sadock, 1978).”I never liked non-detachability, because it ENTAILS that there MUST be a synonym expression: cfr. God? Divinity? “Universality is perhaps the best test of the four.”I agree. When linguists like Elinor Keenan disregard this, I tend to think: “the cunning of conversational reason,” alla Hollis. Grice was a member of Austin’s playgroup, and the conversational MAXIMS were ‘universalisable’ within THAT group. That seems okay for both Kant AND Hegel!“Since an implicatum can fossilise into a conventional meanings, however, it is always possible for a cross-linguistic alleged ‘ambiguity’ to be pragmatic in some language though lexical in another.”Is that ‘f*rnication’? Or is it Grice on ‘pushing up the daisies’ as an “established idiom” for ‘… is dead’ in WJ5? Austin and Grice would I think take for granted THREE languages: Greek and Roman, that they studied at their public schools – and this is important, because Grice says his method of analysis is somehow grounded on his classical education – and, well, English. Donald Davidson, in the New World, would object to the ‘substantiation’ that speaking of “Greek” as a language, say, may entail.“So while Grice’s tests are suggestive, they supply no clear verdict on the presence of an implicatum. Besides these inconclusive tests for implicature, Grice could also appeal to various diagnostic tests for alleged ambiguity.” “And how to fail them,” to echo Zwicky. Grice himself suggests three, although none of them prove terribly helpful.”Loved your terrible. Cfr. ‘terrific’. And the king entering St. Paul’s cathedral: “Aweful!” meaning ‘awe-some!’“First, Grice points out that each alleged sense Sn of an allegedly ambiguous word E ought to be expressible ‘in a reasonably wide range of linguistic environments’ (1978, p. 117). The fact that the strong implicatum of ‘or’ is UNavailable within the scope of a negation, for instance, would seem to count AGAINST alleged ambiguity or polysemy. On the other hand, the strong implicatum of ‘or’ IS available within the scope of a propositional-attitude verb. A strong implicatum of ‘and’ is arguably available in both environments, within the scope of a negation, and within the scope of a psychological-attitude verb. So the first test seems a wash.”Metaphorically, or implicaturally. J“Second, Grice says, if the expression E is ambiguous with one sense S2 being derived (somehow) from the initial or original or etymological sense S1, that derivative sense S2 ‘ought to conform to whatever principle there may be which governs the generation of derivative senses’ (pp. 117–118).”GRICE AT HIS BEST! I think he is trying to irritate Quine, who is seating on second row at Harvard! (After all Quine thought he was a field linguist!)Bontly, charmingly: “Not knowing the content of thi principle Grice invokes— and Grice gives us no hint as to what it might be — we cannot bring it, alas, to bear here!”I THINK he was thinking Ullman. At Oxford, linguists were working on ‘semantics,’ cfr. Gardiner. And he just thought that it would be Unphilosophical on his part to bore his philosophical Harvard audience with ‘facts.’ At one point he does mention that the facts of the history of the English language (how ‘disc’ can be used, etc.) are not part of the philosopher’s toolkit?“Third and finally, Grice says, we must ‘give due (but not undue) weight to MY INTUITIONS about the existence (or indeed non-existence) of a putative sense S2 of a word E.’ (p. 120).”Emphasis on ‘my’ mine! -- As I say, I never had any intuition about an expression having an extra-putative sense. Not even ‘bank,’ – since in Old Germanic, it’s all etymologically related!Bontly: “But, even granting the point that ‘or’ is NON-INTUITIVELY ambiguous in quite the same way that ‘bank’ IS, allegedly, INTUITIVELY ambiguous, the source of our present difficulty is precisely the fact that ‘p or q’ often *seems* intuitively to imply that one or the other disjunct is false.”Grice apparently uses ‘intuition’ and ‘introspection’ interchangeably, if that helps? Continental phenomenological philosophers would make MUCH of this! For Grice’s intuitions are HIS own. In a lecture at Wellesley, of all places (in Grice 1989) he writes: “My problems with my use of E arise from MY intuitions about the use of E. I don’t care how YOU use E. Philosophy is personal.” Much criticised, but authentic, in a way!“Since he discounts the latter intuition, Grice cannot place much weight on the former!”As I say, Grice’s intuitions are hard to fathom! So are his introspections! Actually, I think that Grice’s sticking with introspections and intuitions save him, as Suppes shows in PGRICE ed Grandy and Warner, from being a behaviourist. He is, rather, an intentionalist!“While a complete review of ambiguity tests is beyond the scope of this essay, we have perhaps seen enough to motivate the methodological problem with which we began: viz., that an, intuitive, alleged, ambiguity seems fit to be explained either semantically (ambiguity thesis, polysemy, bi-semy) or pragmatically/conversationally, with little by way of direct evidence to tell us which is which!”“If philosophy generated no problems, it would be dead!” – Grice. J“Linguists Zwicky and Sadock review several linguistic tests for ambiguity (e.g. conjunction reduction) and point out that most are ill-suited to detect ambiguities where the meanings in question are privative opposites,”Oddly, Grice’s first publication ever was on “Negation and privation,” 1938!Bontly: “i.e. where one meaning is a specialization or specification of the other (as for instance with the female and neutral senses of ‘goose’).”Or cf. Urmson, “There is an animal in the backyard.” “You mean Aunt Matilda?”Bontly: “Since the putative ambiguities of ‘or’ and the like are all of this sort, it seems inevitable that these tests will fail us here as well. For further discussion, see linguist Horn (1989, pp. 317–18 and 365–66) and linguist Carston (2002, pp. 274–77).It is hardly surprising, therefore, to find that a Gricean typically falls back on a methodological argument like parsimony, as instantiated in “M. O. R.”Let’s now turn to Parsimony and Its Problems. It may, at first, be less than obvious why an ambiguity or polysemy or bi-semy account should be deemed less parsimonious than its Gricean rival.” Where the conventionalist or ambiguist posits an additional sense S2, Grice adds, to S1, a conversational implicatum, I”. Cheap, but no free lunch! (Grice saves)Bontly: “Superficially, little seems to be gained.” Ah, the surfaces of Oxford superficiality! “Looking closer, however, the methodological virtues of the Grice’s approach seem fairly clear.”Good!Bontly: “First, the principles and inference patterns that a pragmatic or conversational account utilizes are independently motivated. The principles and inference patterns are needed in any case to account for the relatively un-controversial class of particularized implicata, and they provide an elegant approach to phenomena like figures of rhetoric, or speech -- metaphor, irony, meiosis, litotes, understatement, sarcasm – cfr. Holdcroft -- and tricks like Strawson’s presupposition. So it would seem that Grice can make do with explanatory material already on hand, whereas the ambiguity or polysemy theorist must posit a new semantic rule in each and every case. Furthermore, the explanatory material has an independent grounding in considerations of rationality.”I love that evening when Grice received a phonecall at Berkeley: “Professor Grice: You have been appointed the Immanuel Kant Memorial Lecturer at Stanford.” He gave the lectures on aspects of reason and reasoning!Bontly: “Since conversation is typically a goal-directed activity, it makes sense for conversationalists to abide by the Principle of Conversational Cooperation (something like Kant’s categorical imperative, in conversational format) and its (universalisable) conversational maxims, and so it makes sense for a co-conversationalist to interpret the conversationalist accordingly. A pragmatic explanation is therefore CHEAP – hence Occam on ‘aeconomicus’ -- the principle it calls on being explainable by — and perhaps even reducible to — facts about rational behavior in general.”I loved your “REDUCE.” B. F. Loar indeed thought, and correctly, that the maxims are ‘empirical generalisations over functional states.’ Genius!Bontly: A pragmatic account is not only more economic, or cheaper. It also reveals an orderliness or systematicity that positing a separate lexical ambiguity or polysemy or bisemy in each and every case would seem to miss (linguist/philosopher Bach). To a Griceian, it is no accident that a sentential connective or truth-functor (“not,” “and,” “or,” and “if”), a quantified expression (Grice’s “all” and “some (at least one)”) and a description (Grice’s “the”) all lend themselves to a weak and a stronger interpretation”Cf. Holdcroft, “Weak or strong?” in “Words and deeds.”Bontly: “Note, for instance, that a sentence with the logical form ‘Some Fs are Gs’,  and the pleonethetic, to use Geach’s and Altham’s coinage, ‘Most Fs are Gs’, and ‘A few Fs are Gs’ are all allegedly ‘ambiguous’ in the SAME way. Each of those expressions has an obvious weak reading in addition to a stronger reading: ‘Not all Fs are Gs’.Good because Grice’s first examination was: “That pillar-box seems red to me.” And he analyses the oddness in terms of ‘strength.’ (Grice 1961). He tries to analyse this ‘strength’ in terms of ‘entailment,’ but fails (“Neither ‘The pillar-box IS red’ NOR ‘The pillar-box SEEMS red’ entail each other.”)Bontly: For the conventionalist or polysemy theorist, there is no apparent reason why this should be so. There is no reason, that is, why three etymologically unrelated words (“some,” “most,” and “few”) should display the SAME pattern of alleged ambiguity. The Gricean, on the other hand, explains each the SAME way, by appealing to some rational principle of conversation. The implicata are all ‘scalar’ quantity implicata, attributable to the utterer U’s having uttered a weaker, less informative, sentence than he might have.” Linguist Levinson, 1983). Together, these considerations make a persuasive case for the Grice’s approach. A pragmatic explanation is more economical, and the resulting view of conversation is more natural and unified. Since economy and unification are both presumably virtues to be sought in a scientific or philosophical explanation — virtues which for brevity I lump together under Occamist ‘parsimony’ — it would NOT be unreasonable to conclude that a pragmatic explanation is (ceteris paribus) a better explanation. So it seems that Grice’s principle, the “M. O. R.” is correct. Senses ought not to be multiplied when pragmatics will do. Still, there are several reasons to be suspicious of the parsimony argument. “I lay out three. It bears emphasis that none of these are objections to the pragmatic approach per se.” I have no quarrel with the theory of conversation or particular attempts to apply it to conversational phenomena. The objections focus rather on the role that parsimony (or simplicity, or generality, etc.) plays in arguments PRO the implicatum and CONTRA ambiguity or polysemy.” Then, there’s Dead Metaphors. First is a worry that parsimony is too blunt an instrument, generalizing to unwanted conclusions. Versions of this objection appear in philosopher Walker (1975), linguist Morgan (1978), and linguist Sadock (1978).” More recently, Reimer (1998) and Devitt (forthcoming) use it to argue against a Gricean treatment of the referential/attributive distinction.”But have they read Grice’s VACUOUS NAMES? I know you did! Grice notes: “My distinction has nothing to do with Donnellan’s!” Grice’s approach is syntactic: ‘the’ and “THE,” identificatory and non-identificatory uses. R. M. Sainsbury and D. E. Over have worked on this. Fascinating. Bontly: “For as with the afore-mentioned so-called ‘dead’ metaphor, it can happen that a word has a secondary use that is pragmatically predictable, and yet fully conventional. In many such cases, of course, the original, etymological meaning is long forgotten: e. g. the contemporary use of ‘fornication’, originally a euphemism for activities done in fornice (that is, in the vaulted underground dwellings that once served as brothels in Rome). (I owe this [delightful] example to Sam Wheeler). Few speakers recall the original meaning, so the metaphor can no longer be ‘calculated,’ as Grice’s “You’re the cream in my coffee!” (title of song) can!” The metaphor is both dead _and buried_.”Still un-buriable?“In other cases, however, speakers do possess the information to construct a Gricean explanation, and yet the metaphor is dead anyway.”Reimer’s (1998) example of the verb ‘incense’ is a case in point. One conventional meaning (‘to make or become angry’) began life as a metaphorical extension of the other (‘to make fragrant with incense’). The reason for the extension is fairly transparent (resting on familiar comparisons of burning and emotion), but the use allegedly represents an additional sense nonetheless.”What dictionaries have as ‘fig.’ But are we sure that when the dictionaries list things like 1., 2., 3., they are listing SENSES!? Cf. Grice, “I don’t give a hoot what the dictionary says,” to Austin, “And that’s where you make your big mistake.” Once Grice actually opened the dictionary (he was studying ‘feeling + adj.’ – he got to ‘byzantine,’ finding that MOST adjectives did, and got bored!Bontly: Such examples suggest that an implicatum makes up an important source of semantic—and, according to linguist Levinson (2000), syntactic—innovation. A linguistic phenomenon can begin life as a pragmatic specialization or an extension and subsequently become conventionalized by stages, making it difficult to determine at what point (and for which ‘utterers’) a use has become fully conventional. One consequence is that an expression E can have, allegedly, a second sense S2, even when a pragmatic explanation appears to make it explanatorily superfluous, and parsimony can therefore mislead.”I’m not sure dictionary readers read ‘fig.’ as a different ‘sense,’ and lexicographers need not be Griceian in style!Bontly: “A related point is that an ambiguity account needn’t be LESS unified than an implicatum account after all. If pragmatic considerations can explain the origin and development of new linguistic conventions, the ambiguity or polysemy theorist can provide a unified dia-chronic account of how several un-related expressions came to exhibit similar patterns of alleged ‘ambiguity.’ Quantifiers like ‘some’, ‘most’, and ‘a few’ may be similarly allegedly ambiguous today because they generated similar implicatures in the past (cf. Millikan, 2001).”OKAY, so that’s the right way to go then? Diachrony and evolution, right?Bontly: “Then, there’s Tradeoffs. A ‘dead’ metaphor suggests that parsimony is too strong for the pragmatist’s purposes, but as a pragmatic account could have hidden costs to offset the semantic savings, parsimony may also be too weak! E. g. an implicatum account looks, at least superficially, to multiply (to use Occam’s term) inferential labour, leaving it to the addressee to infer the utterer’s intended meaning from the words uttered, the context, and the conversational principle. Thus there are trade-offs involved, and the account which is semantically more parsimonious may be less parsimonious all things considered.”Grice once invited the “P. E. R. E.,” principle of economy of rational effort, though. Things which seem to be psychologically UNREAL are just DEEMED, tacitly, to occur.Bontly: “To be clear, this is not to suggest that the ambiguity or polysemy account can dispense with inference entirely. Were the exclusive and inclusive senses of ‘or’ BOTH lexically encoded (as they were in Old Roman, ‘vel’ and ‘aut,’ hence Whitehead’s choice of ‘v’ for ‘p v q’) still hearers would need to infer from contextual clues which meaning were intended. The worry is not, therefore, so much that the implicatum account increases the number of inferences which conversants or conversationalists have to perform. The issue concerns rather the complexity of these inferences. Alleged dis-ambiguation is a highly constrained process. In principle, one need only choose the relevant sense Sn, from a finite list represented in the so-called ‘mental lexicon’. Implicature calculation, on the other hand, is a matter of finding the best explanation (abductively, alla Hanson) for an utterer’s utterance, the utterer’s meaning being introduced as an explanatory hypothesis, answering to a ‘why’ question. Unlike dis-ambiguation, where the various possible readings are known in advance, in the conversational explanation, the only constraints are provided by the addressee’s understanding of the context and the conversational principle. So it appears that Grice’s approach saves on the lexical semantics by placing a greater inferential burden on utterer and addressee.”But Grice played bridge, and loved those burdens. Stampe actually gives a lovely bridge alleged counter-example to Grice (in Grice 1989).Bontly: “Now, a Gricean can try to lessen this load in various ways. Grice can argue, for instance, that the inference used to recover a generalised implicatum is less demanding than that for a particularized one, that familiarity with types of generalised implicate can “stream-line” the inferential process, and so on.”Love that, P. E. R. E., or principle of economy of rational effort, above?!Bontly: “We examine these moves. There’s Justification. Another difficulty with Grice’s appeals to parsimony is the most fundamental. On the one hand, it can hardly be denied that parsimony plays a role in scientific, if not philosophical, inference.” Across the sciences, if not in philosophy, it is standard practice to cite parsimony (simplicity, generality, etc.) as a reason to choose one hypothesis over another; philosophers often do the same.”Bontly’s ‘often’ implicates, ‘often not’! Grice became an opponent of his own minimalism at a later stage of his life, vide his “Prejudices and predilections; which become, the life and opinions of Paul Grice,” by Paul Grice!Bontly: “At the same time, however, it remains quite mysterious, if that’s the word, why parsimony (etc.) should be given such weight by Occamists like Grice. If it were safe to assume that Nature is simple and economical, the preference for theories with these qualities would make perfect sense. Sir Isaac Newton offers such an ontological rationale for parsimony in the “Principia.” Sir Isaac writes (in Roman?) “I am to admit no more cause of a natural thing than such as are true and sufficient to explain its appearance.” “To this purpose, the philosopher says that Nature does nothing in vain, and more is in vain when less serves.” “For Nature is pleased with simplicity, and affects not the pomp of a superfluous cause.” “While a blanket assertion about the simplicity of Nature is hardly uncommon in the history of science, today it is viewed with suspicion.” Bontly:  “Newton’s reasons were presumably theological.” “If I knew that the Creator values simplicity and economy, I should expect the creatION to display these qualities as well.” “Lacking much information about the Creator’s tastes, however, the assumption becomes quite difficult, if not impossible, to support.”Cfr. literature on ‘biological diversity.’Bontly: “(Sober discusses several objections to an ontological justification for the principle of parsimony. Philosopher of science Mary Hesse surveys several other attempts to justify the use of parsimony and simplicity in scientific inference. Philosophers of science today are largely persuaded that the role of parsimony is ‘purely methodological’ epistemological, pragmatist, rather than ontological — that it is rational to reject unnecessary posits (or complex, dis-unified theories) no matter what Nature is like. One might argue, for instance, that the principle of parsimony is really just a principle of minimum risk. The more existence claims one accepts, the greater the chance of accepting a falsehood. Better, then, to do without any existence claim one does not need. Philosopher J. J. C. Smart attributes this view to John Stuart Mill.”Cf. Grice: “Not to bring more Grice to the Mill.”Bontly: “Now, risk minimization may be a reasonable methodological principle, but it does not suffice to explain the role of parsimony in natural science. When a theoretical posit is deemed explanatorily superfluous, the accepted practice is not merely to withhold belief in its existence but to conclude positively that it does not exist. As Sober notes, ‘Occam’s razor preaches atheism about unnecessary entities, not just a-gnosticism.’” Similarly, Grice’s razor tells us that we should believe an expression E to be unambiguous, aequi-vocal, monosemous, unless we have evidence for a second meaning. The absence of evidence for this alleged additional, ‘multiplied’ ‘sense’ is presumed to count as evidence that this alleged second, additional, multiplied, sense is absent, does not exist. But an absence of evidence is not the same thing as evidence of an absence.” The difficult question about scientific methodology is why we should count one as the other. Why, that is, should a lack of evidence for an existence claim count as evidence for a non-existence claim? The minimum risk argument leaves this question unanswered. Indeed, philosophers of science have had so little success in explaining why parsimony should be a guide to truth that many are tempted to conclude that it and the other ‘super-empirical virtues’ have no epistemic value whatsoever. Their role is rather pragmatic, or aesthetic.”This is in part Strawson’s reply in his “If and the horseshoe” (1968), repr. in PGRICE, in Grandy/Warner. He says words to the effect: “Grice’s theory may be more BEAUTIFUL than mine, but that’s that!” (Strawson thinks that ‘if’ acts as ‘so’ or ‘therefore’ but in UNASSERTED clauses. So it’s a matter of a ‘conventional’ IMPLICATUM to the inferrability of “if p, q” or “p; so, q.” I agree with Strawson that Grice’s account of ‘conventional’ implicatum is not precisely too beautiful?Bontly: “Parsimony can make a theory easier to understand or apply, and it pleases those of us with a taste for desert landscapes, but (according to these sceptics) they do not make the theory any more likely to be true.”The reference to the ‘desert landscape’ is genial. Cfr. Strawson’s “A logician’s landscape.” Later in life, Grice indeed found it unfair that an explanation of cherry trees blooming in spring should be explained as a ‘desert landscape.’ “That’s impoverishing it!”Bontly: “van Fraassen, for instance, tells us that a super-empirical virtue ‘does not concern the relation between the theory and the world, but rather the use and usefulness of the theory; it provide reasons to prefer the theory independently of questions of truth.” “If that were correct, it would be doubtful that parsimony can shoulder the burden Grice places on it.” “For then the conventionalist may happily grant that a pragmatic explanation is clever and elegant, and beautiful.”  “The conventionalist can agree that an implicature account comprehends a maximum of phenomena with a minimum of theoretical apparatus.” “But when it comes to truth, or alethic satisfactoriness, as Grice would prefer, a conventionalist may insist that parsimony is simply irrelevant.” “One Gricean sympathizer who apparently accepts the ‘aesthetic’ view of parsimony is the philosopher of science R. C. S. Walker (1975), who claims that the ‘[c]hoice between Grice’s and Cohen’s theories is an aesthetic matter’ and concludes that ‘we should not regard either the Conversationalist Hypothesis or its [conventionalist] rivals as definitely right or wrong.’” Cfr. Strawson in Grandy/Warner, but Strawson is no Griceian sympathiser! “Now asking Grice to justify the principle of parsimony may seem a bit unfair.” “Grice also assumes the reality of the external world, the existence of intentional mental states, and the validity of modus ponens.” “Need Grice justify these assumptions as well?” “Of course not!” “But even if the epistemic value of parsimony is taken entirely for granted, it is unclear why it should even count in semantics.” “All sides agree, after all, that many, perhaps even most, expressions of natural language are allegedly ‘ambiguous.’” “There are both poly-semies, where one word has multiple, though related, meanings (‘horn’, ‘trunk’), and homo-nymies, where two distinct words have converged on a single phonological form (‘bat’, ‘pole’).”  “The distinction between poly-semy and homo-nymy is notoriously difficult to draw with any precision, chiefly because we lack clear criteria for the identity of words (Bach).” “If words are individuated phono-logically, there would be no homo-nyms.” “If words are individuated semantically, there would be no poly-semies.” “Individuating words historically leads to some odd consequences: e.g., that ‘bank’ is poly-semous rather than homo-nymous, since the ‘sense’ in which it means financial institution and the ‘sense’ in which it means edge of a river are derived from a common source.” “I owe this example to David Sanford. For further discussion, see Jackendoff.”Soon at Hartford. And Sanford is right!Bontly: “Given that ambiguity is hardly rare, then, one wonders whether a semantic theory ought really to minimize it (cf. Stampe, 1974).” “One might indeed argue that the burden of proof here is on the pragmatist, not the ambiguity or polysemy theorist.” “Perhaps we ought to assume, ceteris paribus, that every regular use of an expression represents a SPECIAL sense.” “Such a methodological policy may be less economical than Grice’s, but it does extend the same pattern of explanation to all alleged ambiguities, and it might even accord better with the haphazard ways in which natural languages are prone to evolve (Millikan, 2001).”Yes, the evolutionary is the way to go!Bontly: “So Grice owe us some reason to think that parsimony and the like should count in semantics.” “He needn’t claim, of course, that parsimony is always and everywhere a reason to believe a hypothesis true.” “He needn’t produce a global justification for Occam’s Razor, that is—a local justification, one specific to language, would suffice.” “I propose to set aside the larger issue about parsimony in general, therefore, and argue that Modified Occam’s Razor can be justified by considerations peculiar to the study of language.” “Now for A Developmental Account of Semantic Parsimony.”  “My approach to parsimony in linguistics is inspired by Sober’s work on parsimony arguments in evolutionary biology.”And Grice was an evolutionary philosopher of sorts.Bontly: “In Sober’s view, philosophers have misunderstood the role of parsimony in scientific inference, taking it to function as a global, domain-general principle of scientific reasoning (akin perhaps to an axiom of the probability calculus).” “A more realistic analysis, Sober claims, shows that parsimony arguments function as tacit references to domain-specific process assumptions — to assumptions (whether clearly articulated or not) about the process(es) that generate the phenomena under study.” “Where these processes tend to be frugal, parsimony is a reasonable principle of theory-choice.” “Where they are apt to be profligate, it is not.” “What makes parsimony reasonable in one area of inquiry may, on Sober’s view, be quite unrelated to the reasons it counts in another.” “Parsimony arguments in the units of selection controversy, for instance, rest on one set of process assumptions (i.e. assumptions about the conditions necessary for ‘group’ selection to occur).” “The application of parsimony to ‘phylogenetic’ inference rests on a completely different set of assumptions (about rates of evolutionary change).” “As Sober notes, in either case the assumptions are empirically testable, and it could turn out that parsimony is a reliable principle of inference in one, both, or neither of these areas. Sober’s approach amounts to a thorough-going local reductionism about parsimony.It counts in theory-choice if and only if there are domain-specific reasons to think the theory which is more economical (in some specifiable respect) is more likely to be true. The ‘only if’ claim is the more controversial part of the bi-conditional, and I need not defend it here. For present purposes I need only the weaker claim that domain-specific assumptions can be sufficient to justify using parsimony — that parsimony is a sensible principle of inference if the phenomena in question result from processes themselves biased, as it were, towards parsimony. Now, in natural-language semantics, the phenomena in question are ordinarily taken to be the semantic rules or conventions shared by a community of speakers.”Cf. Peacocke on Grice as applied to ‘community of utterers,’ in Evans/McDowell, Truth and meaning, Oxford. Bontly: “The task is to uncover the ‘arbitrary’ mappings between a sound and a meaning (or concepts or referent) of which utterers have tacit knowledge. This ‘semantic competence’ is shaped by both the inputs that language learners encounter and the cognitive processes that guide language acquisition from infancy through adulthood. So the question is whether that input and these processes are themselves biased toward semantic parsimony and against the acquisition of multiple meanings for single phonological forms. As I shall now argue, there are several reasons to suspect that such a bias should exist. Psychologists often conceptualize learning in general and word learning in particular as a process of generating and testing hypotheses. A child (or, in many cases, an adult) encounters an unfamiliar word, forms one or more hypotheses as to its possible meaning, checks the hypotheses against the ways in which he hears the word used, and finally adopts one such hypothesis. This ‘child-as-scientist’ model is plainly short on details, but whatever mechanism implements the generating and testing, it would seem that the process cannot be repeated with every subsequent exposure to a word. Once a hypothesis is accepted — a word learned — the process effectively halts, so that the next time the child hears that word, he doesn’t have to hypothesize. Instead, the child can access the known meaning and use it to grasp the intended message. For that reason, an unfamiliar word ought to be the only one to trigger the learning process, and that of course makes ambiguity problematic. Take a person who knows one meaning of an ambiguous word, but not the other. To him, the word is not unfamiliar, even when used with an unfamiliar meaning. At least, it will not sound unfamiliar. So, the learning process will not kick in unless some other source of evidence suggests another, as-yet-unknown meaning. Presumably the evidence will come from ‘anomalous’ utterances: i.e. uses that are contextually absurd, given only the familiar meaning. This is not to say, of course, that hearing one anomalous utterance would be sufficient to re-start the learning process. Since there are other reasons why an utterance may seem anomalous (e.g. the utterer simply misspoke), it might take several anomalies to convince one that the word has another meaning. In the absence of anomalies, however, it seems highly unlikely that learners would seriously entertain the possibility of a second sense. A related point is that acquisition involves, or is at least thought to involve, a variety of ‘boot-strapping’ operations where the learner uses what he knows of the language in order to learn more.”Oddly Grice has a bootstrap principle (it relates to having one’s metalanguage as rich as one’s object-language.Bontly: “It has been argued, for instance, that children use semantic information to constrain hypotheses about words’ syntactic features (Pinker) and, conversely, syntactic information to constrain hypotheses about words’ semantic features (Gleitman). Likewise, children must surely use their knowledge of some words’ meanings to constrain hypotheses as to the meanings of others, thus inferring the meanings of unfamiliar words from context. However, that process only works insofar as one can safely assume that the familiar words in an utterance are typically used with their familiar meanings. If it were assumed that familiar words are typically used with unknown meanings, the bootstraps would be too weak. Together, these considerations point to the hypothesis that language acquisition is semantically conservative. Children will posit new meanings for familiar words only when necessary—only when they encounter utterances that make no sense to them, even though all the words are familiar. Interestingly, experimental work in language acquisition provides empirical evidence for much the same conclusion. Psychologists have long observed that children have considerable difficulties learning and using homo-nyms (Peters and Zaidel), leading many to suspect that young children operate under the helpful, though mistaken, assumption that a word can have but one meaning (Slobin). Children have similar difficulties acquiring synonyms and may likewise assume that a given meaning can be represented by at most one word. (Markman & Wachtel, see Bloom for a different explanation). I cannot here survey the many experimental studies bearing on this hypothesis, but one series of experiments conducted by Michele Mazzocco is particularly germane. Mazzocco presents children from several age-groups, as well as adults, with stories designed to mimic one’s first encounter with the secondary meaning of an ambiguous word. To control the effects of antecedent familiarity with secondary meanings, the stories used familiar words (e.g., ‘rope’) as if they had further unknown meanings—as ‘pseudo-homo-nyms’.For comparison, other stories included a non-sense word (e.g. ‘blus’) used as if it had a conventional meaning — as a ‘pseudo-word’ — to mimic one’s first encounter with an entirely unfamiliar word.”Cf. Grice’s seminar at Berkeley: “How pirots karulise elatically: some simpler ways.”“A pirot  can be said to potch or cotch an obble as fang or feng or fid with another obble.”“A person can be said to perceive or cognize an object as having the property f or f2 or being in a relation R with another object.”Bontly: Some stories, finally, used only genuine words with only their familiar meanings. After hearing a story, subjects are presented with a series of illustrations and asked to pick out the item referred to in the story. In a subsequent experiment, subjects had to act out their interpretations of the stories. In the pseudo-homo-nym condition, one picture would always illustrate the word’s conventional but contextually inappropriate meaning, one would depict the unfamiliar but contextually appropriate meaning, and the rest would be distractors. As one would expect, adults and older children (10- to 12-year-olds) performed equally well on these tasks, reliably picking out the intended meanings for familiar words, non-sense words and pseudo-homonyms alike. Young children (3- to 5-year-olds), on the other hand, could understand the stories where familiar words were used conventionally, and they were reasonably good at inferring the intended meanings of non-sense words from context, but they could not do so for pseudo-homonyms. Instead, they reliably chose the picture illustrating the familiar meaning, even though the story made that meaning quite inappropriate. These results are noteworthy for several reasons. It is significant, first of all, that spontaneous positing of ambiguities did not occur. As long as the known meaning of a word comported with its use in a story, subjects show not the slightest tendency to assign that word a new, secondary meaning—just as one would expect if the acquisition process were semantically conservative. Second, note that performance in the non-sense word condition confirms the familiar finding that young children can acquire the meanings of novel words from context — just as the bootstrapping procedure suggests. Unlike older children and adults, however, these young children are unable to determine the meanings of pseudo-homo-nyms from context, even though they could do so for pseudo-words — exactly what one would expect if young children assumed that words can have one meaning only. Why young children would have such a conservative bias remains controversial. Unfortunately it would take us too far afield to delve into this debate here. Doherty finds evidence that the understanding of ambiguity is strongly correlated with a grasp of synonymy, suggesting that these biases have a common source.” Doherty also finds evidence that the understanding of ambiguity/synonymy is strongly predicted by the ability to reason about false beliefs, suggesting the intriguing hypothesis that young children’s biases are due to their lack of a representational ‘theory of mind’).”  Cf. Grice on transmission of true beliefs in “Meaning, revisited.” – a transcendental argument.Bontly: “Nonetheless, Mazzocco’s results provide empirical evidence for our conjecture that a person will typically posit a second meaning for a known word only when necessary (and, as with young children, not always then). And that, of course, is precisely the sort of process assumption that would make Grice’s “M. O. R.” a reasonable principle for theory choice in semantics. For we have been operating under the assumption that the principal task of linguistic semantics is to describe the competent speaker’s tacit linguistic knowledge. If that knowledge is shaped by a process biased toward semantic parsimony, our semantic theorizing ought surely to be biased in the same direction. Is Pragmatism Vindicated?” That said, the question is still open whether Grice’s “M. O. R.,” understood now developmentally, ontogenetically, and not phylogenetically, as perhaps Millikan would prefer, has such consequences as Gricea typically assumes. In particular, it remains for us to consider whether and, if so, when the above process assumptions favor implicature hypotheses over ambiguity hypotheses, and the answer would seem to hang on two further issues. First, there is in each case the question whether a child learning the language will find it necessary to posit a second sense for a given expression. The fact that linguists, apprised as they are of the principles of conversation, find it unnecessary to introduce a second sense for (e.g.) ‘or’ does NOT imply that children would find it unnecessary. For one thing, children might acquire the various uses of ‘or’ well before they have any pragmatic understanding themselves.”Cfr. You can eat the cake or the sandwich.”Bontly: Even if they do not, the order in which the various uses are acquired could make considerable difference.It may be, for instance, that a child who first learned the inclusive use of ‘or’ would have no need to posit a second exclusive sense, whereas a child who originally interpreted ‘or’ exclusively might need eventually to posit an additional, inclusive sense. So we may well have to determine what meaning children first attach to an expression in order to determine whether they would find it necessary to posit a second. The issues raised above are pretty clearly empirical ones, and significant inter-personal differences could complicate matters considerably. Just for the sake of argument, however, let us grant that children do indeed first learn to interpret ‘or’ inclusively, to interpret ‘and’ as mere conjunction, and so on. Let us assume, that is, that the meanings which Grice typically takes to be conventional are just that. In fact, the assumption that weak uses are typically learned first has garnered some empirical support, as one referee brought to my attention. Paris shows that children are less likely than adults to interpret ‘or’ exclusively (see also Sternberg, and Braine and Rumain). More recent experimental work indicates that children first learn to interpret ‘and’ a-temporally (Noveck and Chevaux) and ‘some’ weakly (as compatible with ‘all’) (Noveck, 2001). Even so, it remains an interesting question whether children would posit secondary senses for any of these expressions, and Grice would be on firm ground in arguing that they would not. First, the ‘ambiguities’ discussed at the outset all involve secondary uses which can, with the help of pragmatic principles, be understood in terms of the presumed primary meaning of the expression. If a child, encountering this secondary use for the first time, already knows the primary meaning, and if he has moreover an understanding of the norms of conversation—if he is a ‘Griceian child’ —, he ought to be able to understand the secondary use perfectly well. He can recover the implicature and infer the speaker’s meaning from the encoded meaning of the utterance. To the ‘Griceian child,’ therefore, the utterance would not be anomalous. It would make perfect sense in context, giving him no reason to posit a secondary meaning. But what about children who are not yet Griceans — children too young to understand pragmatic principles or to have the conceptual resources to make inferences about other people’s likely communicative intentions? While there seems to be no consensus as to when pragmatic abilities emerge, several considerations suggest that they develop fairly early. Bloom argues that pragmatic understanding is part of the best account of how children learn the meanings of words. Papafragou discusses evidence that children can calculate implicatures as early as age three. Such children, knowing only the primary meaning of the expression, would be unable to recover the conversational implicatum and thus unable to grasp the secondary use of the expression via the pragmatic route. Nonetheless, I argue that they would still (at least in most cases) find it unnecessary to posit a second meaning for the expression. Consider: the ‘ambiguities’ at issue all involve secondary meanings which are specificatory, being identical to the primary but for some additional feature making it more restricted or specific. The primary and second meanings would thus be privative, as opposed to polar, opposites; Zwicky and Sadock). What a speaker means when he uses the expression in this secondary way, therefore, would typically imply the proposition he would mean if he were speaking literally (i.e. if he were using the primary meaning of the expression). One could thus say something true using the secondary sense only in contexts where one could say something true using the primary sense—whenever ‘P exclusive-or Q’ is true, so is ‘P inclusive-or Q’; whenever ‘P and-then Q’ is true, so is ‘P and Q’; and so on. Thus even when the intended meaning involves the alleged second sense, the utterance would still come out true if interpreted with the primary sense in mind. And this means, crucially, that the utterance would not seem anomalous, there being no obvious clash between the primary interpretation of the utterance and the conversational context. The utterance may well be pragmatically inappropriate when interpreted this way, but our pre-Gricean child is insensitive to such niceties. Otherwise, he would be already a ‘Gricean’ child. On our account, therefore, the pre-Gricean child still sees no need to posit a second meaning for the expression, even though he could not grasp the intended (specificatory) meaning. We may illustrate the above with the help of an ‘ambiguity’ in the indefinite description (“a dog”) made famous by Grice. A philosopher would ordinarily take an expressions of the form ‘an F’ to be a straightforward existential quantifier, “(Ex)”, as would seem to be the case in ‘I am going to a meeting’ On the other hand, an utterance of ‘I broke a finger’ seems to imply that it is my finger which I broke (unless you are a nurse – I think Horn’s cancellation goes), whereas ‘I saw a dog in the backyard’ would seem to carry the opposite sort of implication — i.e. that it was not my dog which I saw.”Grice finds this delightful ‘reductio’ of the sense-positer: “a” would have _three_ senses!Bontly: “We have then the potential for a three-way ambiguity, but our ruminations on word learning argue against it.”Take a child who has learned (somehow) the weak (existential quantier) use of ‘an F’ (Ex)Fx, but has for some reason never been exposed to strong uses: ‘my,’ ‘not mine.’ Now the child hears his mother say ‘Come look! There is a dog in the backyard!’ Running to the window, the child sees not his mother’s pet dog Fido, but some strange dog, that is not her mother’s. To an adult, this would be entirely predictable.” Using the indefinite description ‘a dog’ (logical form, “(Ex)Dx”) instead of the name for the utterer’s dog would lead one to expect that Fido (the utterer’s dog) is not the dog in question.”Actually, like Ryle, Grice has a shaggy-dog story in WJ5, “That dog is hairy-coated.” “Shaggy, if you must!”. Bontly: “And if the child were of an age to have a rudimentary understanding of the pragmatic aspects of language use, he would make the same prediction and thus see no need here to posit a second ‘sense’ for ‘an F,’ and take ‘not mine’ as an implicatum.”It’s different with what Grice would have as an ‘established idiom’ (his example, “He’s pushing up the daisies,” but not “He is fertilizing the daffodils”) as one might argue that “I broke a finger” is. Bontly: “The child would not, because the intended, contextually appropriate interpretation would be clear given the primary meaning plus pragmatics, or implicatum. But even if the child fails to grasp the intended meaning of his mother’s remark, it still seems unlikely that the child would be compelled to posit an ambiguity. No matter what the child’s mother means, there is, after all, a dog in the backyard (“Gotcha! That’s _a_ dog, my Fido is, ain’t it?!”). So the primary interpretation still yields a true proposition. While the ‘pre-Gricean child’ thus misses (part of) the intended meaning of the utterance, still he would not experience a clash between his interpretation and the contextually appropriate interpretation. Perhaps the pre-Gricean child could be forced to see an anomaly. Consider the following example. A parent offers her pre-Gricean child dessert, saying, ‘Ice-cream, or cake?’ When the child helps himself to some of each, the mother removes the cake with a look of annoyance and says:‘I said ice-cream OR cake’.  “While the mother’s behavioural response makes it abundantly clear that the child’s ‘inclusive’ interpretation is inappropriate, there are several reasons why he might still refrain from positing an ambiguity. For one, young children, who are more Griceian (even pre-Griceian) and logical than a few adults, appear to operate under the assumption that a word can have one meaning only, and it may be that pre-Gricean children are simply unable to override this assumption. This would seem particularly likely if Doherty is right that the ability to understand ambiguity requires a robust ‘theory of mind’.At any rate, the position taken here is that recognition of anomaly is necessary for one to posit a second meaning, not that it is sufficient. Contrast this with a similar case where, coming to the window, the child sees no dog but does see (e.g.) a motorcycle, a tree, a bird, and a fence.Then he would have reason to consider an ambiguity, though other explanations might also fit.” “Perhaps Mom was joking or hallucinating.” The claim is, then, that language acquisition works in such a way as to make it unlikely that learners would introduce a second senses for the ‘ambiguities’ in question. Of course, that claim is contingent on a very large assumption — viz., that the meaning which Grice take to be lexically ‘encoded’ is indeed the primary meaning of the expression — and that assumption may be mistaken.” In the continuing debate over Donnellan’s referential/attributive distinction, for instance, Grice takes it as uncontroversial that Russell on ‘the’ provides at least one of the conventional interpretations for sentences of the form ‘The king of France is bald’ (i.e., the attributive interpretation).” Grice’s example in “Vacuous names,” that Bontly quotes,  is “Jones’s butler mixed our coats and hats,” when “Jones’s butler” is actually Jones’s haberdasher dressed as a butler for the occasion.” So Grice distinguishes between THE butler (identificatory) and ‘the’ butler (non-identificatory, whoever he might be). Bontly: From there, they argue that we needn’t posit a secondary (referential) semantics for descriptions since the referential use can be captured by Russell’s theory supplemented by Grice’s pragmatics. Grice, 1969 (Vacuous Names); Kripke, 1977; Neale, 1990). From a developmental perspective, however, the ‘uncontroversial’ assumption that Russell on ‘the’ provides the primary meaning for description phrases is certainly questionable. It being likely that the vast majority of descriptions children hear early in life are used referentially, Grice’s position could conceivably have things exactly backwards— perhaps the referential is primary with the attributive acquired later, either as an additional meaning or a pragmatic extension. Still, the fact, if it is a fact, that a referential use is more common in children’s early environment does not imply that the referential is acquired first.” Exclusive uses of ‘or’ are at least as frequent as inclusive uses, and yet there is a good deal of evidence that the inclusive is developmentally primary. (Paris, Sternberg, Braine and Rumain). Either way, the point remains that plausible assumptions about language acquisition do indeed justify a role for parsimony in semantics. These ‘process’ assumptions may, of course, turn out to be incorrect.” If the evidence points the other way—if it emerges that the learning process posits ambiguities quite freely—then Grice’s “M. O. R.” could conceivably be groundless.”Making it a matter of empirical support or lack thereof, and that was perhaps why Millikan thought that was the wrong way to go? But then if she thought the evolutionary was the right way to go, wouldn’t THAT make Grice’s initially ‘sort of’ analytic pragmatist methodological philosophical decision a matter of fact or lack thereof? Bontly: “Nonetheless, we can see now that the debate between Grice and the conventionalists is ultimately an empirical, rather than, as Grice perhaps thougth, a conceptual one. Choices between pragmatic and semantic accounts may be under-determined by Grice’s intuitions about meaning and use, but they need not be under-determined tout court. Then there’s Tradeoffs, Dead Metaphors, and a Dilemma. The developmental approach to parsimony provides some purchase on the problems regarding tradeoffs and dead metaphors as well. The former problem is that parsimony can be a double-edged sword. While an ambiguity account does multiply senses, the implicature account appears to multiply inferential labour. Hearers have to ‘work out’ or ‘calculate’ the utterer’s meaning from the conversational principle, without the benefit of a list of possible meanings as in disambiguation. Pragmatic inference thus seems complex and time-consuming. But the fact is that we are rarely conscious of engaging in any reasoning of the sort Grice requires, pace his Principle of Economy of Rational Effort. Consequently, the claim that communicators actually work through all these complicated inferences seems psychologically unrealistic. To combat these charges, Grice’s response is to claim that implicature calculation is largely unconscious and implicit.”Indeed Grice’s principle of economy of rational effort. Bontly: “Background assumptions can be taken for granted, steps can be skipped, and only rarely need the entire process breach the surface of consciousness. This picture seems particularly plausible with a generalised implicatum as opposed to a particularized one.” When a particular use of an expression E, though unconventional, has become standard or regular (“I broke a finger”? “He’s pushing up the daisies”), the inferential process can be considerably stream-lined; it gets ‘short-circuited’ or ‘compressed by precedent’ (Bach and Harnish). “Bach’s and Harnish’s notion of short-circuited inference is similar to but not quite the same as J. L. Morgan’s notion of short-circuited implicature. The latter involves conventions of use (as Searle would put it), to which Bach and Harnish see their account as an alternative. Levinson objects to Bach’s and Harnish’s characterization of default inferences as those compressed by the weight of precedent. A generalised implicatum, Levinson says, ‘is generative, driven by general heuristics and not dependent on routinization’ But Levinson’s complaint against Bach and Harnish may seem uncharitable. Even on Bach’s and Harnish’s view, where a default inference is that ‘compressed by the weight of precedent’, a generalised implicatum is still generative: it is still generated by the maxims of conversation. Only the stream-lined character of the inference is dependent on precedent, not the implicatum itself. If the addressee has calculated the EXCLUSIVE meaning of ‘or’ enough times in the past (from  his mother, we’ll assume) it becomes the default, allowing one to proceed directly to the exclusive interpretation (unless something about the context provides a clue that the standard interpretation would here be inappropriate. Now, the idea that the generalised implicatum can be the default interpretation, reached without all the fancy inference, provides an obvious reply to the worry about tradeoffs. While it is true that a pragmatic inference, as Grice calls it, in contrast with the ‘logical inference, -- “Retrospective Epilogue” -- are in principle abductive, fairly complex and potentially laborious, familiarity can simplify the process enormously, to the point where it becomes no more difficult than dis-ambiguation.” But the appeal to a default interpretation raises an interesting difficulty that (to my knowledge) Grice never adequately addressed. It is now quite unclear why this default interpretation should be considered an implicatum rather than an additional sense of the expression.”Because it’s cancellable?Bontly: “To say that it is a default interpretation is, after all, to say that utterers and addressees learn to associate that interpretation with the type of expression in question. The default meaning is known in advance, and all one has to do is be on the lookout for information that could rule it out. “‘Short-circuited’ implicature-calculation is thus hard to differentiate from disambiguation, making Grice’s hypothesis look more like a notional variant than a real competitor to the ambiguity hypothesis. Insofar as Grice has considered this problem, his answer appears to be that linguistic meanings, being conventional, are inherently arbitrary.”cf. Bach and Harnish, 1979, pp. 192–195).”Indeed, in his evolutionary take on language, it all starts with Green’s self-expression. You get hit, and you express pain unvoluntarily. Then you proceed to simulate the response in absence of the hit, but the meaning is “I’m in pain.” Finally, you adopt the conventions, arbitrary, and say, ‘pain,’ which is only arbitrarily connected with, well, the pain. It is the last stage that Grice stresses as ‘artificial,’ and ‘arbitrary,’ “non-iconic,” as he retorts to Peirceian terminology he was familiar with since his Oxford days. Bontly: “The exclusive use of ‘or’, on the other hand, is entirely predictable from the conversational principle, so there is nothing arbitrary about it. Thus the exclusive interpretation cannot be part of the encoded meaning, even if it is the default interpretation. Familiarity with that use, in other words, can remove the need to go through the canonical inference, but it does not change the fact that the use has a ‘natural’ (i.e., non-conventional, principled, indeed rational) explanation. It doesn’t change the fact that it is calculable. At this point, however, Grice’s defense of default pragmatic interpretations collides with our remaining issue, the problem of a dead metaphor, such as “He is pushing up the daisies.”” Or as Grice prefers, an ‘established’ or ‘recognised’ ‘idiom.’Bontly: “A metaphor and other conversational implicata can become conventionalized and ‘die’, turning into new senses. In many such cases the original rationale for the use is long forgotten, but in other cases the dead metaphor remains calculable. A dead metaphors thus pose a nasty, macabre?, dilemma for Grice.”Especially if the implicatum is “He is dead”!Bontly: “On the one hand, it is tempting to argue that a dead metaphor involves a new conventional meaning precisely because the interpretation in question is no longer actually inferred via Gricean inferences (though one could do so if one had to—if, say, one somehow forgot that the expression had this secondary meaning). If a conversational implicatum had to be not just calculaBLE but actually calculatED, that would suffice to explain why this one-time, one-off, implicatum is now semantically significant. But that reply is apparently closed to pragmatists, for then it will be said that the same is true of (e.g.) the exclusive use of ‘or.’ The exclusive interpretation is certainly calculabLE, but since no one actually calculatES it (except in the most unusual of circumstances, as Grice at Harvard!), the implication should be considered semantic, not pragmatic. On the other hand, Grice might maintain that an implicatum need only be calculabLE and stick by their view that the exclusive reading of ‘or’ is conversationally implicated. But then we shall have to face the consequence that many a dead metaphor (“He is pushing up the daisies”) is likewise calculabLE and thus, according to the present view, ought not to be considered conventional meanings of the expressions in question, which in most cases seems quite wrong.”I’m never sure what Grice means by an ‘established idiom.’ Established by whom? Perhaps he SHOULD consult the dictionary every now and then! Sad the access to OED3 is so expensive!Bontly: What one needs, evidently, is some reason to treat these two types of cases differently.To treat the exclusive use of ‘or’ as an implicatum (even though it is only rarely calculatED as such) while at the same time to view (e.g.) the once metaphorical use of ‘incense’ (or ‘… pushing up the daisies”) as semantically significant (even though it remains calculabLE).” And the developmental account of parsimony offers just such a reason. On the present view, the reason that the ambiguity account has the burden of proof has to do with the nature of the acquisition, learning, ontogenetical process and specifically with the presumption that language learners will avoid postulating unnecessary senses. But the implicatum must be calculable by the learner, given his prior understanding of the expression E and his level of pragmatic sophistication.”Grice was a sophisticated. As I think Dora B.-O knows, Moore has been claiming that Grice’s idea that animals cannot mean, because they are not ‘sophisticated’ enough, is an empirical claim, even for Grice!Bontly: “t may be, therefore, that children at the relevant developmental stage have no difficulty understanding the exclusive use of ‘or’ (etc.) as an implicatum and yet lack the understanding necessary to predict that ‘incense’ could be used to mean to make or become angry, or that to say of someone that he ‘is pushing up the daisies,’ means that, having died and getting buried, the corpse is helping the flowers to grow. The child might not realize, for instance, that ‘incense’ also means an aromatic substance that burns with a pleasant odour, and even those who do probably lack the general background knowledge necessary to appreciate the metaphorical connections between burning and emotion.”Cf. Turner and Fauconnier on ‘blends.’Bontly: Either way, the metaphor would be dead to the child, forcing him to learn that use the same way they learn any arbitrary convention.”It may do to explore ‘established idioms’ in, say, parts of England, which are not so ‘established’ in OTHER parts. Nancy Mitford with his U and non-U distinction may do. “He went to Haddon Hall” invites, for Mitford, the ‘unintended’ implicature that the utterer is NOT upper-class. “Surely we drop “hall.’ What else can Haddon be?” But the inference may be lacking for a non-U addressee or utterer. Similarly, in the north of England, “our Mary,” invites the implicature of ‘affection,’ and this may go over the head of members of the south-of-England community.Bontly: “The way out of the dilemma, then, is to look to learning.”Alla Kripkenstein?Bontly: To the problem of tradeoffs, Grice can reply that it is better to multiply (if we must use the Occamist verb) inferences – logical inference and pragmatic inference -- than multiply senses because language acquisition is biased in that direction. And Grice may likewise answer the problem of a dead metaphor, or established idiom like, “He’s been pushing up the daisies for some time, now. The reason that Grice’s “M. O. R.” does not mandate an implicatum account for Grice as well is that such a dead metaphor or established idiom is not calculable by children at the time they learn such expressions, even if they are calculable by some adult speakers.”Is that a fact? I would think that a child is a ‘relentless literalist,’ as Grice called Austin. “Pushing up the daisies?” “I don’t see any daisies!”I think Brigitte Nerlich has a similar example re: irony: MOTHER: What a BEAUTIFUL day! (ironically)CHILD: What do you mean? It’s pouring and nasty. MOTHER: I was being ironic.I don’t think the child is going to posit a second sense to ‘beautiful’ meaning ‘nasty.’Bontly: “For the deciding question in applying Grice’s “M. O. R.” is NOT whether the implicatum account is available to a philosopher like Grice, but whether it is available to the learner! On this way of carving things up, by the way, some alleged ambiguities which Grice would treat as implicata could turn out to be semantically significant after all. Likewise, some allegedly dead metaphor may turn out to be very much alive.” Look! He did kick the bucket!” “But he’s PRETENDING to die, dear! Some uses, finally, may vary from utterer to utterer, there being no guarantee that every utterer will have learned the use in the same way. As a conclusion, a better understanding of developmental processes might therefore enlarge our appreciation of the ways in which semantics and pragmatics interact.”Indeed.REFERENCES Atlas, J. D. “Philosophy without Ambiguity.” Oxford: Clarendon Press. E: Wolfson, Oxford. Philosopher. And S. Levinson, “It-clefts, informativeness, and logical form: Radical pragmatics (revised standard version),” in P. Cole (ed.), Radical Pragmatics. New York: Academic Press.Bach, K. “Thought and Reference,” Oxford.“Conversational impliciture,” Mind & Language, 9And R. Harnish, “Linguistic Communication and Speech Acts,” Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Bloom, P. “How Children Learn the Meanings of Words,” Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.  “Mind-reading, communication and the learning of names for things,” Mind & Language, 17Braine, M. and Rumain, B. “Development of comprehension of ‘or’: evidence for a sequence of developmental competencies,” Journal of Experimental Child Psychology, 31. Davis, S. (ed.) “Pragmatics: A Reader,” Oxford Devitt, M. “The case for referential descriptions,” in M. Reimer/A. Bezuidenhout, “Descriptions and Beyond,” Oxford Doherty, M. “Children’s understanding of homonymy: meta-linguistic awareness and false belief,” Journal of Child Language, 27 Gazdar, G. “Pragmatics: Implicature, Presupposition, and Logical Form,” New York: Academic Press. Gleitman, L. “The structural sources of verb meanings,” Language Acquisition, 1Grice, H. P. “Vacuous names,” in D. Davidson and J. Hintikka, Words and Objections. Dordrecht: Reidel. Repr. in part in Ostertag, “Definite descriptions,” MIT.Logic and Conversation. In P. Cole and J. Morgan (eds.), Syntax and Semantics, vol. 3, Speech Acts. New York: Academic Press, pp. 41–58. Reprinted in Grice, 1989, and Davis, 1991. Grice, P. 1978: Further notes on logic and conversation. In P. Cole (ed.), Syntax and Semantics, vol. 9, Pragmatics. New York: Academic Press, pp. 113–128. Reprinted in Grice, 1989. Presupposition and conversational implicature. In P. Cole (ed.), Radical Pragmatics. New York: Academic Press, 183–198. Reprinted in Grice, 1989. Studies in the Way of Words. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Hesse, M. “Simplicity,” in P. Edwards (ed.), The Encyclopedia of Philosophy. New York: MacMillan.Jackendoff, R. “Foundations of Language: Brain, Meaning, Grammar, Evolution,” Oxford. Kripke, S. “Speaker’s reference and semantic reference,” Midwest Studies in Philosophy, Repr. in Davis, 1991. Levinson, S. “Pragmatics,” Cambridge.“Presumptive Meanings: The Theory of Generalized Conversational Implicature,” Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Markman, E./G. Wachtel, “Childrens’ use of mutual exclusivity to constrain the meaning of words,” Cognitive Psychology, 20Mazzocco, M. “Children’s interpretations of homonyms: A developmental study,” Journal of Child Language, 24Morgan, J. L. “Two types of convention in indirect speech acts,” n P. Cole (ed.): Syntax and Semantics, vol. 9, Pragmatics. New York: Academic Press, reprinted in Davis, 1991. Newton, I. “Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy,” A. Motte (trans.) and F. Cajori (rev.). Repr. in R. Hutchins (ed.), Great Books of the Western World, vol. 34. Chicago: Encyclopedia Britannica, Inc., 1952. Noveck, I. When children are more logical than adults are: Experimental investigations of scalar implicature, Cognition, 78, 165–188. And F. Chevaux, “The pragmatic development of and. In A. Ho, S. Fish, and B. Skarabela, Proceedings of the 26th Annual Boston University Conference on Language Development. Somerville, MA: Cascadilla Press.Papafragou, A. “Mind-reading and verbal communication,” Mind & Language, 17Paris, S. “Comprehension of language connectives and propositional logical relationships,” Journal of Experimental Child Psychology, 16.Peters, A./E. Zaidel, “The acquisition of homonymy. Cognition, 8.Pinker, S. “Language Learnability and Language Development,” Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Reimer, M. “Donnellan’s distinction/Kripke’s test.” Analysis, 58.Ruhl, C. “On Monosemy: A Study in Linguistic Semantics,” Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Sadock, J. “On testing for conversational implicature,” in P. Cole (ed.), Syntax and Semantics, vol. 9, Pragmatics. New York: Academic Press, Repr. in Davis, 1991. Searle, J. R. “Indirect speech acts,” n P. Cole and J. Morgan, Syntax and Semantics, vol. 3, Speech Acts. New York: Academic Press, Repr. in Davis, 1991. Slobin, D. “Crosslinguistic evidence for a language-making capacity,” n D. Slobin, The Cross-linguistic Study of Language Acquisition, vol. 2. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum. Smart, J. “Ockham’s razor,” in J. Fetzer, “Principles of Philosophical Reasoning,” Totowa, NJ: Rowan and Allanheld. Sober, E. “The principle of parsimony,” The British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 32“Reconstructing the Past,” Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.“Let’s razor Ockham’s razor,” in D. Knowles, Explanation and Its Limits. Cambridge.Stalnaker, R. C. “Pragmatic presupposition,” in M. Munitz/P. Unger, “Semantics and Philosophy,” New York: Academic Press, pp. 197–213. Repr. in Davis, 1991. Stampe, D. W. “Attributives and interrogatives,” in M. Munitz/P. Unger, Semantics and Philosophy. New York: Academic Press.Sternberg, R. “Developmental patterns in the encoding and combination of logical connectives,” Journal of Experimental Child Psychology, 28 Van Fraassen, B. “The Scientific Image,” Oxford.Walker, R. C. S. “Conversational implicatures: a reply to Cohen,” in S. W. Blackburn, Meaning, Reference, and Necessity. Cambridge. Ziff, P. “Semantic Analysis.” Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Zwicky, A./J. Sadock, “Ambiguity tests and how to fail them,” in J. Kimball, Syntax and Semantics, vol. 4. New York: Academic Press.Refs: The Grice Papers, BANC, Bancroft.

modus. “The distinction between Judicative and Volitive Interrogatives corresponds with the difference between cases in which a questioner is indicated as being, in one way or another, concerned to obtain information ("Is he at home?"), and cases in which the questioner is indicated as being concerned to settle a problem about what he is to do ("Am I to leave the door open?", "Is the prisoner to be released?", "Shall I go on reading?"). This difference is better represented in Grecian and Roman.”The Greek word was ‘egklisis,’ which Priscian translates as ‘modus’ and defines as ‘inclinatio anima, affectionis demonstrans.’ The Greeks recognised five: horistike, indicativus, pronuntiativus, finitus, or definitivus, prostastike, imperativus, euktike, optativus, hypotaktike (subjunctivus, or conjunnctivus, but also volitivus, hortativus, deliberativus, iussivus, prohibitivus anticipativus ) and aparemphatos infinitivus or infinitus.

modus optativus. optative enclisis (gre: ευκτική έγκλιση, euktike enclisis, hence it may be seen as a modus optatīvus. Something that fascinated Grice. The way an ‘action’ is modalised in the way one describes it. He had learned the basics for Greek and Latin at Oxford, and he was exhilarated to be able to teach now on the subtleties of the English system of ‘aspect.’ To ‘opt’ is to choose. So ‘optativus’ is the deliberative mode. Grice proved the freedom of the will with a “grammatical argument.” ‘Given that the Greeks and the Romans had an optative mode, there is free will.” Romans, having no special verbal forms recognized as Optative, had no need of the designation modus optativus. Yet they sometimes used it, ad imitationem ..

myth: Grice was possibly motivated by Quine’s irreverent, “The mth of meaning,” a talk at France, “Le mythe de la signification.” It’s odd that he gives the example of a ‘social contract’, developed by G. R. Grice as a ‘myth’ as his own on ‘expressing pain.’ “My succession of stages is a methodological myth designed to exhibit the conceptual link between expression and communication. Rather than Plato, he appeals to Rawls and the myth of the social conpact! Grice knows a little about Descartess “Discours de la methode,” and he is also aware of similar obsession by Collingwood with philosopical methodology. Grice would joke on midwifery, as the philosopher’s apter method at Oxford: to strangle error at its birth. Grice typifies a generation at Oxford. While he did not socialize with the crème de la crème in pre-war Oxford, he shared some their approach. E.g. a love affair with Russell’s logical construction. After the war, and in retrospect, Grice liked to associate himself with Austin. He obviously felt the need to belong to a group, to make a difference, to make history. Many participants of the play group saw themselves as doing philosophy, rather than reading about it! It was long after that Grice started to note the differences in methodology between Austin and himself. His methodology changed a little. He was enamoured with formalism for a while, and he grants that this love never ceased. In a still later phase, he came to realise that his way of doing philosophy was part of literature (essay writing). And so he started to be slightly more careful about his style – which some found florid. The stylistic concerns were serious. Oxonian philosophers like Holloway had been kept away from philosophy because of the stereotype that the Oxonian philosophers style is pedantic, when it neednt! A philosopher should be allowed, as Plato was, to use a myth, if he thinks his tutee will thank him for that! Grice loved to compare his Oxonian dialectic with Platos Athenian (strictly, Academic) dialectic. Indeed, there is some resemblance of the use of myth in Plato and Grice for philosophical methodological purposes. Grice especially enjoys a myth in his programme in philosophical psychology. In this, he is very much being a philosopher. Non-philosophers usually criticise this methodological use of a myth, but they would, wouldnt they. Grice suggests that a myth has diagogic relevance. Creature construction, the philosopher as demi-god, if mythical, is an easier way for a philosophy don to instil his ideas on his tutee than, say, privileged access and incorrigibility. Refs.: The main source is Grice’s essay on ‘myth’, in The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

need – H. P. Grice, “Need,” cf. D. Wiggins, “Need.” “What Toby needs” Grice was also interested in the modal use of ‘need’. “You need to do it.” “ ‘Need,’ like ‘ought’ takes ‘to.’” “It’s very Anglo-Saxon.”

nowell-smithianism. “The Nowell is redundant,” Grice would say. P. H. Nowell-Smith adopted the “Nowell” after his father’s first name. In “Ethics,” he elaborates on what he calls ‘contextual implication.’ The essay was widely read, and has a freshness that other ‘meta-ethicist’ at Oxford seldom display. His ‘contextual implication’ compares of course to Grice’s ‘conversational implicature.’ Indeed, by using ‘conversational implicature,’ Grice is following an Oxonian tradition started with C. K. Grant and his ‘pragmatic implication,’ and P. H. Nowell-Smith and his ‘contextual implication.’ At Oxford, they were obsessed with these types of ‘implicata,’ because it was the type of thing that a less subtle philosopher would ignore. Grice’s cancellability priority for his type of implicata hardly applies to Nowell-Smith. Nowell-Smith never displays the ‘rationalist’ bent that Grice wants to endow to his principle of conversational co-operation. Nowell-Smith, rather, calls his ‘principles’ “rules of conversational etiquette.” If you revise the literature, you will see that things like “avoid ambiguity,” “don’t play unnecessary with words,” are listed indeed in what is called a ‘conversational manual,’ of ‘conversational etiquette,’ that is. In his rationalist bent, Grice narrows down the use of ‘conversational’ to apply to ‘conversational maxim,’ which is only a UNIVERSALISABLE one, towards the overarching goal of rational co-operation. In this regard, many of the rules of ‘conversational etiquette’ (Grice even mentions ‘moral rules,’ and a rule like ‘be polite’) to fall outside the principle of conversational helpfulness, and thus, not exactly generating a ‘conversational implicatum.’ While Grice gives room to allow such non-conversational non-conventional implicata to be ‘calculable,’ that is, ‘rationalizable, by ‘argument,’ he never showed any interest in giving one example – for the simple reason that none of those ‘maxims’ generated the type of ‘mistake’ on the part of this or that philosopher, as he was interested in rectifying.

O: particularis abdicativa. See Grice, “Circling the Square of Opposition.”

objectivism: Grice reads Meinong on objectivity and finds it funny! Meinong distinguishes four classes of objects: ‘Objekt,’ simpliciter, which can be real (like horses) or ideal (like the concepts of difference, identity, etc.) and “Objectiv,” e.g. the affirmation of the being (Sein) or non-being (Nichtsein), of a being-such (Sosein), or a being-with (Mitsein) - parallel to existential, categorical and hypothetical judgements. An “Objectiv” is close to what contemporary philosophers call states of affairs (where these may be actual—may obtain—or not). The third class is the dignitative, e.g. the true, the good, the beautiful. Finally, there is the desiderative, e.g. duties, ends, etc. To these four classes of objects correspond four classes of psychological acts:  (re)presentation (das Vorstellen), for objects thought (das Denken), for the objectives feeling (das Fühlen), for dignitatives desire (das Begehren), for the desideratives. Grice starts with subjectivity. Objectivity can be constructed as non-relativised subjectivity. Grice discusses of Inventing right and wrong by Mackie. In the proceedings, Grice quotes the artless sexism of Austin in talking about the trouser words in Sense and Sensibilia. Grice tackles all the distinctions Mackie had played with: objective/Subjectsive, absolute/relative, categorical/hypothetical or suppositional. Grice quotes directly from Hare: Think of one world into whose fabric values are objectively built; and think of another in which those values have been annihilated. And remember that in both worlds the people in them go on being concerned about the same things—there is no difference in the Subjectsive value. Now I ask, what is the difference between the states of affairs in these two worlds? Can any answer be given except, none whatever? Grice uses the Latinate objective (from objectum). Cf. Hare on what he thinks the oxymoronic sub-jective value. Grice considered more seriously than Barnes did the systematics behind Nicolai Hartmanns stratification of values. Refs.: the most explicit allusion is a specific essay on “objectivity” in The H. P. Grice Papers. Most of the topic is covered in “Conception,” Essay 1. BANC.

objectivum. Here the contrast is what what is subjective, or subjectivum. Notably value. For Hartmann and Grice, a value is rational, objective and absolute, and categorical (not relative).

objectum. For Grice the subjectum is prior. While ‘subject’ and ‘predicate’ are basic Aristotelian categories, the idea of the direct object or indirect object seems to have little philosophical relevance. (but cf. “What is the meaning of ‘of’? Genitivus subjectivus versus enitivus objectivus. The usage that is more widespread is a misnomer for ‘thing’. When an empiricist like Grice speaks of an ‘obble’ or an ‘object,’ he means a thing. That is because, since Hume there’s no such thing as a ‘subject’ qua self. And if there is no subject, there is no object. No Copernican revolution for empiricists.

one-at-a-time-sailor. He is loved by the altogether nice girl. Or grasshopper: Grice’s one-at-a-time grasshopper. His rational reconstruction of ‘some’ and ‘all.’ “A simple proposal for the treatment of the two quantifiers, rendered otiosely in English by “all” and “some (at least one),” – “the” is definable in terms of “all” -- would call for the assignment to a predicate such as that of ‘being a grasshopper,” symbolized by “G,” besides its normal or standard EXtension, two special things (or ‘object,’ if one must use Quine’s misnomer), associated with quantifiers, an 'altogether' ‘substitute’, thing or object and a 'one-at-a-time' non-substitute thing or object.”“To the predicate 'grasshopper' is assigned not only an individual, viz. a grasshopper, but also what I call  ‘The All-Together Grass-Hopper,’ or species-1and ‘The One-At-A-Time Grass-Hopper,’ or species-2. “I now stipulate that an 'altogether' item satisfies such a predicate as “being a grasshopper,” or G, just in case every normal or standard item associated with “the all-to-gether” grasshopper satisfies the predicate in question. Analogously, a 'one-at-a-time' item satisfies a predicate just in case “SOME (AT LEAST ONE)” of the associated standard items satisfies that predicate.”“So ‘The All-To-Gether Grass-Hopper izzes green just in case every individual grasshopper is green.The one-at-a-time grasshopper izzes green just in case some (at least one) individual grasshopper izzes green.”“We can take this pair of statements about these two special grasshoppers as providing us with representations of (respectively) the statements, ‘Every grass-hopper is green,’ and ‘Some (at least one) grasshopper is green.’“The apparatus which Grice sketched is plainly not, as it stands, adequate to provide a comprehensive treatment of quantification.”“It will not, e. g. cope with well-known problems of multiple quantification,” as in “Every Al-Together Nice Grass-Hopper Loves A Sailing Grass-Hopper.”“It will not deliver for us distinct representations of the two notorious (alleged) readings of ‘Every nice girl loves a sailor,” in one of which (supposedly) the universal quantifier is dominant with respect to scope, and in the other of which the existential quantifier is dominant.”The ambiguity was made ambiguous by Marie Lloyd. For every time she said “a sailor,” she pointed at herself – thereby disimplicating the default implicatum that the universal quantifier be dominant. “To cope with Marie Lloyd’s problem it might be sufficient to explore, for semantic purposes, the device of exportation, and to distinguish between, 'There exists a sailor such that every nice girl loves him', which attributes a certain property to the one-at-a-time sailor, and (ii) 'Every nice girl is such that she loves some sailor', which attributes a certain (and different) property to the altogether nice girl.Note that, as one makes this move, that though exportation, when applied to statements about individual objects, seems not to affect truth-value, whatever else may be its semantic function, when it is applied to sentences about special objects it may, and sometimes will, affect truth-value.”“But however effective this particular shift may be, it is by no means clear that there are not further demands to be met which would overtax the strength of the envisaged apparatus.It is not, for example, clear whether it could be made adequate to deal with indefinitely long strings of 'mixed' quantifiers.”“The proposal might also run into objections of a more conceptual character from those who would regard the special objects which it invokes as metaphysically disreputable – for where would an ‘altogether sailor” sail?, or an one-at-a-time grasshopper hop?“Should an alternative proposal be reached or desired, one (or, indeed, more than one) is available.”“One may be regarded as a replacement for, an extension of, or a reinterpretation of the scheme just outlined, in accordance with whatever view is finally taken of the potency and respectability of the ideas embodied in that scheme.” “This proposal treats a propositional complexum as a sequence, indeed as ordered pairs containing a subject-item and a predicate-item.It thus offers a subject-predicate account of quantification (as opposed to what?, you may wonder). However, it will not allow an individual, i. e. a sailor, or a nice girl, to appear as COMPONENTS in a propositional complexum.The sailor and the nice girl will always be reduced, ‘extensionally,’ or ‘extended,’ if you wish, as a set or an attribute.“According to the class-theoretic version, we associate with the subject-expression of a canonically formulated sentence a class of (at least) a second order. If the subject expression is a singular name, like “Grice,” its ontological correlatum will be the singleton of the singleton of the entity which bears the name Grice, or Pop-Eye.” “The treatment of a singular terms which are not names – e. g. ‘the sailor’ -- will be parallel, but is here omitted. It involves the iota operator, about which Russell would say that Frege knew a iota. If the subject-expression is an indefinite quantificational phrase, like 'some (at least one) sailor’ ‘or some (at least one) grasshopper', its ontological correlatum will be the set of all singletons whose sole member is a member belonging to the extension of the predicate to which the indefinite modifier “some (at least one)” is attached.So the ontological correlatum of the phrase ‘some (at least one) sailor’ or 'some (at least one) grasshopper' will be the class of all singletons whose sole member is an individuum (sailor, grasshopper). If the subject expression is a universal quantificational phrase, like ‘every nice girl’ its ontological correlatum will be the singleton whose sole member is the class which forms the extension of the predicate to which the universal modifier (‘every’) is attached.Thus,  the correlate of the phrase 'every nice girl' will be the singleton of the class of nice girls.The song was actually NOT written by a nice girl – but by a bad boy.A predicate of a canonically formulated sentence is correlated with the classes which form its extension.As for the predication-relation, i. e., the relation which has to obtain between subject-element and predicate-element in a propositional complex for that complex to be factive, a propositional complexum is factive or value-satisfactory just in case its subject-element contains as a member at least one item which is a sub-class of the predicate-element.”If the ontological correlatum of 'a sailor,’ or, again, of 'every nice girl') contains as a member at least one subset of the ontological correlata of the dyadic predicate ' … loves … ' (viz. the class of love), the propositional complexum directly associated with the sentence ‘A sailor loves every nice girl’ is factive, as is its converse“Grice devotes a good deal of energy to the ‘one-at-a-time-sailor,’ and the ‘altogether nice girl’ and he convinced himself that it offered a powerful instrument which, with or without adjustment, is capable of handling not only indefinitely long sequences of ‘mixed’ quantificational phrases, but also some other less obviously tractable problems, such as the ‘ground’ for this being so: what it there about a sailor – well, you know what sailors are. When the man o' war or merchant ship comes sailing into port/The jolly tar with joy, will sing out, Land Ahoy!/With his pockets full of money and a parrot in a cage/He smiles at all the pretty girls upon the landing stage/All the nice girls love a sailor/All the nice girls love a tar/For there's something about a sailor/(Well you know what sailors are!)/Bright and breezy, free and easy,/He's the ladies' pride and joy!/He falls in love with Kate and Jane, then he's off to sea again,/Ship ahoy! Ship ahoy!/He will spend his money freely, and he's generous to his pals,/While Jack has got a sou, there's half of it for you,/And it's just the same in love and war, he goes through with a smile,/And you can trust a sailor, he's a white man (meaning: honest man) all the while!“Before moving on, however, I might perhaps draw attention to three features of the proposal.”“First, employing a strategy which might be thought of as Leibnizian, it treats a subject-element (even a lowly tar) as being of an order HIGHER than, rather than an order LOWER than, the predicate element.”“Second, an individual name, such as Grice, is in effect treated like a universal quantificational phrase, thus recalling the practice of old-style traditionalism.“Third, and most importantly, the account which is offered is, initially, an account of propositional complexes, not of propositions; as I envisage them, propositions will be regarded as families of propositional complexes.”“Now the propositional complexum directly associated with the sentence “Every nice girl loves a sailor” (WoW: 34) will be both logically equivalent to and numerically distinct from the propositional complex directly associated with ‘It is not the case that no nice girl loves no sailor.’ Indeed for any given propositional complex there will be indefinitely many propositional complexes which are both equipolent to yet numerically distinct from the original complexum. Strawson used to play with this. The question of how tight or how relaxed are to be the family ties which determine the IDENTITY of propositio 1 with propositio 2  remains to be decided. Such conditions will vary according to context or purpose.

occam : a picturesque village in Surrey. His most notable resident is William. When William left Occam, he was often asked, “Where are you from?” In the vernacular, he would make an effort to aspirate the ‘h’ Ock-Home.’ His French friends were unable to aspirate, and he ended up accepting that perhaps he WAS from “Occam.” Vide Modified Occam’s Razor.

one-off communicatum. The condition for an action to be taken in a specific way in cases where the audience must recognize the utterer’s intention (a ‘one-off predicament’). The recognition of the C-intention does not have to occur ‘once we have habits of taking utterances one way or another.’

Blackburn: From one-off AIIBp to one-off GAIIB. Surely we have to generalise the B into the PSI. Plus, 'action' is too strong, and should be replaced by 'emitting'This yields From EIIψp GEIIψp. According to this assumption, an emissor who is not assuming his addressee shares any system of communication is in the original situation that S. W. Blackburn, of Pembroke, dubbs “the one-off predicament, and one can provide a scenario where the Griciean conditions, as they are meant to hold, do hold, and emissor E communicates that p i. e. C1, C2, and C3, are fulfilled. 

. be accomplished in the "one-off predicament" (in which no linguistic or other conventional ...The Gricean mechanism with its complex communicative intentions has a clear point in what Blackburn calls “a one-off predicament” - a . Simon Blackburn's "one-off predicament" of communicating without a shared language illustrates how Grice's theory can be applied to iconic signals such as the ...Blackburn's "one-off predicament" of communicating without a shared language illustrates how Grice's theory can be applied to iconic signals such as the drawing of a skull to wam of danger. See his Spreading the Word. III. 112.Thus S may draw a pic- "one-off predicament"). ... Clarendon, 1976); and Simon Blackburn, Spreading the Word (Oxford: Clarendon, 1984) ...by Blackburn in “Spreading the word.” Since Grice’s main motivation is to progress from one-off to philosophers’s mistakes, he does not explore the situation. He gets close to it in “Meaning Revisited,” when proposing a ‘rational reconstruction,’ FROM a one-off to a non-iconic system of communication, where you can see his emphasis and motivation is in the last stage of the progress. Since he is having the ‘end result,’ sometimes he is not careful in the description of the ‘one-off,’ or dismissive of it. But as Blackburn notes, it is crucial that Grice provides the ‘rudiments’ for a ‘meaning-nominalism,’ where an emissor can communicate that p in a one-off scenario. This is all Grice needs to challenge those accounts based on ‘convention,’ or the idea of a ‘system’ of communication. There is possibly an implicature to the effect that if something is a device is not a one-off, but that is easily cancellable. “He used a one-off device, and it worked.”

ontogenesis. Grice taught his children “not to tell lies” – “as my father and my mother taught me.” One of his favourite paintings was “When did you last see your father?” “I saw him in my dreams,” – “Not a lie, you see.” it is interesting that Grice was always enquiring his childrens playmates: Can a sweater be red and green all over? No stripes allowed! One found a developmental account of the princile of conversational helpfulness boring, or as he said, "dull." Refs.: There is an essay on the semantics of children’s language, BANC.

ontological marxism:  As opposed to ‘ontological laisssez-faire’ Note the use of ‘ontological’ in ‘ontological’ Marxism. Is not metaphysical Marxism, so Grice knows what he is talking about. Many times when he uses ‘metaphysics,’ he means ‘ontological.’ Ontological for Grice is at least liberal. He is hardly enamoured of some of the motivations which prompt the advocacy of psycho-physical identity. He has in mind a concern to exclude an entity such as as a ‘soul,’ an event of the soul, or a property of the soul. His taste is for keeping open house for all sorts of conditions of entities, just so long as when the entity comes in it helps with the housework, i. e., provided that Grice see the entity work, and provided that it is not detected in illicit logical behaviour, which need not involve some degree of indeterminacy, The entity works? Ergo, the entity exists. And, if it comes on the recommendation of some transcendental argument the entity may even qualify as an entium realissimum. To exclude an honest working entitiy is metaphysical snobbery, a reluctance to be seen in the company of any but the best. A category, a universalium plays a role in Grice’s meta-ethics. A principles or laws of psychology may be self-justifying, principles connected with the evaluation of ends. If these same principles play a role in determining what we count as entia realissima, metaphysics, and an abstractum would be grounded in part in considerations about value (a not unpleasant project). This ontological Marxism is latter day. In “Some remarks,” he expresses his disregard for what he calls a “Wittgensteinian” limitation in expecting behavioural manifestation of an ascription about a soul. Yet in “Method” he quotes almost verbatim from Witters, “No psychological postulation without the behaviour the postulation is meant to explain.” It was possibly D. K. Lewis who made him change his mind. Grice was obsessed with Aristotle on ‘being,’ and interpreted Aristotle as holding a thesis of unified semantic ‘multiplicity.’ This is in agreement with the ontological Marxism, in more than one ways. By accepting a denotatum for a praedicatum like ‘desideratum,’ Grice is allowing the a desideratum may be the subject of discourse. It is an ‘entity’ in this fashion. Marxism and laissez-faire both exaggerate the role of the economy. Society needs a safety net to soften the rough edges of free enterprise. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “Ontological Marxism and ontological laissez-faire.”

casus obliquus – casus rectus (orthe ptosis) vs. ‘casus obliquus – plagiai ptoseis – genike, dotike, aitiatike.   “ptosis” is not attested in Grecian before Plato. A noun of action based on the radical of πίπτω, to fall, ptôsis means literally a fall: the fall of a die Plato, Republic, X.604c, or of lightning Aristotle, Meteorology, 339a Alongside this basic value and derived metaphorical values: decadence, death, and so forth, in Aristotle the word receives a linguistic specification that was to have great influence: retained even in modern Grecian ptôsê πτώση, its Roman Tr.  casus allowed it to designate grammatical case in most modern European languages. In fact, however, when it first appears in Aristotle, the term does not initially designate the noun’s case inflection. In the De Int. chaps. 2 and 3, it qualifies the modifications, both semantic and formal casual variation of the verb and those of the noun: he was well, he will be well, in relation to he is well; about Philo, to Philo, in relation to Philo. As a modification of the noun—that is, in Aristotle, of its basic form, the nominative—the case ptôsis differs from the noun insofar as, associated with is, was, or will be, it does not permit the formation of a true or false statement. As a modification of the verb, describing the grammatical tense, it is distinguished from the verb that oversignifies the present: the case of the verb oversignifies the time that surrounds the present. From this we must conclude that to the meaning of a given verb e.g., walk the case of the verb adds the meaning prossêmainei πϱοσσημαίνει of its temporal modality he will walk. Thus the primacy of the present over the past and the future is affirmed, since the present of the verb has no case. But the Aristotelian case is a still broader, vaguer, and more elastic notion: presented as part of expression in chapter 20 of the Poetics, it qualifies variation in number and modality. It further qualifies the modifications of the noun, depending on the gender ch.21 of the Poetics; Top.   as well as adverbs derived from a substantive or an adjective, like justly, which is derived from just. The notion of case is thus essential for the characterization of paronyms. Aristotle did not yet have specialized names for the different cases of nominal inflection. When he needs to designate them, he does so in a conventional manner, usually by resorting to the inflected form of a pronoun— τούτου, of this, for the genitive, τούτῳ, to this, for the dative, and so on — and sometimes to that of a substantive or adjective. In the Prior Analytics, Aristotle insists on distinguishing between the terms ὅϱοι that ought always to be stated in the nominative ϰλῆσεις, e.g. man, good, contraries, but the premisses ought to be understood with reference to the cases of each term—either the dative, e.g. ‘equal to this’ toutôi, dative, or the genitive, e.g. ‘double of this’ toutou, genitive, or the accusative, e.g. ‘that which strikes or v.s this’ τούτο, accusative, or the nominative, e.g. ‘man is an animal’ οὗτος, nominative, or in whatever other way the word falls πίπτει in the premiss Anal. Post., I.36, 48b, 4 In the latter expression, we may find the origin of the metaphor of the fall—which remains controversial. Some commentators relate the distinction between what is direct and what is oblique as pertains to grammatical cases, which may be direct orthê ptôsis or oblique plagiai ptôseis, but also to the grand metaphoric and conceptual register that stands on this distinction to falling in the game of jacks, it being possible that the jack could fall either on a stable side and stand there—the direct case—or on three unstable sides— the oblique cases. In an unpublished dissertation on the principles of Stoic grammar, Hans Erich Müller proposes to relate the Stoic theory of cases to the theory of causality, by trying to associate the different cases with the different types of causality. They would thus correspond in the utterance to the different causal postures of the body in the physical field. For the Stoics, predication is a matter not of identifying an essence ousia οὖσια and its attributes in conformity with the Aristotelian categories, but of reproducing in the utterance the causal relations of action and passion that bodies entertain among themselves. It was in fact with the Stoics that cases were reduced to noun cases—in Dionysius Thrax TG, 13, the verb is a word without cases lexis aptôton, and although egklisis means mode, it sometimes means inflection, and then it covers the variations of the verb, both temporal and modal. If Diogenes Laertius VII.192 is to be believed, Chrysippus wrote a work On the Five Cases. It must have included, as Diogenes VII.65 tells us, a distinction between the direct case orthê ptôsis—the case which, constructed with a predicate, gives rise to a proposition axiôma, VII.64—and oblique cases plagiai ptseis, which now are given names, in this order: genitive genikê, dative dôtikê, and accusative aitiatikê. A classification of predicates is reported by Porphyry, cited in Ammonius Commentaire du De Int. d’Aristote, 44, 19f.. Ammonius 42, 30f. reports a polemic between Aristotle and the Peripatetics, on the one hand, and the Stoics and grammarians associated with them, on the other. For the former, the nominative is not a case, it is the noun itself from which the cases are declined; for the latter, the nominative is a full-fledged case: it is the direct case, and if it is a case, that is because it falls from the concept, and if it is direct, that is because it falls directly, just as the stylus can, after falling, remain stable and straight. Although ptôsis is part of the definition of the predicate—the predicate is what allows, when associated with a direct case, the composition of a proposition—and figures in the part of dialectic devoted to signifieds, it is neither defined nor determined as a constituent of the utterance alongside the predicate. In Stoicism, ptôsis v.ms to signify more than grammatical case alone. Secondary in relation to the predicate that it completes, it is a philosophical concept that refers to the manner in which the Stoics v.m to have criticized the Aristotelian notion of substrate hupokeimenon ὑποϰειμένον as well as the distinction between substance and accidents. Ptôsis is the way in which the body or bodies that our representation phantasia φαντασία presents to us in a determined manner appear in the utterance, issuing not directly from perception, but indirectly, through the mediation of the concept that makes it possible to name it/them in the form of an appellative a generic concept, man, horse or a name a singular concept, Socrates. Cases thus represent the diverse ways in which the concept of the body falls in the utterance though Stoic nominalism does not admit the existence of this concept—just as here there is no Aristotelian category outside the different enumerated categorial rubrics, there is no body outside a case position. However, caring little for these subtleties, the scholiasts of Technê v.m to confirm this idea in their own context when they describe the ptôsis as the fall of the incorporeal and the generic into the specific ἔϰ τοῦ γενιϰοῦ εἰς τὸ εἰδιϰόν. In the work of the grammarians, case is reduced to the grammatical case, that is, to the morphological variation of nouns, pronouns, articles, and participles, which, among the parts of speech, accordingly constitute the subclass of casuels, a parts of speech subject to case-based inflection πτωτιϰά. The canonical list of cases places the vocative klêtikê ϰλητιϰή last, after the direct eutheia εὐθεῖα case and the three oblique cases, in their Stoic order: genitive, dative, accusative. This order of the oblique cases gives rise, in some commentators eager to rationalize Scholia to the Technê, 549, 22, to a speculation inspired by localism: the case of the PARONYM 743 place from which one comes in Grecian , the genitive is supposed naturally to precede that of the place where one is the dative, which itself naturally precedes that of the place where one is going the accusative. Apollonius’s reflection on syntax is more insightful; in his Syntax III.15888 he presents, in this order, the accusative, the genitive, and the dative as expressing three degrees of verbal transitivity: conceived as the distribution of activity and passivity between the prime actant A in the direct case and the second actant B in one of the three oblique cases in the process expressed by a biactantial verb, the transitivity of the accusative corresponds to the division A all active—B all passive A strikes B; the transitivity of the genitive corresponds to the division A primarily active/passive to a small degree—B primarily passive/active to a small degree A listens to B; and the transitivity of the dative, to the division A and B equally active-passive A fights with The direct case, at the head of the list, owes its prmacy to the fact that it is the case of nomination: names are given in the direct case. The verbs of existence and nomination are constructed solely with the direct case, without the function of the attribute being thematized as such. Although Chrysippus wrote about five cases, the fifth case, the vocative, v.ms to have escaped the division into direct and oblique cases. Literally appelative prosêgorikon πϱοσηγοϱιϰόν, it could refer not only to utterances of address but also more generally to utterances of nomination. In the grammarians, the vocative occupies a marginal place; whereas every sentence necessarily includes a noun and a verb, the vocative constitutes a complete sentence by itself. Frédérique Ildefonse REFS.: Aristotle. Analytica priorTr.  J. Jenkinson. In the Works of Aristotle, vol. 1, ed.  and Tr.  W. D. Ross, E. M. Edghill, J. Jenkinson, G.R.G. Mure, and Wallace Pickford. Oxford: Oxford , 192 . Poetics. Ed.  and Tr.  Stephen Halliwell. Cambridge: Harvard  / Loeb Classical Library, . Delamarre, Alexandre. La notion de ptōsis chez Aristote et les Stoïciens. In Concepts et Catégories dans la pensée antique, ed.  by Pierre Aubenque, 3214 : Vrin, . Deleuze, Gilles. Logique du sens. : Minuit, . Tr.  Mark Lester with Charles Stivale: The Logic of Sense. Ed.  by Constantin V. Boundas. : Columbia , . Dionysius Thrax. Technē grammatikē. Book I, vol. 1 of Grammatici Graeci, ed.  by Gustav Uhlig. Leipzig: Teubner, 188 Eng. Tr.  T.  D. son: The Grammar. St. Louis, 187 Fr.  Tr.  J. Lallot: La grammaire de Denys le Thrace. 2nd rev. and expanded ed. : CNRS Éditions, . Frede, Michael. The Origins of Traditional Grammar. In Historical and Philosophical Dimensions of Logic, Methodology, and Phil.  of Science, ed.  by E. H. Butts and J. Hintikka, 517 Dordrecht, Neth.: Reiderl, . Reprinted, in M. Frede, Essays in Ancient Phil. , 3385 Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, . . The Stoic Notion of a Grammatical Case. Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies of the University of 39 : 132 Hadot, Pierre. La notion de ‘cas’ dans la logique stoïcienne. Pp. 10912 in Actes du XIIIe Congrès des sociétés de philosophie en langue française. Geneva: Baconnière, . Hiersche, Rolf. Entstehung und Entwicklung des Terminus πτῶσις, ‘Fall.’ Sitzungsberichte der deutschen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin: Klasse für Sprachen, Literatur und Kunst 3 1955: 51 Ildefonse, Frédérique. La naissance de la grammaire dans l’Antiquité grecque. : Vrin, . Imbert, Claude. Phénoménologies et langues formularies. : Presses Universitaires de France, . Pinborg, Jan. Classical Antiquity: Greece. In Current Trends in Linguistics, ed.  by Th. Sebeok. Vol. 13 in Historiography of Linguistics series. The Hague and : Mouton, .-- oratio obliqua: The idea of ‘oratio’ is central. Grice’s sentence. It expresses ‘a thought,’ a ‘that’-clause. Oratio recta is central, too. Grice’s example is “The dog is shaggy.” The use of ‘oratio’ here Grice disliked. One can see a squarrel grabbing a nut, Toby judges that a nut is to eat. So we would have a ‘that’-clause, and in a way, an ‘oratio obliqua,’ which is what the UTTERER (not the squarrel) would produce as ‘oratio recta,’ ‘A nut is to eat,’ should the circumstance obtains. At some points he allows things like “Snow is white” means that snow is white. Something at the Oxford Philosohical Society he would not. Grice is vague in this. If the verb is a ‘verbum dicendi,’ ‘oratio obliqua’ is literal. If it’s a verbum sentiendi or percipiendi, volendi, credendi, or cognoscenti, the connection is looser. Grice was especially concerned that buletic verbs usually do not take a that-clause (but cf. James: I will that the distant table sides over the floor toward me. It does not!). Also that seems takes a that-clause in ways that might not please Maucalay. Grice had explored that-clauses with Staal. He was concerned about the viability of an initially appealing etymological approach by Davidson to the that-clause in terms of demonstration. Grice had presupposed the logic of that-clauses from a much earlier stage, Those spots mean that he has measles.The f. contains a copy of Davidsons essay, On saying that, the that-clause, the that-clause, with Staal . Davidson quotes from Murray et al. The Oxford English Dictionary, Oxford. Cf. Onions, An Advanced English Syntax, and remarks that first learned that that in such contexts evolved from an explicit demonstrative from Hintikkas Knowledge and Belief. Hintikka remarks that a similar development has taken place in German Davidson owes the reference to the O.E.D. to Stiezel. Indeed Davidson was fascinated by the fact that his conceptual inquiry repeated phylogeny. It should come as no surprise that a that-clause utterance evolves through about the stages our ruminations have just carried us. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the use of that in a that-clause is generally held to have arisen out of the demonstrative pronoun pointing to the clause which it introduces. The sequence goes as follows. He once lived here: we all know that; that, now this, we all know: he once lived here; we all know that, or this: he once lived here; we all know that he once lived here. As Hintikka notes, some pedants trying to display their knowledge of German, use a comma before that: We all know, that he once lived here, to stand for an earlier :: We all know: that he once lived here. Just like the English translation that, dass can be omitted in a sentence. Er glaubt, dass die Erde eine Scheibe sei. He believes that the Earth is a disc. Er glaubt, die Erde sei eine Scheibe. He believes the Earth is a disc. The that-clause is brought to the fore by Davidson, who, consulting the OED, reminds philosophers that the English that is very cognate with the German idiom. More specifically, that is a demonstrative, even if the syntax, in English, hides this fact in ways which German syntax doesnt. Grice needs to rely on that-clauses for his analysis of mean, intend, and notably will. He finds that Prichards genial discovery was the license to use willing as pre-facing a that-clause. This allows Grice to deals with willing as applied to a third person. I will that he wills that he wins the chess match. Philosophers who disregard this third-person use may indulge in introspection and Subjectsivism when they shouldnt! Grice said that Prichard had to be given great credit for seeing that the accurate specification of willing should be willing that and not willing to. Analogously, following Prichard on willing, Grice does not stipulate that the radix for an intentional (utterer-oriented or exhibitive-autophoric-buletic) incorporate a reference to the utterer (be in the first person), nor that the radix for an imperative (addressee-oriented or hetero-phoric protreptic buletic) or desiderative in general, incorporate a reference of the addressee (be in the second person). They shall not pass is a legitimate intentional as is the ‘you shall not get away with it,’either involves Prichards wills that, rather than wills to). And the sergeant is to muster the men at dawn (uttered by a captain to a lieutenant) is a perfectly good imperative, again involving Prichards wills that, rather than wills to. Refs.: The allusions are scattered, but there are specific essays, one on the ‘that’-clause, and also discussions on Davidson on saying that. There is a reference to ‘oratio obliqua’ and Prichard in “Uncertainty,” BANC.

optimum. If (a) S accepts at t an alethic acceptability-conditional C 1 , the antecedent of which favours, to degree d, the consequent of C 1 , (b) S accepts at t the antecedent of C 1 , end p.81 (c) after due search by S for such a (further) conditional, there is no conditional C 2 such that (1) S accepts at t C 2 and its antecedent, (2) and the antecedent of C 2 is an extension of the antecedent of C 1 , (3) and the consequent of C 2 is a rival (incompatible with) of the consequent of C 1 , (4) and the antecedent of C 2 favours the consequent of C 2 more than it favours the consequent of C 1 : then S may judge (accept) at t that the consequent of C 1 is acceptable to degree d. For convenience, we might abbreviate the complex clause (C) in the antecedent of the above rule as 'C 1 is optimal for S at t'; with that abbreviation, the rule will run: "If S accepts at t an alethic acceptability-conditional C 1 , the antecedent of which favours its consequent to degree d, and S accepts at t the antecedent of C 1 , and C 1 is optimal for S at C 1 , then S may accept (judge) at t that the consequent of C 1 is acceptable to degree d." Before moving to the practical dimension, I have some observations to make.See validum. For Grice, the validum can attain different shapes or guises. One is the optimum. He uses it for “Emissor E communicates thata p” which ends up denotating an ‘ideal,’ that can only be deemed, titularily, to be present ‘de facto.’ The idea is that of the infinite, or rather self-reference regressive closure. Vide Blackburn on “open GAIIB.” Grice uses ‘optimality’ as one guise of value. Obviously, it is, as Short and Lewis have it, the superlative of ‘bonum,’ so one has to be careful. Optimum is used in value theory and decision theory, too.  Cf. Maximum, and minimax. In terms of the principle of least conversational effort, the optimal move is the least costly. To utter, “The pillar box seems red” when you can utter, “The pillar box IS red” is to go into the trouble when you shouldn’t. So this maximin regulates the conversational exchange. The utterer is meant to be optimally efficient, and the addressee is intended to recognise that.

ostensum: In his analysis of the two basic procedures, one involving the subjectum, and another the praedicatum, Grice would play with the utterer OSTENDING that p. This relates to his semiotic approach to communication, and avoiding to the maximum any reference to a linguistic rule or capacity or faculty as different from generic rationality. In WoW:134 Grice explores what he calls ‘ostensive correlation.’ He is exploring communication scenarios where the Utterer is OSTENDING that p, or in predicate terms, that the A is B. He is not so much concerned with the B, but with the fact that “B” is predicated of a particular denotatum of “the A,” and by what criteria. He is having in mind his uncle’s dog, Fido, who is shaggy, i.e. fairy coated. So he is showing to Strawson that that dog over there is the one that belongs to his uncle, and that, as Strawson can see, is a shaggy dog, by which Grice means hairy coated. That’s the type of ‘ostensive correlation’ Grice is having in mind. In an attempted ostensive correlation of the predicate B (‘shaggy’) with the feature or property of being hairy coated, as per a standard act of communication in which Grice, uttering, “Fido is shaggy’ will have Strawson believe that Uncle Grice’s dog is hairy coated – (1) U will perform a number of acts in each of which he ostends a thing  (a1, a2, a3, etc.). (2) Simultaneously with each ostension, he utters a token of the predicate “shaggy.” (3) It is his intention TO OSTEND, and to be recognised as ostending, only things which are either, in his view, plainly hairy-coated, or are, in his view, plainly NOT hairy-coated. (4) In a model sequence these intentions are fulfilled. Grice grants that this does not finely distinguish between ‘being hairy-coated’ from ‘being such that the UTTERER believes to be unmistakenly hairy coated.’ But such is a problem of any explicit correlation, which are usually taken for granted – and deemed ‘implicit’ in standard acts of communication. In primo actu non indiget volunta* diiectivo , sed sola_» objecti ostensio ... non potest errar* ciica finem in universali ostensum , potest tamen secundum eos ...

oxonianism: Grice was “university lecturer in philosophy” and “tutorial fellow in philosophy” – that’s why he always saw philosophy, like virtue, as entire. He would never accept a post like “professor of moral philosophy” or “professor of logic,” or “professor of metaphysical philosophy,” or “reader in natural theology,” or “reader in mental philosophy.” So he felt a responsibility towards ‘philosophy undepartmentilised’ and he succeded in never disgressing from this gentlemanly attitude to philosophy as a totum, and not a technically specified field of ‘expertise.’ See playgroup. The playgroup was Oxonian. There are aspects of Grice’s philosophy which are Oxonian but not playgroup-related, and had to do with his personal inclinations. The fact that it was Hardie who was his tutor and instilled on him a love for Aristotle. Grice’s rapport with H. A. Prichard. Grice would often socialize with members of Ryle’s group, such as O. P. Wood, J. D. Mabbott, and W. C. Kneale. And of course, he had a knowleddge of the history of Oxford philosophy, quoting from J. C. Wilson, G. F. Stout, H. H. Price, Bosanquet, Bradley. He even had his Oxonian ‘enemies,’ Dummett, Anscombe. And he would quote from independents, like A. J. P. Kenny. But if he had to quote someone first, it was a member of his beloved playgroup: Austin, Strawson, Warnock, Urmson, Hare, Hart, Hampshire. Grice cannot possibly claim to talk about post-war Oxford philosophy, but his own! Cf. Oxfords post-war philosophy.  What were Grices first impressions when arriving at Oxford. He was going to learn. Only the poor learn at Oxford was an adage he treasured, since he wasnt one! Let us start with an alphabetical listing of Grices play Group companions: Austin, Butler, Flew, Gardiner, Grice, Hare, Hampshire, Hart, Nowell-Smith, Parkinson, Paul, Pears, Quinton, Sibley, Strawson, Thomson, Urmson, and Warnock.  Grices main Oxonian association is St. Johns, Oxford. By Oxford Philosophy, Grice notably refers to Austins Play Group, of which he was a member. But Grice had Oxford associations pre-war, and after the demise of Austin. But back to the Play Group, this, to some, infamous, playgroup, met on Saturday mornings at different venues at Oxford, including Grices own St. John’s ‒ apparently, Austins favourite venue. Austin regarded himself and his kindergarten as linguistic or language botanists. The idea was to list various ordinary uses of this or that philosophical notion. Austin: They say philosophy is about language; well, then, let’s botanise! Grices involvement with Oxford philosophy of course predated his associations with Austins play group. He always said he was fortunate of having been a tutee to Hardie at Corpus. Corpus, Oxford. Grice would occasionally refer to the emblematic pelican, so prominently displayed at Corpus. Grice had an interim association with the venue one associates most directly with philosophy, Merton ‒: Grice, Merton, Oxford. While Grice loved to drop Oxonian Namess, notably his rivals, such as Dummett or Anscombe, he knew when not to. His Post-war Oxford philosophy, as opposed to more specific items in The Grice Collection, remains general in tone, and intended as a defense of the ordinary-language approach to philosophy. Surprisingly, or perhaps not (for those who knew Grice), he takes a pretty idiosyncratic characterisation of conceptual analysis. Grices philosophical problems emerge with Grices idiosyncratic use of this or that expression. Conceptual analysis is meant to solve his problems, not others, repr. in WOW . Grice finds it important to reprint this since he had updated thoughts on the matter, which he displays in his Conceptual analysis and the province of philosophy. The topic represents one of the strands he identifies behind the unity of his philosophy. By post-war Oxford philosophy, Grice meant the period he was interested in. While he had been at Corpus, Merton, and St. Johns in the pre-war days, for some reason, he felt that he had made history in the post-war period. The historical reason Grice gives is understandable enough. In the pre-war days, Grice was the good student and the new fellow of St. Johns ‒ the other one was Mabbott. But he had not been able to engage in philosophical discussion much, other than with other tutees of Hardie. After the war, Grice indeed joins Austins more popular, less secretive Saturday mornings. Indeed, for Grice, post-war means all philosophy after the war (and not just say, the forties!) since he never abandoned the methods he developed under Austin, which were pretty congenial to the ones he had himself displayed in the pre-war days, in essays like Negation and Personal identity. Grice is a bit of an expert on Oxonian philosophy. He sees himself as a member of the school of analytic philosophy, rather than the abused term ordinary-language philosophy. This is evident by the fact that he contributed to such polemic  ‒ but typically Oxonian  ‒ volumes such as Butler, Analytic Philosophy, published by Blackwell (of all publishers). Grice led a very social life at Oxford, and held frequent philosophical discussions with the Play group philosophers (alphabetically listed above), and many others, such as Wood.  Post-war Oxford philosophy, miscellaneous, Oxford philosophy, in WOW, II, Semantics and Met. , Essay. By Oxford philosophy, Grice means his own. Grice went back to the topic of philosophy and ordinary language, as one of his essays is precisely entitled, Philosophy and ordinary language, philosophy and ordinary language, : ordinary-language philosophy, linguistic botanising. Grice is not really interested in ordinary language as a philologist might. He spoke ordinary language, he thought. The point had been brought to the fore by Austin. If they think philosophy is a play on words, well then, lets play the game. Grices interest is methodological. Malcolm had been claiming that ordinary language is incorrigible. While Grice agreed that language can be clever, he knew that Aristotle was possibly right when he explored ta legomena in terms of the many and the selected wise, philosophy and ordinary language, philosophy and ordinary language, : philosophy, ordinary language. At the time of writing, ordinary-language philosophy had become, even within Oxford, a bit of a term of abuse. Grice tries to defend Austins approach to it, while suggesting ideas that Austin somewhat ignored, like what an utterer implies by the use of an ordinary-language expression, rather than what the expression itself does. Grice is concerned, contra Austin, in explanation (or explanatory adequacy), not taxonomy (or descriptive adequacy). Grice disregards Austins piecemeal approach to ordinary language, as Grice searches for the big picture of it all. Grice never used ordinary language seriously. The phrase was used, as he explains, by those who HATED ordinary-language philosophy. Theres no such thing as ordinary language. Surely you cannot fairly describe the idiosyncratic linguistic habits of an Old Cliftonian as even remotely ordinary. Extra-ordinary more likely! As far as the philosophy bit goes, this is what Bergmann jocularly described as the linguistic turn. But as Grice notes, the linguistic turn involves both the ideal language and the ordinary language. Grice defends the choice by Austin of the ordinary seeing that it was what he had to hand! While Grice seems to be in agreement with the tone of his Wellesley talk, his idioms there in. Youre crying for the moon! Philosophy need not be grand! These seem to contrast with his more grandiose approach to philosophy. His struggle was to defend the minutiæ of linguistic botanising, that had occupied most of his professional life, with a grander view of the discipline. He blamed Oxford for that. Never in the history of philosophy had philosophers shown such an attachment to ordinary language as they did in post-war Oxford, Grice liked to say.  Having learned Grecian and Latin at Clifton, Grice saw in Oxford a way to go back to English! He never felt the need to explore Continental modern languages like German or French. Aristotle was of course cited in Greek, but Descartes is almost not cited, and Kant is cited in the translation available to Oxonians then. Grice is totally right that never has philosophy experienced such a fascination with ordinary use except at Oxford. The ruthless and unswerving association of philosophy with ordinary language has been peculiar to the Oxford scene. While many found this attachment to ordinary usage insidious, as Warnock put it, it fit me and Grice to a T, implicating you need a sort of innate disposition towards it! Strawson perhaps never had it! And thats why Grices arguments contra Strawson rest on further minutiæ whose detection by Grice never ceased to amaze his tutee! In this way, Grice felt he WAS Austins heir! While Grice is associated with, in chronological order, Corpus, Merton, and St. Johns, it is only St. Johns that counts for the Griceian! For it is at St. Johns he was a Tutorial Fellow in Philosophy! And we love him as a philosopher. Refs.: The obvious keyword is “Oxford.” His essay in WoW on post-war Oxford philosophy is general – the material in the H. P. Grice papers is more anecdotic. Also “Reply to Richards,” and references above under ‘linguistic botany’ and ‘play group,’ in BANC.

palæo-Griceian: Within the Oxford group, Grice was the first, and it’s difficult to find a precursor. It’s obviously Grice was not motivated to create or design his manoeuvre to oppose a view by Ryle – who cared about Ryle in the playgroup? None – It is obviously more clear that Grice cared a hoot about Vitters, Benjamin, and Malcolm. So that leaves us with the philosophers Grice personally knew. And we are sure he was more interested in criticizing Austin than his own tutee Strawson. So ths leaves us with Austin. Grice’s manoeuvre was intended for Austin – but he waited for Austin’s demise to present it. Even though the sources were publications that were out there before Austin died (“Other minds,” “A plea for excuses”). So Grice is saying that Austin is wrong, as he is. In order of seniority, the next was Hart (who Grice mocked about ‘carefully’ in Prolegomena. Then came more or less same-generational Hare (who was not too friendly with Grice) and ‘to say ‘x is good’ is to recommend x’ (a ‘performatory fallacy’) and Strawson with ‘true’ and, say, ‘if.’ So, back to the palaeo-Griceian, surely nobody was in a position to feel a motivation to criticise Austin, Hart, Hare, and Strawson! When philosophers mention this or that palaeo-Griceian philosopher, surely the motivation was different. And a philosophical manoevre COMES with a motivation. If we identify some previous (even Oxonian) philosopher who was into the thing Grice is, it would not have Austin, Hart, Hare or Strawson as ‘opponents.’ And of course it’s worse with post-Griceians. Because, as Grice says, there was no othe time than post-war Oxford philosophy where “my manoeuvre would have make sense.’ If it does, as it may, post-Grice, it’s “as derivative” of “the type of thing we were doing back in the day. And it’s no fun anymore.” “Neo-Griceian” is possibly a misnomer. As Grice notes, “usually you add ‘neo-’ to sell; that’s why, jokingly, I call Strawson a neo-traditionalist; as if he were a bit of a neo-con, another oxymoron, as he was!’

That is H. P. Grice was the first member of the play group to come up with a system of ‘pragmatic rules.’ Or perhaps he wasn’t. In any case, palaeo-Griceian refers to any attempt by someone who is an Oxonian English philosopher who suggested something like H. P. Grice later did! There are palaeo-Griceian suggestions in Bradley – “Logic” --, Bosanquet, J. C. Wilson (“Statement and inference”) and a few others. Within those who interacted with Grice to provoke him into the ‘pragmatic rule’ account were two members of the play group. One was not English, but a Scot: G. A. Paul. Paul had been to ‘the other place,’ and was at Oxford trying to spread Witters’s doctrine. The bafflement one gets from “I certainly don’t wish to cast any doubt on the matter, but that pillar box seems red to me; and the reason why it is does, it’s because it is red, and its redness causes in my sense of vision the sense-datum that the thing is red.” Grice admits that he first came out with the idea when confronted with this example. Mainly Grice’s motivation is to hold that such a ‘statement’ (if statement, it is, -- vide Bar-Hillel) is true. The other member was English: P. F. Strawson. And Grice notes that it was Strawson’s Introduction to logical theory that motivated him to apply a technique which had proved successful in the area of the philosophy of perception to this idea by Strawson that Whitehead and Russell are ‘incorrect.’ Again, Grice’s treatment concerns holding a ‘statement’ to be ‘true.’ Besides these two primary cases, there are others. First, is the list of theses in “Causal Theory.” None of them are assigned to a particular philosopher, so the research may be conducted towards the identification of these. The theses are, besides the one he is himself dealing, the sense-datum ‘doubt or denial’ implicatum: One, What is actual is not also possible. Two, What is known to be the case is not also believed to be the case. Three, Moore was guilty of misusing the lexeme ‘know.’ Four, To say that someone is responsible is to say that he is accountable for something condemnable. Six, A horse cannot look like a horse. Now, in “Prolegomena” he add further cases. Again, since this are palaeo-Griceian, it may be a matter of tracing the earliest occurrences. In “Prolegomena,” Grice divides the examples in Three Groups. The last is an easy one to identity: the ‘performatory’ approach: for which he gives the example by Strawson on ‘true,’ and mentions two other cases: a performatory use of ‘I know’ for I guarantee; and the performatory use of ‘good’ for ‘I approve’ (Ogden). The second group is easy to identify since it’s a central concern and it is exactly Strawson’s attack on Whitehead and Russell. But Grice is clear here. It is mainly with regard to ‘if’ that he wants to discuss Strawson, and for which he quotes him at large. Before talking about ‘if’, he mentions the co-ordinating connectives ‘and’ and ‘or’, without giving a source. So, here there is a lot to research about the thesis as held by other philosophers even at Oxford (where, however, ‘logic’ was never considered a part of philosophy proper). The first group is the most varied, and easier to generalise, because it refers to any ‘sub-expression’ held to occur in a full expression which is held to be ‘inappropriate.’ Those who judge the utterance to be inappropriate are sometimes named. Grice starts with Ryle and The Concept of Mind – palaeo-Griceian, in that it surely belongs to Grice’s previous generation. It concerns the use of the adverb ‘voluntary’ and Grice is careful to cite Ryle’s description of the case, using words like ‘incorrect,’ and that a ‘sense’ claimed by philosophers is an absurd one. Then there is a third member of the playgroup – other than G. A. Paul and P. F. Strawson – the Master Who Wobbles, J. L. Austin. Grice likes the way Austin offers himself as a good target – Austin was dead by then, and Grice would otherwise not have even tried – Austin uses variables: notably Mly, and a general thesis, ‘no modification without aberration.’ But basically, Grice agrees that it’s all about the ‘philosophy of action.’ So in describing an agent’s action, the addition of an adverb makes the whole thing inappropriate. This may relate to at least one example in “Causal” involving ‘responsible.’ While Grice there used the noun and adjective, surely it can be turned into an adverb. The fourth member of the playgroup comes next: H. L. A. Hart. Grice laughs at Hart’s idea that to add ‘carefully’ in the description of an action the utterer is committed to the idea that the agent THINKS the steps taken for the performance are reasonable. There is a thesis he mentions then which alla “Causal Theory,” gets uncredited – about ‘trying.’ But he does suggest Witters. And then there is his own ‘doubt or denial’ re: G. A. Paul, and another one in the field of the philosophy of perception that he had already mentioned vaguely in “Causal”: a horse cannot look like a horse. Here he quotes Witters in extenso, re: ‘seeing as.’ While Grice mentions ‘philosophy of action,’ there is at least one example involving ‘philosophical psychology’: B. S. Benjamin on C. D. Broad on the factiveness of ‘remember.’ When one thinks of all the applications that the ‘conversational model’ has endured, one realizes that unless your background is philosophical, you are bound not to realise the centrality of Grice’s thesis for philosophical methodology.

paradigm-case argument: Grice tries to give the general form of this argument, as applied to Urmson, and Grice and Strawson. I wonder if Grice thought that STRAWSON’s appeal to resentment to prove freewill is paradigm case? The idiom was coined by Grice’s first tutee at St. John’s, G. N. A. Flew, and he applied it to ‘free will.’ Grice later used it to describe the philosophising by Urmson (in “Retrospetive”). he issue of analyticity is, as Locke puts it, the issue of whats trifle. That a triangle is trilateral Locke considers a trifling proposition, like Saffron is yellow. Lewes (who calls mathematical propositions analytic) describes the Kantian problem. The reductive analysis of meaning Grice offers depends on the analytic. Few Oxonian philosophers would follow Loar, D. Phil Oxon, under Warnock, in thinking of Grices conversational maxims as empirical inductive generalisations over functional states! Synthesis may do in the New World,but hardly in the Old! The locus classicus for the ordinary-language philosophical response to Quine in Two dogmas of empiricism. Grice and Strawson claim that is analytic does have an ordinary-language use, as attached two a type of behavioural conversational response. To an analytically false move (such as My neighbours three-year-old son is an adult) the addressee A is bound to utter, I dont understand you! You are not being figurative, are you? To a synthetically false move, on the other hand (such as My neighbours three-year-old understands Russells Theory of Types), the addressee A will jump with, Cant believe it! The topdogma of analyticity is for Grice very important to defend. Philosophy depends on it! He knows that to many his claim to fame is his In defence of a dogma, the topdogma of analyticity, no less. He eventually turns to a pragmatist justification of the distinction. This pragmatist justification is still in accordance with what he sees as the use of analytic in ordinary language. His infamous examples are as follows. My neighbours three-year old understands Russells Theory of Types. A: Hard to believe, but I will. My neighbours three-year old is an adult. Metaphorically? No. Then I dont understand you, and what youve just said is, in my scheme of things, analytically false. Ultimately, there are conversational criteria, based on this or that principle of conversational helfpulness. Grice is also circumstantially concerned with the synthetic a priori, and he would ask his childrens playmates: Can a sweater be red and green all over? No stripes allowed! The distinction is ultimately Kantian, but it had brought to the fore by the linguistic turn, Oxonian and other! In defence of a dogma, Two dogmas of empiricism, : the analytic-synthetic distinction. For Quine, there are two. Grice is mainly interested in the first one: that there is a distinction between the analytic and the synthetic. Grice considers Empiricism as a monster on his way to the Rationalist City of Eternal Truth. Grice came back time and again to explore the analytic-synthetic distinction. But his philosophy remained constant. His sympathy is for the practicality of it, its rationale. He sees it as involving formal calculi, rather than his own theory of conversation as rational co-operation which does not presuppose the analytic-synthetic distinction, even if it explains it! Grice would press the issue here: if one wants to prove that such a theory of conversation as rational co-operation has to be seen as philosophical, rather than some other way, some idea of analyticity may be needed to justify the philosophical enterprise. Cf. the synthetic a priori, that fascinated Grice most than anything Kantian else! Can a sweater be green and red all over? No stripes allowed. With In defence of a dogma, Grice and Strawson attack a New-World philosopher. Grice had previously collaborated with Strawson in an essay on Met.  (actually a three-part piece, with Pears as the third author). The example Grice chooses to refute attack by Quine of the top-dogma is the Aristotelian idea of the peritrope, as Aristotle refutes Antiphasis in Met.  (v. Ackrill, Burnyeat and Dancy). Grice explores chapter Γ 8 of Aristotles Met. .  In Γ 8, Aristotle presents two self-refutation arguments against two theses, and calls the asserter, Antiphasis, T1 = Everything is true, and T2 = Everything is false, Metaph. Γ 8, 1012b13–18. Each thesis is exposed to the stock objection that it eliminates itself. An utterer who explicitly conveys that everything is true also makes the thesis opposite to his own true, so that his own is not true (for the opposite thesis denies that his is true), and any utterer U who explicitly conveys that everything is false also belies himself.  Aristotle does not seem to be claiming that, if everything is true, it would also be true that it is false that everything is true and, that, therefore, Everything is true must be false: the final, crucial inference, from the premise if, p, ~p to the conclusion ~p is missing. But it is this extra inference that seems required to have a formal refutation of Antiphasiss T1 or T2 by consequentia mirabilis. The nature of the argument as a purely dialectical silencer of Antiphasis is confirmed by the case of T2, Everything is false. An utterer who explicitly conveys that everything is false unwittingly concedes, by self-application, that what he is saying must be false too. Again, the further and different conclusion Therefore; it is false that everything is false is missing. That proposal is thus self-defeating, self-contradictory (and comparable to Grices addressee using adult to apply to three-year old, without producing the creature), oxymoronic, and suicidal. This seems all that Aristotle is interested in establishing through the self-refutation stock objection. This is not to suggest that Aristotle did not believe that Everything is true or Everything is false is false, or that he excludes that he can prove its falsehood. Grice notes that this is not what Aristotle seems to be purporting to establish in 1012b13–18. This holds for a περιτροπή (peritrope) argument, but not for a περιγραφή (perigraphe) argument (συμβαίνει δὴ καὶ τὸ θρυλούμενον πᾶσι τοῖς τοιούτοις λόγοις, αὐτοὺς ἑαυτοὺς ἀναιρεῖν. ὁ μὲν γὰρ πάντα ἀληθῆ λέγων καὶ τὸν ἐναντίον αὑτοῦ λόγον ἀληθῆ ποιεῖ, ὥστε τὸν ἑαυτοῦ οὐκ ἀληθῆ (ὁ γὰρ ἐναντίος οὔ φησιν αὐτὸν ἀληθῆ), ὁ δὲ πάντα ψευδῆ καὶ αὐτὸς αὑτόν.) It may be emphasized that Aristotles argument does not contain an explicit application of consequentia mirabilis. Indeed, no extant self-refutation argument before Augustine, Grice is told by Mates, contains an explicit application of consequentia mirabilis. This observation is a good and important one, but Grice has doubts about the consequences one may draw from it. One may take the absence of an explicit application of consequentia mirabilis to be a sign of the purely dialectical nature of the self-refutation argument. This is questionable. The formulation of a self-refutation argument (as in Grices addressee, Sorry, I misused adult.) is often compressed and elliptical and involves this or that implicatum. One usually assumes that this or that piece in a dialectical context has been omitted and should be supplied (or worked out, as Grice prefers) by the addressee. But in this or that case, it is equally possible to supply some other, non-dialectical piece of reasoning. In Aristotles arguments from Γ 8, e.g., the addressee may supply an inference to the effect that the thesis which has been shown to be self-refuting is not true. For if Aristotle takes the argument to establish that the thesis has its own contradictory version as a consequence, it must be obvious to Aristotle that the thesis is not true (since every consequence of a true thesis is true, and two contradictory theses cannot be simultaneously true). On the further assumption (that Grice makes explicit) that the principle of bivalence is applicable, Aristotle may even infer that the thesis is false. It is perfectly plausible to attribute such an inference to Aristotle and to supply it in his argument from Γ 8. On this account, there is no reason to think that the argument is of an intrinsically dialectical nature and cannot be adequately represented as a non-dialectical proof of the non-truth, or even falsity, of the thesis in question. It is indeed difficult to see signs of a dialectical exchange between two parties (of the type of which Grice and Strawson are champions) in Γ8, 1012b13–18. One piece of evidence is Aristotles reference to the person, the utterer, as Grice prefers who explicitly conveys or asserts (ὁ λέγων) that T1 or that T2. This reference by the Grecian philosopher to the Griceian utterer or asserter of the thesis that everything is true would be irrelevant if Aristotles aim is to prove something about T1s or T2s propositional content, independently of the act by the utterer of uttering its expression and thereby explicitly conveying it. However, it is not clear that this reference is essential to Aristotles argument. One may even doubt whether the Grecian philosopher is being that Griceian, and actually referring to the asserter of T1 or T2. The *implicit* (or implicated) grammatical Subjects of Aristotles ὁ λέγων (1012b15) might be λόγος, instead of the utterer qua asserter. λόγος is surely the implicit grammatical Subjects of ὁ λέγων shortly after ( 1012b21–22. 8). The passage may be taken to be concerned with λόγοι ‒ this or that statement, this or that thesis  ‒ but not with its asserter.  In the Prior Analytics, Aristotle states that no thesis (A three-year old is an adult) can necessarily imply its own contradictory (A three-year old is not an adult) (2.4, 57b13–14). One may appeal to this statement in order to argue for Aristotles claim that a self-refutation argument should NOT be analyzed as involving an implicit application of consequentia mirabilis. Thus, one should deny that Aristotles self-refutation argument establishes a necessary implication from the self-refuting thesis to its contradictory. However, this does not explain what other kind of consequence relation Aristotle takes the self-refutation argument to establish between the self-refuting thesis and its contradictory, although dialectical necessity has been suggested. Aristotles argument suffices to establish that Everything is false is either false or liar-paradoxical. If a thesis is liar-paradoxical (and Grice loved, and overused the expression), the assumption of its falsity leads to contradiction as well as the assumption of its truth. But Everything is false is only liar-paradoxical in the unlikely, for Aristotle perhaps impossible, event that everything distinct from this thesis is false. So, given the additional premise that there is at least one true item distinct from the thesis Everything is false, Aristotle can safely infer that the thesis is false. As for Aristotles ὁ γὰρ λέγων τὸν ἀληθῆ λόγον ἀληθῆ ἀληθής,, or eliding the γὰρ,  ὁ  λέγων τὸν ἀληθῆ λόγον ἀληθῆ ἀληθής, (ho legon ton alethe logon alethe alethes) may be rendered as either: The statement which states that the true statement is true is true, or, more alla Grice, as He who says (or explicitly conveys, or indicates) that the true thesis is true says something true. It may be argued that it is quite baffling (and figurative or analogical or metaphoric) in this context, to take ἀληθής to be predicated  of the Griceian utterer, a person (true standing for truth teller, trustworthy), to take it to mean that he says something true, rather than his statement stating something true, or his statement being true. But cf. L and S: ἀληθής [α^], Dor. ἀλαθής, [α^], Dor. ἀλαθής, ές, f. λήθω, of persons, truthful, honest (not in Hom., v. infr.), ἀ. νόος Pi. O.2.92; κατήγορος A. Th. 439; κριτής Th. 3.56; οἶνος ἀ. `in vino veritas, Pl. Smp. 217e; ὁ μέσος ἀ. τις Arist. EN 1108a20. Admittedly, this or that non-Griceian passage in which it is λόγος, and not the utterer, which is the implied grammatical Subjects of ὁ λέγων can be found in Metaph. Γ7, 1012a24–25; Δ6, 1016a33; Int. 14, 23a28–29; De motu an. 10, 703a4; Eth. Nic. 2.6, 1107a6–7. 9. So the topic is controversial. Indeed such a non-Griceian exegesis of the passage is given by Alexander of Aphrodisias (in Metaph. 340. 26–29):9, when Alexander observes that the statement, i.e. not the utterer, that says that everything is false (ὁ δὲ πάντα ψευδῆ εἶναι λέγων λόγος) negates itself, not himself, because if everything is false, this very statement, which, rather than, by which the utterer, says that everything is false, would be false, and how can an utterer be FALSE? So that the statement which, rather than the utterer who, negates it, saying that not everything is false, would be true, and surely an utterer cannot be true. Does Alexander misrepresent Aristotles argument by omitting every Griceian reference to the asserter or utterer qua rational personal agent, of the thesis? If the answer is negative, even if the occurrence of ὁ λέγων at 1012b15 refers to the asserter, or utterer, qua rational personal agent, this is merely an accidental feature of Aristotles argument that cannot be regarded as an indication of its dialectical nature. None of this is to deny that some self-refutation argument may be of an intrinsically dialectical nature; it is only to deny that every one is This is in line with Burnyeats view that a dialectical self-refutation, even if qualified, as Aristotle does, as ancient, is a subspecies of self-refutation, but does not exhaust it. Granted, a dialectical approach may provide a useful interpretive framework for many an ancient self-refutation argument. A statement like If proof does not exist, proof exists ‒ that occurs in an anti-sceptical self-refutation argument reported by Sextus Empiricus  ‒ may receive an attractive dialectical re-interpretation. It may be argued that such a statement should not be understood at the level of what is explicated, but should be regarded as an elliptical reminder of a complex dialectical argument which can be described as follows. Cf. If thou claimest that proof doth not exist, thou must present a proof of what thou assertest, in order to be credible, but thus thou thyself admitest that proof existeth. A similar point can be made for Aristotles famous argument in the Protrepticus that one must philosophise. A number of sources state that this argument relies on the implicature, If one must not philosophize, one must philosophize. It may be argued that this implicature is an elliptical reminder of a dialectical argument such as the following. If thy position is that thou must not philosophise, thou must reflect on this choice and argue in its support, but by doing so thou art already choosing to do philosophy, thereby admitting that thou must philosophise. The claim that every instance of an ancient self-refutation arguments is of an intrinsically dialectical nature is thus questionable, to put it mildly. V also 340.19–26, and A. Madigan, tcomm., Alexander of Aphrodisias: On Aristotles Met.  4, Ithaca, N.Y., Burnyeat, Protagoras and Self-Refutation in Later Greek Philosophy,. Grices implicature is that Quine should have learned Greek before refuting Aristotle. But then *I* dont speak Greek! Strawson refuted. Refs.: The obvious keyword is ‘analytic,’ in The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC. : For one, Grice does not follow Aristotle, but Philo. the conditional If Alexander exists, Alexander talks or If Alexander exists, he has such-and-such an age is not true—not even if he is in fact of such-and-such an age when the proposition is said. (in APr 175.34–176.6)⁴³ ⁴³ … δείκνυσιν ὅτι μὴ οἷόν τε δυνατῷ τι ἀδύνατον ἀκολουθεῖν, ἀλλ᾿ ἀνάγκη ἀδύνατον εἶναι ᾧ τὸ ἀδύνατον ἀκολουθεῖ, ἐπὶ πάσης ἀναγκαίας ἀκολουθίας. ἔστι δὲ ἀναγκαία ἀκολουθία οὐχ ἡ πρόσκαιρος, ἀλλὰ ἐν ᾗ ἀεὶ τὸ ἑπόμενον ἕπεσθαι ἔστι τῷ τὸ εἰλημμένον ὡς ἡγούμενον εἶναι. οὐ γὰρ ἀληθὲς συνημμένον τὸ εἰ ᾿Αλέξανδρος ἔστιν, ᾿Αλέξανδρος διαλέγεται, ἢ εἰ ᾿Αλέξανδρος ἔστι, τοσῶνδε ἐτῶν ἐστι, καὶ εἰ εἴη ὅτε λέγεται ἡ πρότασις τοσούτων ἐτῶν. vide Barnes. ... έχη δε και επιφοράν το 5 αντικείμενον τώ ήγουμένω, τότε ο τοιούτος γίνεται δεύτερος αναπόδεικτος, ώς το ,,ει ημέρα έστι, φώς έστιν ουχί δέ γε φώς έστιν ουκ άρα ...εί ημέρα εστι , φως έστιν ... eine unrichtige ( μοχθηρόν ) bezeichnet 142 ) , und Zwar war es besonders Philo ... οίον , , εί ημέρα εστι , φως έστιν , ή άρχεται από ψεύδους και λήγει επί ψεύδος ... όπερ ήν λήγον . bei der Obwaltende Conditional - Nexus gar nicht in Betracht ...Philo: If it is day, I am talking. One of Grice’s favorite paradoxes, that display the usefulness of the implicatum are the so-called ‘paradoxes of implication.’ Johnson, alas, uses ‘paradox’ in the singular. So there must be earlier accounts of this in the history of philosophy. Notably in the ancient commentators to Philo! (Greek “ei” and Roman “si”). Misleading but true – could do.” Note that Grice has an essay on the ‘paradoxes of entailment’. As Strawson notes, this is misleading. For Strawson these are not paradoxes. The things are INCORRECT. For Grice, the Philonian paradoxes are indeed paradoxical because each is a truth. Now, Strawson and Wiggins challenge this. For Grice, to utter “if p, q” implicates that the utterer is not in a position to utter anything stronger. He implicates that he has NON-TRUTH-FUNCTIONAL REASON or grounds to utter “if p, q.” For Strawson, THAT is precisely what the ‘consequentialist’ is holding. For Strawson, the utterer CONVENTIONALLY IMPLIES that the consequent or apodosis follows, in some way, from the antecedent or protasis. Not for Grice. For Grice, what the utterer explicitly conveys is that the conditions that obtain are those of the Philonian conditional. He implicitly conveys that there is n inferrability, and this is cancellable. If Strawson holds that it is a matter of a conventional implicatum, the issue of cancellation becomes crucial. For Grice, to add that “But I don’t want to covey that there is any inferrability between the protasis and the apodosis” is NOT a contradiction. The utterer or emissor is NOT self-contradicting. And he isn’t! The first to use the term ‘paracox’ here is a genius. Possibly Philo. It was W. E. Johnson who first used the expression 'paradox of implication', explaining that a paradox of this sort arises when a logician proceeds step by step, using accepted principles, until a formula is reached which conflicts with common sense [Johnson, 1921, 39].The paradox of implication assumes many forms,  some of which are not easily recognised as involving  mere varieties of the same fundamental principle. But     COMPOUND PROPOSITIONS 47   I believe that they can all be resolved by the consideration that we cannot ivithotd qjialification apply a com-  posite and (in particular) an implicative proposition to  the further process of inference. Such application is  possible only when the composite has been reached  irrespectively of any assertion of the truth or falsity of  its components. In other words, it is a necessary con-  dition for further inference that the components of a  composite should really have been entertained hypo-  thetically when asserting that composite.   § 9. The theory of compound propositions leads to  a special development when in the conjunctives the  components are taken — not, as hitherto, assertorically —  but hypothetically as in the composites. The conjunc-  tives will now be naturally expressed by such words as  possible or compatible, while the composite forms which  respectively contradict the conjunctives will be expressed  by such words as necessary or impossible. If we select  the negative form for these conjunctives, we should write  as contradictory pairs :   Conjunctives {possible) Composites {fiecessary)     a. p does not imply q   1, p is not implied by q   c. p is not co-disjunct to q   d. p is not co-alternate to q     a, p implies q   b, p is implied by q   c, p is co-disjunct to q   d, p is co-alternate to q     Or Otherwise, using the term 'possible' throughout,  the four conjunctives will assume the form that the several  conjunctions — pq^pq, pq ^-nd pq — are respectively /^i*-  sidle. Here the word possible is equivalent to being  merely hypothetically entertained, so that the several  conjunctives are now qualified in the same way as are  the simple components themselves. Similarly the four CHAPTER HI   corresponding composites may be expressed negatively  by using the term 'impossible,' and will assume the  form that the ^^;yunctions pq^ pq, pq and pq are re-  spectively impossible, or (which means the same) that  the ^zVjunctions/^, ^^, pq Rnd pq are necessary. Now  just as 'possible* here means merely 'hypothetically  entertained/ so 'impossible' and 'necessary' mean re-  spectively 'assertorically denied' and 'assertorically  affirmed/   The above scheme leads to the consideration of the  determinate relations that could subsist of p to q when  these eight propositions (conjunctives and composites)  are combined in everypossibleway without contradiction.  Prima facie there are i6 such combinations obtained by  selecting a or ay b or 3, c or c, d or J for one of the four  constituent terms. Out of these i6 combinations, how-  ever, some will involve a conjunction of supplementaries  (see tables on pp. 37, 38), which would entail the as-  sertorical affirmation or denial of one of the components  / or q, and consequently would not exhibit a relation of  p to q. The combinations that, on this ground, must be  disallowed are the following nine :   cihcd, abed, abed, abed] abed, bacd, cabd, dabc\ abed.   The combinations that remain to be admitted are  therefore the followino- seven :   abld, cdab\ abed, bald, cdab^ dcab\ abed.   In fact, under the imposed restriction, since a or b  cannot be conjoined with c or d, it follows that we must  always conjoin a with c and d\ b with e and d\ c with  a and b\ ^with a and b. This being understood, the     COMPOUND PROPOSITIONS 49   seven permissible combinations that remain are properly  to be expressed in the more simple forms:   ab, cd\ ab, ba, cd, dc\ and abed   These will be represented (but re-arranged for purposes  of symmetry) in the following table giving all the  possible relations of any proposition/ to any proposition  q. The technical names which 1 propose to adopt for  the several relations are printed in the second column  of the table.   Table of possible relations of propositio7i p to proposition q.     1. {a,b)\ p implies and is implied by q   2. (a, b) : p implies but is not implied by q,   3. {b^d): p is implied by but does not imply q,   4. {djb^'c^d): p is neither implicans nor impli   cate nor co-disjunct nor co-alternate to g.   5. {dy c)\ /is co-alternate but not co-disjunct to $r,   6. {Cyd): /isco-disjunctbutnotco-alternateto$^.   7. {Cjd)'. p is co-disjunct and co-alternate to q,     p is co-implicant to q  p is super-implicant to q.  p is sub-implicant to q.   p is independent of q     p is sub-opponent to q  p is super-opponent to q,  p is co-opponent to q,   Here the symmetry indicated by the prefixes, co-,  super-, sub-, is brought out by reading downwards and  upwards to the middle line representing independence.  In this order the propositional forms range from the  supreme degree of consistency to the supreme degree  of opponency, as regards the relation of/ to ^. In tradi-  tional logic the seven forms of relation are known respec-  tively by the names equipollent, superaltern, subaltern,  independent, sub-contrary, contrary, contradictory. This  latter terminology, however, is properly used to express  the formal relations of implication and opposition,  whereas the terminology which I have adopted will apply  indifferently both for formal and for material relations. One of Grice’s claims to fame is his paradox, under ‘Yog and Zog.’ Another paradox that Grice examines at length is paradox by Moore. For Grice, unlike Nowell-Smith, an utterer who, by uttering The cat is on the mat explicitly conveys that the cat is on the mat does not thereby implicitly convey that he believes that the cat is on the mat. He, more crucially expresses that he believes that the cat is on the mat ‒ and this is not cancellable. He occasionally refers to Moores paradox in the buletic mode, Close the door even if thats not my desire. An imperative still expresses someones desire. The sergeant who orders his soldiers to muster at dawn because he is following the lieutenants order. Grices first encounter with paradox remains his studying Malcolms misleading exegesis of Moore. Refs.: The main sources given under ‘heterologicality,’ above. ‘Paradox’ is a good keyword in The H. P. Grice Papers, since he used ‘paradox’ to describe his puzzle about ‘if,’ but also Malcolm on Moore on the philosopher’s paradox, and paradoxes of material implication and paradoxes of entailment. Grice’s point is that a paradox is not something false. For Strawson it is. “The so-called paradoxes of ‘entailment’ and ‘material implication’ are a misnomer. They statements are not paradoxical, they are false.” Not for Grice! Cf. aporia. The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC MSS 90/135c, The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley.

pearsianism – after D. F. Pears, one of Grice’s collaborators in the Play Group. “In them days, we would never publish, since the only philosophers we were interested in communicating with we saw at least every Saturday!” – With D. F. Pears, and J. F. Thomson, H. P. Grice explored topics in the philosophy of action and ‘philosophical psychology.’ Actually, Grice carefully writes ‘philosophy of action.’ Why? Well, because while with Pears and Thomson he explored toopics like ‘intending’ and ‘deciding,’ it was always with a vew towards ‘acting,’ or ‘doing.’  Grice is very clear on this, “even fastidiously so,” as Blackburn puts it. In the utterance of an imperative, or an intention, which may well be other-directed, the immediate response or effect in your co-conversationalist is a ‘recognition,’ i. e. what Grice calls an ‘uptake,’ some sort of ‘understanding.’ In the case of these ‘desiderative’ moves, the recognition is that the communicator WILLS something. Grice uses a ‘that’-clause attached to ‘will,’ so that he can formulate the proposition “p” – whose realization is in question. Now, this ‘will’ on the part of the ‘communicator’ needs to be ‘transmitted.’ So the communicator’s will includes his will that his emissee will adopt this will. “And eventually act upon it!” So, you see, while it looks as if Pears and Thomson and Grice are into ‘philosophical psychology,’ they are into ‘praxis.’ Not alla Althuser, but almost! Pears explored the idea of the conversational implicatum in connection, obviously, with action. There is a particular type of conditional that relates to action. Grice’s example, “If I COULD do it, I would climb Mt. Everest on hands and knees.”  Grice and Pears, and indeed Thomson, analysed this ‘if.’ Pears thinks that ‘if’ conversationally implicates ‘if and only if.’ Grice called that “Perfecct pears.”

perceptum: the traditional distinction is perceptum-conceptum: nihil est in intellectu quod prius non fuerit in sensu. this is Grice on sense-datum. Grice feels that the kettle is hot; Grice sees that the kettle is hot; Grice perceives that the kettle is hot. WoW:251 uses this example. It may be argued that the use of ‘see’ is there NOT factive. Cf. “I feel hot but it’s not hot.” Grice modifies the thing to read, “DIRECTLY PERCEIVING”: Grice only indirectly perceives that the kettle is hot’ if what he is doing is ‘seeing’ that the kettle is hot. When Grice sees that the kettle is hot, it is a ‘secondary’ usage of ‘see,’ because it means that Grice perceives that the kettle has some visual property that INDICATES the presence of hotness (Grice uses phi for the general formula). Cf. sensum. Lewis and Short have “sentĭo,” which they render, aptly, as “to sense,” ‘to discern by the senses; to feel, hear, see, etc.; to perceive, be sensible of (syn. percipio).” Note that Price is also cited by Grice in Personal identity. Grice: That pillar box seems red to me. The locus classicus in the philosophical literature for Grices implicatum. Grice introduces a dout-or-denial condition for an utterance of a phenomenalist report (That pillar-box seems red to me). Grice attacks neo-Wittgensteinian approaches that regard the report as _false_. In a long excursus on implication, he compares the phenomenalist report with utterances like He has beautiful handwriting (He is hopeless at philosophy), a particularised conversational implicatum; My wife is in the kitchen or the garden (I have non-truth-functional grounds to utter this), a generalised conversational implicatum; She was poor but she was honest (a Great-War witty (her poverty and her honesty contrast), a conventional implicatum; and Have you stopped beating your wife? an old Oxonian conundrum. You have been beating your wife, cf. Smith has not ceased from eating iron, a presupposition. More importantly, he considers different tests for each concoction! Those for the conversational implicatum will become crucial: cancellability, calculability, non-detachability, and indeterminacy. In the proceedings he plays with something like the principle of conversational helpfulness, as having a basis on a view of conversation as rational co-operation, and as giving the rationale to the implicatum. Past the excursus, and back to the issue of perception, he holds a conservative view as presented by Price at Oxford. One interesting reprint of Grices essay is in Daviss volume on Causal theories, since this is where it belongs! White’s response is usually ignored, but shouldnt. White is an interesting Australian philosopher at Oxford who is usually regarded as a practitioner of ordinary-language philosophy. However, in his response, White hardly touches the issue of the implicature with which Grice is primarily concerned. Grice found that a full reprint from the PAS in a compilation also containing the James Harvard would be too repetitive. Therefore, he omits the excursus on implication. However, the way Grice re-formulates what that excursus covers is very interesting. There is the conversational implicatum, particularised (Smith has beautiful handwriting) and generalised (My wife is in the kitchen or in the garden). Then there is the præsuppositum, or presupposition (You havent stopped beating your wife). Finally, there is the conventional implicatum (She was poor, but she was honest). Even at Oxford, Grices implicature goes, philosophers ‒ even Oxonian philosophers ‒ use imply for all those different animals! Warnock had attended Austins Sense and Sensibilia (not to be confused with Sense and Sensibility by Austen), which Grice found boring, but Warnock didnt because Austin reviews his "Berkeley." But Warnock, for obvious reasons, preferred philosophical investigations with Grice. Warnock reminisces that Grice once tells him, and not on a Saturday morning, either, How clever language is, for they find that ordinary language does not need the concept of a visum. Grice and Warnock spent lovely occasions exploring what Oxford has as the philosophy of perception. While Grice later came to see philosophy of perception as a bit or an offshoot of philosophical psychology, the philosophy of perception is concerned with that treasured bit of the Oxonian philosophers lexicon, the sense-datum, always in the singular! The cause involved is crucial. Grice plays with an evolutionary justification of the material thing as the denotatum of a perceptual judgement. If a material thing causes the sense-datum of a nut, that is because the squarrel (or squirrel) will not be nourished by the sense datum of the nut; only by the nut! There are many other items in the Grice Collection that address the topic of perception – notably with Warnock, and criticizing members of the Ryle group like Roxbee-Cox (on vision, cf. visa ‒ taste, and perception, in general – And we should not forget that Grice contributed a splendid essay on the distinction of the senses to Butlers Analytic philosophy, which in a way, redeemed a rather old-fashioned discipline by shifting it to the idiom of the day, the philosophy of perception: a retrospective, with Warnock, the philosophy of perception, : perception, the philosophy of perception, visum. Warnock was possibly the only philosopher at Oxford Grice felt congenial enough to engage in different explorations in the so-called philosophy of perception. Their joint adventures involved the disimplicature of a visum. Grice later approached sense data in more evolutionary terms: a material thing is to be vindicated transcendentally, in the sense that it is a material thing (and not a sense datum or collection thereof) that nourishes a creature like a human. Grice was particularly grateful to Warnock. By reprinting the full symposium on “Causal theory” of perception in his influential s. of Oxford Readings in Philosophy, Warnock had spread Grices lore of implicature all over! In some parts of the draft he uses more on visa, vision, vision, with Warnock, vision. Of the five senses, Grice and Warnock are particularly interested in seeing. As Grice will put it later, see is a factive. It presupposes the existence of the event reported after the that-clause; a visum, however, as an intermediary between the material thing and the perceiver does not seem necessary in ordinary discourse. Warnock will reconsider Grices views too (On what is seen, in Sibley). While Grice uses vision, he knows he is interested in Philosophers paradox concerning seeing, notably Witters on seeing as, vision, taste and the philosophy of perception, vision, seeing. As an Oxonian philosopher, Grice was of course more interested in seeing than in vision. He said that Austin would criticise even the use of things like sensation and volition, taste, The Grice Papers, keyword: taste, the objects of the five senses, the philosophy of perception, perception, the philosophy of perception; philosophy of perception, vision, taste, perception. Mainly with Warnock. Warnock repr. Grice’s “Causal theory” in his influential Reading in Philosophy, The philosophy of perception, perception, with Warnock, with Warner; perception. Warnock learns about perception much more from Grice than from Austin, taste, The philosophy of perception, the philosophy of perception, notes with Warnock on visum, : visum, Warnock, Grice, the philosophy of perception.  Grice kept the lecture notes to a view of publishing a retrospective. Warnock recalled Grice saying, how clever language is! Grice took the offer by Harvard University Press, and it was a good thing he repr. part of “Causal theory.” However, the relevant bits for his theory of conversation as rational co-operation lie in the excursus which he omitted. What is Grices implicature: that one should consider the topic rather than the method here, being sense datum, and causation, rather than conversational helpfulness. After all, That pillar box seems red to me, does not sound very helpful. But the topic of Causal theory is central for his view of conversation as rational co-operation. Why? P₁ gets an impression of danger as caused by the danger out there. He communicates the danger to P₁, causing in P₂ some behaviour. Without causation, or causal links, the very point of offering a theory of conversation as rational co-operation seems minimized. On top, as a metaphysician, he was also concerned with cause simpliciter. He was especially proud that Price’s section on the casual theory of perception, from his Belief, had been repr. along with his essay in the influential volume by Davis on “Causal theories.” In “Actions and events,” Grice further explores cause now in connection with Greek aitia. As Grice notes, the original usage of this very Grecian item is the one we find in rebel without a cause, cause-to, rather than cause-because. The two-movement nature of causing is reproduced in the conversational exchange: a material thing causes a sense datum which causes an expression which gets communicated, thus causing a psychological state which will cause a behaviour. This causation is almost representational. A material thing or a situation cannot govern our actions and behaviours, but a re-præsentatum of it might. Govern our actions and behaviour is Grices correlate of what a team of North-Oxfordshire cricketers can do for North-Oxfordshire: what North Oxfordshire cannot do for herself, Namesly, engage in a game of cricket! In Retrospective epilogue he casts doubts on the point of his causal approach. It is a short paragraph that merits much exploration. Basically, Grice is saying his causalist approach is hardly an established thesis. He also proposes a similar serious objection to his view in Some remarks about the senses, the other essay in the philosophy of perception in Studies. As he notes, both engage with some fundamental questions in the philosophy of perception, which is hardly the same thing as saying that they provide an answer to each question! Grice: The issue with which I have been mainly concerned may be thought rather a fine point, but it is certainly not an isolated one. There are several philosophical theses or dicta which would I think need to be examined in order to see whether or not they are sufficiently parallel to the thesis which I have been discussing to be amenable to treatment of the same general kind. Examples which occur to me are the following six. You cannot see a knife ‘as’ a knife, though you may see what is not a knife ‘as’ a knife (keyword: ‘seeing as’). When he said he ‘knew’ that the objects before him were human hands, Moore was guilty of misusing ‘know.’ For an occurrence to be properly said to have a ‘cause,’ it must be something abnormal or unusual (keyword: ‘cause’). 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 (keyword: responsibility). What is actual is not also possible (keyword: actual). What is known by me to be the case is not also believed by me to be the case (keyword: ‘know’ – cf. Urmson on ‘scalar set’). And cf. with the extra examples he presents in “Prolegomena.” I have no doubt that there will be other candidates besides the six which I have mentioned. I must emphasize that I am not saying that all these examples are importantly similar to the thesis which I have been criticizing, only that, for all I know, they may be. To put the matter more generally, the position adopted by my objector seems to me to involve a type of manoeuvre which is characteristic of more than one contemporary mode of philosophizing. I am not condemning this kind of manoeuvre. I am merely suggesting that to embark on it without due caution is to risk collision with the facts. Before we rush ahead to exploit the linguistic nuances which we have detectcd, we should make sure that we are reasonably clear what sort of nuances they are. “Causal theory”, knowledge and belief, knowledge, belief, philosophical psychology. Grice: the doxastic implicatum. I know only implicates I do not believe. The following is a mistake by a philosopher. What is known by me to be the case is not also believed by me to be the case. The topic had attracted the attention of some Oxonian philosophers such as Urmson in Parenthetical verbs. Urmson speaks of a scale: I know can be used parenthetically, as I believe can. For Grice, to utter I believe is obviously to make a weaker conversational move than you would if you utter I know. And in this case, an approach to informativeness in terms of entailment is in order, seeing that I know entails I believe. A is thus allowed to infer that the utterer is not in a position to make the stronger claim. The mechanism is explained via his principle of conversational helpfulness. Philosophers tend two over-use these two basic psychological states, attitudes, or stances. Grice is concerned with Gettier-type cases, and also the factivity of know versus the non-factivity of believe. Grice follows the lexicological innovations by Hintikka: the logic of belief is doxastic; the logic of knowledge is epistemic. The last thesis that Grice lists in Causal theory that he thinks rests on a big mistake he formulates as: What is known by me to be the case is NOT also believed by me to be the case. What are his attending remarks? Grice writes: The issue with which I have been mainly concerned may be thought rather a fine point, but it is certainly not an isolated one. There are several philosophical theses or dicta which would I think need to be examined in order to see whether or not they are sufficiently parallel to the thesis which I have been discussing to be amenable to treatment of the same general kind. An example which occurs to me is the following: What is known by me to be the case is not also believed by me to be the case. I must emphasise that I am not saying that this example is importantly similar to the thesis which I have been criticising, only that, for all I know, it may be. To put the matter more generally, the position adopted by my objector seems to me to involve a type of manoeuvre which is characteristic of more than one contemporary mode of philosophizing. I am not condemning this kind of manoeuvre. I am merely suggesting that to embark on it without due caution is to risk collision with the facts. Before we rush ahead to exploit the linguistic nuances which we have detected, we should make sure that we are reasonably clear what SORT of nuances they are! The ætiological implicatum. Grice. For an occurrence to be properly said to have a cause, it must be something abnormal or unusual. This is an example Grice lists in Causal theory but not in Prolegomena. But cf. ‘responsible’ – and Hart and Honoré on accusation -- accusare "call to account, make complaint against," from ad causa, from “ad,” with regard to, as in ‘ad-’) + causa, a cause; a lawsuit,’ v. cause. For an occurrence to be properly said to have a cause, it must be something abnormal or unusual. Similar commentary to his example on responsible/condemnable apply. The objector may stick with the fact that he is only concerned with proper utterances. Surely Grice wants to go to a pre-Humeian account of causation, possible Aristotelian, aetiologia. Where everything has a cause, except, for Aristotle, God! What are his attending remarks? Grice writes: The issue with which I have been mainly concerned may be thought rather a fine point, but it is certainly not an isolated one. There are several philosophical theses or dicta which would I think need to be examined in order to see whether or not they are sufficiently parallel to the thesis which I have been discussing to be amenable to treatment of the same general kind. An example which occurs to me is the following: What is known by me to be the case is not also believed by me to be the case. I must emphasise that I am not saying that this example is importantly similar to the thesis which I have been criticizing, only that, for all I know, it may be. To put the matter more generally, the position adopted by my objector seems to me to involve a type of manoeuvre which is characteristic of more than one contemporary mode of philosophising. I am not condemning this kind of manoeuvre. I am merely suggesting that to embark on it without due caution is to risk collision with the facts. Before we rush ahead to exploit the linguistic nuances which we have detected, we should make sure that we are reasonably clear what sort of nuances they are! Causal theory, cause, causality, causation, conference, colloquium, Stanford, cause, metaphysics, the abnormal/unusual implicatum, ætiology, ætiological implicatum. Grice: the ætiological implicatum. Grices explorations on cause are very rich. He is concerned with some alleged misuse of cause in ordinary language. If as Hume suggests, to cause is to will, one would say that the decapitation of Charles I wills his death, which sounds harsh, if not ungrammatical, too. Grice later relates cause to the Greek aitia, as he should. He notes collocations like rebel without a cause. For the Greeks, or Grecians, as he called them, and the Griceians, it is a cause to which one should be involved in elucidating.  A ‘cause to’ connects with the idea of freedom. Grice was constantly aware of the threat of mechanism, and his idea was to provide philosophical room for the idea of finality, which is not mechanistically derivable. This leads him to discussion of overlap and priority of, say, a physical-cum-physiological versus a psychological theory explaining this or that piece of rational behaviour. Grice can be Wittgensteinian when citing Anscombes translation: No psychological concept without the behaviour the concept is brought to explain.  It is best to place his later treatment of cause with his earlier one in Causal theory. It is surprising Grice does not apply his example of a mistake by a philosopher to the causal bit of his causal theory. Grice states the philosophical mistake as follows: For an occurrence to be properly said to have a cause, it must be something abnormal or unusual. This is an example Grice lists in Causal theory but not in Prolegomena. For an occurrence to be properly said to have a cause, it must be something abnormal or unusual. A similar commentary to his example on responsible/condemnable applies: The objector may stick with the fact that he is only concerned with PROPER utterances. Surely Grice wants to embrace a pre-Humeian account of causation, possible Aristotelian. Keyword: Aitiologia, where everything has a cause, except, for Aristotle, God! What are his attending remarks? Grice writes: The issue with which I have been mainly concerned may be thought rather a fine point, but it is certainly not an isolated one. There are several philosophical theses or dicta which would Grice thinks need to be examined in order to see whether or not they are sufficiently parallel to the thesis which Grice has been discussing to be amenable to treatment of the same general kind. One example which occurs to Grice is the following: For an occurrence to be properly said to have a cause, it must be something abnormal or unusual. Grice feels he must emphasise that he is not saying that this example is importantly similar to the thesis which I have been criticizing, only that, for all I know, it may be. To put the matter more generally, the position adopted by my objector seems to me to involve a type of manoeuvre which is characteristic of more than one contemporary mode of philosophizing. I am not condemning this kind of manoeuvre. I am merely suggesting that to embark on it without due caution is to risk collision with the facts. Before we rush ahead to exploit the linguistic nuances which we have detected, we should make sure that we are reasonably clear what sort of nuances they are! Re: responsibility/condemnation. Cf. Mabbott, Flew on punishment, Philosophy. And also Hart. At Corpus, Grice enjoys his tutor Hardies resourcefulness in the defence of what may be a difficult position, a characteristic illustrated by an incident which Hardie himself once told Grice about himself. Hardie had parked his car and gone to a cinema. Unfortunately, Hardie had parked his car on top of one of the strips on the street by means of which traffic-lights were, at the time, controlled by the passing traffic. As a result, the lights are jammed, and it requires four policemen to lift Hardies car off the strip. The police decides to prosecute. Grice indicated to Hardie that this hardly surprised him and asked him how he fared. Oh, Hardie says, I got off. Then Grice asks Hardie how on earth he managed that! Quite simply, Hardie answers. I just invoked Mills method of difference. The police charged me with causing an obstruction at 4 p.m. I told the police that, since my car was parked at 2 p.m., it could not have been my car which caused the obstruction at 4 p.m. This relates to an example in Causal theory that he Grice does not discuss in Prolegomena, but which may relate to Hart, and closer to Grice, to Mabbotts essay on Flew on punishment, in Philosophy. Grice states the philosophical mistake as follows: For an action to be properly described as one for which the agent is responsible, it must be thc sort of action for which people are condemned. As applied to Hardie. Is Hardie irresponsible? In any case, while condemnable, he was not! Grice writes: The issue with which I have been mainly concerned may be thought rather a fine point, but it is certainly not an isolated one. There are several philosophical theses or dicta which would I think need to be examined in order to see whether or not they are sufficiently parallel to the thesis which I have been discussing to be amenable to treatment of the same general kind. An example which occurs to me is the following: 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. I must emphasise that I am not saying that this example is importantly similar to the thesis which I have been criticizing, only that, for all I know, it may be. To put the matter more generally, the position adopted by my objector seems to me to involve a type of manoeuvre which is characteristic of more than one contemporary mode of philosophizing. I am not condemning this kind of manoeuvre. I am merely suggesting that to embark on it without due caution is to risk collision with the facts. Before we rush ahead to exploit the linguistic nuances which we have detected, we should make sure that we are reasonably clear what sort of nuances they are. The modal example, what is actual is not also possible, should discussed under Indicative conditonals, Grice on Macbeth’s implicature: seeing a dagger as a dagger. Grice elaborates on this in Prolegomena, but the austerity of Causal theory is charming, since he does not give a quote or source. Obviously, Witters. Grice writes: Witters might say that one cannot see a knife as a knife, though one may see what is not a knife as a knife. The issue, Grice notes, with which I have been mainly concerned may be thought rather a fine point, but it is certainly not an isolated one. There are several philosophical theses or dicta which would I think need to be examined in order to see whether or not they are sufficiently parallel to the thesis which I have been discussing to be amenable to treatment of the same general kind. An example which occurs to Grice is the following: You cannot see a knife as a knife, though you may see what is not a knife as a knife. Grice feels that he must emphasise that he is not saying that this example is importantly similar to the thesis which I have been criticizing, only that, for all I know, it may be. To put the matter more generally, the position adopted by my objector seems to me to involve a type of manoeuvre which is characteristic of more than one contemporary mode of philosophizing. I am not condemning this kind of manoeuvre. I am merely suggesting that to embark on it without due caution is to risk collision with the facts. Before we rush ahead to exploit the linguistic nuances which we have detected, we should make sure that we are reasonably clear what sort of nuances they are! Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable as this which now I draw. Thou marshallst me the way that I was going; and such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o the other senses, Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still, and on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, which was not so before. Theres no such thing: It is the bloody business which informs Thus to mine eyes. Now oer the one halfworld Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtaind sleep; witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecates offerings, and witherd murder, Alarumd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howls his watch, thus with his stealthy pace. With Tarquins ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives: Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell that summons thee to heaven or to hell. The Moore example is used both in “Causal theory” and “Prolegomena.” But the use in “Causal Theory” is more austere: Philosophers mistake: Malcolm: When Moore said he knew that the objects before him were human hands, he was guilty of misusing the word know. Grice writes: The issue with which I have been mainly concerned may be thought rather a fine point, but it is certainly not an isolated one. There are several philosophical theses or dicta which would I think need to be examined in order to see whether or not they are sufficiently parallel to the thesis which I have been discussing to be amenable to treatment of the same general kind. An example which occurs to me is the following: When Moore said he knew that the objects before him were human hands, he was guilty of misusing the word know. I must emphasise that I am not saying that this example is importantly similar to the thesis which I have been criticizing, only that, for all I know, it may be. To put the matter more generally, the position adopted by my objector seems to me to involve a type of manoeuvre which is characteristic of more than one contemporary mode of philosophizing. I am not condemning this kind of manoeuvre. Grice is merely suggesting that to embark on it without due caution is to risk collision with the facts. Before we rush ahead to exploit the linguistic nuances which we have detected, we should make sure that we are reasonably clear what sort of nuances they are! So surely Grice is meaning: I know that the objects before me are human hands as uttered by Moore is possibly true. Grice was amused by the fact that while at Madison, Wisc., Moore gave the example: I know that behind those curtains there is a window. Actually he was wrong, as he soon realised when the educated Madisonians corrected him with a roar of unanimous laughter. You see, the lecture hall of the University of Wisconsin at Madison is a rather, shall we say, striking space. The architect designed the lecture hall with a parapet running around the wall just below the ceiling, cleverly rigged with indirect lighting to create the illusion that sun light is pouring in through windows from outside. So, Moore comes to give a lecture one sunny day. Attracted as he was to this eccentric architectural detail, Moore gives an illustration of certainty as attached to common sense. Pointing to the space below the ceiling, Moore utters. We know more things than we think we know. I know, for example, that the sunlight shining in from outside proves  At which point he was somewhat startled (in his reserved Irish-English sort of way) when his audience burst out laughing! Is that a proof of anything? Grice is especially concerned with I seem He needs a paradeigmatic sense-datum utterance, and intentionalist as he was, he finds it in I seem to see a red pillar box before me. He is relying on Paul. Grice would generalise a sense datum by φ I seem to perceive that the alpha is phi. He agrees that while cause may be too much, any sentence using because will do: At a circus: You seem to be seeing that an elephant is coming down the street because an elephant is coming down the street. Grice found the causalist theory of perception particularly attractive since its objection commits one same mistake twice: he mischaracterises the cancellable implicatum of both seem and cause! While Grice is approaching the philosophical item in the philosophical lexicon, perceptio, he is at this stage more interested in vernacular that- clauses such as sensing that, or even more vernacular ones like seeming that, if not seeing that! This is of course philosophical (cf. aesthetikos vs. noetikos). L and S have “perceptĭo,” f. perceptio, as used by Cicero (Ac. 2, 7, 22) translating catalepsis, and which they render as “a taking, receiving; a gathering in, collecting;’ frugum fruetuumque reliquorum, Cic. Off. 2, 3, 12: fructuum;’ also as perception, comprehension, cf.: notio, cognition; animi perceptiones, notions, ideas; cognitio aut perceptio, aut si verbum e verbo volumus comprehensio, quam κατάληψιν illi vocant; in philosophy, direct apprehension of an object by the mind, Zeno Stoic.1.20, Luc. Par. 4, al.; τῶν μετεώρων;” ἀκριβὴς κ. Certainty; pl., perceptions, Stoic.2.30, Luc. Herm.81, etc.; introduced into Latin by Cicero, Plu. Cic. 40. As for “causa” Grice is even more sure he was exploring a time-honoured philosophical topic. The entry in L and S is “causa,’ perh. root “cav-“ of “caveo,” prop. that which is defended or protected; cf. “cura,” and that they render as, unhelpfully, as “cause,” “that by, on account of, or through which any thing takes place or is done;” “a cause, reason, motive, inducement;” also, in gen., an occasion, opportunity; oeffectis;  factis, syn. with ratio, principium, fons, origo, caput; excusatio, defensio; judicium, controversia, lis; partes, actio; condicio, negotium, commodum, al.); correlated to aition, or aitia, cause, δι᾽ ἣν αἰτίην ἐπολέμησαν,” cf. Pl. Ti. 68e, Phd. 97a sq.; on the four causes of Arist. v. Ph. 194b16, Metaph. 983a26: αἰ. τοῦ γενέσθαι or γεγονέναι Pl. Phd. 97a; τοῦ μεγίστου ἀγαθοῦ τῇ πόλει αἰτία ἡ κοινωνία Id. R. 464b: αἰτίᾳ for the sake of, κοινοῦ τινος ἀγαθοῦ.” Then there is “αἴτιον” (cf. ‘αἴτιος’) is used like “αἰτία” in the sense of cause, not in that of ‘accusation.’ Grice goes back to perception at a later stage, reminiscing on his joint endeavours with akin Warnock, Ps karulise elatically, potching and cotching obbles, Pirotese, Pirotese, creature construction, philosophical psychology. Grice was fascinated by Carnaps Ps which karulise elatically. Grice adds potching for something like perceiving and cotching for something like cognising. With his essay Some remarks about the senses, Grice introduces the question by which criterion we distinguish our five senses into the contemporary philosophy of perception. The literature concerning this question is not very numerous but the discussion is still alive and was lately inspired by the volume The Senses2. There are four acknowledged possible answers to the question how we distinguish the senses, all of them already stated by Grice. First, the senses are distinguished by the properties we perceive by them. Second, the senses are distinguished by the phenomenal qualities of the perception itself or as Grice puts it “by the special introspectible character of the experiences” Third, the senses are distinguished by the physical stimuli that are responsible for the relevant perceptions. Fourth, The senses are distinguished by the sense-organs that are (causally) involved in the production of the relevant perceptions. Most contributions discussing this issue reject the third and fourth answers in a very short argumentation. Nearly all philosophers writing on the topic vote either for the first or the second answer. Accordingly, most part of the debate regarding the initial question takes the form of a dispute between these two positions. Or” was a big thing in Oxford philosophy. The only known published work of Wood, our philosophy tutor at Christ Church, was an essay in Mind, the philosophers journal, entitled “Alternative Uses of “Or” ”, a work which was every bit as indeterminate as its title. Several years later he published another paper, this time for the Aristotelian Society, entitled On being forced to a conclusion. Cf. Grice and Wood on the demands of conversational reason. Wood, The force of linguistic rules. Wood, on the implicatum of or in review in Mind of Connor, Logic. The five senses, as Urmson notes, are to see that the sun is shining, to hear that the car collided, to feel that her pulse is beating, to smell that something has been smoking and to taste that. An interesting piece in that it was commissioned by Butler, who knew Grice from his Oxford days. Grice cites Wood and Albritton. Grice is concerned with a special topic in the philosophy of perception, notably the identification of the traditional five senses: vision, audition, taste, smell, and tact. He introduces what is regarded in the philosophical literature as the first thought-experiment, in terms of the senses that Martians may have. They have two pairs of eyes: are we going to allow that they see with both pairs? Grice introduces a sub-division of seeing: a Martian x-s an object with his upper pair of eyes, but he y-s an object with the lower pair of eyes. In his exploration, he takes a realist stance, which respects the ordinary discursive ways to approach issues of perception. A second interesting point is that in allowing this to be repr. in Butlers Analytic philosophy, Grice is demonstrating that analytic philosophers should NOT be obsessed with ordinary language. Butlers compilation, a rather dry one, is meant as a response to the more linguistic oriented ones by Flew (Grices first tutee at St. Johns, as it happens), also published by Blackwell, and containing pieces by Austin, and company. One philosopher who took Grice very seriously on this was Coady, in his The senses of the Martians. Grice provides a serious objection to his own essay in Retrospective epilogue We see with our eyes. I.e. eye is teleologically defined. He notes that his way of distinguishing the senses is hardly an established thesis. Grice actually advances this topic in his earlier Causal theory. Grice sees nothing absurd in the idea that a non-specialist concept should contain, so to speak, a blank space to be filled in by the specialist; that this is so, e.g., in the case of the concept of seeing is perhaps indicated by the consideration that if we were in doubt about the correctness of speaking of a certain creature with peculiar sense-organs as seeing objects, we might well wish to hear from a specialist a comparative account of the human eye and the relevant sense-organs of the creature in question. He returns to the point in Retrospective epilogue with a bit of doxastic humility, We see with our eyes is analytic  ‒ but philosophers should take that more seriously.  Grice tested the playmates of his children, aged 7 and 9, with Nothing can be green and red all over. Instead, Morley Bunker preferred philosophy undergrads. Aint that boring? To give examples: Summer follows Spring was judged analytic by Morley-Bunkers informants, as cited by Sampson, in Making sense (Clarendon) by highly significant majorities in each group of Subjectss, while We see with our eyes was given near-even split votes by each group. Over all, the philosophers were somewhat more consistent with each other than the non-philosophers. But that global finding conceals results for individual sentences that sometimes manifested the opposed tendency. Thus, Thunderstorms are electrical disturbances in the atmosphere is judged analytic by a highly significant majority of the non-philosophers, while a non-significant majority of the philosophers deemed it non-analytic or synthetic. In this case, it seems, philosophical training, surely not brain-washing, induces the realisation that well-established results of contemporary science are not necessary truths. In other cases, conversely, cliches of current philosophical education impose their own mental blinkers on those who undergo it: Nothing can be completely red and green all over is judged analytic by a significant majority of philosophers but only by a non-significant majority of non-philosophers. All in all, the results argue strongly against the notion that our inability to decide consistently whether or not some statement is a necessary truth derives from lack of skill in articulating our underlying knowledge of the rules of our language. Rather, the inability comes from the fact that the question as posed is unreal. We choose to treat a given statement as open to question or as unchallengeable in the light of the overall structure of beliefs which we have individually evolved in order to make sense of our individual experience. Even the cases which seem clearly analytic or synthetic are cases which individuals judge alike because the relevant experiences are shared by the whole community, but even for such cases one can invent hypothetical or suppositional future experiences which, if they should be realised, would cause us to revise our judgements. This is not intended to call into question the special status of the truths of logic, such as either Either it is raining or it is not. He is of course inclined to accept the traditional view according to which logical particles such as not and or are distinct from the bulk of the vocabulary in that the former really are governed by clear-cut inference rules. Grice does expand on the point. Refs.: Under sense-datum, there are groups of essays. The obvious ones are the two essays on the philosophy of perception in WOW. A second group relates to his research with G. J. Warnock, where the keywords are ‘vision,’ ‘taste,’ and ‘perception,’ in general. There is a more recent group with this research with R. Warner. ‘Visum’ and ‘visa’ are good keywords, and cf. the use of ‘senses’ in “Some remarks about the senses,” in BANC.Philo: Grice’s favourite philosopher, after Ariskant. The [Greek: protos logos anapodeiktos] of the Stoic logic ran thus [Greek: ei hemera esti, phos estin ... alla men hemera estin phos ara estin] (Sext. _P.H._ II. 157, and other passages qu. Zeller 114). This bears a semblance of inference and isnot so utterly tautological as Cic.'s translation, which merges [Greek: phos] and [Greek: hemera] into one word, or that of Zeller (114, note). Si dies est lucet: a better trans of Greek: ei phos estin, hemera estin] than was given in 96, where see n. _Aliter Philoni_: not Philo of Larissa, but a noted dialectician, pupil of Diodorus the Megarian, mentioned also in 75. The dispute between Diodorus and Philo is mentioned in Sext. _A.M._ VIII. 115--117 with the same purpose as here, see also Zeller 39. Conexi = Gr. “synemmenon,” cf. Zeller 109. This was the proper term for the hypothetical judgment. _Superius_: the Greek: synemmenon consists of two parts, the hypothetical part and the affirmative--called in Greek [Greek: hegoumenon] and [Greek: legon]; if one is admitted the other follows of course.Philo's criterion for the truth of “if p, q” is truth-functional. Philo’s truth-functional criterion is generally accepted as a minimal condition.Philo maintains that “If Smith is in London, he, viz. Smith, is attending the meeting there, viz. in London” is true (i) when the antecedens (“Smith is in London”) is true and the consequens (“Smith is in London at a meeting”) is true (row 1) and (ii) when the antecedent is false (rows 3 and 4); false only when the antecedens (“Smith is in London”) is true and the consequens (“Smith is in London, at a meeting”) is false. (Sext. Emp., A. M., 2.113-114).

Philo’s “if p, q” is what Whitehead and Russell call, misleadingly, ‘material’ implication, for it’s neither an implication, nor materia.In “The Influence of Grice on Philo,” Shropshire puts forward the thesis that Philo was aware of Griceian ideas on relative identity, particularly time-relative identity. Accordingly, Philo uses subscript for temporal indexes. Once famous discussion took place one long winter night.“If it is day, it is night.”“False!” Diodorus screamed.“True,” his tutee Philo courteously responded. “But true at night only.”Philo's suggestion is remarkable – although not that remarkable if we assume he read the now lost Griceian tract.Philo’s “if,” like Grice’s “if,” – on a bad day -- deviates noticeably from what Austin (and indeed, Austen) used to refer to as ‘ordinary’ language.As Philo rotundly says: “The Griceian ‘if’ requires abstraction on the basis of a concept of truth-functionality – and not all tutees will succeed in GETTING that.” The hint was on Strawson.Philo's ‘if’ has been criticised on two counts. First, as with Whitehead’s and Russell’s equally odd ‘if,’ – which they symbolise with an ‘inverted’ C, to irritate Johnson, -- “They think ‘c’ stands for either ‘consequentia’ or ‘contentum’ -- in the case of material implication, for the truth of the conditional no connection (or better, Kant’s relation) of content between antecedent and consequent is required. Uttered or emitted during the day, e. g.  ‘If virtue benefits, it is day’ is Philonianly true. This introduces a variant of the so-called ‘paradoxes’ of material implication (Relevance Logic, Conditionals 2.3; also, English Oxonian philosopher Lemmon 59-60, 82). This or that ancient philosopher was aware of what he thought was a ‘problem’ for Philo’s ‘if.’ Vide: SE, ibid. 113-117). On a second count, due to the time-dependency or relativity of the ‘Hellenistic’ ‘proposition,’ Philo's truth-functional criterion implies that ‘if p, q’ changes its truth-value over time, which amuses Grice, but makes Strawson sick. In Philo’s infamous metalinguistic disquotational version that Grice finds genial:‘If it is day, it is night’ is true if it is night, but false if it is day. This is counter-intuitive in Strawson’s “London,” urban, idiolect (Grice is from the Heart of England) as regards an utterance in ‘ordinary-language’ involving ‘if.’“We are not THAT otiose at busy London!On a third count, as the concept of “if” (‘doubt’ in Frisian) also meant to provide for consequentia between from a premise to a conclusio, this leads to the “rather” problematic result – Aquinas, S. T. ix. 34) that an ‘argumentum,’ as Boethius calls it, can in principle change from being valid to being invalid and vice versa, which did not please the Saint Thomas (Aquinas), “or God, matter of fact.”From Sextus: A. M., 2.113ffA non-simple proposition is such composed of a duplicated proposition or of this or that differing proposition. A complex proposition is controlled by this or that conjunction. 109. Of these let us take the hypo-thetical proposition, so-called. This, then, is composed of a duplicated proposition or of differing propositions, by means of the conjunction “if” (Gr. ‘ei,’ L. ‘si’, German ‘ob’). Thus, e. g. from a duplicated proposition and the conjunction “if” (Gr. ‘ei,’ L. ‘si,’ G. ‘ob’) there is composed such a hypothetical proposition as this. “If it is day, it is day’ (110) and from differing propositions, and by means of the conjunction “if” , one in this form, “If it is day, it is light.” “Si dies est, lucet.” And of the two propositions contained in the hypo-thetical proposition, or subordinating clause that which is placed immediately AFTER the conjunction or subordinating particle “if”  is called “ante-cedent,” or “first;” and ‘if’ being ‘noncommutative,’ and the other one “consequent” or “second,” EVEN if the whole proposition is reversed IN ORDER OF EXPRESSION – this is a conceptual issue, not a grammatical one! -- as thus — “It is light, if it is day.” For in this, too, the proposition, “It is light,” (lucet) is called consequent although it is UTTERED first, and ‘It is day’ antecedent, although it is UTTERED second, owing to the fact that it is placed after the conjunction or subordinating particle “if.” 111. Such then is the construction of the hypothetical proposition, and a proposition of this kind seems to “promise” (or suggest, or implicate) that the ‘consequent’ (or super-ordinated or main proposition) logically follows the ‘antecedens,’ or sub-ordinated proposition. If the antecedens is true, the consequens is true. Hence, if this sort of “promise,” suggestio, implicature, or what have you, is fulfilled and the consequens follows the antecedent, the hypothetical proposition is true. If the promise is not fulfilled, it is false (This is something Strawson grants as a complication in the sentence exactly after the passage that Grice extracts – Let’s revise Strawson’s exact wording. Strawson writes:“There is much more to be noted about ‘if.’ In particular, about whether the antecedens has to be a ‘GOOD’ antecedens, i. e. a ‘good’ ground – not inadmissible evidence, say -- or good reason for accepting the consequens, and whether THIS is a necessary condition for the whole ‘if’ utterance to be TRUE.’ Surely not for Philo. Philo’s criterion is that an ‘if’ utterance is true iff it is NOT the case that the antecedens is true and it is not the case that the consequens is true. 112. Accordingly, let us begin at once with this problem, and consider whether any hypothetical proposition can be found which is true and which fulfills the promise or suggestio or implicature described. Now all philosophers agree that a hypothetical proposition is true when the consequent follows the antecedent. As to when the consequens follows from the antecedens philosophers such as Grice and his tutee Strawson disagree with one another and propound conflicting criteria. 113. Philo and Grice declares that the ‘if’ utterance is true whenever it is not the case that the antecedens (“Smith is in London”) is true and it is not the case that the consequens (“Smith is in London attending a meeting”) is true. So that, according to Grice and Philo (vide, “The influence of Grice on Philo”), the hypothetical is true in three ways or rows (row 1, row 3, and row 4) and false in one way or row (second row, antecedens T and consequence F). For the first row, whenever the ‘if’ utterance begins with truth and ends in truth it is true. E. g. “If it is day, it is light.” “Si dies est, lux est.”For row 4: the ‘if’ utterance is also true whenever the antecedens is false and the consequens is false. E. g. “If the earth flies, the earth has wings.” ει πέταται ή γή, πτέρυγας έχει ή γή (“ei petatai he ge, pteguras ekhei he ge”) (Si terra volat, habet alas.”)114. Likewise also that which begins with what is false and ends with what is true is true, as thus — If the earth flies, the earth exists. “Si terra volat, est terra”. dialecticis, in quibus ſubtilitatem nimiam laudando, niſi fallimur, tradu xit Callimachus. 2 Cujus I. ſpecimen nobis fervavit se XTVS EMPI . RIC V S , a qui de Diodori, Philonis & Chryſippi diſſenſu circa propofi tiones connexas prolixe diſſerit. Id quod paucis ita comprehendit ci . CERO : 6 In hoc ipfo , quod in elementis dialectici docent, quomodo judi care oporteat, verum falſumne fit , fi quid ita connexum eſt , ut hoc: fi dies eft, lucet, quanta contentio eft, aliter Diodoro, aliter Philoni, Chry fappo aliter placet. Quæ ut clarius intelligantur, obſervandum eſt, Dia lecticos in propofitionum conditionatarum , quas connexas vocabant, explicatione in eo convenisse, verum esse consequens, si id vera consequentia deducatur ex antecedente; falsum, si non ſequatur; in criterio vero , ex quo dijudicanda est consequentiæ veritas, definiendo inter se diſſenſiſſe. Et Philo quidem veram esse propoſitionem connexam putabat, fi & antecedens & consequens verum esset , & ſi antecedens atque conſequens falsum eſſet, & fi a falſo incipiens in verum defineret, cujus primi exemplum eſt : “Si dies est, lux est,” secondi. “Si terra volat, habet alas.” Tertii. “Si terra volat, est terra.” Solum vero falsum , quando incipiens a vero defineret in falſum . Diodorus autem hoc falſum interdum eſſe, quod contingere pof ſet, afferens, omne quod contigit , ex confequentiæ complexu removit , ficque, quod juxta Philonem verum eft, fi dies eſt, ego diſſero, falſum eſſe pronunciavit, quoniam contingere poffit, ut quis, ſi dies fit, non differat, ſed fileat. Ex qua Dialecticorum diſceptatione Sextus infert, incertum eſſe criterium propoſitionum hypotheticarum . Ex quibus parca , ut de bet, manu prolatis, judicium fieri poteſt , quam miſeranda facies fuerit shia lecticæ eriſticæ , quæ ad materiam magis argumentorum , quam ad formam - & ad verba magis, quam ideas, quæ ratiocinia conſtituunt refpiciens, non potuit non innumeras ſine modo & ratione technias & difficultates ftruere, facile fumi inſtar diſſipandas, fi ad ipſam ratiocinandi & ideas inter ſe con ferendi & ex tertia judicandi formam attendatur. Quod fi enim inter ve ritate conſequentiæ & confequentis, ( liceat pauliſper cum ſcholaſticis barbare loqui diſtinxiffent, inanis diſputatio in pulverem abiiffet, & eva nuiſſet; nam de prima Diodorus, de altera Philo , & hic quidem inepte & minus accurate loquebatur. Sed hæc ws šv zapóów . Ceterum II. in fo phiſma t) Coutra Gramm . S.309.Log. I. II.S. 115.Seqq. ) Catalogum Diodororum ſatis longum exhi # Nominateas CLEM . ALE X. Strom . I. IV . ber FABRIC. Bibl.Gr. vol. II. p . 775. pag. 522. % ) Cujusverſus vide apud LAERT. & SEXT. * Contra Iovinian . I. I. conf. MENAG. ad l. c. H . cc. Laërt . & Hiſt. phil. mal. Ø . 60 . ubi tamen quatuor A ) Adv. Logic. I. c . noininat, cum quinque fuerint. b ) Acad. 29. I. IV . 6. 47. DE SECTAM E GARICA phiſinatibus ftruendis Diodorum excelluiffe, non id folum argumentum eft, nuod is quibusdam auctor argumenti, quod velatum dicitur , fuifle aflera tur, fed & quod argumentum dominans invexerit, de quo, ne his nugis lectori moleſti fimus, Epictetum apud ARRIANVM conſuli velimus. Er ad hæc quoque Dialecticæ peritiæ acumina referendum eſt argumentum , quo nihilmoveri probabat. Quod ita sexTvs enarrat: Si quid move tur, aut in eo , in quo eft , loco movetur, aut in eo , in quo non eſt. At neque in quo eſt movetur, manet enim in eo , fi in eo eft ; nec vero , in quo non eſt,movetur; ubi enim aliquid non eſt, ibi neque agere quidquam ne que pati poteft. Non ergo movetur quicquam . Quo argumento non ideo ufus eſt Diodorus, quod putat Sextus, ut more Eleaticorum probaret : non darimotum in rerum natura, & nec interire quicquam nec oriri ; fed ut ſubtilitatem ingenii dialecticam oftenderet, verbisque circumveniret. Qua ratione Diodorum mire depexum dedit Herophilusmedicus. Cum enim luxato humero ad eum veniffet Diodorus, ut ipſum curaret , facete eum irriſit, eodem argumento probando humerum non excidiffe : adeo ut precaretur fophifta , omiffis iis cavillationibus adhiberet ei congruens ex artemedica remedium . f . . Tandem & III . inter atomiſticæ p hiloſophiæ ſectatores numerari folet Diodorus, eo quod énocy iso xei dueen CÁMata minima & indiviſibilia cor pora Itatuerit,numero infinita , magnitudine finita , ut ex veteribus afferunt præter SEXTVM , & EVSEBIVŠ, \ CHALCIDIVS, ISTOBAEVS k alii , quibus ex recentioribus concinunt cvDWORTHVS 1 & FABRICIV'S. * Quia vero veteres non addunt, an indiviſibilia & minima ifta corpuſcula , omnibus qualitatibus præter figuram & fitum fpoliata poſuerit, fine formi dine oppoſiti inter ſyſtematis atomiſtici fectatores numerari non poteſt. Nam alii quoque philoſophi ejusmodi infecabilia corpuſcula admiſerunt ; nec tamen atomos Democriticos ſtatuerunt. "Id quod acute monuit cel. MOSHEMIV S . n . irAnd it is false only in this one way, when it begins with truth and ends in what is false, as in a proposition of this kind. “If it is day, it is night.” “Si dies est, nox est”.  (Cf. Cole Porter, “Night and day, day and night!”.For if it IS day, the clause ‘It is day’ is true, and this is the antecedent, but the clause ‘It is night,’ which is the consequens, is false. But when uttered at night, it is true. 115. — But Diodorus asserts that the hypothetical proposition is true which neither admitted nor admits of beginning with truth and ending in falsehood. And this is in conflict with the statement of Philo. For a hypothetical of this kind — If it is day, I am conversing, when at the present moment it is day and I am conversing, is true according to Philo since it begins with the true clause It is day and ends with the true I am conversing; but according to Diodorus it is false, for it admits of beginning with a clause that is, at one time, true and ending in the false clause I am conversing, when I have ceased speaking; also it admitted of beginning with truth and ending with the falsehood I am conversing, 116. for before I began to converse it began with the truth It is day and ended in the falsehood I am conversing. Again, a proposition in this form — If it is night, I am conversing, when it is day and I am silent, is likewise true according to Philo, for it begins with what is false and ends in what is false; but according to Diodorus it is false, for it admits of beginning with truth and ending in falsehood, after night has come on, and when I, again, am not conversing but keeping silence. 117. Moreover, the proposition If it is night, it is day, when it is day, is true according to Philo for the reason that it begins with the false It is night and ends in the true It is day; but according to Diodorus it is false for the reason that it admits of beginning, when night comes on, with the truth It is night and ending in the falsehood It is day.Philo is sometimes called ‘Philo of Megara,’ where ‘of’ is used alla Nancy Mitford, of Chatworth. Although no essay by Philo is preserved (if he wrote it), there are a number of reports of his doctrine, not all positive!Some think Philo made a groundbreaking contribution to the development of semantics (influencing Peirce, but then Peirce was influenced by the World in its totality), in particular to the philosophy of “as if” (als ob), or “if.”A conditional (sunêmmenon), as Philo calls it, is a non-simple, i. e. molecular, non atomic, proposition composed of two propositions, a main, or better super-ordinated proposition, or consequens, and a sub-ordinated proposition, the antecedens, and the subordinator ‘if’. Philo invented (possibly influenced by Frege) what he (Frege, not Philo) calls truth-functionality.Philo puts forward a criterion of truth as he called what Witters will have as a ‘truth table’ for ‘if’ (or ‘ob,’ cognate with Frisian gif, doubt).A conditional is is true in three truth-value combinations, and false  when and only when its antecedent is true and its consequent is false.The Philonian ‘if’ Whitehead and Russell re-labelled ‘material’ implication – irritating Johnson who published a letter in The Times, “… and dealing with the paradox of implication.”For Philo, like Grice, a proposition is a function of time that can have different truth-values at different times—it may change its truth-value over time. In Philo’s disquotational formula for ‘if’:“If it is day, ‘if it is day, it is night’ is false; if it is night, ‘if it is day, it is night’ is true.”(Tarski translated to Polish, in which language Grice read it).Philo’s ramblings on ‘if’ lead to foreshadows of Whitehead’s and Russell’s ‘paradox of implication’ that infuriated Johnson – In Russell’s response in the Times, he makes it plain: “Johnson shouldn’t be using ‘paradox’ in the singular. Yours, etc. Baron Russell, Belgravia.”Sextus Empiricus [S. E.] M. 8.109–117, gives a precis of Johnson’s paradox of implication, without crediting Johnson. Philo and Diodorus each considered the four modalities possibility, impossibility, necessity and non-necessity. These were conceived of as modal properties or modal values of propositions, not as modal operators. Philo defined them as follows: ‘Possible is that which is capable of being true by the proposition’s own nature … necessary is that which is true, and which, as far as it is in itself, is not capable of being false. Non-necessary is that which as far as it is in itself, is capable of being false, and impossible is that which by its own nature is not capable of being true.’ Boethius fell in love with Philo, and he SAID it! (In Arist. De Int., sec. ed., 234–235 Meiser).Cf. (Epict. Diss. II.19). Aristotle’s De Interpretatione 9  (Aulus Gellius 11.12.2–3).

philosophism: birrellism – general refelction on life. Grice defines a philosopher as someone ‘addicted to general reflections on life,’ like Birrell did. f. paraphilosophy – philosophical hacks. “Austin’s expressed view -- the formulation of which no doubt involves some irony -- is that we ‘philosophical hacks’ spend the week making, for the benefit of our tutees, direct attacks on this or that philosophical issue, and that we need to be refreshed, at the week-end, by some suitably chosen ‘para-philosophy’ in which some non-philosophical conception is to be examined with the full rigour of the Austinian Code, with a view to an ultimate analogical pay-off (liable never to be reached) in philosophical currency.” His feeling of superiority as a philosopher is obvious in various fields. He certaintly would not get involved in any ‘empirical’ survey (“We can trust this, qua philosophers, as given.”) Grice held a MA (Lit. Hum.) – Literae Humaniores (Philosophy). So he knew what he was talking about. The curriculum was an easy one. He plays with the fact that empiricists don’t regard philosophy as a sovereign monarch: philosophia regina scientiarum, provided it’s queen consort. In “Conceptual analysis and the province of philosophy,” he plays with the idea that Philosophy is the Supreme Science. Grice was somewhat obsessed as to what ‘philosohical’ stood for, which amused the members of his play group! His play group once spends five weeks in an effort to explain why, sometimes, ‘very’ allows, with little or no change of meaning, the substitution of ‘highly’ (as in ‘very unusual’) and sometimes does not (as in ‘very depressed’ or ‘very wicked’); and we reached no conclusion. This episode was ridiculed by some as an ultimate embodiment of fruitless frivolity. But that response is as out of place as a similar response to the medieval question, ‘How many angels can dance on a needle’s point?’” A needless point?For much as this medieval question is raised in order to display, in a vivid way, a difficulty in the conception of an immaterial substance, so The Play Group discussion is directed, in response to a worry from me, towards an examination, in the first instance, of a conceptual question which is generally agreed among us to be a strong candidate for being a question which had no philosophical importance, with a view to using the results of this examination in finding a distinction between philosophically important and philosophically unimportant enquiries. Grice is fortunate that the Lit. Hum. programme does not have much philosophy! He feels free! In fact, the lack of a philosophical background is felt as a badge of honour. It is ‘too clever’ and un-English to ‘know’ things. A pint of philosophy is all Grice wanted. Figurative. This is Harvardite Gordon’s attempt to formulate a philosophy of the minimum fundamental ideas that all people on the earth should come to know. Reviewed by A. M. Honoré: Short measure. Gordon, a Stanley Plummer scholar, e: Bowdoin and Harvard, in The Eastern Gazette. Grice would exclaim: I always loved Alfred Brooks Gordon! Grice was slightly disapppointed that Gordon had not included the fundamental idea of implicature in his pint. Short measure, indeed. Grice gives seminars on Ariskant (“the first part of this individual interested some of my tutees; the second, others.” Ariskant philosophised in Grecian, but also in the pure Teutonic, and Grice collaborated with Baker in this area. Curiously, Baker majors in French and philosophy and does research at the Sorbonne. Grice would sometimes define ‘philoosphy.’ Oddly, Grice gives a nice example of ‘philosopher’ meaning ‘addicted to general, usually stoic, reflections about life.’ In the context where it occurs, the implicatum is Stevensonian. If Stevenson says that an athlete is usually tall, a philosopher may occasionally be inclined to reflect about life in general, as a birrelist would. Grice’s gives an alternate meaning, intended to display circularity: ‘engaged in philosophical studies.’ The idea of Grice of philosophy is the one the Lit. Hum. instills.  It is a unique experience, unknown in the New World, our actually outside Oxford, or post-Grice, where a classicist is not seen as a philosopher. Once a tutorial fellow in philosophy (rather than classics) and later university lecturer in philosophy (rather than classics) strengthens his attachment. Grice needs to regarded by his tutee as a philosopher simpliciter, as oppoosed to a prof: the Waynflete is a metaphysician; the White is a moralist, the Wykeham a logician, and the Wilde a ‘mental’. For Grice’s “greatest living philosopher,” Heidegger, ‘philosophy’ is a misnomer. While philology merely discourses (logos) on love, the philosopher claims to be a wizard (sophos) of love. Liddell and Scott have “φιλοσοφία,” which they render as “love of knowledge, pursuit thereof, speculation,” “ἡ φ. κτῆσις ἐπιστήμης.” Then there’s “ἡ πρώτη φ.,” with striking originality, metaphysic, Arist. Metaph. 1026a24. Just one sense, but various ambiguities remain in ‘philosopher,’ as per Grice’s two  usages. As it happens, Grice is both addicted to general, usually stoic, speculations about life, and he is a member of The Oxford Philosophical Society.Refs.: The main sources in the Grice Papers are under series III, of the doctrines. See also references under ‘lingusitic botany,’ and Oxonianism. Grice liked to play with the adage of ‘philosophia’ as ‘regina scientiarum.’ A specific essay in his update of “post-war Oxford philosophy,” in WoW on “Conceptual analysis and the province of philosophy,” BANC.

physiologicum: Oddly, among the twelve isms that attack Grice on his ascent to the city of eternal truth, there is Naturalism and Physicalism – but Roman natura is Grecian physis. In “Some remarks about the senses,” Grice distinguishes a physicalist identification of the senses (in terms of the different stimuli and the mechanisms that connects the organs to the brain) versus other criteria, notably one involving introspection and the nature of ‘experience’ – “providing,” he adds, that ‘seeing’ is an experience! Grice would use ‘natural,’ relying on the idea that it’s Grecian ‘physis.’ Liddell and Scott have “φύσις,” from “φύω,” and which they render as “origin.” the natural form or constitution of a person or thing as the result of growth, and hence nature, constitution, and nature as an originating power, “φ. λέγεται . . ὅθεν ἡ κίνησις ἡ πρώτη ἐν ἑκάστῳ τῶν φύσει ὄντων” Arist.Metaph.1014b16; concrete, the creation, 'Nature.’ Grice is casual in his use of ‘natural’ versus ‘non-natural’ in 1948 for the Oxford Philosophical Society. In later works, there’s a reference to naturalism, which is more serious. Refs.: The keyword should be ‘naturalism,’ but also Grice’s diatribes against ‘physicalism,’ and of course the ‘natural’ and ‘non-natural,’ BANC.

pilgrimage: Grice’s pilgrimage. In his pilgrimage towards what he calls the city of Eternal Truth he finds twelve perils – which he lists. The first is Extensionalism (as opposed to Intensionalism – vide intentum -- consequentes rem intellectam: intendere est essentialiter ipsum esse intentio ... quam a concepto sibi adequato: Odint 226; esse intentum est esse non reale: The second is Nominalism (opposite Realism and Conceptualism – Universalism, Abstractionism). It is funny that Grice was criticised for representing each of the perils!The third is Positivism. Opposite to Negativism. Just kidding.  Opposite to anything Sir Freddie Ayer was opposite to!The fourth is Naturalism. Opposite Non-Naturalism. Just joking! But that’s the hateful word brought by G. E. Moore, whom Grice liked (“Some like Witters, but Moore’s MY man.”) The fifth is Mechanism. Opposite Libertarianism, or Finalism, But I guess one likes Libertarianism.The sixth is Phenomenalism. You cannot oppose it to Physicalism, beause that comes next. So this is G. A. Paul (“Is there a problem about sense data?). And the opposite is anything this Scots philosopher was against!The seventh is Reductionism. Opposite Reductivism. Grice was proud to teach J. M. Rountree the distinction between a benevolent reductionist and a malignant eliminationist reductionist. The eighth is physicalism.Opposite metaphysicalism.  The ninth is materialism. Hyleism. Opposite Formalism. Or Immaterialism. The tenth is Empiricism. Opposite Rationalism. The eleventh is Scepticism.Opposite Dogmatism.and the twelfth is functionalism. Opposite Grice! So now let’s order the twelve perils alphabetically. Empiricism. Extensionalism. Functionalism. MaterialismMechanism. Naturalism. Nominalism. Phenomenalism. Positivism. Physicalism. Reductionism. Scepticism. Now let us see how they apply to the theory of the conversational implicatum and conversation as rational cooperation. Empiricism – Grice is an avowed rationalist.Extensionalism – His main concern is that the predicate in the proposition which is communicated is void, we yield the counterintuitive result that an emissor who communicates that the S is V, where V is vacuous communicates the same thing he would be communicating for any other vacuous predicate V’Functionalism – There is a purely experiential qualia in some emissor communicating that p that is not covered by the common-or-garden variety of functionalism. E.g. “I love myself.” Materialism – rationalism means dealing with a realm of noumena which goes beyond materialismMechanism – rationalism entails end-setting unweighed finality and freedom. Naturalism – communication involves optimality which is beyond naturalism Nominalism – a predicate is an abstractum. Phenomenalism – there is realism which gives priority to the material thing, not the sense datum. A sense datum of an apple does not nourish us. Positivism – an emissor may communicate a value, which is not positivistically reduced to something verifiable. Physicalism – there must be multiple realization, and many things physicalists say sound ‘harsh’ to Grice’s ears (“Smith’s brain being in state C doesn’t have adequate evidence”). Reductionism – We are not eliminating anything. Scepticism – there are dogmas which are derived from paradigm cases, even sophisticated ones.How to introduce the twelve entriesEmpiricism – from Greek empereia – cf. etymology for English ‘experience.’Extensionalism -- extensumFunctionalism – functum. Materialism  -- Mechanism Naturalism Nominalism Phenomenalism Positivism Physicalism Reductionism Scepticism.  this section events are reviewed according to principal scenes of action. Place names appear in the order in which major incidents occur. City of Destruction. The city stands as a symbol of the entire world as it is, with all of its sins, corruptions, and sorrows. No one living there can have any hope of salvation. Convinced that the city is about to be blasted by the wrath of God, Christian flees and sets out alone on a pilgrimage which he hopes will lead him to Mount Zion, to the Celestial City, where he can enjoy eternal life in the happy company of God and the Heavenly Host. Slough of Despond. A swamp, a bog, a quagmire, the first obstacle in Christian's course. Pilgrims are apt to get mired down here by their doubts and fears. After much difficulty and with some providential help, Christian finally manages to flounder across the treacherous bog and is on his way again. Village of Morality. Near the village Christian meets Mr. Worldly Wiseman, who, though not religiously inclined, is a friendly and well-disposed person. He tells Christian that it would be foolish of him to continue his pilgrimage, the end of which could only be hunger, pain, and death. Christian should be a sensible fellow and settle down in the Village of Morality. It would be a good place to raise a family, for living was cheap there and they would have honest, well-behaved people as neighbors — people who lived by the Ten Commandments. More than a little tempted by this, Christian decides that he should at least have a look at Morality. But along the way he is stopped by his friend Evangelist, who berates him sharply for having listened to anything Mr. Worldly Wiseman might have to say. If Christian is seriously interested in saving his soul, he would be well advised to get back as quickly as possible on the path to the Wicket Gate which Evangelist had pointed out to him before. Wicket Gate. Arriving almost out of breath, Christian reads the sign on the gate: "Knock and it shall be opened unto you." He knocks a number of times before arousing the gatekeeper, a "grave person" named Good-will, who comes out to ask what Christian wants. After the latter has explained his mission, he is let through the gate, which opens on the Holy Way, a straight and narrow path leading toward the Celestial City. Christian asks if he can now be relieved of the heavy burden — a sack filled with his sins and woes — that he has been carrying on his back for so long. Good-will replies that he cannot help him, but that if all goes well, Christian will be freed of his burden in due course. Interpreter's House. On Good-will's advice, Christian makes his first stop at the large house of Interpreter, a character symbolizing the Holy Spirit. Interpreter shows his guest a number of "excellent things." These include a portrait of the ideal pastor with the Bible in his hand and a crown of gold on his head; a dusty parlor which is like the human heart before it is cleansed with the Gospel; a sinner in an iron cage, an apostate doomed to suffer the torments of Hell through all eternity; a wall with a fire burning against it. A figure (the Devil himself) is busily throwing water on the fire to put it out. But he would never succeed, Interpreter explains, because the fire represents the divine spirit in the human heart and a figure on the far side of the wall keeps the fire burning brightly by secretly pouring oil on it — "the oil of Christ's Grace." The Cross. Beyond Interpreter's House, Christian comes to the Cross, which stands on higher ground beside the Holy Way. Below it, at the foot of the gentle slope, is an open sepulcher. When Christian stops by the Cross, the burden on his back suddenly slips from his shoulders, rolls down the slope, and falls into the open sepulcher, to be seen no more. As Christian stands weeping with joy, three Shining Ones (angels) appear. They tell him all his sins are now forgiven, give him bright new raiment to replace his old ragged clothes, and hand him a parchment, "a Roll with a seal upon it." For his edification and instruction, Christian is to read the Roll as he goes along, and when he reaches the Pearly Gates, he is to present it as his credentials a sort of passport to Heaven, as it were. Difficulty Hill. The Holy Way beyond the Cross is fenced in with a high wall on either side. The walls have been erected to force all aspiring Pilgrims to enter the Holy Way in the proper manner, through the Wicket Gate. As Christian is passing along, two men — Formalist and Hypocrisy — climb over the wall and drop down beside him. Christian finds fault with this and gives the wall-jumpers a lecture on the dangers of trying shortcuts. They have been successfully taking shortcuts all their lives, the intruders reply, and all will go well this time. Not too pleased with his company, Christian proceeds with Hypocrisy and Formalist to the foot of Difficulty Hill, where three paths join and they must make a choice. One path goes straight ahead up the steep slope of the hill; another goes around the base of the hill to the right; the third, around the hill to the left. Christian argues that the right path is the one leading straight ahead up Difficulty Hill. Not liking the prospect of much exertion, Formalist and Hypocrisy decide to take the easier way on the level paths going around the hill. Both get lost and perish. Halfway up Difficulty Hill, so steep in places that he has to inch forward on hands and knees, Christian comes to a pleasant arbor provided for the comfort of weary Pilgrims. Sitting down to rest, Christian reaches into his blouse and takes out his precious Roll. While reading it, he drops off to sleep, being awakened when he hears a voice saying sternly: "Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise." Jumping up, Christian makes with all speed to the top of the hill, where he meets two Pilgrims coming toward him — Timorous and Mistrust. They have been up ahead, they say, and there are lions there. They are giving up their pilgrimage and returning home, and unsuccessfully try to persuade Christian to come with them. Their report about the lions disturbs Christian, who reaches into his blouse to get his Roll so that he may read it and be comforted. To his consternation, the Roll is not there. Carefully searching along the way, Christian retraces his steps to the arbor, where, as he recalls, he had been reading the Roll when he allowed himself to doze off in "sinful sleep." Not finding his treasure immediately, he sits down and weeps, considering himself utterly undone by his carelessness in losing "his pass into the Celestial City." When in deepest despair, he chances to see something lying half-covered in the grass. It is his precious Roll, which he tucks away securely in his blouse. Having offered a prayer of thanks "to God for directing his eye to the place where it lay," Christian wearily climbs back to the top of Difficulty Hill. From there he sees a stately building and as it is getting on toward dark, hastens there. Palace Beautiful. A narrow path leads off the Holy Way to the lodge in front of Palace Beautiful. Starting up the path, Christian sees two lions, stops, and turns around as if to retreat. The porter at the lodge, Watchful, who has been observing him, calls out that there is nothing to be afraid of if one has faith. The lions are chained, one on either side of the path, and anyone with faith can pass safely between them if he keeps carefully to the middle of the path, which Christian does. Arriving at the lodge, he asks if he can get lodging for the night. The porter, Watchful, replies that he will find out from those in charge of Palace Beautiful. Soon, four virgins come out to the lodge, all of them "grave and beautiful damsels": Discretion, Prudence, Piety, and Charity. Satisfied with Christian's answers to their questions, they invite him in, introduce him to the rest of the family, serve him supper, and assign him to a beautiful bedroom — Peace — for the night. Next morning, the virgins show him the "rarities" of the place: First, the library, filled with ancient documents dating back to the beginning of time; next, the armory, packed with swords, shields, helmets, breastplates, and other things sufficient to equip all servants of the Lord, even if they were as numerous as the stars in the sky. Leading their guest to the roof of the palace, the virgins point to mountains in the distance — the Delectable Mountains, which lie on the way to the Celestial City. Before allowing Christian to depart, the virgins give him arms and armor to protect himself during the next stretch of his journey, which they warn will be dangerous. Valley of Humiliation. Here Christian is attacked and almost overcome by a "foul fiend" named Apollyon — a hideous monster with scales like a fish, wings like a dragon, mouth like a lion, and feet like a bear; flames and smoke belch out of a hole in his belly. Christian, after a painful struggle, wounds the fiend with his sword and drives him off. Valley of the Shadow of Death. This is a wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, inhabited only by yowling hobgoblins and other dreadful creatures. The path here is very narrow, edged on one side by a deep, water-filled ditch in which many have drowned; on the other side, by a treacherous bog. Walking carefully, Christian goes on and soon finds himself close to the open mouth of Hell, the Burning Pit, out of which comes a cloud of noxious fumes, long fingers of fire, showers of sparks, and hideous noises. With flames flickering all around and smoke almost choking him, Christian manages to get through by use of "All-prayer." Nearing the end of the valley, he hears a shout raised by someone up ahead: "Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear none ill, for Thou art with me." As only a Pilgrim could have raised that cry, Christian hastens forward to see who it might be. To his surprise and delight he finds that it is an old friend, Faithful, one of his neighbors in the City of Destruction. Vanity Fair. Happily journeying together, exchanging stories about their adventures and misadventures, the two Pilgrims come to the town of Vanity Fair, through which they must pass. Interested only in commerce and money-making, the town holds a year-round fair at which all kinds of things are bought and sold — "houses, lands, trades, titles, . . . lusts, pleasures, . . . bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, precious stones, and what not." Christian and Faithful infuriate the merchandisers by turning up their noses at the wares offered them, saying that they would buy nothing but the Truth. Their presence and their attitude cause a hubbub in the town, which leads the authorities to jail them for disturbing the peace. The prisoners conduct themselves so well that they win the sympathy of many townspeople, producing more strife and commotion in the streets, and the prisoners are held responsible for this, too, though they have done nothing. It is decided to indict them on the charge of disrupting trade, creating dissension, and treating with contempt the customs and laws laid down for the town by its prince, old Beelzebub himself. Brought to trial first, Faithful is convicted and sentenced to be executed in the manner prescribed by the presiding judge, Lord Hate-good. The hapless Faithful is scourged, brutally beaten, lanced with knives, stoned, and then burned to ashes at the stake. Thus, he becomes another of the Christian martyrs assured of enjoying eternal bliss up on high. Doubting Castle and Giant Despair. In a manner only vaguely explained, Christian gets free and goes on his way — but not alone, for he has been joined by Hopeful, a native of Vanity Fair who is fleeing in search of better things. After a few minor adventures, the two reach a sparkling stream, the River of the Water of Life, which meanders through beautiful meadows bright with flowers. For a time the Holy Way follows the river bank but then veers off into rougher ground which is hard on the sore tired feet of the travelers. Wishing there were an easier way, they plod along until they come to another meadow behind a high fence. Having climbed the fence to have a look, Christian persuades Hopeful that they should move over into By-path Meadow, where there is a soft grassy path paralleling theirs. Moving along, they catch up with Vain-confidence, who says that he is bound for the Celestial City and knows the way perfectly. Night comes on, but he continues to push ahead briskly, with Christian and Hopeful following. Suddenly, the latter hear a frightened cry and a loud thud. Vain-confidence has been dashed to pieces by falling into a deep pit dug by the owner of the meadow. Christian and Hopeful retreat, but as they can see nothing in the dark, they decide to lie down in the meadow to pass the night. Next morning, they are surprised and seized by the prince of By-path Meadow, a giant named Despair. Charging them with malicious trespassing, he hauls them to his stronghold, Doubting Castle, and throws them into a deep dark dungeon, where they lie for days without food or drink. At length, Giant Despair appears, beats them almost senseless, and advises them to take their own lives so that he will not have to come back to finish them off himself. When all seems hopeless, Christian suddenly brightens up, "as one half amazed," and exclaims: "What a fool am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon when I may as well walk at liberty. I have a key in my bosom called Promise which will (I am persuaded) open any lock in Doubting Castle." Finding that the magic key works, the prisoners are soon out in the open and running as fast as they can to get back onto the Holy Way, where they erect a sign warning other Pilgrims against being tempted by the apparent ease of traveling by way of By-path Meadow. Delectable Mountains. Christian and Hopeful next come to the Delectable Mountains, where they find gardens, orchards, vineyards, and fountains of water. Four shepherds — Experience, Knowledge, Watchful, and Sincere — come to greet them, telling them that the mountains are the Lord's, as are the flocks of sheep grazing there. Having been escorted around the mountains and shown the sights there, the two Pilgrims on the eve of their departure receive from the shepherds a paper instructing them on what to do and what to avoid on the journey ahead. For one thing, they should not lie down and sleep in the Enchanted Ground, for that would be fatal. Country of Beulah. This is a happy land where the sun shines day and night, flowers bloom continuously, and the sweet and pleasant air is filled with bird-song. There is no lack of grain and wine. Christian and Hopeful stop to rest and enjoy themselves here, pleased that the Celestial City is now within sight, which leads them to assume that the way there is now clear. Dark River. Proceeding, they are amazed when they come to the Dark River, a wide, swift-flowing stream. They look around for a bridge or boat on which to cross. A Shining One appears and tells them that they must make their way across as best they can, that fording the river is a test of faith, that those with faith have nothing to fear. Wading into the river, Hopeful finds firm footing, but Christian does not He is soon floundering in water over his head, fearing that he will be drowned, that he will never see "the land that flows with milk and honey." Hopeful helps Christian by holding his head above water, and the two finally achieve the crossing. Celestial City. On the far side of the river, two Shining Ones are waiting for the Pilgrims and take them by the arm to assist them in climbing the steep slope to the Celestial City, which stands on a "mighty hill . . . higher than the clouds." Coming to the gate of the city, built all of precious stones, Christian and Hopeful present their credentials, which are taken to the King (God). He orders the gate to be opened, and the two weary but elated Pilgrims go in, to find that the streets are paved with gold and that along them walk many men with crowns on their heads and golden harps in their hands.

playgroup: The motivation for the three playgroups were different. Austin’s first playgroup was for fun. Grice never attended. Austin’s new playgroup, or ‘second’ playgroup, if you must, was a sobriquet Grice gave because it was ANYTHING BUT. Grice’s playgroup upon Austin’s death was for fun, like the ‘first’ playgroup. Since Grice participated in the second and third, he expanded. The second playgroup was for ‘philosophical hacks’ who needed ‘para-philosophy.’ The third playgroup was for fun fun. While Austin belonged to the first and the second playgroups, there were notorious differences. In the first playgroup, he was not the master, and his resentment towards Ayer can be seen in “Sense and Sensibilia.” The second playgroup had Austin as the master. It is said that the playgroup survived Austin’s demise with Grice’s leadership – But Grice’s playgroup was still a different thing – some complained about the disorderly and rambling nature – Austin had kept a very tidy organisation and power structure. Since Grice does NOT mention his own playgroup, it is best to restrict playgroup as an ironic sobriquet by Grice to anything but a playgroup, conducted after the war by Austin, by invitation only, to full-time university lecturers in philosophy. Austin would hold a central position, and Austin’s motivation was to ‘reach’ agreement. Usually, when agreement was not reached, Austin could be pretty impolite. Grice found himself IN THE PLAYGROUP. He obviously preferred a friendlier atmosphere, as his own group later testified. But he was also involved in philosophical activity OTHER than the play group. Notably his joint endeavours with Strawson, Warnock, Pears, and Thomson. For some reason he chose each for a specific area: Warnock for the philosophy of perception (Grice’s implicature is that he would not explore meta-ethics with Warnock – he wouldn’t feel like, nor Warnock would). Philosophy of action of all things, with J. F. Thomson. Philosophical psychology with D. F. Pears – so this brings Pears’s observations on intending, deciding, predicting, to the fore. And ontology with P. F. Strawson. Certainlty he would not involve with Strawson on endless disagreements about the alleged divergence or lack thereof between truth-functional devices and their vernacular counterparts! Grice also mentions collaboration with Austin in teaching – “an altogether flintier experience,” as Warnock knows and “Grice can testify.” – There was joint seminars with A. M. Quinton, and a few others. One may add the tutorials. Some of his tutees left Griceian traces: A. G. N. Flew, David Bostock, J. L. Ackrill, T. C. Potts.  The term was meant ironically. The playgroup activities smack of military or civil service!  while this can be safely called Grice’s playgroup, it was founded by Austin at All Souls, where it had only seven members. After the war, Grice joined in. The full list is found elsewhere. With Austin’s death, Grice felt the responsibility to continue with it, and plus, he enjoyed it! In alphabetical order. It is this group that made history.  J. L. Austin, A. G. N. Flew, P. L. Gardiner, H. P. Grice, S. N. Hampshire, R. M. Hare, H. L. A. Hart,  P. H. Nowell-Smith, G. A. Paul, D. F. Pears, P. F. Strawson, J. F. Thomson, J. O. Urmson, G. J. Warnock, A. D. Woozley. Grice distinguishes it very well from Ryle’s group, and the group of neo-Wittgensteinians. And those three groups were those only involved with ‘ordinary language.’

principium. Grice. Principle of conversational helpfulness. “I call it ‘principle,’ echoing Boethius.”Mention should also he made of Boethius’ conception, that there are certain principles, sentences which have no demonstration — probatio — which he calls principales propositiones or probationis principia. Here is the fragment from his Commentary on Topics treating of principles; El iliac quidem (propositiones) quarum nulla probatio est, maximae ac principales vocantur, quod his illas necesse est approbari, quae ut demonstrari valeant, non recusant/ est auteni maxima proposiiio ut liaec « si de aequalibus aequalia demas, quae derelinquitur aequalia sunt », ita enim hoc per se notion est, ut aliud notius quo approbari valeat esse non possit; quae proposi- tiones cum (idem sui natura propria gerant, non solum alieno ad (idem non egent argumento, oerum ceteris quoque probationis sclent esse principium; igitur per se notae propositiones, quibus nihil est notius, indemonstrabiles ac maxime et principales vocantur (“Indeed those sentences that have no demonstration are called maximum or principal [sentences], because they are not rejected since they are necessary to those that have to be demonstrated and which are valid for making a demonstration ; but a maximum sentence such as « if from equal [quantifies], equal [quantities] are taken, what is left are equal [quantities]*, is self- evident, and there is nothing which can be better known self-evidently valid, and self- demonstrating, therefore they are sentences containing their certitude in their very nature and not only do they need no additional argument to demonstrate their certitude, but are also the principles of demonstration of the other [sentences]; so they are, self-evident sen- tences, nothing being better known than they are, and are called undemonstrable or maxi- mum and principal”). Boethius’ idea coincides with Aristotle’s; deduction must start from somewhere, we must begin with something unproved. The Stagirite, how- ever, gave an explanation of the existence of principles and the possibility of their being grasjied by the active intellect, whereas with Boethius princi- ples appear as severed from the sentences demonstrated in a more formal manner: there are two kinds of sentences: some which are demonstrable and others which need no demonstration

praedicabile: As in qualia being the plural of quale and universalia being the plural of universale, predicabilia is Boethius’s plural for the ‘predicabile’ -- something Grice knew by heart from giving seminars at Oxfrod on Aristotle’s categories with Austin and Strawson. He found the topic boring enough to give the seminar ALONE!

prædicatum: vide Is there a praedicatum in Blackburn’s one-off predicament. He draws a skull and communicates that there is danger. The drawsing of the skull is not syntactically structured. So it is difficult to isolate the ‘praedicatum.’ That’s why Grice leaves matters of the praedicatum’ to reductive analyses at a second stage of his programme, where one wants to apply, metabolically, ‘communicate’ to what an emissum does. The emissum of the form, The S is P, predicates P of S.  Vide subjectification, and subjectum. Of especial interest to Grice and Strawson. Lewis and Short have “praedīco,” which they render as “to say or mention before or beforehand, to premise.” Grice as a modista is interested in parts of speech: nomen (onoma) versus verbum (rhema) being the classical, since Plato. The mediaeval modistae like Alcuin adapted Aristotle, and Grice follows suit. Of particular relevance are the ‘syncategoremata,’ since Grice was obsessed with particles, and we cannot say that ‘and’ is a predicate! This relates to the ‘categorema.’ Liddell and Scott have “κατηγόρ-ημα,” which they render as “accusation, charge,” Gorg.Pal.22; but in philosophy, as “predicate,” as per Arist.Int.20b32, Metaph.1053b19, etc.; -- “οὐκ εὔοδον τὸ ἁπλοῖν ἐστι κ.” Epicur.Fr.18. – and as “head of predicables,” in Arist.Metaph.1028a33,Ph.201a1,  Zeno Stoic.1.25, etc.; περὶ κατηγορημάτων Sphaer.ib.140. The term syncategorema comes from a passage of Priscian in his Institutiones grammatice II , 15. “coniunctae plenam faciunt orationem, alias autem partes, κατηγορήματα, hoc est consignificantia, appellabant.” A distinction is made between two types of word classes ("partes orationis," singular, "pars orationis") distinguished by philosophers since Plato, viz. nouns (nomen, onoma) and verbs (verbum, rhema) on the one hand, and a  'syncategorema or consignificantium. A consignificantium, just as the unary functor "non," and any of the three dyadic functors, "et," "vel" (or "aut") and "si," does not have a definitive meaning on its own -- cf. praepositio, cited by Grice, -- "the meaning of 'to,' the meaning of 'of,'" -- rather, they acquire meaning in combination or when con-joined to one or more categorema. It is one thing to say that we employ a certain part of speech when certain conditions are fulfilled and quite another to claim that the role in the language of that part of speech is to say, even in an extended sense, that those conditions are fulfilled. In Logic, the verb 'kategoreo' is 'predicate of a person or thing,' “τί τινος” Arist.Cat.3a19,al., Epicur.Fr.250; κυρίως, καταχρηστικῶς κ., Phld.Po.5.15; “ἐναντίως ὑπὲρ τῶν αὐτῶν” Id.Oec.p.60 J.: —more freq. in Pass., to be predicated of . . , τινος Arist.Cat.2a21, APr. 26b9, al.; “κατά τινος” Id.Cat.2a37; “κατὰ παντὸς ἢ μηδενός” Id.APr.24a15: less freq. “ἐπί τινος” Id.Metaph.998b16, 999a15; so later “ἐφ᾽ ἑνὸς οἴονται θεοῦ ἑκάτερον τῶν ὀνομάτων -εῖσθαι” D.H.2.48; “περί τινος” Arist. Top.140b37; “τὸ κοινῇ -ούμενον ἐπὶ πᾶσιν” Id.SE179a8: abs., τὸ κατηγορούμενον the predicate, opp. τὸ ὑποκείμενον (the subject), Id.Cat.1b11, cf.Metaph.1043a6, al.; κατηγορεῖν καὶ -εῖσθαι to be subject and predicate, Id.APr.47b1. BANC.

prejudices: the life and opinions of H. P. Grice, by H. P. Grice! PGRICE had been in the works for a while. Knowing this, Grice is able to start his auto-biography, or memoir, to which he later adds a specific reply to this or that objection by the editors. The reply is divided in neat sections. After a preamble displaying his gratitude for the volume in his honour, Grice turns to his prejudices and predilections; which become, the life and opinions of H. P. Grice. The third section is a reply to the editorss overview of his work. This reply itself is itself subdivided into questions of meaning and rationality, and questions of Met. , philosophical psychology, and value. As the latter is repr. in “Conception” it is possible to cite this sub-section from the Reply as a separate piece. Grice originally entitles his essay in a brilliant manner, echoing the style of an English non-conformist, almost: Prejudices and predilections; which become, the life and opinions of H. P. Grice. With his Richards, a nice Welsh surNames, Grice is punning on the first Names of both Grandy and Warner. Grice is especially concerned with what Richards see as an ontological commitment on Grices part to the abstract, yet poorly individuated entity of a proposition. Grice also deals with the alleged insufficiency in his conceptual analysis of reasoning. He brings for good measure a point about a potential regressus ad infinitum in his account of a chain of intentions involved in meaning that p and communicating that p. Even if one of the drafts is titled festschrift, not by himself, this is not strictly a festschrift in that Grices Names is hidden behind the acronym: PGRICE. Notably on the philosophy of perception. Also in “Conception,” especially that tricky third lecture on a metaphysical foundation for objective value. Grice is supposed to reply to the individual contributors, who include Strawson, but does not. I cancelled the implicatum! However, we may identify in his oeuvre points of contacts of his own views with the philosophers who contributed, notably Strawson. Most of this material is reproduced verbatim, indeed, as the second part of his Reply to Richards, and it is a philosophical memoir of which Grice is rightly proud. The life and opinions are, almost in a joke on Witters, distinctly separated. Under Life, Grice convers his conservative, irreverent rationalism making his early initial appearance at Harborne under the influence of his non-conformist father, and fermented at his tutorials with Hardie at Corpus, and his associations with Austins play group on Saturday mornings, and some of whose members he lists alphabetically: Austin, Gardiner, Grice, Hampshire, Hare, Hart, Nowell-Smith, Paul, Pears, Strawson, Thomson, Urmson, and Warnock.  Also, his joint philosophising with Austin, Pears, Strawson, Thomson, and Warnock. Under Opinions, Grice expands mainly on ordinary-language philosophy and his Bunyanesque way to the City of Eternal Truth. Met. , Philosophical Psychology, and Value, in “Conception,” is thus part of his Prejudices and predilections. The philosophers Grice quotes are many and varied, such as Bosanquet and Kneale, and from the other place, Keynes. Grice spends some delightful time criticising the critics of ordinary-language philosophy such as Bergmann (who needs an English futilitarian?) and Gellner. He also quotes from Jespersen, who was "not a philosopher but wrote a philosophy of grammar!" And Grice includes a reminiscence of the bombshells brought from Vienna by the enfant terrible of Oxford philosophy Freddie Ayer, after being sent to the Continent by Ryle. He recalls an air marshal at a dinner with Strawson at Magdalen relishing on Cook Wilsons adage, What we know we know. And more besides! After reminiscing for Clarendon, Grice will go on to reminisce for Harvard University Press in the closing section of the Retrospective epilogue. Refs.: The main source is “Reply to Richards,” and references to Oxonianism, and linguistic botanising, BANC.

prescriptum: prescriptivism. According to Grice’s prescriptive meta-ethics, by uttering ‘p,’ the emissor may intend his recipient to entertain a desiderative state of content ‘p.’ In which case, the emissor is ‘prescribing’ a course of conduct. As opposed to the ‘descriptum,’ which just depicts a ‘state’ of affairs that the emissor wants to inform his recipient about.  Surely there are for Grice at least two different modes, the buletic, which tends towards the prescriptive, and the doxastic, which is mostly ‘descriptive.’ One has to be careful because Grice thinks that what a philosopher like Strawson does with ‘descriptive’ expression (like ‘true,’ ‘know’ and ‘good’) and talk of pseudo-descriptive. What is that gives the buletic a ‘prescritive’ or deontic ring to it? This is Kant’s question. Grice kept a copy of Foots on morality as a system of hypothetical imperatives. “So Somervillian Oxonian it hurts!”. Grice took virtue ethics more seriously than the early Hare. Hare will end up a virtue ethicist, since he changed from a meta-ethicist to a moralist embracing a hedonistic version of eudaemonist utilitarianism. Grice was more Aristotelianly conservative! Unlike Hares and Grices meta-ethical sensitivities (as members of the Oxonian school of ordinary-language philosophy), Foot suggests a different approach to ethics. Grice admired Foots ability to make the right conceptual distinction. Foot is following a very Oxonian tradition best represented by the work of Warnock. Of course, Grice was over-familiar with the virtue vs. vice distinction, since Hardie had instilled it on him at Corpus! For Grice, virtue and vice (and the mesotes), display an interesting logical grammar, though. Grice would say that rationality is a virtue; fallacious reasoning is a vice. Some things Grice takes more of a moral standpoint about. To cheat is neither irrational nor unreasonble: just plain repulsive.  As such, it would be a vice ‒ mind not getting caught in its grip! Grice is concerned with vice in his account of akrasia or incontinentia. If agent A KNOWS that doing x is virtuous, yet decides to do ~x, which is vicious, A is being akratic. For Grice, akratic behaviour applies both in the buletic or boulomaic realm and in the doxastic realm. And it is part of the philosopher’s job to elucidate the conceptual intricacies attached to it. 1. prima-facie (p⊃!q) V probably (p⊃q). 2. prima-facie ((A and B) ⊃!p) V probably ( (A and B) ⊃p). 3. prima-facie ((A and B and C) ⊃!p) V probably ( (A and B and C,) ⊃p). 4. prima-facie ((all things before P V!p) V probably ((all things before P) ⊃ p). 5. prima-facie ((all things are considered ⊃ !p) V probably (all things are considered, ⊃ p). 6. !q V .q 7. Acc. Reasoning P wills that !q V Acc. Reasoning P that judges q. Refs.: The main sources under ‘meta-ethics,’ above, BANC.

Prince Maurice’s parrot: The ascription of ‘that’-clause in the report of a communicatum by a pirot of stage n-1 may be a problem by a priot in stage n. Do we want to say that the parrot communicates that he finds Prince Maurice an idiot? While some may not be correct that Griciean principles can be explained on practical, utilitarian grounds, Grice’s main motivation is indeed to capture the ‘rational’ capacity. Since I think I may be confident, that, whoever should see a creature of his own shape or make, though it had no more reason all its life than a cat or a parrot, would call him still a man; or whoever should hear a cat or a parrot discourse, reason, and philosophize, would call or think it nothing but a cat or a parrot; and say, the one was a dull irrational man, and the other a very intelligent rational parrot. A relation we have in an author of great note, is sufficient to countenance the supposition of a rational parrot. His words are: "I had a mind to know, from Prince Maurice's own mouth, the account of a common, but much credited story, that I had heard so often from many others, of an old parrot he had in Brazil, during his government there, that spoke, and asked, and answered common questions, like a reasonable creature: so that those of his train there generally concluded it to be witchery or possession; and one of his chaplains, who lived long afterwards in Holland, would never from that time endure a parrot, but said they all had a devil in them. I had heard many particulars of this story, and as severed by people hard to be discredited, which made me ask Prince Maurice what there was of it. He said, with his usual plainness and dryness in talk, there was something true, but a great deal false of what had been reported. I desired to know of him what there was of the first. He told me short and coldly, that he had heard of such an old parrot when he had been at Brazil; and though he believed nothing of it, and it was a good way off, yet he had so much curiosity as to send for it: that it was a very great and a very old one; and when it came first into the room where the prince was, with a great many Dutchmen about him, it said presently, What a company of white men are here! They asked it, what it thought that man was, pointing to the prince. It answered, Some General or other. When they brought it close to him, he asked it, D'ou venez-vous? It answered, De Marinnan. The Prince, A qui estes-vous? The Parrot, A un Portugais. The Prince, Que fais-tu la? Parrot, Je garde les poulles. The Prince laughed, and said, Vous gardez les poulles? The Parrot answered, Oui, moi; et je scai bien faire; and made the chuck four or five times that people use to make to chickens when they call them. I set down the words of this worthy dialogue in French, just as Prince Maurice said them to me. I asked him in what language the parrot spoke, and he said in Brazilian. I asked whether he understood Brazilian; he said No, but he had taken care to have two interpreters by him, the one a Dutchman that spoke Brazilian, and the other a Brazilian that spoke Dutch; that he asked them separately and privately, and both of them agreed in telling him just the same thing that the parrot had said. I could not but tell this odd story, because it is so much out of the way, and from the first hand, and what may pass for a good one; for I dare say this Prince at least believed himself in all he told me, having ever passed for a very honest and pious man: I leave it to naturalists to reason, and to other men to believe, as they please upon it; however, it is not, perhaps, amiss to relieve or enliven a busy scene sometimes with such digressions, whether to the purpose or no." I have taken care that the reader should have the story at large in the author's own words, because he seems to me not to have thought it incredible; for it cannot be imagined that so able a man as he, who had sufficiency enough to warrant all the testimonies he gives of himself, should take so much pains, in a place where it had nothing to do, to pin so close, not only on a man whom he mentions as his friend, but on a Prince in whom he acknowledges very great honesty and piety, a story which, if he himself thought incredible, he could not but also think ridiculous. The Prince, it is plain, who vouches this story, and our author, who relates it from him, both of them call this talker a parrot: and I ask any one else who thinks such a story fit to be told, whether, if this parrot, and all of its kind, had always talked, as we have a prince's word for it this one did,- whether, I say, they would not have passed for a race of rational animals; but yet, whether, for all that, they would have been allowed to be men, and not parrots? For I presume it is not the idea of a thinking or rational being alone that makes the idea of a man in most people's sense: but of a body, so and so shaped, joined to it: and if that be the idea of a man, the same successive body not shifted all at once, must, as well as the same immaterial spirit, go to the making of the same man.

principle of economy of rational effort: (principium oeconomiae effortis rationalis). Cf. his metaphor of the hamburger. Grice knew that ‘economy’ is vague. It relates to the ‘open house.’ But is a crucial concept. It is not the principle of parsimony of rational effort. It is not the principle of ‘minimisaation’ of rational effort. It is the principle of the ‘economy’ of rational effort. ‘Economy’ is already a value-oriented word, since it is a branch of politics and meta-ethics. oecŏnŏmĭcus , a, um, adj., = οἰκονομικός. I. Of or relating to domestic economy; subst.: oecŏnŏmĭcus , i, m., a work of Xenophon on domestic economy. in eo libro, qui Oeconomicus inscribitur, Cic. Off. 2, 24, 87; Gell. 15, 5, 8.— II. Of or belonging to a proper (oratorical) division or arrangement; orderly, methodical: “oeconomica totius causae dispositio,” Quint. 7, 10, 11. οἰκονομ-ικός , ή, όν, A.practised in the management of a household or family, opp. πολιτικός, Pl.Alc.1.133e, Phdr.248d, X.Oec.1.3, Arist.Pol.1252a8, etc. : Sup., [κτημάτων] τὸ βέλτιστον καὶ-ώτατον, of man, Phld.Oec.p.30 J. : hence, thrifty, frugal, economical, X.Mem.4.2.39, Phylarch.65 J. (Comp.) : ὁ οἰ. title of treatise on the duties of domestic life, by Xenophon ; and τὰ οἰ. title of treatise on public finance, ascribed to Aristotle, cf. X.Cyr.8.1.14 : ἡ -κή (sc. τέχνη) domestic economy, husbandry, Pl.Plt.259c, X.Mem. 3.4.11, etc. ; οἰ. ἀρχή defined as ἡ τέκνων ἀρχὴ καὶ γυναικὸς καὶ τῆς οἰκίας πάσης, Arist.Pol.1278b38 ; applied to patriarchal rule, ib.1285b32. Adv.“-κῶς” Ph.2.426, Plu.2.1126a ; also in literary sense, in a well ordered manner, Sch.Th.1.63. Grice’s conversational maximin. Blackburn draws a skull to communicate that there is danger. The skull complete with the rest of the body will not do. So abiding by this principle has nothing to do with an arbitrary convention. Vide principle of least conversational effort. Principle of conversational least effort. No undue effort (candour), no unnecessary trouble (self-love) if doing A involves too much conversational effort, never worry: you will be DEEMED to have made the effort. Invoked by Grice in “Prejudices and predilections; which become, the life and opinions of H. P. Grice.” When Grice qualifies this as ‘rational’ effort, what other efforts are there? Note that the lexeme ‘effort’ does NOT feature in the formulation of the principle itself. Grice confesses to be strongly inclined to assent to the principle of economy of rational conversational effort or the principle of economy of conversational effort, or the principle of economy of conversational expenditure, or the principle of minimisation of rational expenditure, or the principle of minimization of conversational expenditure, or the principle of minimisation of rational cost, or the conversational maximin. The principle of least cost. The principle of economy of rational expenditure states that, where there is a ratiocinative procedure for arriving rationally at certain outcome, a procedure which, because it is ratiocinative, involves an expenditure of time and energy, if there is a NON-ratiocinative, and so more economical procedure which is likely, for the most part, to reach the same outcome as the ratiocinative procedure, provided the stakes are not too high, it is rational to employ the cheaper though somewhat less reliable non-ratiocinative procedure as a substitute for ratiocination. Grice thinks this principle would meet with genitorial approval, in which case the genitor would install it for use should opportunity arise. This applies to the charge of overcomplexity and ‘psychological irreality’ of the reasoning involved in the production and design of the maximally efficient conversational move and the reasoning involved in the recognition of the implicatum by the addressee. In “Epilogue” he goes by yet another motto, Do not multiply rationalities beyond necessity: The principle of conversational rationality, as he calls it in the Epilogue, is a sub-principle of a principle of rationality simpiciter, not applying to a pursuit related to ‘communication,’ as he puts it.

prolatum – participle for ‘proferre,’ to utter. A much better choice than Austin’s pig-latin “utteratum”! Grice prefferd Latinate when going serious. While the verb is ‘profero – the participle corresponds to the ‘implicatum’: what the emissor profers. profer (v.)c. 1300, "to utter, express," from Old French proferer (13c.) "utter, present verbally, pronounce," from Latin proferre "to bring forth, produce," figuratively "make known, publish, quote, utter." Sense confused with proffer. Related: Profered; profering.

propositio universalis: cf. substitutional account of universal quantification, referred to by Grice for his treatment of what he calls a Ryleian agitation caused by his feeling Byzantine. Vide inverted A. A proposition (protasis), then, is a sentence affirming or denying something of something; and this is either universal or particular or indefinite. By universal I mean a statement that something belongs to all or none of something; by particular that it belongs to some or not to some or not to all; by indefinite that it does or does not belong, without any mark of being universal or particular, e.g. ‘contraries are subjects of the same science’, or ‘pleasure is not good’. (Prior Analytics I, 1, 24a16–21.)

propositional complexum: In logic, the first proposition of a syllogism (class.): “propositio est, per quem locus is breviter exponitur, ex quo vis omnis oportet emanet ratiocinationis,” Cic. Inv. 1, 37, 67; 1, 34, 35; Auct. Her. 2, 18, 28.— B. Transf. 1. A principal subject, theme (class.), Cic. de Or. 3, 53; Sen. Ben. 6, 7, 1; Quint. 5, 14, 1.— 2. Still more generally, a proposition of any kind (post-Aug.), Quint. 7, 1, 47, § 9; Gell. 2, 7, 21.—Do not expect Grice to use the phrase ‘propositional content,’ as Hare does so freely. Grices proposes a propositional complexum, rather, which frees him from a commitment to a higher-order calculus and the abstract entity of a feature or a proposition. Grice regards a proposition as an extensional family of propositional complexa (Paul saw Peter; Peter was seen by Paul). The topic of a propositional complex Grice regards as Oxonian in nature. Peacocke struggles with the same type of problems, in his essays on content. Only a perception-based account of content in terms of qualia gets the philosopher out of the vicious circle of appealing to a linguistic entity to clarify a psychological entity. One way to discharge the burden of giving an account of a proposition involves focusing on a range of utterances, the formulation of which features no connective or quantifier. Each expresses a propositional complexum which consists of a sequence simplex-1 and simplex-2, whose elements would be a set and an ordered sequence of this or that individuum which may be a member of the set. The propositional complexum ‘Fido is shaggy’ consists of a sequence of the set of shaggy individua and the singleton consisting of the individuum Fido. ‘Smith loves Fido’ is a propositional complexum, i. e., a sequence whose first element is the class “love” correlated to a two-place predicate) and a the ordered pair of the singletons Smith and Fido. We define alethic satisfactoriness. A propositional complexum is alethically satisfactory just in case the sequence is a member of the set. A “proposition” (prosthesis) simpliciter is defined as a family of propositional complexa. Family unity may vary in accordance with context. 

proprium: idion. See Nicholas White's "The Origin of Aristotle's Essentialism," Review of Metaphysics ~6. (September 1972): ... vice versa. The proprium is a necessary, but non-essential, property. ... Alan Code pointed this out to me. ' Does Aristotle ... The proprium is defined by the fact that it only holds of a particular subject or ... Of the appropriate answers some are more specific or distinctive (idion) and are in ... and property possession comes close to what Alan Code in a seminal paper ...  but "substance of" is what is "co-extensive (idion) with each thing" (1038b9); so ... by an alternative name or definition, and by a proprium) and the third which is ... Woods's idea (recently nicknamed "Izzing before Having" by Code and Grice) . As my chairmanship was winding down, I suggested to Paul Grice on one of his ... in Aristotle's technical sense of an idion (Latin proprium), i.e., a characteristic or feature ... Code, which, arguably, is part of the theory of Izzing and Having: D. Keyt. a proprium, since proprium belongs to the genus of accident. ... Similarly, Code claims (10): 'In its other uses the predicate “being'' signifies either “what ... Grice adds a few steps to show that the plurality of universals signified correspond ... Aristotle elsewhere calls an idion.353 If one predicates the genus in the absence of. has described it by a paronymous form, nor as a property (idion), nor ... terminology of Code and Grice.152 Thus there is no indication that they are ... (14,20-31) 'Genus' and 'proprium' (ἰδίου) are said homonymously in ten ways, as are. Ackrill replies to this line of argument (75) as follows: [I]t is perfectly clear that Aristotle’s fourfold classification is a classification of things and not names, and that what is ‘said of’ something as subject is itself a thing (a species or genus) and not a name. Sometimes, indeed, Aristotle will speak of ‘saying’ or ‘predicating’ a name of a subject; but it is not linguistic items but the things they signify which are ‘said of a subject’… Thus at 2a19 ff. Aristotle sharply distinguishes things said of subjects from the names of those things. This last argument seems persuasive on textual grounds. After all, τὰ καθ᾽ ὑποκειμένου λεγόμενα ‘have’ definitions and names (τῶν καθ᾽ υποκειμένου λεγομένων… τοὔνομα καὶ τὸν λὸγον, 2a19-21): it is not the case that they ‘are’ definitions and names, to adapt the terminology of Code and Grice.152 See A. Code, ‘Aristotle: Essence and Accident’, in Grandy and Warner (eds.), Philosophical Grounds of Rationality (Oxford, 1986), 411-39: particulars have their predicables, but Forms are their predicables. Thus there is no indication that they are linguistic terms in their own right.

prudens: practical reason: In “Epilogue” Grice states that the principle of conversational rationality is a sub-principle of the principle of rationality, simpliciter, which is not involved with ‘communication’ per se. This is an application of Occam’s razor: Rationalities are not to be multiplied beyond necessity.” This motto underlies his aequi-vocality thesis: one reason: desiderative side, judicative side. Literally, ‘practical reason’ is the buletic part of the soul (psyche) that deals with praxis, where the weighing is central. We dont need means-end rationality, we need value-oriented rationality. We dont need the rationality of the means – this is obvious --. We want the rationality of the ends. The end may justify the means. But Grice is looking for what justifies the end. The topic of freedom fascinated Grice, because it merged the practical with the theoretical. Grice sees the conception of freedom as crucial in his elucidation of a rational being. Conditions of freedom are necessary for the very idea, as Kant was well aware. A thief who is forced to steal is just a thief. Grice would engage in a bit of language botany, when exploring the ways the adjective free is used, freely, in ordinary language: free fall, alcohol-free, sugar-free, and his favourite: implicature-free. Grices more systematic reflections deal with Pology, or creature construction. A vegetals, for example is less free than an animal, but more free than a stone! And Humans are more free than non-human. Grice wants to deal with some of the paradoxes identified by Kant about freedom, and he succeeds in solving some of them. There is a section on freedom in Action and events for PPQ  where he expands on eleutheria and notes the idiocy of a phrase like free fall. Grice was irritated by the fact that his friend Hart wrote an essay on liberty and not on freedom, cf. praxis. Refs.: essays on ‘practical reason,’ and “Aspects,” in BANC.

ψ-transmissum. “Before we study ‘psi’-transmission we should study ‘transmission’ simpliciter. It is cognate with ‘emission.’ So the emissor is a transmissor. And the emissee is a transemissee.  Grice would never have thougth that he had to lecture on what conversation is all about! He would never have lectured on this to his tutees at St. John’s – but at Brighton is all different. So, to communicate, for an emissor is to intend his recipient to be in a state with content “p.” The modality of the ‘state’ – desiderative or creditative – is not important. In a one-off predicament, the emissor draws a skull to indicate that there is danger. So his belief and desire were successfully transmitted. A good way to formulate the point of communication. Note that Grice is never sure about analsans and analysandum: Emissor communicates THAT P iff Emissor M-INTENDS THAT addressee is to psi- that P. Which seems otiose. “It is raining” can be INFORMATIVE, but it is surely INDICATIVE first. So it’s moke like the emissor intends his addressee to believe that he, the utterer believes that p (the belief itself NOT being part of what is meant, of course). So, there is psi-transmission not necessarily when the utterer convinces his addressee, but just when he gets his addressee to BELIEF that he, the utterer, psi-s that p. So the psi HAS BEEN TRANSMITTED. Surely when the Beatles say “HELP” they don’t expect that their addressee will need help. They intend their addressee to HELP them! Used by Grice in WoW: 287, and emphasised by J. Baker. The gist of communication. trans-mitto or trāmitto , mīsi, missum, 3, v. a. I. To send, carry, or convey across, over, or through; to send off, despatch, transmit from one place or person to another (syn.: transfero, traicio, traduco). A. Lit.: “mihi illam ut tramittas: argentum accipias,” Plaut. Ep. 3, 4, 27: “illam sibi,” id. ib. 1, 2, 52: “exercitus equitatusque celeriter transmittitur (i. e. trans flumen),” are conveyed across, Caes. B. G. 7, 61: “legiones,” Vell. 2, 51, 1: “cohortem Usipiorum in Britanniam,” Tac. Agr. 28: “classem in Euboeam ad urbem Oreum,” Liv. 28, 5, 18: “magnam classem in Siciliam,” id. 28, 41, 17: “unde auxilia in Italiam transmissurus erat,” id. 23, 32, 5; 27, 15, 7: transmissum per viam tigillum, thrown over or across, id. 1, 26, 10: “ponte transmisso,” Suet. Calig. 22 fin.: in partem campi pecora et armenta, Tac. A. 13, 55: “materiam in formas,” Col. 7, 8, 6.— 2. To cause to pass through: “per corium, per viscera Perque os elephanto bracchium transmitteres,” you would have thrust through, penetrated, Plaut. Mil. 1, 30; so, “ensem per latus,” Sen. Herc. Oet. 1165: “facem telo per pectus,” id. Thyest. 1089: “per medium amnem transmittit equum,” rides, Liv. 8, 24, 13: “(Gallorum reguli) exercitum per fines suos transmiserunt,” suffered to pass through, id. 21, 24, 5: “abies folio pinnato densa, ut imbres non transmittat,” Plin. 16, 10, 19, § 48: “Favonios,” Plin. Ep. 2, 17, 19; Tac. A. 13, 15: “ut vehem faeni large onustam transmitteret,” Plin. 36, 15, 24, § 108.— B. Trop. 1. To carry over, transfer, etc.: “bellum in Italiam,” Liv. 21, 20, 4; so, “bellum,” Tac. A. 2, 6: “vitia cum opibus suis Romam (Asia),” Just. 36, 4, 12: vim in aliquem, to send against, i. e. employ against, Tac. A. 2, 38.— 2. To hand over, transmit, commit: “et quisquam dubitabit, quin huic hoc tantum bellum transmittendum sit, qui, etc.,” should be intrusted, Cic. Imp. Pomp. 14, 42: “alicui signa et summam belli,” Sil. 7, 383: “hereditas transmittenda alicui,” to be made over, Plin. Ep. 8, 18, 7; and with inf.: “et longo transmisit habere nepoti,” Stat. S. 3, 3, 78 (analog. to dat habere, Verg. A. 9, 362; “and, donat habere,” id. ib. 5, 262); “for which: me famulo famulamque Heleno transmisit habendam,” id. ib. 3, 329: “omne meum tempus amicorum temporibus transmittendum putavi,” should be devoted, Cic. Imp. Pomp. 1, 1: “poma intacta ore servis,” Tac. A. 4, 54.— 3. To let go: animo transmittente quicquid acceperat, letting pass through, i. e. forgetting, Sen. Ep. 99, 6: “mox Caesarem vergente jam senectā munia imperii facilius tramissurum,” would let go, resign, Tac. A. 4, 41: “Junium mensem transmissum,” passed over, omitted, id. ib. 16, 12 fin.: “Gangen amnem et quae ultra essent,” to leave unconquered, Curt. 9, 4, 17: “leo imbelles vitulos Transmittit,” Stat. Th. 8, 596.— II. To go or pass over or across, to cross over; to cross, pass, go through, traverse, etc. A. Lit. 1. In gen. (α). Act.: “grues cum maria transmittant,” Cic. N. D. 2, 49, 125: “cur ipse tot maria transmisit,” id. Fin. 5, 29, 87; so, “maria,” id. Rep. 1, 3, 6: “satis constante famā jam Iberum Poenos transmisisse,” Liv. 21, 20, 9 (al. transisse): “quem (Euphratem) ponte,” Tac. A. 15, 7: “fluvium nando,” Stat. Th. 9, 239: “lacum nando,” Sil. 4, 347: “murales fossas saltu,” id. 8, 554: “equites medios tramittunt campos,” ride through, Lucr. 2, 330; cf.: “cursu campos (cervi),” run through, Verg. A. 4, 154: quantum Balearica torto Funda potest plumbo medii transmittere caeli, can send with its hurled bullet, i. e. can send its bullet, Ov. M. 4, 710: “tectum lapide vel missile,” to fling over, Plin. 28, 4, 6, § 33; cf.: “flumina disco,” Stat. Th. 6, 677.—In pass.: “duo sinus fuerunt, quos tramitti oporteret: utrumque pedibus aequis tramisimus,” Cic. Att. 16, 6, 1: “transmissus amnis,” Tac. A. 12, 13: “flumen ponte transmittitur,” Plin. Ep. 8, 8, 5.— (β). Neutr.: “ab eo loco conscendi ut transmitterem,” Cic. Phil. 1, 3, 7: “cum exercitus vestri numquam a Brundisio nisi summā hieme transmiserint,” id. Imp. Pomp. 12, 32: “cum a Leucopetrā profectus (inde enim tramittebam) stadia circiter CCC. processissem, etc.,” id. Att. 16, 7, 1; 8, 13, 1; 8, 11, 5: “ex Corsicā subactā Cicereius in Sardiniam transmisit,” Liv. 42, 7, 2; 32, 9, 6: “ab Lilybaeo Uticam,” id. 25, 31, 12: “ad vastandam Italiae oram,” id. 21, 51, 4; 23, 38, 11; 24, 36, 7: “centum onerariae naves in Africam transmiserunt,” id. 30, 24, 5; Suet. Caes. 58: “Cyprum transmisit,” Curt. 4, 1, 27. — Pass. impers.: “in Ebusum insulam transmissum est,” Liv. 22, 20, 7.—* 2. In partic., to go over, desert to a party: “Domitius transmisit ad Caesa rem,” Vell. 2, 84 fin. (syn. transfugio).— B. Trop. (post-Aug.). 1. In gen., to pass over, leave untouched or disregarded (syn praetermitto): “haud fas, Bacche, tuos taci tum tramittere honores,” Sil. 7, 162; cf.: “sententiam silentio, deinde oblivio,” Tac. H. 4, 9 fin.: “nihil silentio,” id. ib. 1, 13; “4, 31: aliquid dissimulatione,” id. A. 13, 39: “quae ipse pateretur,” Suet. Calig. 10; id. Vesp. 15. — 2. In partic., of time, to pass, spend (syn. ago): “tempus quiete,” Plin. Ep. 9, 6, 1: so, “vitam per obscurum,” Sen. Ep. 19, 2: steriles annos, Stat. S. 4, 2, 12: “aevum,” id. ib. 1, 4, 124: “quattuor menses hiemis inedia,” Plin. 8, 25, 38, § 94: “vigiles noctes,” Stat. Th. 3, 278 et saep. — Transf.: “febrium ardorem,” i. e. to undergo, endure, Plin. Ep. 1, 22, 7; cf. “discrimen,” id. ib. 8, 11, 2: “secessus, voluptates, etc.,” id. ib. 6, 4, 2.

quasi-demonstratum: The use of ‘quasi-‘ is implicatural. Grice is implicating this is NOT a demonstratum. By a demonstratum he is having in mind a Kaplanian ‘dthis’ or ‘dthat.’ Grice was obsessed with this or that. An abstractum (such as “philosopher”) needs to be attached in a communicatum by what Grice calls a ‘quasi-demonstrative,’ and for which he uses “φ.” Consider, Grice says, an utterance, out of the blue, such as ‘The philosopher in the garden seems bored,’ involving two iota-operators. As there may be more that a philosopher in a garden in the great big world, the utterer intends his addressee to treat the utterance as expandable into ‘The A which is φ is B,’ where “φ” is a quasi-demonstrative epithet to be identified in a particular context of utterance. The utterer intends that, to identify  the denotatum of “φ” for a particular utterance of ‘The philosopher in the garden seems bored,’ the addressee wil proceed via the identification of a particular philosopher, say Grice, as being a good candidate for being the philosopher meant. The addressee is also intended to identify the candidate for a denotatum of φ by finding in the candidate a feature, e. g., that of being the garden at St. John’s, which is intended to be used to yield a composite epithet (‘philosopher in St. John’s garden’), which in turn fills the bill of being the epithet which the utterer believes is being uniquely satisfied by the philosopher selected as the candidate. Determining the denotatum of “φ” standardly involve determining what feature the utterer believes is uniquely instantiated by the predicate “philosopher.” This in turn involves satisfying oneself that some particular feature is in fact uniquely satisfied by a particular actual item, viz. a particular philosopher such as Grice seeming bored in the garden of St. John’s.

A.M. Quinton’s Gedanke Experiment: from “Spaces and Times,” Philosophy.“hardly Thought Out” – Is this apriori or a posteriori? H. P. Grice. Space is ordinarily seen to be a unique individual. All real things are contained in one and the same space, and all spaces are part of the one space. In principle, every place can be reached from every other place by traveling through intermediate places. The spatial relation is symmetrical. Grice’s friend, A. M. Quinton devised a thought experiment to challenge this picture. Suppose that we have richly coherent and connected experience in our dreams just as we have in waking life, so that it becomes arbitrary to claim that our dream experience is not of an objectively existing world like the world of our waking experience. If the space of my waking world and my dream world are not mutually accessible, it is unlikely that we are justified in claiming to be living in a single spatially isolated world. Hence, space is not essentially singular. In assessing this account, we might distinguish between systematic and public physical space and fragmentary and private experiential space. The two-space myth raises questions about how we can justify moving from experiential space to objective space in the world as it is. “We can at least conceive circumstances in which we should have good reason to say that we know of real things located in two distinct spaces.” Quinton, “Spaces and Times,” Philosophy 37

ramseyified description. Grice enjoyed Ramsey’s Engish humour: if you can say it, you can’t whistle it either. Applied by Grice in “Method.”Agent A is in a D state just in case there is a predicate “D”  introduced via implicit definition by nomological generalisation L within theory θ, such L obtains, A instantiates D. Grice distinguishes the ‘descriptor’ from a more primitive ‘name.’ The reference is to Ramsey. The issue is technical and relates to the introduction of a predicate constant – something he would never have dared to at Oxford with Gilbert Ryle and D. F. Pears next to him! But in the New World, they loved a formalism! And of course Ramsey would not have anything to do with it! Refs: “Philosophical psychology,” in BANC. ‘

rational choice: as oppose to irrational choice. V. choose. Grice, “Impicatures of ‘choosing’” “Hobson’s choice, or Hobson’s ‘choice’?” Pears on conversational implicature and choosing. That includes choosing in its meaning, and then it is easy to ac- cept the suggestion that choosing might be an S-factor, and that the hypothetical might be a Willkür: 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. Insofar as a philosopher explains and predicts the actum as consequences of a choice, which are themselves explained in terms of alleged reasons, it must depict agents as to some extent rational. Rationality, like reasons, involves evaluation, and just as one can assess the rationality of individual choices, so one can assess the rationality of social choices and examine how they are and ought to be related to the preferences and judgments of the actor. In addition, there are intricate questions concerning rationality in ‘strategic’ situations in which outcomes depend on the choices of multiple individuals. Since rationality is a central concept in branches of philosophy such as Grice’s pragmatics, action theory, epistemology, ethics, and philosophy of mind, studies of rationality frequently cross the boundaries various branches of philosophy. The barebones theory of rationality  takes an agent’s preferences, i. e. his rankings of states of affairs, to be rational if they are complete and transitive, and it takes the agent’s choice to be rational if the agent does not prefer any feasible alternative to the one he chooses. Such a theory of rationality is clearly too weak. It says nothing about belief or what rationality implies when the agent does not know (with certainty) everything relevant to his choice. It may also be too strong, since there is nothing irrational about having incomplete preferences in situations involving uncertainty. Sometimes it is rational to suspend judgment and to refuse to rank alternatives that are not well understood. On the other hand, transitivity is a plausible condition, and the so-called “money pump” argument demonstrates that if one’s preferences are intransitive and one is willing to make exchanges, then one can be exploited. Suppose an agent A prefers X to Y, Y to Z and Z to X, and that A will pay some small amount of money $P to exchange Y for X, Z for Y, and X for Z. That means that, starting with Z, A will pay $P for Y, then $P again for X, then $P again for Z and so on. An agent need not be this stupid. He will instead refuse to trade or adjust his preferences to eliminate the intransitivity. On the other hand, there is evidence that an agent’s preferences are not in fact transitive. Such evidence does not establish that transitivity is not a requirement of rationality. It may show instead that an agent may sometimes not be rational. In, e. g. the case of preference reversals,” it seems plausible that the agent in fact makes the ‘irrational choice.’ Evidence of persistent violations of transitivity is disquieting, since standards of rationality should not be impossibly high. A further difficulty with the barebones theory of rationality concerns the individuation of the objects of preference or choice. Consider e. g. data from a multi-stage ultimatum game. Suppose A can propose any division of $10 between A and B. B can accept or reject A’s proposal. If B rejects the proposal, the amount of money drops to $5, and B gets to offer a division of the $5 which A can accept or reject. If A rejects B’s offer, both players get nothing. Suppose that A proposes to divide the money with $7 for A and $3 for B. B declines and offers to split the $5 evenly, with $2.50 for each. Behaviour such as this is, in fact, common. Assuming that B prefers more money to less, these choices appear to be a violation of transitivity. B prefers $3 to $2.50, yet declines $3 for certain for $2.50 (with some slight chance of A declining and B getting nothing). But the objects of choice are not just quantities of money. B is turning down $3 as part of “a raw deal” in favour of $2.50 as part of a fair arrangement. If the objects of choice are defined in this way, there is no failure of transitivity. This plausible observation gives rise to a serious conceptual problem that Grice thinks he can solve. Unless there are constraints on how the objects of choice are individuated, conditions of rationality such as transitivity are empty. A’s choice of X over Y, Y over Z and Z over X does not violate transitivity if “X when the alternative is Y” is not the same object of choice as “X when the alternative is Z”. A further substantive principle of rationality isrequired to limit how alternatives are individuated or to require that agents be indifferent between alternatives such as “X when the alternative is Y” and “X when the alternative is Z.” To extend the theory of rationality to circumstances involving risk (where the objects of choice are lotteries with known probabilities) and uncertainty (where agents do not know the probabilities or even all the possible outcomes of their choices) requires a further principle of rationality, as well as a controversial technical simplification. Subjective Bayesians suppose that the agent in circumstances of uncertainty has well-defined subjective probabilities (degrees of belief) over all the payoffs and thus that the objects of choice can be modeled as lotteries, just as in circumstances involving risk, though with subjective probabilities in place of objective probabilities. The most important of the axioms needed for the theory of rational choice under conditions of risk and uncertainty is the independence condition. The preferences of a rational agent between two lotteries that differ in only one outcome should match his preferences between the differing outcomes. A considerable part of Grice’s rational choice theory is concerned with formalizations of conditions of rationality and investigation of their implications. When they are complete and transitive and satisfy a further continuity condition, the agent’s preferences can be represented by an ordinal utility function, i. e. it is then possible to define a function that represents an agent’s preferences so that U(X) > U(Y) iff if the agent prefers X to Y, and U(X) = U(Y) iff if the agent is indifferent between X and Y. This function represents the preference ranking, and contains no information beyond the ranking. When in addition they satisfy the independence condition, the agent’s preferences can be represented by an expected utility function (Ramsey 1926). Such a function has two important properties. First, the expected utility of a lottery is equal to the sum of the expected utilities of its prizes weighted by their probabilities. Second, expected utility functions are unique up to a positive affine transformation. If U and V are both expected utility functions representing the preferences of an agent, for all objects of preference, X, V(X) must be equal to aU(X) + b, where a and b are real numbers and a is positive. The axioms of rationality imply that the agent’s degrees of belief will satisfy the axioms of the probability calculus. A great deal of controversy surrounds Grice’s theory of rationality, and there have been many formal investigations into amendeding it. Although a conversational pair is very different from this agent and this other agent, the pair has a mechanism to evaluate alternatives and make a choice. The evaluation and the choice may be rational or irrational. Pace Grice’s fruitful seminars on rational helpfulness in cooperation, t is not, however, obvious, what principles of rationality should govern the choices and evaluations of the conversational dyad. Transitivity is one plausible condition. It seems that a conversational dyad that chooses X when faced with the alternatives X or Y, Y when faced with the alternatives Y or Z and Z when faced with the alternatives X or Z, the conversational dyad has had “a change of hearts” or is choosing ‘irrationally.’ Yet, purported irrationalities such as these can easily arise from a standard mechanism that aims to link a ‘conversational choice’ and individual preferences. Suppose there are two conversationalists in the dyad. Individual One ranks the alternatives X, Y, Z. Individual Two ranks them Y, Z, X. (An Individual Three if he comes by, may ranks them Z, X, Y). If decisions are made by pairwise majority voting, X will be chosen from the pair (X, Y), Y will be chosen from (Y, Z), and Z will be chosen from (X, Z). Clearly this is unsettling. But is a possible cycle in a ‘conversational choice’ “irrational”? Similar problems affect what one might call the logical coherence of a conversational judgment Suppose the dyad consists of two individuals who make the following judgments concerning the truth or falsity of the propositions P and Q and that “conversational” judgment follows the majority. P if P, Q Q Conversationalist A                        true true true Conversationalist B false true false (Conversationalist C, if he passes by) true   false false “Conversation” as an Institution: true true false. The judgment of each conversationalist is consistent with the principles of logic, while the “conversational co-operative” judgment violates the principles of logic. The “cooperative conversational,” “altruistic,” “joint judgment” need not be consistent with the principles of egoist logic. Although conversational choice theory bears on questions of conversational rationality, most work in conversational choice theory explores the consequences of principles of rationality coupled with this or that explicitly practical, or meta-ethical constraint. Grice does not use ‘moral,’ since he distinguishes what he calls a ‘conversational maxim’ from a ‘moral maxim’ of the type Kant universalizes. Arrow’s impossibility theorem assumes that an individual preference and a concerted, joint preference are complete and transitive and that the method of forming a conversational, concerted, joint preference (or making a conversational, concerted, choice) issues in some joint preference ranking or joint choice for any possible profile (or dossier, as Grice prefers) of each individual preference. Arrow’s impossibility theorem imposes a weak UNANIMITY (one-soul) condition. If A and B prefers X to Y, Y must not jointly preferred. Arrow’s impossibility theorem requires that there be no boss (call him Immanuel, the Genitor) whose preference determines a joint preference or choice irrespective of the preferences of anybody else. Arrow’s impossibility theorem imposes the condition that the joint concerted conversational preference between X and Y should depend on how A and B rank X and Y and on nothing else. Arrow’s impossibility theorem proves that no method of co-relating or linking conversational and a monogogic preference can satisfy all these conditions. If an monopreference and a mono-evaluations both satisfy the axioms of expected utility theory (with shared or objective probabilities) and that a duo-preference conform to the unanimous mono-preference, a duo- evaluation is determined by a weighted sum of individual utilities. A form of weighted futilitarianism, which prioritizes the interests of the recipient, rather than the emissor, uniquely satisfies a longer list of rational and practical constraints. When there are instead disagreements in probability assignments, there is an impossibility result. The unanimity (‘one-soul’) condition implies that for some profiles of individual preferences, a joint or duo-evaluation will not satisfy the axioms of expected utility theory. When outcomes depend on what at least two autonomous free agents do, one agent’s best choice may depend on what the other agent chooses. Although the principles of rationality governing mono-choice still apply, there is a further principle of conversational rationality governing the ‘expectation’ (to use Grice’s favourite term) of the action (or conversational move) of one’s co-conversationalist (and obviously, via the mutuality requirement of applicational universalizability) of the co-conversationalist’s ‘expectation’ concerning the conversationalist’s action and expectation, and so forth. Grice’s Conversational Game Theory plays a protagonist role within philosophy, and it is relevant to inquiries concerning conversational rationality and inquiries concerning conversational ethics.

reductionism: The issue of reductionism is very much twentieth-century. There was Wisdom’s boring contribtions to Mind on ‘logical construction,’ Grice read the summary from Broad. One of the twelve –isms that Grice finds on his ascent to the City of Eternal Truth. He makes the reductive-reductionist distinction. Against J. M. Rountree. So, for Grice, the bad heathen vicious Reductionism can be defeated by the good Christian virtuous Reductivism. A reductivist tries to define, say, what an emissor communicates (that p) in terms of the content of that proposition that he intends to transmit to his recipient. Following Aristotle, Grice reduces the effect to a ‘pathemata psucheos,’ i. e. a passio of the anima, as Boethius translates. This can be desiderative (“Thou shalt not kill”) or creditativa (“The grass is green.”)

re-praesentatum: Grice plays with this as a philosophical semanticist, rather than a philosophical psychologist. But the re-praesentatum depends on the ‘praesentatum,’ which corresponds to Grice’s sub-perceptum (not the ‘conceptus’). cf. Grice on Peirce’s representamen (“You don’t want to go there,” – Grice to his tutees). It seems that in the one-off predicament, iconicy plays a role: the drawing of a skull to indicate danger, the drawing of an arrow at the fork of a road to indicate which way the emissor’s flowers, who were left behind, are supposed to take (Carruthers). Suppose Grice joins the Oxfordshire cricket club. He will represent Oxfordshire. He will do for Oxfordshire what Oxfordshire cannot do for herself. Similarly, by uttering “Smoke!,” the utterer means that there is fire somewhere. “Smoke!” is a communication-device if it does for smoke what smoke cannot do for itself, influence thoughts and behaviour. Or does it?! It MWheIGHT. But suppose that the fire is some distant from the addresse. And the utterer HAS LEARNED That there is fire in the distance. So he utters ‘Smoke!’ Where? Oh, you won’t see it. But I was told there is smoke on the outskirts. Thanks for warning me! rĕ-praesento , āvi, ātum, 1, v. a.  I. To bring before one, to bring back; to show, exhibit, display, manifest, represent (class.): “per quas (visiones) imagines rerum absentium ita repraesentantur animo, ut eas cernere oculis ac praesentes habere videamur,” Quint. 6, 2, 29: “memoriae vis repraesentat aliquid,” id. 11, 2, 1; cf. Plin. Ep. 9, 28, 3: “quod templum repraesentabat memoriam consulatūs mei,” Cic. Sest. 11, 26: si quis vultu torvo ferus simulet Catonem, Virtutemne repraesentet moresque Catonis? * Hor. Ep. 1, 19, 14: “imbecillitatem ingenii mei,” Val. Max. 2, 7, 6: “movendi ratio aut in repraesentandis est aut imitandis adfectibus,” Quint. 11, 3, 156: “urbis species repraesentabatur animis,” Curt. 3, 10, 7; cf.: “affectum patris amissi,” Plin. Ep. 4, 19, 1: “nam et vera esse et apte ad repraesentandam iram deūm ficta possunt,” Liv. 8, 6, 3 Weissenb. ad loc.: “volumina,” to recite, repeat, Plin. 7, 24, 24, § 89: “viridem saporem olivarum etiam post annum,” Col. 12, 47, 8: “faciem veri maris,” id. 8, 17, 6: “colorem constantius,” to show, exhibit, Plin. 37, 8, 33, § 112: “vicem olei,” i. e. to supply the place of, id. 28, 10, 45, § 160; cf. id. 18, 14, 36, § 134.— B. Of painters, sculptors, etc., to represent, portray, etc. (post-Aug. for adumbro): “Niceratus repraesentavit Alcibiadem,” Plin. 34, 8, 19, § 88.—With se, to present one's self, be present, Col. 1, 8, 11; 11, 1, 26; Dig. 48, 5, 15, § 3.— II. In partic., mercant. t. t., to pay immediately or on the spot; to pay in ready money: reliquae pecuniae vel usuram Silio pendemus, dum a Faberio vel ab aliquo qui Faberio debet, repraesentabimus, shall be enabled to pay immediately, Cic. Att. 12, 25, 1; 12, 29, 2: “summam,” Suet. Aug. 101: “legata,” id. Calig. 16: “mercedem,” id. Claud. 18; id. Oth. 5; Front. Strat. 1, 11, 2 Oud. N. cr.: “dies promissorum adest: quem etiam repraesentabo, si adveneris,” shall even anticipate, Cic. Fam. 16, 14, 2; cf. fideicommissum, to discharge immediately or in advance, Dig. 35, 1, 36.— B. Transf., in gen., to do, perform, or execute any act immediately, without delay, forthwith; hence, not to defer or put off; to hasten (good prose): se, quod in longiorem diem collaturus esset, repraesentaturum et proximā nocte castra moturum, * Caes. B. G. 1, 40: “festinasse se repraesentare consilium,” Curt. 6, 11, 33: “petis a me, ut id quod in diem suum dixeram debere differri, repraesentem,” Sen. Ep. 95, 1; and Front. Aquaed. 119 fin.: “neque exspectare temporis medicinam, quam repraesentare ratione possimus,” to apply it immediately, Cic. Fam. 5, 16, 6; so, “improbitatem suam,” to hurry on, id. Att. 16, 2, 3: “spectaculum,” Suet. Calig. 58: “tormenta poenasque,” id. Claud. 34: “poenam,” Phaedr. 3, 10, 32; Val. Max. 6, 5, ext. 4: “verbera et plagas,” Suet. Vit. 10: “vocem,” to sing immediately, id. Ner. 21 et saep.: “si repraesentari morte meā libertas civitatis potest,” can be immediately recovered, Cic. Phil. 2, 46, 118: “minas irasque caelestes,” to fulfil immediately, Liv. 2, 36, 6 Weissenb. ad loc.; cf. Suet. Claud. 38: “judicia repraesentata,” held on the spot, without preparation, Quint. 10, 7, 2.— C. To represent, stand in the place of (late Lat.): nostra per eum repraesentetur auctoritas, Greg. M. Ep. 1, 1.

scepticism: For some reason, Grice was irritated by Wood’s sobriquet of Russell as a “passionate sceptic”: ‘an oxymoron.” The most specific essay by Grice on this is an essay he kept after many years, that he delivered back in the day at Oxford, entitled, “Scepticism and common sense.” Both were traditional topics at Oxford at the time. Typically, as in the Oxonian manner, he chose two authors, New-World’s Malcolm’s treatment of Old-World Moore, and brings in Austin’s ‘ordinary-language’ into the bargain. He also brings in his own obsession with what an emissor communicates. In this case, the “p” is the philosopher’s sceptical proposition, such as “That pillar box is red.” Grice thinks ‘dogmatic’ is the opposite of ‘sceptic,’ and he is right! Liddell and Scott have “δόγμα,” from “δοκέω,” and which they render as “that which seems to one, opinion or belief;” Pl.R.538c; “δ. πόλεως κοινόν;” esp. of philosophical doctrines, Epicur.Nat.14.7; “notion,” Pl.Tht.158d; “decision, judgement,” Pl. Lg.926d; (pl.); public decree, ordinance,  esp. of Roman Senatus-consulta, “δ. συγκλήτου”  “δ. τῆς βουλῆς” So note that there is nothing ‘dogmatic’ about ‘dogma,’ as it derives from ‘dokeo,’ and is rendered as ‘that which seems to one.’ So the keyword should be later Grecian, and in the adjectival ‘dogmatic.’ Liddell and Scott have “δογματικός,” which they render as “of or for doctrines, didactic, [διάλογοι] Quint.Inst.2.15.26, and “of persons, δ. ἰατροί,” “physicians who go by general principles,” opp. “ἐμπειρικοί and μεθοδικοί,” Dsc.Ther.Praef., Gal.1.65; in Philosophy, S.E.M.7.1, D.L.9.70, etc.; “δ. ὑπολήψεις” Id.9.83; “δ. φιλοσοφία” S.E. P.1.4. Adv. “-κῶς” D.L.9.74, S.E.P.1.197: Comp. “-κώτερον” Id.M. 6.4. Why is Grice interested in scepticism. His initial concern, the one that Austin would authorize, relates to ‘ordinary language.’ What if ‘ordinary language’ embraces scepticism? What if it doesn’t? Strawso notes that the world of ordinary language is a world of things, causes, and stuff. None of the good stuff for the sceptic. what is Grice’s answer to the sceptic’s implicature? The sceptic’s implicatum is a topic that always fascinated Girce. While Grice groups two essays as dealing with one single theme, strictly, only this or that philosopher’s paradox (not all) may count as sceptical. This or that philosopher’s paradox may well not be sceptical at all but rather dogmatic. In fact, Grice defines philosophers paradox as anything repugnant to common sense, shocking, or extravagant ‒ to Malcolms ears, that is! While it is, strictly, slightly odd to quote this as a given date just because, by a stroke of the pen, Grice writes that date in the Harvard volume, we will follow his charming practice. This is vintage Grice. Grice always takes the sceptics challenge seriously, as any serious philosopher should. Grices takes both the sceptics explicatum and the scepticss implicatum as self-defeating, as a very affront to our idea of rationality, conversational or other. V: Conversations with a sceptic: Can he be slightly more conversational helpful? Hume’ sceptical attack is partial, and targeted only towards practical reason, though.  Yet, for Grice, reason is one. You cannot really attack practical or buletic reason without attacking theoretical or doxastic reason. There is such thing as a general rational acceptance, to use Grice’s term, that the sceptic is getting at. Grice likes to play with the idea that ultimately every syllogism is buletic or practical. If, say, a syllogism by Eddington looks doxastic, that is because Eddington cares to omit the practical tail, as Grice puts it. And Eddington is not even a philosopher, they say. Grice is here concerned with a Cantabrigian topic popularised by Moore. As Grice recollects, Some like Witters, but Moore’s my man. Unlike Cambridge analysts such as Moore, Grice sees himself as a linguistic-turn Oxonian analyst. So it is only natural that Grice would connect time-honoured scepticism of Pyrrhos vintage, and common sense with ordinary language, so mis-called, the elephant in Grices room. Lewis and Short have “σκέψις,” f. σκέπτομαι, which they render as “viewing, perception by the senses, ἡ διὰ τῶν ὀμμάτων ςκέψις, Pl. Phd. 83a; observation of auguries; also as examination, speculation, consideration, τὸ εὕρημα πολλῆς σκέψιος; βραχείας ςκέψις; ϝέμειν ςκέψις take thought of a thing; ἐνθεὶς τῇ τέχνῃ ςκέψις; ςκέψις ποιεῖσθαι; ςκέψις προβέβληκας; ςκέψις λόγων; ςκέψις περί τινος inquiry into, speculation on a thing; περί τι Id. Lg. 636d;ἐπὶ σκέψιν τινὸς ἐλθεῖν; speculation, inquiry,ταῦτα ἐξωτερικωτέρας ἐστὶ σκέψεως; ἔξω τῆς νῦν ςκέψεως; οὐκ οἰκεῖα τῆς παρούσης ςκέψις; also hesitation, doubt, esp. of the Sceptic or Pyrthonic philosophers, AP 7. 576 (Jul.); the Sceptic philosophy, S. E. P. 1.5; οἱ ἀπὸ τῆς ςκέψεως, the Sceptics, ib. 229. in politics, resolution, decree, συνεδρίον Hdn. 4.3.9, cf. Poll. 6.178. If scepticism attacks common sense and fails, Grice seems to be implicating, that ordinary language philosophy is a good antidote to scepticism. Since what language other than ordinary language does common sense speak? Well, strictly, common sense doesnt speak. The man in the street does. Grice addresses this topic in a Mooreian way in a later essay, also repr. in Studies, Moore and philosophers paradoxes, repr. in Studies. As with his earlier Common sense and scepticism, Grice tackles Moores and Malcolms claim that ordinary language, so-called, solves a few of philosophers paradoxes. Philosopher is Grices witty way to generalise over your common-or-garden, any, philosopher, especially of the type he found eccentric, the sceptic included. Grice finds this or that problem in this overarching Cantabrigian manoeuvre, as over-simplifying a pretty convoluted terrain. While he cherishes Austins Some like Witters, but Moores MY man! Grice finds Moore too Cantabrigian to his taste. While an Oxonian thoroughbred, Grice is a bit like Austin, Some like Witters, but Moores my man, with this or that caveat. Again, as with his treatment of Descartes or Locke, Grice is hardly interested in finding out what Moore really means. He is a philosopher, not a historian of philosophy, and he knows it. While Grice agrees with Austins implicature that Moore goes well above Witters, if that is the expression (even if some like him), we should find the Oxonian equivalent to Moore. Grice would not Names Ryle, since he sees him, and his followers, almost every day. There is something apostolic about Moore that Grice enjoys, which is just as well, seeing that Moore is one of the twelve. Grice found it amusing that the members of The Conversazione Society would still be nickNamesd apostles when their number exceeded the initial 12. Grice spends some time exploring what Malcolm, a follower of Witters, which does not help, as it were, has to say about Moore in connection with that particularly Oxonian turn of phrase, such as ordinary language is. For Malcolms Moore, a paradox by philosopher [sic], including the sceptic, arises when philosopher [sic], including the sceptic, fails to abide by the dictates of ordinary language. It might merit some exploration if Moore’s defence of common sense is against: the sceptic may be one, but also the idealist. Moore the realist, armed with ordinary language attacks the idealists claim. The idealist is sceptical of the realists claim. But empiricist idealism (Bradley) has at Oxford as good pedigree as empiricist realism (Cook Wilson). Malcolm’s simplifications infuriate Grice, and ordinary language has little to offer in the defense of common sense realism against sceptical empiricist idealism. Surely the ordinary man says ridiculous, or silly, as Russell prefers, things, such as Smith is lucky, Departed spirits walk along this road on their way to Paradise, I know there are infinite stars, and I wish I were Napoleon, or I wish that I had been Napoleon, which does not mean that the utterer wishes that he were like Napoleon, but that he wishes that he had lived not in the his century but in the XVIIIth century. Grice is being specific about this. It is true that an ordinary use of language, as Malcolm suggests, cannot be self-contradictory unless the ordinary use of language is defined by stipulation as not self-contradictory, in which case an appeal to ordinary language becomes useless against this or that paradox by Philosopher. I wish that I had been Napoleon seems to involve nothing but an ordinary use of language by any standard but that of freedom from absurdity. I wish that I had been Napoleon is not, as far as Grice can see, philosophical, but something which may have been said and meant by numbers of ordinary people. Yet, I wish that I had been Napoleon is open to the suspicion of self-contradictoriness, absurdity, or some other kind of meaninglessness. And in this context suspicion is all Grice needs. By uttering I wish that I had been Napoleon U hardly means the same as he would if he uttered I wish I were like Napoleon. I wish that I had been Napoleon is suspiciously self-contradictory, absurd, or meaningless, if, as uttered by an utterer in a century other than the XVIIIth century, say, the utterer is understood as expressing the proposition that the utterer wishes that he had lived in the XVIIIth century, and not in his century, in which case he-1 wishes that he had not been him-1? But blame it on the buletic. That Moore himself is not too happy with Malcolms criticism can be witnessed by a cursory glimpse at hi reply to Malcolm. Grice is totally against this view that Malcolm ascribes to Moore as a view that is too broad to even claim to be true. Grices implicature is that Malcolm is appealing to Oxonian turns of phrase, such as ordinary language, but not taking proper Oxonian care in clarifying the nuances and stuff in dealing with, admittedly, a non-Oxonian philosopher such as Moore. When dealing with Moore, Grice is not necessarily concerned with scepticism. Time is unreal, e.g. is hardly a sceptic utterance. Yet Grice lists it as one of Philosophers paradoxes. So, there are various to consider here. Grice would start with common sense. That is what he does when he reprints this essay in WOW, with his attending note in both the preface and the Retrospective epilogue on how he organizes the themes and strands. Common sense is one keyword there, with its attending realism. Scepticism is another, with its attending empiricist idealism. It is intriguing that in the first two essays opening Grices explorations in semantics and metaphysics it seems its Malcolm, rather than the dryer Moore, who interests Grice most. While he would provide exegeses of this or that dictum by Moore, and indeed, Moore’s response to Malcolm, Grice seems to be more concerned with applications of his own views. Notably in Philosophers paradoxes. The fatal objection Grice finds for the paradox propounder (not necessarily a sceptic, although a sceptic may be one of the paradox propounders) significantly rests on Grices reductive analysis of meaning that  as ascribed to this or that utterer U. Grice elaborates on circumstances that hell later take up in the Retrospective epilogue. I find myself not understanding what I mean is dubiously acceptable. If meaning, Grice claims, is about an utterer U intending to get his addressee A to believe that U ψ-s that p, U must think there is a good chance that A will recognise what he is supposed to believe, by, perhaps, being aware of the Us practice or by a supplementary explanation which might come from U. In which case, U should not be meaning what Malcolm claims U might mean. No utterer should intend his addressee to believe what is conceptually impossible, or incoherent, or blatantly false (Charles Is decapitation willed Charles Is death.), unless you are Queen in Through the Looking Glass. I believe five impossible things before breakfast, and I hope youll soon get the proper training to follow suit. Cf. Tertulian, Credo, quia absurdum est. Admittedly, Grice edits the Philosophers paradoxes essay. It is only Grices final objection which is repr. in WOW, even if he provides a good detailed summary of the previous sections. Grice appeals to Moore on later occasions. In Causal theory, Grice lists, as a third philosophical mistake, the opinion by Malcolm that Moore did not know how to use knowin a sentence. Grice brings up the same example again in Prolegomena. The use of factive know of Moore may well be a misuse. While at Madison, Wisconsin, Moore lectures at a hall eccentrically-built with indirect lighting simulating sun rays, Moore infamously utters, I know that there is a window behind that curtain, when there is not. But it is not the factiveness Grice is aiming at, but the otiosity Malcolm misdescribes in the true, if baffling, I know that I have two hands. In Retrospective epilogue, Grice uses M to abbreviate Moore’s fairy godmother – along with G (Grice), A (Austin), R (Ryle) and Q (Quine)! One simple way to approach Grices quandary with Malcolm’s quandary with Moore is then to focus on know. How can Malcolm claim that Moore is guilty of misusing know? The most extensive exploration by Grice on know is in Grices third James lecture (but cf. his seminar on Knowledge and belief, and his remarks on some of our beliefs needing to be true, in Meaning revisited. The examinee knows that the battle of Waterloo was fought in 1815. Nothing odd about that, nor about Moores uttering I know that these are my hands. Grice is perhaps the only one of the Oxonian philosophers of Austins play group who took common sense realsim so seriously, if only to crticise Malcoms zeal with it. For Grice, common-sense realism = ordinary language, whereas for the typical Austinian, ordinary language = the language of the man in the street. Back at Oxford, Grice uses Malcolm to contest the usual criticism that Oxford ordinary-language philosophers defend common-sense realist assumptions just because the way non-common-sense realist philosopher’s talk is not ordinary language, and even at Oxford. Cf. Flews reference to Joness philosophical verbal rubbish in using self as a noun. Grice is infuriated by all this unclear chatter, and chooses Malcolms mistreatment of Moore as an example. Grice is possibly fearful to consider Austins claims directly! In later essays, such as ‘the learned’ and ‘the lay,’ Grice goes back to the topic criticising now the scientists jargon as an affront to the ordinary language of the layman that Grice qua philosopher defends. Refs.: The obvious source is the essay on scepticism in WoW, but there are allusions in “Prejudices and predilections, and elsewhere, in The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

semantics: Grice was careful with what he felt was an abuse of ‘semantic’ – v. Evans: “Meaning and truth: essayis in semantics.” “Well, that’s what ‘meaning’ means, right?” The semantics is more reated to the signatum than to the significatum. The Grecians did not have anything remotely similar to the significatum, which is all about the making (facere) of a sign (as in Grice’s example of the handwave). This is the meaning Grice gives to ‘semantics.’ There is no need for the handwave to be part of a system of communication, or have syntactic structure, or be ‘arbitrary.’ Still, one thing is communicated from the emissor to his recipient, and that is all count. “I know the route” is the message, or “I will leave you soon.” The handwave may be ambiguous. Grice is aware that formalists like Hilbert and Gentzen think that they can do without semantics – but as long as there is something ‘transmitted,’ or ‘messaged,’ it cannot. In the one-off predicament, Emissor E emits x and communicates that p. Since an intention with a content involving a psychological state is involved and attached, even in a one-off, to ‘x,’ we can legitimately say the scenario may be said to describe a ‘semantic’ phenomenon. Grice would freely use ‘semantic,’ and the root for ‘semantics,’ that Grice does use, involves the richest root of all Grecian roots: the ‘semion.’ Liddell and Scott have “τό σημεῖον,” Ion. σημήϊον , Dor. σα_μήϊον IG12(3).452 (Thera, iv B.C.), σα_μεῖον IPE12.352.25 (Chersonesus, ii B.C.), IG5(1).1390.16 (Andania, i B.C.), σα_μᾶον CIG5168 (Cyrene); = σῆμα in all senses, and more common in Prose, but never in Hom. or Hes.; and which they render as “mark by which a thing is known,” Hdt.2.38;” they also have “τό σῆμα,” Dor. σᾶμα Berl.Sitzb.1927.161 (Cyrene), etc.; which they render as “sign, mark, token,” “ Il.10.466, 23.326, Od.19.250, etc.” Grice lectured not only on Cat. But the next, De Int. As Arsitotle puts it, an expression is a symbol (symbolon) or sign (semeion) of an affections or impression (pathematon) of the soul (psyche). An affection of the soul, of which a word is  primarily a sign, are the same for the whole of mankind, as is also objects (pragmaton) of which the affections is a representation or likenes, image, or copiy (homoiomaton).  [De Int., 1.16a4]  while Grice is NOT concerned about the semantics of utterers meaning (how could he, when he analyses  means  in terms of  intends , he is about the semantics of  expression-meaning. Grices second stage (expression meaing) of his programme about meaning begins with specifications of means as applied to x, a token of X. He is having Tarski and Davidson in their elaborations of schemata like ‘p’ ‘means’ that p. ‘Snow is white’ ‘means’ that snow is white, and stuff! Grice was especially concerned with combinatories, for both unary and dyadic operators, and with multiple quantifications within a first-order predicate calculus with identity. Since in Grice’s initial elaboration on meaning he relies on Stevenson, it is worth exploring how ‘semantics’ and ‘semiotics’ were interpreted by Peirce and the emotivists. Stevenson’s main source is however in the other place, though, under Stevenson. Refs.: The main sources are his lectures on language and reality – part of them repr. in WOW. The keywords under ‘communication,’ and ‘signification,’ that Grice occasionally uses ‘the total signification’ of a remark, above, BANC.

Semeiotics: semiological: or is it semiotics? Cf. semiological, semotic. Since Grice uses ‘philosophical psychology’ and ‘philosopical biology,’ it may do to use ‘semiology,’ indeed ‘philosophical semiology,’ here.  Oxonian semiotics is unique. Holloway published his “Language and Intelligence” and everyone was excited. It is best to see this as Grices psychologism. Grice would rarely use ‘intelligent,’ less so the more pretentious, ‘intelligence,’ as a keyword. If he is doing it, it is because what he saw as the misuse of it by Ryle and Holloway. Holloway, a PPE, is a tutorial fellow in philosophy at All Souls. He acknowledges Ryle as his mentor. (Holloway also quotes from Austin). Grice was amused that J. N. Findlay, in his review of Holloway’s essay in “Mind,” compares Holloway to C. W. Morris, and cares to cite the two relevant essay by Morris: The Foundation in the theory of signs, and Signs, Language, and Behaviour. Enough for Grice to feel warmly justified in having chosen another New-World author, Peirce, for his earlier Oxford seminar. Morris studied under G. H. Mead. But is ‘intelligence’ part of The Griceian Lexicon?Well, Lewis and Short have ‘interlegere,’ to chose between. Lewis and Short have ‘interlĕgo , lēgi, lectum, 3, v. a., I’.which they render it as “to cull or pluck off here and there (poet. and postclass.).in tmesi) uncis Carpendae manibus frondes, interque legendae, Verg. G. 2, 366: “poma,” Pall. Febr. 25, 16; id. Jun. 5, 1.intellĕgo (less correctly intellĭgo), exi, ectum (intellexti for intellexisti, Ter. Eun. 4, 6, 30; Cic. Att. 13, 32, 3: I.“intellexes for intellexisses,” Plaut. Cist. 2, 3, 81; subj. perf.: “intellegerint,” Sall. H. Fragm. 1, 41, 23 Dietsch); “inter-lego,” “to see into, perceive, understand.” I. Lit. A. Lewis and Short render as “to perceive, understand, comprehend.” Cf. Grice on his handwriting being legible to few. And The child is an adult as being UNintelligible until the creature is produced. In “Aspects,” he mentions flat rationality, and certain other talents that are more difficult for the philosopher to conceptualise, such as nose (i.e. intuitiveness), acumen, tenacity, and such. Grices approach is Pological. If Locke had used intelligent to refer to Prince Maurices parrot, Grice wants to find criteria for intelligent as applied to his favourite type of P, rather (intelligent, indeed rational.). Refs.: The most specific essay is his lecture on Peirce, listed under ‘communication, above. A reference to ‘criteria of intelligence relates. The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

sententia: For some reason, perhaps of his eccentricity, J. L. Austin was in love with Chomsky. He would read “Syntactic Structures” aloud to the Play Group. And Grice was listening. This stuck with Grice, who started to use ‘sentence,’ even in Polish, when translating Tarski. Hardie had taught him that ‘sententia’ was a Roman transliteration of ‘dia-noia,’ which helped. Since “Not when the the of dog” is NOT a sentence, not even an ‘ill-formed sentence,’ Grice concludes that like ‘reason,’ and ‘cabbage,’ sentence is a value-paradeigmatic concept. His favourite sentence was “Fido is shaggy,” uttered to communicate that Smith’s dog is hairy coated. One of Grice’s favourite sentences was Carnap’s “Pirots karulise elatically,” which Carnap borrowed from (but never returned to) Baron Russell. (“I later found out a ‘pirot’ is an extinct fish, which destroyed my whole implicatum – talk of ichthyological necessity!” (Carnap contrasted, “Pirots karulise elatically,” with “The not not if not the dog the.”

shaggy-dog story, v. Grice’s shaggy-dog story

signatum: Cf. “to sign” as a verb – from French. Grice uses designatum, too – but more specifically within the ‘propositio’ as a compound of a subjectum and a predicatum. The subject-item indicates a thing; and the predicate-item designates a property. As Grice notes, there is a distinction between Aristotle’s use, in De Int., of ‘sumbolon,’ for which Aristotle sometimes means ‘semeion,’ and their Roman counterparts, ‘signum’ sounds otiose enough. But ‘significo’ does not. There is this –fico thing that sounds obtrusive. The Romans, however, were able to distinguish between ‘make a sign,’ and just ‘signal.’ The point is important when Grice tries to apply the Graeco-Roman philosophical terminology to a lexeme which does not belong in there: “mean.” His example is someone in pain, uttering “Oh.” If he later gains voluntary control, by uttering “Oh” he means that he is in pain, and even at a later stage, provided he learns ‘lupe,’ he may utter the expression which is somewhat correlated in a non-iconic fashion with something which iconically is a vehicle for U to mean that he is in pain. In this way, in a communication-system, a communication-device, such as “Oh” does for the state of affairs something that the state of affairs cannot do for itself, govern the addresee’s thoughts and behaviour (very much as the Oxfordshire cricket team does for Oxfordshire what Oxfordshire cannot do for herself, viz. to engage in a game of cricket. There’s rae-presentatum, for you! Short and Lewis have ‘signare,’ from ‘signum,’ and which they render as ‘to set a mark upon, to mark, mark out, designate (syn.: noto, designo),’ Lit. A. In gen. (mostly poet. and in post-Aug. prose): discrimen non facit neque signat linea alba, Lucil. ap. Non. 405, 17: “signata sanguine pluma est,” Ov. M. 6, 670: “ne signare quidem aut partiri limite campum Fas erat,” Verg. G. 1, 126: “humum limite mensor,” Ov. M. 1, 136; id. Am. 3, 8, 42: “moenia aratro,” id. F. 4, 819: “pede certo humum,” to print, press, Hor. A. P. 159; cf.: “vestigia summo pulvere,” to mark, imprint, Verg. G. 3, 171: auratā cyclade humum, Prop. 4 (5), 7, 40. “haec nostro signabitur area curru,” Ov. A. A. 1, 39: “locum, ubi ea (cistella) excidit,” Plaut. Cist. 4, 2, 28: “caeli regionem in cortice signant,” mark, cut, Verg. G. 2, 269: “nomina saxo,” Ov. M. 8, 539: “rem stilo,” Vell. 1, 16, 1: “rem carmine,” Verg. A. 3, 287; “for which: carmine saxum,” Ov. M. 2, 326: “cubitum longis litteris,” Plaut. Rud. 5, 2, 7: “ceram figuris,” to imprint, Ov. M. 15, 169: “cruor signaverat herbam,” had stained, id. ib. 10, 210; cf. id. ib. 12, 125: “signatum sanguine pectus,” id. A. A. 2, 384: “dubiā lanugine malas,” id. M. 13, 754: “signata in stirpe cicatrix,” Verg. G. 2, 379: “manibus Procne pectus signata cruentis,” id. ib. 4, 15: “vocis infinitios sonos paucis notis,” Cic. Rep. 3, 2, 3: “visum objectum imprimet et quasi signabit in animo suam speciem,” id. Fat. 19, 43.— B. In partic. 1. To mark with a seal; to seal, seal up, affix a seal to a thing (usually obsignare): “accepi a te signatum libellum,” Cic. Att. 11, 1, 1: “volumina,” Hor. Ep. 1, 13, 2: locellum tibi signatum remisi, Caes. ap. Charis. p. 60 P.: “epistula,” Nep. Pel. 3, 2: “arcanas tabellas,” Ov. Am. 2, 15, 15: “signatis quicquam mandare tabellis,” Tib. 4, 7, 7: “lagenam (anulus),” Mart. 9, 88, 7: “testamentum,” Plin. Ep. 2, 20, 8 sq.; cf. Mart. 5, 39, 2: “nec nisi signata venumdabatur (terra),” Plin. 35, 4, 14, § 33.—Absol., Mart. 10, 70, 7; Quint. 5, 7, 32; Suet. Ner. 17.— 2. To mark with a stamp; hence, a. Of money, to stamp, to coin: “aes argentum aurumve publice signanto,” Cic. Leg. 3, 3, 6; cf.: “qui primus ex auro denarium signavit ... Servius rex primus signavit aes ... Signatum est nota pecudum, unde et pecunia appellata ... Argentum signatum est anno, etc.,” Plin. 33, 3, 13, § 44: “argentum signatum,” Cic. Verr. 2, 5, 25, § 63; Quint. 5, 10, 62; 5, 14, 26: “pecunia signata Illyriorum signo,” Liv. 44, 27, 9: “denarius signatus Victoriā,” Plin. 33, 3, 13, § 46: “sed cur navalis in aere Altera signata est,” Ov. F. 1, 230: “milia talentūm argenti non signati formā, sed rudi pondere,” Curt. 5, 2, 11.— Hence, b. Poet.: “signatum memori pectore nomen habe,” imprinted, impressed, Ov. H. 13, 66: “(filia) quae patriā signatur imagine vultus,” i. e. closely resembles her father, Mart. 6, 27, 3.— c. To stamp, i. e. to license, invest with official authority (late Lat.): “quidam per ampla spatia urbis ... equos velut publicos signatis, quod dicitur, calceis agitant,” Amm. 14, 6, 16.— 3. Pregn., to distinguish, adorn, decorate (poet.): “pater ipse suo superūm jam signat honore,” Verg. A. 6, 781 Heyne: caelum corona, Claud. Nupt. Hon. et Mar. 273. to point out, signify, indicate, designate, express (rare; more usually significo, designo; in Cic. only Or. 19, 64, where dignata is given by Non. 281, 10; “v. Meyer ad loc.): translatio plerumque signandis rebus ac sub oculos subiciendis reperta est,” Quint. 8, 6, 19: “quotiens suis verbis signare nostra voluerunt (Graeci),” id. 2, 14, 1; cf.: “appellatione signare,” id. 4, 1, 2: “utrius differentiam,” id. 6, 2, 20; cf. id. 9, 1, 4; 12, 10, 16: “nomen (Caieta) ossa signat,” Verg. A. 7, 4: “fama signata loco est,” Ov. M. 14, 433: “miratrixque sui signavit nomine terras,” designated, Luc. 4, 655; cf.: “(Earinus) Nomine qui signat tempora verna suo,” Mart. 9, 17, 4: “Turnus ut videt ... So signari oculis,” singled out, looked to, Verg. A. 12, 3: signare responsum, to give a definite or distinct answer, Sen. Ben. 7, 16, 1.—With rel.-clause: “memoria signat in quā regione quali adjutore legatoque fratre meo usus sit,” Vell. 2, 115.— B. To distinguish, recognize: “primi clipeos mentitaque tela Adgnoscunt, atque ora sono discordia signant,” Verg. A. 2, 423; cf.: “sonis homines dignoscere,” Quint. 11, 3, 31: “animo signa quodcumque in corpore mendum est,” Ov. R. Am. 417.— C. To seal, settle, establish, confirm, prescribe (mostly poet.): “signanda sunt jura,” Prop. 3 (4), 20, 15. “signata jura,” Luc. 3, 302: jura Suevis, Claud. ap. Eutr. 1, 380; cf.: “precati deos ut velint ea (vota) semper solvi semperque signari,” Plin. Ep. 10, 35 (44). To close, end: “qui prima novo signat quinquennia lustro,” Mart. 4, 45, 3.—Hence, A. signan-ter , adv. (acc. to II. A.), expressly, clearly, distinctly (late Lat. for the class. significanter): “signanter et breviter omnia indicare,” Aus. Grat. Act. 4: “signanter et proprie dixerat,” Hier. adv. Jovin. 1, 13 fin. signātus, a, um, P. a. 1. (Acc. to I. B. 1. sealed; hence) Shut up, guarded, preserved (mostly ante- and post-class.): signata sacra, Varr. ap. Non. 397, 32: limina. Prop. 4 (5), 1, 145. Chrysidem negat signatam reddere, i. e. unharmed, intact, pure, Lucil. ap. Non. 171, 6; cf.: “assume de viduis fide pulchram, aetate signatam,” Tert. Exhort. 12.— 2. (Acc. to II. A.) Plain, clear, manifest (post-class. for “significans” – a back formation!): “quid expressius atque signatius in hanc causam?” Tert. Res. Carn.Adv.: signātē , clearly, distinctly (post-class.): “qui (veteres) proprie atque signate locuti sunt,” Gell. 2, 6, 6; Macr. S. 6, 7 Comp.: “signatius explicare aliquid,” Amm. 23, 6, 1.

significatum: or better ‘signatum.’ Grice knew that in old Roman, signatum was intransitive, as originally ‘significatum’ was – “He is signifying,” i. e. making signs. In the Middle Ages it was applied to ‘utens’ of this or that expression, as was an actum, ‘agitur,’ Thus an expression was not said to ‘signify’ in the same way. Grice plays with the expression-communication distinction. When dealing with a lexeme that does NOT belong in the Graeco-Roman tradition, that of “mean,” he is never sure. His doubts were hightlighted in essays on “Grice without an audience.” While Grice explicitly says that a ‘word’ is not a sign, he would use ‘signify’ at a later stage, including the implicatum as part of the significatum. There is indeed an entry for signĭfĭcātĭo, f. significare. L and S render it, unhelpfully, as “a pointing out, indicating, denoting, signifying; an expression, indication, mark, sign, token, = indicium, signum, ἐπισημασία, etc., freq. and class. As with Stevenson’s ‘communico,’ Grice goes sraight to ‘signĭfĭco,’ also dep. “signĭfĭcor,” f. ‘significare,’ from signum-facere, to make sign, signum-facio, I make sign, which L and S render as to signify, which is perhaps not too helpful. Grice, if not the Grecians, knew that. Strictly, L and S render significare as to show by signs; to show, point out, express, publish, make known, indicate; to intimate, notify, signify, etc. Note that the cognate signify almost comes last, but not least, if not first. Enough to want to coin a word to do duty for them all. Which is what Grice (and the Grecians) can, but the old Romans cannot, with mean. If that above were not enough, L and S go on, also, to betoken, prognosticate, foreshow, portend, mean (syn. praedico), as in to betoken a change of weather (post-Aug.): “ventus Africus tempestatem significat, etc.,”cf. Grice on those dark clouds mean a storm is coming.  Short and Lewis go on, to say that significare may be rendered as to call, name; to mean, import, signify. Hence, ‘signĭfĭcans,’ in rhet. lang., of speech, full of meaning, expressive, significant; graphic, distinct, clear: adv.: signĭfĭcanter, clearly, distinctly, expressly, significantly, graphically: “breviter ac significanter ordinem rei protulisse;” “rem indicare (with proprie),”  “dicere (with ornate),”  “apertius, significantius dignitatem alicujus defendere,” “narrare,”“disponere,” “appellare aliquid (with consignatius);” “dicere (with probabilius).”

st. john’s: st. john’s keeps a record of all of H. P. Grice’s tutees. It is fascinating that Strawson’s closest collaboration, as Plato with Socrates, and Aristotle with Plato, was with his tutee Strawson – whom Grice calls a ‘pupil,’ finding ‘tutee’ too French to his taste. G. J. Warnock recalls that, of all the venues that the play group held, their favourite one was the room overlooking the garden at st. john’s. “It’s one of the best gardens in England, you know. Very peripathetic.” In alphabetical order, some of his English ‘gentlemanly’ tutees include: London-born J. L. Ackrill, London-born David Bostock, London-born A. G. N. Flew, Leeds-born T. C. Potts, London-born P. F. Strawson. They were happy to have Grice as a tutorial fellow, since he, unlike Mabbot, was English, and did not instill on the tutees a vernacular furrin to the area.

strawsonise: verb invented by A. M. Kemmerling. To adopt Strawson’s manoever in the analysis of ‘meaning.’ “A form of ‘disgricing,’” – Kemmerling adds.

Strawsonism – Grice’s favourite Strawsonisms were too many to count. His first was Strawson on ‘true’ for ‘Analysis.’ Grice was amazed by the rate of publishing in Strawson’s case. Strawson kept publishing and Grice kept criticizing. In “Analysis,’ Strawson gives Grice his first ‘strawsonism’ “To say ‘true’ is ditto.’ The second strawsonism is that there is such a thing as ‘ordinary language’ which is not Russellian. As Grice shows, ordinary language IS Russellian. Strawson said that composing “In defence of a dogma” was torture and that it is up to Strawson to finish the thing off.  So there are a few strawonisms there, too. Strawson had the courtesy never to reprint ‘In defence’ in any of his compilations, and of course to have Grice as fist author. There are ‘strawsonisms’ in Grice’s second collaboration with Strawson – that Grice intentionally ignores in “Life and opinions.” This is a transcript of the talk of the dynamic trio: Grice, Pears, and Strawson, published three years later by Pears in “The nature of metaphysics.” Strawson collaborated with “If and the horseshoe” to PGRICE, but did not really write it for the occasion. It was an essay he had drafted ages ago, and now saw fit to publish. He expands on this in his note on Grice for the British Academy, and in his review of Grice’s compilation. Grice makes an explicit mention of Strawson in a footnote in “Presupposition and conversational implicature,” the euphemism he uses is ‘tribute’: the refutation of Strawson’s truth-value gap as a metaphysical excrescence and unnecessary is called a ‘tribute,’ coming from the tutor – “in this and other fields,” implicating, “there may be mistakes all over the place.” Kemmerling somewhat ignores Urmson when he says, “Don’t disgrice if you can grice.” To strawsonise, for Kemmerling is to avoid Grice’s direct approach and ask for a higher-level intention. To strawsonise is the first level of disgrice. But Grice first quotes Urmson and refers to Stampe’s briddge example before he does to Strawson’s rat-infested house example.

strawson’s rat-infested house. Few in Grice’s playgroup had Grice’s analytic skills. Only a few cared to join him in his analysis of ‘mean.’ The first was Urmson with the ‘bribe.’ The second was Strawson, with his rat-infested house. Grice re-writes Strawson’s alleged counterexample. To deal with his own rat-infested house example, Strawson proposes that the analysans of "U means that p" might be restricted by the addition of a further condition, namely that the utterer U should utter x not only, as already provided, with the intention that his addressee should think that U intends to obtain a certain response from his addressee, but also with the intention that his addressee should think (recognize) that U has the intention just mentioned. In Strawson's example, in The Philosohical Review (that Grice cites on WOW:x) repr. in his "Logico-Linguistic Papers," the potential home buyer is intended to think that the realtor wants him to think that the house is rat-infested. However, the potential house-buyer is not intended by the realtor to think that he is intended to think that the realtor wants him to think that the house is rat infested. The addressee is intended to think that it is only as a result of being too clever for the realtor that he has learned that the potential home buyer wants him to think that the house is rat-infested; the potential home-buyer is to think that he is supposed to take the artificially displayed dead rat  as a evidence that the house is rat infested. U wants to get A to believe that the house A is thinking of buying is rat-infested. S decides to· bring about this belief in A by taking into the house and letting loose a big fat sewer rat. For S has the following scheme. He knows that A is watching him and knows that A believes that S is unaware that he, A, is watching him. It isS's intention that A should (wrongly) infer from the fact that S let the rat loose that S did so with the intention that A should arrive at the house, see the rat, and, taking the rat as "natural evidence", infer therefrom that the house is rat-infested. S further intends A to realize that given the nature of the rat's arrival, the existence of the rat cannot be taken as genuine or natural evidence that the house is rat-infested; but S kilows that A will believe that S would not so contrive to get A to believe the house is rat-infested unless Shad very good reasons for thinking that it was, and so S expects and intends A to infer that the house is rat-infested from the fact that Sis letting the rat loose with the intention of getting A to believe that the house is rat-infested. Thus S satisfies the conditions purported to be necessary and sufficient for his meaning something by letting the rat loose: S lets the rat loose intending (4) A to think that the house is rat-infested, intending (1)-(3) A to infer from the fact that S let the rat loose that S did so intending A to think that the house is rat-infested, and intending (5) A's recognition of S's . intention (4) to function as his reason for thinking that the house is rat-infested. But even though S's action meets these conditions, Strawson feels that his scenario fits Grice's conditions in Grice's reductive analysis and not yet Strawson's intuition about his own use of 'communicate.' To minimise Strawson's discomfort, Grice brings an anti-sneaky clause. ("Although I never shared Strawson's intuition about his use of 'communicate;' in fact, I very rarely use 'communicate that...' To exterminate the rats in Strawson's rat-infested house, Grice uses, as he should, a general "anti-deception" clause. It may be that the use of this exterminating procedure is possible. It may be that any 'backward-looking' clauses can be exterminated, and replaced by a general prohibitive, or closure clause, forbidding an intention by the utterer to be sneaky. It is a conceptual point that if you intend your addressee NOT TO REALISE that p, you are not COMMUNICATING that p. (3A) (if) (3r) (ic): (a) U utters x intending (I) A to think x possesses f (2) A to thinkf correlated in way c with the type to which r belongs (3) A to think, on the basis of the fulfillment of (I) and (3) that U intends A to produce r (4) A, on the basis of the fulfillment of (3) to produce r, and (b) There is no inference-element E such that U intends both (I') A in his determination of r to rely on E (2') A to think Uto intend (I') to be false. In the final version Grice reaches after considering alleged counterexamples to the NECESSITY of some of the conditions in the analysans, Grice reformulates. It is not the case that, for some inference element E, U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ both rely on E in coming to ψ, or think that U ψ-s, that p and  think that (Ǝφ) U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ come to ψ (or think that U ψ-s) that p without relying on E. Embedded in the general definition. By uttering x, U means that-ψ­_b-dp ≡ (Ǝφ)(Ǝf)(Ǝc) U utters x  intending x to be such that anyone who has φ think that x has f, f is correlated in way c with ψ-ing that p, and (Ǝφ') U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ' think, via thinking that x has f and that f is correlated in way c with ψ-ing that p, that U ψ-s that p, and in view of (Ǝφ') U intending x to be such that anyone who has φ' think, via thinking that x has f, and f is correlated in way c with ψ-ing that p, that U ψ-s that p, U ψ-s that p, and, for some substituends of ψ_b-d, U utters x intending that, should there actually be anyone who has φ, he will, via thinking in view of (Ǝφ') U intending x to be such that anyone who has φ' think, via thinking that x has f, and  f is correlated in way c with ψ-ing that p, that U ψ-s that p, U ψ-s that p himself ψ that p, and it is not the case that, for some inference element E, U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ both rely on E in coming to ψ, or think that U ψ-s, that p and  think that (Ǝφ) U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ come to ψ (or think that U ψ-s) that p without relying on E.

subjectification: Grice is right in distinguishing this from nominalization, because not all nominalization takes the subject position. Grice plays with this. It is a derivation of the ‘subjectum,’ which Grice knows it is Aristotelian. Liddell and Scott have the verb first, and the neuter singular later. “τὸ ὑποκείμενον,” Liddell and Scott note “has three main applications.” The first is “to the matter (hyle) which underlies the form (eidos), as opp. To both “εἶδος” and “ἐντελέχεια” Met. 983a30; second, to the substantia (hyle + morphe) which underlies the accidents, and as opposed to “πάθη,” and “συμβεβηκότα,” as in Cat. 1a20,27 and Met.1037b16, 983b16; third, and this is the use that ‘linguistic’ turn Grice and Strawson are interested in, “to the logical subject to which attributes are ascribed,” and here opp. “τὸ κατηγορούμενον,” (which would be the ‘praedicatum’), as per Cat.1b10,21, Ph.189a31. If Grice uses Kiparsky’s factive, he is also using ‘nominalisation’ as grammarians use it. Refs.: Grice, “Reply to Richards,” in PGRICE, also BANC.

subjectivism: When Grice speaks of the subjective condition on intention, he is using ‘subject,’ in a way a philosophical psychologist would. He does not mean Kant’s transcendental subject or ego. Grice means the simpler empiricist subject, personal identity, or self. The choice is unfelicitious in that ‘subject’ contrasts with ‘object.’ So when he speaks of a ‘subjective’ person he means an ‘ego-centric’ condition, or a self-oriented condition, or an agent-oriented condition, or an ‘utterer-oriented’ or ‘utterer-relative’ condition. But this is tricky. His example: “Nixon should get that chair of theology.” The utterer may have to put into Nixon’s shoes. He has to perceive Nixon as a PERSON, a rational agent, with views of his own. So, the philosophical psychologist that Grice is has to think of a conception of the self by the self, and the conception of the other by the self. Wisdom used to talk of ‘other minds;’ Grice might speak of other souls. Grice was concerned with intending folloed by a that-clause. Jeffrey defines desirability as doxastically modified. It is entirely possible for someone to desire the love that he already has. It is what he thinks that matters. Cf. his dispositional account to intending. A Subjectsive condition takes into account the intenders, rather than the ascribers, point of view: Marmaduke Bloggs intends to climb Mt. Everest on hands and knees. Bloggs might reason: Given my present state, I should do what is fun. Given my present state, the best thing for me to do would be to do what is fun. For me in my present state it would make for my well-being, to have fun. Having fun is good, or, a good. Climbing a mountain would be fun. Climbing the Everest would be/make for climbing fun. So, I shall climb the Everest. Even if a critic insisted that a practical syllogism is the way to represent Bloggs finding something to be appealing, and that it should be regarded as a respectable evaluation, the assembled propositions dont do the work of a standard argument. The premises do not support or yield the conclusion as in a standard argument. The premises may be said to yield the conclusion, or directive, for the particular agent whose reasoning process it is, only on the basis of a Subjectsive condition: that the agent is in a certain Subjectsive state, e.g. feels like going out for dinner-fun. Rational beings (the agent at some other time, or other individuals) who do not have that feeling, will not accept the conclusion. They may well accept as true. It is fun to climb Everest, but will not accept it as a directive unless they feel like it now. Someone wondering what to do for the summer might think that if he were to climb Everest he would find it fun or pleasant, but right now she does not feel like it. That is in general the end of the matter. The alleged argument lacks normativity. It is not authoritative or directive unless there is a supportive argument that he needs/ought to do something diverting/pleasant in the summer. A practical argument is different. Even if an agent did not feel like going to the doctor, an agent would think I ought to have a medical check up yearly, now is the time, so I should see my doctor to be a directive with some force. It articulates a practical argument. Perhaps the strongest attempt to reconstruct an (acceptable or rational) thought transition as a standard arguments is to treat the Subjectsive condition, I feel like having climbing fun in the summer, as a premise, for then the premises would support the conclusion. But the individual, whose thought transition we are examining, does not regard a description of his psychological state as a consideration that supports the conclusion. It will be useful to look more closely at a variant of the example to note when it is appropriate to reconstruct thinking in the form of argument. Bloggs, now hiking with a friend in the Everest, comes to a difficult spot and says: I dont like the look of that, I am frightened. I am going back. That is usually enough for Bloggs to return, and for the friend to turn back with him. Bloggss action of turning back, admittedly motivated by fear, is, while not acting on reasons, nonetheless rational unless we judge his fear to be irrational. Bloggss Subjectsive condition can serve as a premise, but only in a very different situation. Bloggs resorts to reasons. Suppose that, while his friend does not think Bloggss fear irrational, the friend still attempts to dissuade Bloggs from going back. After listening and reflecting, Bloggs may say I am so frightened it is not worth it. I am not enjoying this climbing anymore. Or I am too frightened to be able to safely go on. Or I often climb the Everest and dont usually get frightened. The fact that I am now is a good indication that this is a dangerous trail and I should turn back. These are reasons, considerations implicitly backed by principles, and they could be the initial motivations of someone. But in Bloggss case they emerged when he was challenged by his friend. They do not express his initial practical reasoning. Bloggs was frightened by the trail ahead, wanted to go back, and didnt have any reason not to. Note that there is no general rational requirement to always act on reasons, and no general truth that a rational individual would be better off the more often he acted on reasons. Faced with his friends objections, however, Bloggs needed justification for acting on his fear. He reflected and found reason(s) to act on his fear. Grice plays with Subjectsivity already in Prolegomena. Consider the use of carefully. Surely we must include the agents own idea of this. Or consider the use of phi and phi – surely we dont want the addressee to regard himself under the same guise with which the utterer regards him. Or consider “Aspects”: Nixon must be appointed professor of theology at Oxford. Does he feel the need? Grice raises the topic of Subjectsivity again in the Kant lectures just after his discussion of mode, in a sub-section entitled, Modalities: relative and absolute. He finds the topic central for his æqui-vocality thesis: Subjectsive conditions seem necessary to both practical and alethic considerations. Refs.: The source is his essay on intentions and the subjective condition, The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

subjectum. When Frege turned from ‘term logic’ to ‘predicate logic’ “he didn’t know what he was doing.” Cf. Oxonian nominalization. Grice plays a lot on that. His presentation at the Oxford Philosophical Society he entitled, in a very English way, as “Meaning” (echoing Ogden and Richards). With his “Meaning, Revisited,” it seems more clearly that he is nominalizing. Unless he means, “The essay “Meaning,” revisited,” – alla Putnam making a bad joke on Ogden: “The meaning of ‘meaning’” – “ ‘Meaning,’ revisited” --  Grice is very familiar with this since it’s the literal transliteration of Aristotle’s hypokeimenon, opp. in a specific context, to the ‘prae-dicatum,’ or categoroumenon. And with the same sort of ‘ambiguity,’ qua opposite a category of expression, thought, or reality. In philosophical circles, one has to be especially aware of the subject-object distinction (which belong in philosophical psychology) and the thing which belongs in ontology. Of course there’s the substance (hypousia, substantia), the essence, and the sumbebekon, accidens. So one has to be careful. Grice expands on Strawson’s explorations here. Philosophy, to underlie, as the foundation in which something else inheres, to be implied or presupposed by something else, “ἑκάστῳ τῶν ὀνομάτων . . ὑ. τις ἴδιος οὐσία” Pl.Prt.349b, cf. Cra.422d, R.581c, Ti.Locr.97e: τὸ ὑποκείμενον has three main applications: (1) to the matter which underlies the form, opp. εἶδος, ἐντελέχεια, Arist.Metaph.983a30; (2) to the substance (matter + form) which underlies the accidents, opp. πάθη, συμβεβηκότα, Id.Cat.1a20,27, Metaph.1037b16, 983b16; (3) to the logical subject to which attributes are ascribed, opp. τὸ κατηγορούμενον, Id.Cat.1b10,21, Ph.189a31: applications (1) and (2) are distinguished in Id.Metaph.1038b5, 1029a1-5, 1042a26-31: τὸ ὑ. is occasionally used of what underlies or is presupposed in some other way, e. g. of the positive termini presupposed by change, Id.Ph.225a3-7. b. exist, τὸ ἐκτὸς ὑποκείμενον the external reality, Stoic.2.48, cf. Epicur.Ep.1pp.12,24 U.; “φῶς εἶναι τὸ χρῶμα τοῖς ὑ. ἐπιπῖπτον” Aristarch. Sam. ap. Placit.1.15.5; “τὸ κρῖνον τί τε φαίνεται μόνον καὶ τί σὺν τῷ φαίνεσθαι ἔτι καὶ κατ᾽ ἀλήθειαν ὑπόκειται” S.E.M.7.143, cf. 83,90,91, 10.240; = ὑπάρχω, τὰ ὑποκείμενα πράγματα the existing state of affairs, Plb.11.28.2, cf. 11.29.1, 15.8.11,13, 3.31.6, Eun.VSp.474 B.; “Τίτος ἐξ ὑποκειμένων ἐνίκα, χρώμενος ὁπλις μοῖς καὶ τάξεσιν αἷς παρέλαβε” Plu.Comp.Phil.Flam.2; “τῆς αὐτῆς δυνάμεως ὑποκειμένης” Id.2.336b; “ἐχομένου τοῦ προσιόντος λόγου ὡς πρὸς τὸν ὑποκείμενον” A.D.Synt.122.17. c. ὁ ὑ. ἐνιαυτός the year in question, D.S.11.75; οἱ ὑ. καιροί the time in question, Id.16.40, Plb.2.63.6, cf. Plu.Comp.Sol.Publ.4; τοῦ ὑ. μηνός the current month, PTeb.14.14 (ii B. C.), al.; ἐκ τοῦ ὑ. φόρου in return for a reduction from the said rent, PCair.Zen.649.18 (iii B. C.); πρὸς τὸ ὑ. νόει according to the context, Gp.6.11.7. Note that both Grice and Strawson oppose Quine’s Humeian dogma that, since the subjectum is beyond comprehension, we can do with a ‘predicate’ calculus, only. Vide Strawson, “Subject and predicate in logic and grammar.” Refs: H. P. Grice, Work on the categories with P. F. Strawson, The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC MSS 90/135c.

subperceptum. This relates to Stich and his sub-doxastic. For Aristotle, “De An.,” the anima leads to the desideratum. Unlike in ‘phuta,’ or vegetables, which are still ‘alive,’ (‘zoa’ – he had a problem with ‘sponges’ which were IN-animate, to him, most likely) In WoW:139, Grice refers to “the pillar box seems red” as “SUB-PERCEPTUAL,” the first of a trio. The second is the perceptual, “A perceives that the pillar box is red,” and the third, “The pillar box is red.” He wishes to explore the truth-conditons of the subperceptum, and although first in the list, is last in the analsysis. Grice proposes: ‘The pillar box seems red” iff (1) the pillar box is red; (2) A perceives that the pillar box is red; and (3) (1) causes (2). In this there is a parallelism with his quasi-causal account of ‘know’ (and his caveat that ‘literally,’ we may just know that 2 + 2 = 4 (and such) (“Meaning Revisited). In what he calls ‘accented sub-perceptum,’ the idea is that the U is choosing the superceptum (“seems”) as opposed to his other obvious choices (“The pillar box IS red,”) and the passive-voice version of the ‘perceptum’: “The pillar box IS PERCEIVED red.” The ‘accent’ generates the D-or-D implicatum: By uttering “The pillar box seems red,” U IMPLICATES that it is denied that or doubted that the pillar box is perceived red by U or that the pillar box is red. In this, the accented version contrasts with the unaccented version where the implicatum is NOT generated, and the U remains uncommitted re: this doubt or denial implicatum. It is this uncommitment that will allow to disimplicate or cancel the implicatum should occasion arise. The reference Grice makes between the sub-perceptum and the perceptum is grammatical, not psychological. Or else he may be meaning that in uttering, “I perceive that the pillar box is red,” one needs to appeal to Kant’s apperception of the ego. Refs.: Pecocke, Sense and content, Grice, BANC.

subscriptum: Quine thought that Grice’s subscript device was otiose, and that he would rather use brackets, or nothing, any day.  Grice plays with various roots of ‘scriptum.’ He was bound to. Moore had showed that ‘good’ was not ‘descriptive.’ Grice thinks it’s pseudo-descriptive. So here we have the first, ‘descriptum,’ where what is meant is Griceian: By uttering the “The cat is on the mat” U means, by his act of describing, that the cat is on the mat. Then there’s the ‘prae-scriptum.’ Oddly, Grice, when criticizing the ‘descriptive’ fallacy, seldom mentions the co-relative ‘prescriptum.’ “Good” would be understood in terms of a ‘prae-scriptum’ that appeals to his utterer’s intentions. Then there’s the subscriptum. This may have various use, both in Grice. “I subscribe,” and in the case of “Pegasus flies.” Where the utterer subscribes to his ontological commitment. subscript device. Why does Grice think we NEED a subscript device? Obviously, his wife would not use it. I mean, you cannot pronounce a subscript device or a square-bracket device. So his point is ironic. “Ordinary” language does not need it. But if Strawson and Quine are going to be picky about stuff – ontological commitment, ‘existential presupposition,’ let’s subscribe and bracket! Note that Quine’s response to Grice is perfunctory: “Brackets would have done!” Grice considers a quartet of utterances: Jack wants someone to marry him; Jack wants someone or other to marry him; Jack wants a particular person to marry him, and There is someone whom Jack wants to marry him.Grice notes that there are clearly at least two possible readings of an utterance like our (i): a first reading in which, as Grice puts it, (i) might be paraphrased by (ii). A second reading is one in which it might be paraphrased by (iii) or by (iv). Grice goes on to symbolize the phenomenon in his own version of a first-order predicate calculus. Ja wants that p becomes W^jap where ja stands for the individual constant Jack as a super-script attached to the predicate standing for Jacks psychological state or attitude. Grice writes: Using the apparatus of classical predicate logic, we might hope to represent, respectively, the external reading and the internal reading (involving an intentio secunda or intentio obliqua) as (Ǝx)W^jaFxja and W^ja(Ǝx)Fxja. Grice then goes on to discuss a slightly more complex, or oblique, scenario involving this second internal reading, which is the one that interests us, as it involves an intentio seconda.Grice notes: But suppose that Jack wants a specific individual, Jill, to marry him, and this because Jack has been deceived into thinking that his friend Joe has a highly delectable sister called Jill, though in fact Joe is an only child. The Jill Jack eventually goes up the hill with is, coincidentally, another Jill, possibly existent. Let us recall that Grices main focus of the whole essay is, as the title goes, emptiness! In these circumstances, one is inclined to say that (i) is true only on reading (vii), where the existential quantifier occurs within the scope of the psychological-state or -attitude verb, but we cannot now represent (ii) or (iii), with Jill being vacuous, by (vi), where the existential quantifier (Ǝx) occurs outside the scope of the psychological-attitude verb, want, since [well,] Jill does not really exist, except as a figment of Jacks imagination. In a manoeuver that I interpret as purely intentionalist, and thus favouring by far Suppess over Chomskys characterisation of Grice as a mere behaviourist, Grice hopes that we should be provided with distinct representations for two familiar readings of, now: Jack wants Jill to marry him and Jack wants Jill to marry him. It is at this point that Grice applies a syntactic scope notation involving sub-scripted numerals, (ix) and (x), where the numeric values merely indicate the order of introduction of the symbol to which it is attached in a deductive schema for the predicate calculus in question. Only the first formulation represents the internal reading (where ji stands for Jill): W₂^ja4F₁ji₃ja₄ and W₃^ja4F₂ji₁ja_4. Note that in the second formulation, the individual constant for Jill, ji, is introduced prior to want, – jis sub-script is 1, while Ws sub-script is the higher numerical value 3. Grice notes: Given that Jill does not exist, only the internal reading can be true, or alethically satisfactory. Grice sums up his reflections on the representation of the opaqueness of a verb standing for a psychological state or attitude like that expressed by wanting with one observation that further marks him as an intentionalist, almost of a Meinongian type. He is willing to allow for existential phrases in cases of vacuous designata, provided they occur within opaque psychological-state or attitude verbs, and he thinks that by doing this, he is being faithful to the richness and exuberance of ordinary discourse, while keeping Quine happy. As Grice puts it, we should also have available to us also three neutral, yet distinct, (Ǝx)-quantificational forms (together with their isomorphs), as a philosopher who thinks that Wittgenstein denies a distinction, craves for a generality! Jill now becomes x. W4ja5Ǝx3F1x2ja5, Ǝx5W2ja5F1x4ja3, Ǝx5W3ja4F1x2ja4. As Grice notes, since in (xii) the individual variable x (ranging over Jill) does not dominate the segment following the (Ǝx) quantifier, the formulation does not display any existential or de re, force, and is suitable therefore for representing the internal readings (ii) or (iii), if we have to allow, as we do have, if we want to faithfully represent ordinary discourse, for the possibility of expressing the fact that a particular person, Jill, does not actually exist.

sous-entendu: used by, of all people, Mill. An Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophybooks.google.com › books ... and speak with any approach to precision, and adopting into [the necessary sufficient clauses of a piece of philosophical conceptual analysis] a mere sous-entendu of common conversation in its most unprecise form. If I say to any one, Cf. understatement, as opposed to overstatement. The ‘statement’ thing complicates things, ‘underunderstanding’ seems better, or ‘sub-understanding,’ strictly. Trust Grice to bring more Grice to the Mill and provide a full essay, indeed theory, and base his own philosophy, on the sous-tentendu! Cf. Pears, Pears Cyclopaedia. “The English love meiosis, litotes, and understatement. The French don’t.” Note all the figures of rhetoric cited by Grice, and why they have philosophical import. Many entries here: hyperbole, meiosis, litotes, etc. Grice took ‘sous-entendu’ etymologically serious. It is UNDERSTOOD. Nobody taught you, but it understood. It is understood is like It is known. So “The pillar box seems red” is understood to mean, “It may not be.” Now a sous-entendu may be cancellable, in which case it was MIS-understood, or the emissor has changed his mind. Grice considers the paradoxes the understanding under ‘uptake,’ just to make fun of Austin’s informalism. The ‘endendu’ is what the French understand by ‘understand,’ the root being Latin intellectus, or intendo.

Stupid. Grice loved Plato. They are considering ‘horseness.’ “I cannot see horeseness; I can see horses.” “You are the epitome of stupidity.” “I cannot see stupidity. I see stupid.”

suggestio falsi – suggest. To suggest is like to ‘insinuate,’ only different. The root involves a favourite with Grice, ‘a gesture.’ That gesture is very suggesture. Grice explores hint versus suggest in Retrospective epilogue. Also cited by Strawson and Wiggins. The emissor’s implication is exactly this suggestio, for which suggestum. To suggest, advise, prompt, offer, bring to mind: “quoties aequitas restitutionem suggerit,” Dig. 4, 6, 26 fin.; cf.: “quae (res) suggerit, ut Italicarum rerum esse credantur eae res,” reminds, admonishes, ib. 28, 5, 35 fin.: “quaedam de republicā,” Aur. Vict. Vir. Ill. 66, 2. — Absol.: “suggerente conjuge,” at the instigation of, Aur. Vict. Epit. 41, 11; cf.: “suggerente irā,” id. ib. 12, 10 suggestio falsi. Pl. suggestiones falsi.  [mod.L., = suggestion of what is false.]  A misrepresentation of the truth whereby something incorrect is implied to be true; an indirect lie. Often in contexts with suppressio veri.  QUOTES:  1815 H. Maddock Princ. & Pract. Chancery I. 208  Whenever Suppressio veri or Suggestio falsi occur..they afford a sufficient ground for setting aside any Release or Conveyance.   1855 Newspaper & Gen. Reader's Pocket Compan. i.4  He was bound to say that the suppressio veri on that occasion approached very nearly to a positive suggestio falsi.   1898 Kipling Stalky & Co. (1899) 36  It seems..that they had held back material facts; that they were guilty both of suppressio veri and suggestio falsi.  1907 W. de Morgan Alice-for-Short xxxvi. 389   That's suppressio veri and suggestio falsi! Besides, it's fibs!   1962 J. Wilson Public Schools & Private Practice i. 19  It is rare to find a positively verifiable untruth in a school brochure: but it is equally rare not to find a great many suggestiones falsi, particularly as regards the material comfort and facilities available.   1980 D. Newsome On Edge of Paradise 7  There are undoubted cases of suppressio veri; on the other hand, he appears to eschew suggestio falsi.  --- Fibs indeed. Suppress, suggest.   Write: "Griceland, Inc."   "Yes, I agree to become a Doctor in Gricean Studies"   EXAM QUESTION:  1. Discuss suggestio falsi in terms of detachability.  2. Compare suppresio veri and suggestion falsi in connection with "The king of France is bald" uttered during Napoleon's time.  3. Invent things for 'suppressio falsi' and 'suggestio veri'.  4. No. You cannot go to the bathroom.

suggestum: not necesarilyy ‘falsi.’ The verb is ‘to suggest that…’ which is diaphanous. Note that the ‘su-‘ stands for ‘sub-‘ which conveys the implicitness or covertness of the impicatum. Indirectness. It’s ‘under,’ not ‘above’ board.’ To suggest, advise, prompt, offer, bring to mind: “quoties aequitas restitutionem suggerit,” Dig. 4, 6, 26 fin.; cf.: “quae (res) suggerit, ut Italicarum rerum esse credantur eae res,” reminds, admonishes, ib. 28, 5, 35 fin.: “quaedam de republicā,” Aur. Vict. Vir. Ill. 66, 2. — Absol.: “suggerente conjuge,” at the instigation of, Aur. Vict. Epit. 41, 11; cf.: “suggerente irā,” id. ib. 12, 10.— The implicatum is a suggestum – ALWAYS cancellable. Or not? Sometimes not, if ‘reasonable,’ but not ‘rational.’ Jill suggests that Jack is brave when she says, “He is an Englishman, he is; therefore, brave.” The tommy suggests that her povery contrasts with her honesty (“’Tis the same the whole world over.”) So the ‘suggestum’ is like the implicatum. A particular suggesta are ‘conversational suggestum.’ For Grice this is philosophically important, because many philosophical adages cover ‘suggesta’ which are not part of the philosopher’s import! Vide Holdcroft, “Some forms of indirect communication.”

suppresum veri: This is a bit like an act of omission – about which Urmson once asked, “Is that ‘to do,’ Grice?” – Strictly, it is implicatural. “Smith has a beautiful handwriting.” Grice’s abductum: “He must be suppressing some ‘veri,’ but surely the ‘suggestio falsi’ is cancellable. On the other hand, my abent-minded uncle, who ‘suppresses,’ is not ‘implicating.’ The ‘suppressio’ has to be ‘intentional,’ as an ‘omission’ is. Since for the Romans, the ‘verum’ applied to a unity (alethic/practical) this was good. No multiplication, but unity – cf. untranslatable (think) – modality ‘the ‘must’, neutral – desideratum-doxa – think – Yes, when Untranslatable discuss ‘vero’ they do say it applies to ‘factual’ and sincerity, I think. At Collections, the expectation is that Grice gives a report on the philosopher’s ability – not on  his handwriting. It is different when Grice applied to St. John’s. “He doesn’t return library books.” G. Richardson. Why did he use this on two occasions? In “Prolegomena,” he uses it for his desideratum of conversational fortitude (“make a strong conversational move”). To suppress. suggestio falsi. Pl. suggestiones falsi.  [mod.L., = suggestion of what is false.]  A misrepresentation of the truth whereby something incorrect is implied to be true; an indirect lie. Often in contexts with suppressio veri.  QUOTES:  1815 H. Maddock Princ. & Pract. Chancery I. 208  Whenever Suppressio veri or Suggestio falsi occur..they afford a sufficient ground for setting aside any Release or Conveyance.   1855 Newspaper & Gen. Reader's Pocket Compan. i.4  He was bound to say that the suppressio veri on that occasion approached very nearly to a positive suggestio falsi.   1898 Kipling Stalky & Co. (1899) 36  It seems..that they had held back material facts; that they were guilty both of suppressio veri and suggestio falsi.  1907 W. de Morgan Alice-for-Short xxxvi. 389   That's suppressio veri and suggestio falsi! Besides, it's fibs!   1962 J. Wilson Public Schools & Private Practice i. 19  It is rare to find a positively verifiable untruth in a school brochure: but it is equally rare not to find a great many suggestiones falsi, particularly as regards the material comfort and facilities available.   1980 D. Newsome On Edge of Paradise 7  There are undoubted cases of suppressio veri; on the other hand, he appears to eschew suggestio falsi.  --- Fibs indeed. Suppress, suggest.   Write: "Griceland, Inc."   "Yes, I agree to become a Doctor in Gricean Studies"   EXAM QUESTION:  1. Discuss suggestio falsi in terms of detachability.  2. Compare suppresio veri and suggestion falsi in connection with "The king of France is bald" uttered during Napoleon's time.  3. Invent things for 'suppressio falsi' and 'suggestio veri'.  4. No. You cannot go to the bathroom.

summum genus. What adjective is the ‘sumum’ translating, Grice wondered. And he soon found out. We know that the Romans were unoriginally enough with their ‘genus’ (cf. ‘gens’) translating Grecian ‘genos.’ The highest category in the ‘arbor griceiana’ -- The categories. There is infimum genus, or sub-summum. Talk of categories becomes informal in Grice when he ‘echoes’ Kant in the mention of four ‘functions’ that generate for Kant twelve categories. Grice however uses the functions themselves, echoing Ariskant, rather, as ‘caegory’. We have then a category of conversational quantity (involved in a principle of maximization of conversational informativeness). We have a category of conversational quality (or a desideratum of conversational candour). We have a category of conversational relation (cf. Strawson’s principle of relevance along with Strawson’s principles of the presumption of knowledge and the presumption of ignorance). Lastly, we have a category of conversational mode. For some reason, Grice uses ‘manner’ sometimes in lieu of Meiklejohn’s apt translation of Kant’s modality into the shorter ‘mode.’ The four have Aristotelian pedigree, indeed Grecian and Graeco-Roman: The quantity is Kant’s quantitat which is Aristotle’s posotes (sic abstract) rendered in Roman as ‘quantitas.’ Of course, Aristotle derives ‘posotes,’ from ‘poson,’ the quantum. No quantity without quantum. The quality is Kant’s qualitat, which again has Grecian and Graeco-Roman pediegree. It is Aristotel’s poiotes (sic in abstract), rendered in Roman as qualitas. Again, derived from the more basic ‘poion,’ or ‘quale.’ Aristotle was unable to find a ‘-tes’ ending form for what Kant has as ‘relation.’ ‘pros it’ is used, and first translated into Roman as ‘relatio.’ We see here that we are talking of a ‘summum genus.’ For who other but a philosopher is going to lecture on the ‘pros it’? What Aristotle means is that Socrates is to the right of Plato. Finally, for Grice’s mode, there is Kant’s wrong ‘modalitat,’ since this refers to Aristotle ‘te’ and translated in Roman as ‘modus,’ which Meiklejohn, being a better classicist than Kant, renders as ‘mode,’ and not the pretentious sounding ‘modality.’ Now for Kant, 12 categories are involved here. Why? Because he subdivides each summum genus into three sub-summum or ‘inferiore’ genus. This is complex. Kant would DISAGREE with Grice’s idea that a subject can JUDGE in generic terms, say, about the quantum. The subject has THREE scenarios. It’s best to reverse the order, for surely unity comes before totality. One scenario, he utters a SINGULAR or individual utterance (Grice on ‘the’). The CATEGORY is the first category, THE UNUM or UNITAS. The one. The unity. Second scenario, he utters a PARTICULAR utterance (Grice’s “some (at least one). Here we encounter the SECOND category, that of PLURALITAS, the plurum, plurality. It’s a good thing Kant forgot that the Greeks had a dual number, and that Urquhart has fourth number, a re-dual. A third scenario: the nirvana. He utters a UNIVERSAL (totum) utterance (Grice on “all”). The category is that of TOTUM, TOTALITAS, totality. Kant does not deign to specify if he means substitutional or non-substitutional. For the quale, there are again three scenarios for Kant, and he would deny that the subject is confronted with the FUNCTION quale and be able to formulate a judgement. The first scenario involves the subject uttering a PROPOSITIO DEDICATIVA (Grice elaborates on this before introducing ‘not’ in “Indicative conditionals” – “Let’s start with some unstructured amorophous proposition.” Here the category is NOT AFFIRMATION, but the nirvana “REALITAS,” Reality, reale.Second scenario, subject utters a PROPOSITIO ABDICATIVA (Grice on ‘not’). While Kant does not consider affirmatio a category (why should he?), he does consider NEGATIO a category. Negation. See abdicatum. Third scenario, subject utters an PROPOSITIO INFINITA. Here the category is that of LIMITATION, which is quite like NEGATIO (cf. privatio, stelesis, versus habitus or hexis), but not quite. Possibly LIMITATUM. Regarding the ‘pros ti.’ The first scenario involves a categorema, PROPOSITIO CATEGORICA. Here Kant seems to think that there is ONE category called “INHERENCE AND SUBSTISTENCE or substance and accident. There seem rather two. He will go to this ‘pair’ formulation in one more case in the relation, and for the three under modus. If we count the ‘categorical pairs’ as being two categories. The total would not be 12 categories but 17, which is a rather ugly number for a list of categories, unles it is not. Kant is being VERY serious here, because if he has SUBSTISTENCE or SUBSTANCE as a category, this is SECUNDA SUBSTANTIA or ‘deutero-ousia.’ It is a no-no to count the prote ousia or PRIMA SUBSTANTIA as a category. It is defined as THE THING which cannot be predicated of anything! “SUMBEBEKOS” is a trick of Kant, for surely EVERYTHING BUT THE SUBSTANCE can be seen as an ‘accidens’ (In fact, those who deny categories, reduce them to ‘attribute’, or ‘property.’ The second scenario involves an ‘if’ Grice on ‘if’ – PROPOSITIO CONDITIONALIS – hypothetike protasis -- this involves for the first time a MOLECULAR proposition. As in the previous case, we have a ‘category pair’, which is formulated either as CAUSALITY (CAUSALITAS) and DEPENDENCE (Dependentia), or “cause’ (CAUSA) and ‘effect’ (Effectum). Kant is having in mind Strawson’s account of ‘if’ (The influence of P. F. Strawson on Kant). For since this is the hypothetical, Kant is suggeseting that in ‘if p, q’ q depends on p, or q is an effect of its cause, p. As in “If it rains, the boots are in the closet.” (J). The third scenario also involves a molectural proposition, A DISJUNCTUM. PROPOSITIO DISJUNCTIVA. Note that in Kant, ‘if’ before ‘or’! His implicature: subordination before coordination, which makes sense. Grice on ‘or.’ FOR SOME REASON, the category here for Kant is that of COMMUNITAS (community) or RECIPROCITAS, reciprocity. He seems to be suggesting that if you turn to the right or to the left, you are reciprocally forbidden to keep on going straight. For the modus, similar. Here Kant is into modality. Again, it is best to re-order the scenarios in terms of priority. Here it’s the middle which is basic. The first scenario, subject utters an ASSERTORIC. The category is a pair: EXISTENCE (how is this different from REALITY) and NON-EXISTENCE (how is this different from negation?). He has in mind: ‘the cat is in the room,’ ‘the room is empty.’ Second scenario, the subject doubts. subject utters a problematical. (“The pillar box may be red”). Here we have a category pair: POSSIBILITIAS (possibility) and, yes, IMPOSSIBILITAS – IMPOSSIBILITY. This is odd, because ‘impossibility’ goes rather with the negation of necessity. The third and last scenario, subject utters an APODEICTIC. Here again there is a category pair – yielding 17 as the final number --: NECESSITAS, necessity, and guess what, CONTINGENTIA, or contingency. Surely, possibilitas and contingentia are almost the same thing. It may be what Grice has in mind when he blames a philosopher to state that ‘what is actual is not also possible.’ Or not.

syntactics: Being the gentleman he was, Grice takes a cavlier attitude to ‘syntax’ as something that someone else must give to him, and right he is. The philosopher should concern with more important issues. Usually Grice uses ‘unstructured’ to mean ‘syntactically unstructured,’ such as a  handwave. With a handwave, an emissor can rationally explicate and implicate. vide compositum – Strictly, compositum translates Grecian synthesis, rather than syntax – which is better phrased as Latin ‘contactum. Or better combinatum – syntaxis , is, f., = σύνταξις, I.the connection of words, Prisc. 17, 1, 1. When Grice uses ‘unsructured’ he sometimes expands this into ‘syntactically unstructured.’ Since syntax need not be linguistic, this is an interesting semiotic perspective by Grice. He is allowing for compositionality in a semotic system with a comibinatory other than the first, second, and third articulation. The Latinate is ‘contactum.’ Morris thought he was being bright when he proposed ‘syntactics,’ “long for syntax,” he wrote.  syntax, περὶ τῆς ς. τῶν λεγομένων, title of work by Chrysipp., Stoic.2.6, cf. Plu.2.731f (pl.); “τὴν ς. τῶν ὀνομάτων” Gal.16.736, cf. 720; περὶ συντάξεως, title of work by A.D.; but also, compound forms, Id.Conj.214.7; ποιεῖσθαι μετά τινος τὴν ς. ib.221.19; also, rule for combination of sounds or letters, τὸ χ (in δέγμενος）“ εἰς γ μετεβλήθη, τῆς ς. οὕτως ἀπαιτούσης” EM252.45, cf. Luc.Jud. Voc.3; also, connected speech, ἐν τῇ ς. ἐγκλιτέον Sch.Il.16.85.Grice’s presupposition is that a ‘syntactics’ is not enough for a system to be a ‘communication-system’. Nothing is communicated. With the syntagma, there is no communicatum. Grice loved two devices of the syntactic kind: subscripts and square brackets (for the assignment of common-ground status).  Grice is a conservative (dissenting rationalist) when it comes to syntax and semantics. He hardly uses pragmatics albeit in a loose way (pragmatic import, pragmatic inference), but was aware of Morriss triangle. Syntax is presented along the lines of Gentzen, i.e. a system of natural deduction in terms of inference rules of introduction and elimination for each formal device. Semantics pertains rather to Witterss truth-values, i.e. the assignment of a satisfactory-valuation: the true and the good. A syntactic approach to Grice’s System does not require value-assignment. The system is constructed alla Gentzen with introduction and elimination rules which are regarded as syntactic in nature.  One can easily check that the rules statedabove adequately characterise the meaning of classical conjunction which is true iff both conjuncts are true. Hence the syntactic deducibility relation coincides with the semantic relation of /= or logical consequence (or entailment).  Refs.: The most direct source is “Vacuous names,” but the keyword ‘syntax’ is helpful. The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

tautologum: The difference between a truth and a tautological truth is part of the dogma Grice defends. “A three-year old cannot understand Russell’s theory of types” is possibly true. “It is not the case that a three-year old is an adult” is TAUTOLOGICALLY true. As Strawson and Wiggins note, by coining implicature Grice is mainly interested in having the MAN implying this or that, as opposed to what the man implies implying this or that. So, in Strawson and Wiggins’s rephrasing, the implicature is to be distinguished with the logical and necessary implication, i. e., the ‘tautological’ implication. Grice uses ‘tautological’ variously. It is tautological that we smell smells, for example. This is an extension of ‘paradigm-case,’ re: analyticity. Without ‘analytic’ there is no ‘tautologicum.’ tautŏlŏgĭa , ae, f., = ταυτολογία,I.a repetition of the same meaning in different words, tautology, Mart. Cap. 5, § 535; Charis, p. 242 P. ταὐτολογ-έω ,A.repeat what has been said, “περί τινος” Plb.1.1.3; “ὑπέρ τινος” Id.1.79.7; “τ. τὸν λόγον” Str.12.3.27:—abs., Plb.36.12.2, Phld. Po.Herc.994.30, Hermog.Inv.3.15. Oddly why Witters restricts tautology to truth-table propositional logic, Grice’s two examples are predicate calculus: Women are women and war is war. 4.46 GER [→OGD | →P/M] Unter den möglichen Gruppen von Wahrheitsbedingungen gibt es zwei extreme Fälle. In dem einen Fall ist der Satz für sämtliche Wahrheitsmöglichkeiten der Elementarsätze wahr. Wir sagen, die Wahrheitsbedingungen sind t a u t o l o g i s c h. Im zweiten Fall ist der Satz für sämtliche Wahrheitsmöglichkeiten falsch: Die Wahrheitsbedingungen sind k o n t r a d i k t o r i s c h. Im ersten Fall nennen wir den Satz eine Tautologie, im zweiten Fall eine Kontradiktion. 4.461 GER [→OGD | →P/M] Der Satz zeigt was er sagt, die Tautologie und die Kontradiktion, dass sie nichts sagen. Die Tautologie hat keine Wahrheitsbedingungen, denn sie ist bedingungslos wahr; und die Kontradiktion ist unter keiner Bedingung wahr. Tautologie und Kontradiktion sind sinnlos. (Wie der Punkt, von dem zwei Pfeile in entgegengesetzter Richtung auseinandergehen.) (Ich weiß z. B. nichts über das Wetter, wenn ich weiß, dass es regnet oder nicht regnet.) 4.4611 GER [→OGD | →P/M] Tautologie und Kontradiktion sind aber nicht unsinnig; sie gehören zum Symbolismus, und zwar ähnlich wie die „0“ zum Symbolismus der Arithmetik. 4.462 GER [→OGD | →P/M] Tautologie und Kontradiktion sind nicht Bilder der Wirklichkeit. Sie stellen keine mögliche Sachlage dar. Denn jene lässt j e d e mögliche Sachlage zu, diese k e i n e. In der Tautologie heben die Bedingungen der Übereinstimmung mit der Welt—die darstellenden Beziehungen—einander auf, so dass sie in keiner darstellenden Beziehung zur Wirklichkeit steht. 4.463 GER [→OGD | →P/M] Die Wahrheitsbedingungen bestimmen den Spielraum, der den Tatsachen durch den Satz gelassen wird. (Der Satz, das Bild, das Modell, sind im negativen Sinne wie ein fester Körper, der die Bewegungsfreiheit der anderen beschränkt; im positiven Sinne, wie der von fester Substanz begrenzte Raum, worin ein Körper Platz hat.) Die Tautologie lässt der Wirklichkeit den ganzen—unendlichen—logischen Raum; die Kontradiktion erfüllt den ganzen logischen Raum und lässt der Wirklichkeit keinen Punkt. Keine von beiden kann daher die Wirklichkeit irgendwie bestimmen. 4.464 GER [→OGD | →P/M] Die Wahrheit der Tautologie ist gewiss, des Satzes möglich, der Kontradiktion unmöglich. (Gewiss, möglich, unmöglich: Hier haben wir das Anzeichen jener Gradation, die wir in der Wahrscheinlichkeitslehre brauchen.) 4.465 GER [→OGD | →P/M] Das logische Produkt einer Tautologie und eines Satzes sagt dasselbe, wie der Satz. Also ist jenes Produkt identisch mit dem Satz. Denn man kann das Wesentliche des Symbols nicht ändern, ohne seinen Sinn zu ändern. 4.466 GER [→OGD | →P/M] Einer bestimmten logischen Verbindung von Zeichen entspricht eine bestimmte logische Verbindung ihrer Bedeutungen; j e d e b e l i e - b i g e Verbindung entspricht nur den unverbundenen Zeichen. Das heißt, Sätze, die für jede Sachlage wahr sind, können überhaupt keine Zeichenverbindungen sein, denn sonst könnten ihnen nur bestimmte Verbindungen von Gegenständen entsprechen. (Und keiner logischen Verbindung entspricht k e i n e Verbindung der Gegenstände.) Tautologie und Kontradiktion sind die Grenzfälle der Zeichenverbindung, nämlich ihre Auflösung. 4.4661 GER [→OGD | →P/M] Freilich sind auch in der Tautologie und Kontradiktion die Zeichen noch mit einander verbunden, d. h. sie stehen in Beziehungen zu einander, aber diese Beziehungen sind bedeu- tungslos, dem S y m b o l unwesentlich. 4.46 OGD [→GER | →P/M] Among the possible groups of truthconditions there are two extreme cases. In the one case the proposition is true for all the truth-possibilities of the elementary propositions. We say that the truth-conditions are tautological. In the second case the proposition is false for all the truth-possibilities. The truth-conditions are self-contradictory. In the first case we call the proposition a tautology, in the second case a contradiction. 4.461 OGD [→GER | →P/M] The proposition shows what it says, the tautology and the contradiction that they say nothing. The tautology has no truth-conditions, for it is unconditionally true; and the contradiction is on no condition true. Tautology and contradiction are without sense. (Like the point from which two arrows go out in opposite directions.) (I know, e.g. nothing about the weather, when I know that it rains or does not rain.) 4.4611 OGD [→GER | →P/M] Tautology and contradiction are, however, not nonsensical; they are part of the symbol- ism, in the same way that “0” is part of the symbolism of Arithmetic. 4.462 OGD [→GER | →P/M] Tautology and contradiction are not pictures of the reality. They present no possible state of affairs. For the one allows every possible state of affairs, the other none. In the tautology the conditions of agreement with the world—the presenting relations— cancel one another, so that it stands in no presenting relation to reality. 4.463 OGD [→GER | →P/M] The truth-conditions determine the range, which is left to the facts by the proposition. (The proposition, the picture, the model, are in a negative sense like a solid body, which restricts the free movement of another: in a positive sense, like the space limited by solid substance, in which a body may be placed.) Tautology leaves to reality the whole infinite logical space; contradiction fills the whole logi- cal space and leaves no point to reality. Neither of them, therefore, can in any way determine reality. 4.464 OGD [→GER | →P/M] The truth of tautology is certain, of propositions possible, of contradiction impossible. (Certain, possible, impossible: here we have an indication of that gradation which we need in the theory of probability.) 4.465 OGD [→GER | →P/M] The logical product of a tautology and a proposition says the same as the proposition. Therefore that product is identical with the proposition. For the essence of the symbol cannot be altered without altering its sense. 4.466 OGD [→GER | →P/M] To a definite logical combination of signs corresponds a definite logical combination of their meanings; every arbitrary combination only corresponds to the unconnected signs. That is, propositions which are true for ev- ery state of affairs cannot be combinations of signs at all, for otherwise there could only correspond to them definite combinations of objects. (And to no logical combination corresponds no combination of the objects.) Tautology and contradiction are the limiting cases of the combination of symbols, namely their dissolution. 4.4661 OGD [→GER | →P/M] Of course the signs are also combined with one another in the tautology and contradiction, i.e. they stand in relations to one another, but these relations are meaningless, unessential to the symbol. 4.46 P/M [→GER | →OGD] Among the possible groups of truthconditions there are two extreme cases. In one of these cases the proposition is true for all the truth-possibilities of the elementary propositions. We say that the truth-conditions are tautological. In the second case the proposition is false for all the truth-possibilities: the truth-conditions are contradictory. In the first case we call the proposition a tautology; in the second, a contradiction. 4.461 P/M [→GER | →OGD] Propositions show what they say: tautolo- gies and contradictions show that they say nothing. A tautology has no truth-conditions, since it is unconditionally true: and a contradiction is true on no condition. Tautologies and contradictions lack sense. (Like a point from which two arrows go out in opposite directions to one another.) (For example, I know nothing about the weather when I know that it is either raining or not raining.) 4.4611 P/M [→GER | →OGD] Tautologies and contradictions are not, however, nonsensical. They are part of the symbolism, much as ‘0’ is part of the symbolism of arithmetic. 4.462 P/M [→GER | →OGD] Tautologies and contradictions are not pictures of reality. They do not represent any possible situations. For the former admit all possible situations, and latter none. In a tautology the conditions of agreement with the world—the representational relations—cancel one another, so that it does not stand in any representational relation to reality. 4.463 P/M [→GER | →OGD] The truth-conditions of a proposition determine the range that it leaves open to the facts. (A proposition, a picture, or a model is, in the negative sense, like a solid body that restricts the freedom of movement of others, and, in the positive sense, like a space bounded by solid substance in which there is room for a body.) A tautology leaves open to reality the whole—the infinite whole—of logical space: a contradiction fills the whole of logical space leaving no point of it for reality. Thus neither of them can determine reality in any way. 4.464 P/M [→GER | →OGD] A tautology’s truth is certain, a proposition’s possible, a contradiction’s impossible. (Certain, possible, impossible: here we have the first indication of the scale that we need in the theory of probability.) 4.465 P/M [→GER | →OGD] The logical product of a tautology and a proposition says the same thing as the proposition. This product, therefore, is identical with the proposition. For it is impossible to alter what is essential to a symbol without altering its sense. 4.466 P/M [→GER | →OGD] What corresponds to a determinate logical combination of signs is a determinate logical combination of their meanings. It is only to the uncombined signs that absolutely any combination corresponds. In other words, propositions that are true for every situation cannot be combinations of signs at all, since, if they were, only determinate combinations of objects could correspond to them. (And what is not a logical combination has no combination of objects corresponding to it.) Tautology and contradiction are the limiting cases—indeed the disintegration—of the combination of signs. 4.4661 P/M [→GER | →OGD] Admittedly the signs are still combined with one another even in tautologies and contradictions—i.e. they stand in certain relations to one another: but these relations have no meaning, they are not essential to the symbol. Grice would often use ‘tautological,’ and ‘self-contradiction’ presupposes ‘analyticity,’ or rather the analytic-synthetic distinction. Is it contradictory, or a self-contradiction, to say that one’s neighbour’s three-year-old child is an adult? Is there an implicatum for ‘War is not war’? Grice refers to Bayes in WOW re Grices paradox, and to crazy Bayesy, as Peter Achinstein does (Newton was crazy, but not Bayesy).  We can now, in principle, characterize the desirability of the action a 1 , relative to each end (E1 and E2), and to each combination of ends (here just E1 and E2), as a function of the desirability of the end and the probability that the action a 1 will realize that end, or combination of ends. If we envisage a range of possible actions, which includes a 1 together with other actions, we can imagine that each such action has a certain degree of desirability relative to each end (E1 and (or) E2) and to their combination. If we suppose that, for each possible action, these desirabilities can be compounded (perhaps added), then we can suppose that one particular possible action scored higher (in actiondesirability relative to these ends) than any alternative possible action; and that this is the action which wins out; that is, is the action which is, or at least should, end p.105 be performed. (The computation would in fact be more complex than I have described, once account is taken of the fact that the ends involved are often not definite (determinate) states of affairs  (like becoming President), but are variable in respect of the degree to which they might be realized (if ones end is to make a profit from a deal, that profit might be of a varying magnitude); so one would have to consider not merely the likelihood of a particular actions realizing the end of making a profit, but also the likelihood of its realizing that end to this or that degree; and this would considerably complicate the computational problem.) No doubt most readers are far too sensible ever to have entertained any picture even remotely resembling the "Crazy-Bayesy" one I have just described. Grice was fascinated by the fact that paradox translates the Grecian neuter paradoxon. Some of the paradoxes of entailment, entailment and paradoxes. This is not the first time Grice uses paradox. As a classicist, he was aware of the nuances between paradox (or paradoxon, as he preferred, via Latin paradoxum, and aporia, for example. He was interested in Strawsons treatment of this or that paradox of entailment. He even called his own paradox involving if and probablility Grices paradox.

telementationalism: see psi-transmission. The coinage is interesting. Since Grice has an essay on ‘modest mentalism,’ and would often use ‘mental’ for ‘psychological,’ it does make sense. ‘Ideationalism’ is analogous. this is a special note, or rather, a very moving proem, on Grices occasion of delivering his lectures on ‘Aspects of reason and reasoning’ at Oxford as the Locke Lectures at Merton. Particularly apt in mentioning, with humility, his having failed, *thrice* [sic] to obtain the Locke lectureship, Strawson did, at once, but feeling safe under the ægis of that great English philosopher (viz. Locke! always implicated, never explicited) now. Grice starts the proem in a very moving, shall we say, emotional, way: I find it difficult to convey to you just how happy I am, and how honoured I feel, in being invited to give these lectures. Difficult, but not impossible. I think of this university and this city, it has a cathedral, which were my home for thirty-six years, as my spiritual and intellectual parents. The almost majestic plural is Grices implicature to the town and gown! Whatever I am was originally fashioned here; I never left Oxford, Oxford made me, and I find it a moving experience to be, within these splendid and none too ancient walls, once more engaged in my old occupation of rendering what is clear obscure, by flouting the desideratum of conversational clarity and the conversational maxim, avoid obscurity of expression, under be perspicuous [sic]!. Grices implicature on none too ancient seems to be addressed to the truly ancient walls that saw Athenian dialectic! On the other hand, Grices funny variant on the obscurum per obscurius ‒ what Baker found as Grices skill in rendering an orthodoxy into a heterodoxy! Almost! By clear Grice implicates Lewis and his clarity is not enough! I am, at the same time, proud of my mid-Atlantic [two-world] status, and am, therefore, delighted that the Old World should have called me in, or rather recalled me, to redress, for once, the balance of my having left her for the New. His implicature seems to be: Strictly, I never left? Grice concludes his proem: I am, finally, greatly heartened by my consciousness of the fact that that great English philosopher, under whose ægis I am now speaking, has in the late afternoon of my days extended to me his Lectureship as a gracious consolation for a record threefold denied to me, in my early morning, of his Prize. I pray that my present offerings may find greater favour in his sight than did those of long ago. They did! Even if Locke surely might have found favour to Grices former offerings, too, Im sure. Refs.: The allusions to Locke are in “Aspects.” Good references under ‘ideationalism,’ above, especially in connection with Myro’s ‘modest mentalism,’ The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

‘that’: a demonstrative. Since Grice would make so many references to the ‘that’-clause, he is aware that ‘that’ is etymologically a demonstrative, that has lost its efficacy there. But the important etymological lesson is that what follows a ‘that’-clause (cf. the classical languages Grice learned at Clifton, Greek and Latin) is a ‘propositio’ just because the ‘that’ POINTS at the proposition. Sometimes he refers to ‘obliquus casus,’ and ‘oratio obliqua,’ but he is more at home with things like ‘verba percipienda,’ verba volendi, etc.

 ‘that’-clause: Grice’s priority for the ‘that’-clause is multiple. He dislikes what he calls an ‘amorphous’ propositional complex. His idea is to have at least ‘The S is P,’ one act involving a subjectum or denotatum, and one involving the praedicatum. There is also what he calls sub-perceptual utterances. They do look like structured (“That red pillar seems red”) but they are not perceptual reports like “I perceive that the pillar box is red.” At points he wanst to restrict utterer’s communucatum to a ‘that’-clause; but ignoring Austin’s remark that to wonder about what a ‘word’ ‘means’ is senseless, Grice sometimes allows for things like ‘The cat sat on the mat’ to ‘mean’ that the cat sat on the mat. Grice thinks that his account of ‘the red-seeming pillar box’ succeeded, and that it was this success that prompted him to apply the thing to other areas, notably Strawson, but one hopes, all the theses he presents in “Causal” and “Prolegomena.” But he does not go back to the is/seems example, other than perhaps the tie is/seems blue. The reason is that the sense-datum theory is very complex. Note “seems.” “It seems to me that…” but the ‘that’-clause not as a content of a state of the agent. If the pillar box seems red to Grice because it is red, what ‘that’-clause are we talking about to involve in the implicatum? And what generates the implicatum. “By uttering “The pillar box seems red,” U conversationally implicates that there is a denial or doubt, somewhere as to whether the pillar box IS red.” Grice thought of Staal as particularly good at this type of formalistic philosophy, which was still adequate to reflect the subtleties of ordinary language.  How do we define a Griceian action? How do we define a Griceian event? This is Grices examination and criticism of Davidson, as a scientific realist, followed by a Kantian approach to freedom and causation. Grice is especially interested in the logical form, or explicitum, so that he can play with the implicatum. One of his favourite examples: He fell on his sword, having tripped as he crossed the Galliæ. Grice manages to quote from many and varied authors (some of which you would not expect him to quote) such as Reichenbach, but also Robinson, of Oriel, of You Names it fame (for any x, if you can Names it, x exists). Robinson has a brilliant essay on parts of Cook Wilsons Statement and inference, so he certainly knows what he is talking about. Grice also quotes from von Wright and Eddington. Grice offers a linguistic botanic survey of autonomy and free (sugar-free, free fall, implicature-free) which some have found inspirational. His favourite is Finnegans alcohol-free. Finnegans obvious implicature is that everything is alcohol-laden. Grice kept a copy of Davidsons The logical form of action sentences, since surely Davidson, Grice thought, is making a primary philosophical point. Horses run fast; therefore, horses run. A Davidsonian problem, and there are more to come! Smith went fishing. Grices category shift allows us to take Smiths fishing as the grammatical Subjects of an action sentence. Cf. indeed the way to cope with entailment in The horse runs fast; therefore, the horse runs. Grices Actions and events is Davidsonian in motivation, but Kantian in method, one of those actions by Grice to promote a Griceian event! Davidson had published, Grice thought, some pretty influential (and provocative, anti-Quineian) stuff on actions and events, or events and actions, actually, and, worse, he was being discussed at Oxford, too, over which Grice always keeps an eye! Davidsons point, tersely put, is that while p.q (e.g. It is raining, and it is pouring) denotes a concatenation of events. Smith is fishing denotes an action, which is a kind of event, if you are following him (Davidson, not Smith). However, Davidson is fighting against the intuition, if you are a follower of Whitehead and Russell, to symbolise the Smith is fishing as Fs, where s stands for Smith and F for fishing. The logical form of a report of an event or an action seems to be slightly more complicated. Davidsons point specifically involves adverbs, or adverbial modifiers, and how to play with them in terms of entailment. The horse runs fast; therefore, the horse runs. Symbolise that! as Davidson told Benson Mates! But Mates had gone to the restroom. Grice explores all these and other topics and submits the thing for publication. Grice quotes, as isnt his wont, from many and various philosophers, not just Davidson, whom he saw every Wednesday, but others he didnt, like Reichenbach, Robinson, Kant, and, again even a physicist like Eddington. Grice remarks that Davidson is into hypothesis, suppositio, while he is, as he should, into hypostasis, substantia. Grice then expands on the apparent otiosity of uttering, It is a fact that grass is green. Grice goes on to summarise what he ironically dubs an ingenious argument. Let σ abbreviate the operator  consists in the fact that , which, when prefixed to a sentence, produces a predicate or epithet. Let S abbreviate Snow is white, and let G abbreviate Grass is green. In that case, xσS is 1 just in case xσ(y(y=y and S) = y(y=y) is 1, since the first part of the sub-sentence which follows σ in the main sentence is logically equivalent logically equivalent to the second part. And xσ(y(y=y and S) = y(y=y) is 1 just in case xσ(y(if y=y, G) = y(y=y) is 1, since y(if y=y, S) and y(if y=y, G) are each a singular term, which, if S and G are both true, each refers to y(y=y), and are therefore co-referential and inter-substitutable. And xσ(y(if y=y, G) = y(y=y) is true just in case xσG is 1, since G is logically equivalent to the sub-sentence which follows σ. So, this fallacy goes, provided that S and G are both 1, regardless of what an utterer explicitly conveys by uttering a token of it, any event which consists of the otiose fact that S also consists of the otiose fact that G, and vice versa, i. e. this randomly chosen event is identical to any other randomly chosen event. Grice hastens to criticise this slingshot fallacy licensing the inter-substitution of this or that co-referential singular term and this or that logically equivalent sub-sentence as officially demanded because it is needed to license a patently valid, if baffling, inference. But, if in addition to providing this benefit, the fallacy saddles the philosopher with a commitment to a hideous consequence, the rational course is to endeavour to find a way of retaining the benefit while eliminating the disastrous accompaniment, much as in set theory it seems rational to seek as generous a comprehension axiom as the need to escape this or that paradox permits. Grice proposes to retain the principle of co-reference, but prohibit is use after the principle of logical equivalence has been used. Grice finds such a measure to have some intuitive appeal. In the fallacy, the initial deployment of the principle of logical equivalence seems tailored to the production of a sentence which provides opportunity for trouble-raising application of the principle of co-referentiality. And if that is what the game is, why not stop it? On the assumption that this or that problem which originally prompts this or that analysis is at least on their way towards independent solution, Grice turns his attention to the possibility of providing a constructivist treatment of things which might perhaps have more intuitive appeal than a naïve realist approach. Grice begins with a class of happenstance attributions, which is divided into this or that basic happenstance attribution, i.e. ascriptions to a Subjects-item of an attribute which is metabolically expressible, and this or that non-basic resultant happenstance attribution, in which the attribute ascribed, though not itself metabolically expressible, is such that its possession by a Subjects item is suitably related to the possession by that or by some other Subjects item, of this or that attribute which is metabolically expressible. Any member of the class of happenstance attributions may be used to say what happens, or happens to be the case, without talking about any special entity belonging to a class of a happening or a happenstance. A next stage involves the introduction of the operator  consists of the fact that  This operator, when prefixed to a sentence S that makes a happen-stance attribution to a Subjects-item, yields a predicate which is satisfied by an entity which is a happenstance, provided that sentence S is doxastically satisfactory, i. e., 1, and that some further metaphysical condition obtains, which ensures the metaphysical necessity of the introduction into reality of the category of a happenstance, thereby ensuring that this new category is not just a class of this or that fiction. As far as the slingshot fallacy, and the hideous consequence that all facts become identical to one Great Big Fact, in the light of a defence of Reichenbach against the realist attack, Grice is reasonably confident that a metaphysical extension of reality will not saddle him with an intolerable paradox, pace the caveat that, to some, the slingshot is not contradictory in the way a paradox is, but merely an unexpected consequence ‒ not seriously hideous, at that. What this metaphysical condition would be which would justify the metaphysical extension remains, alas, to be determined. It is tempting to think that the metaphysical condition is connected with a theoretical need to have this or that happenstance as this or that item in, say, a causal relation. Grice goes on to provide a progression of linguistic botanising including free. Grice distinguishes four elements or stages in the step-by-step development of freedom. A first stage is the transeunt causation one finds in inanimate objects, as when we experience a stone in free fall. This is Hume’s realm, the atomistss realm. This is external or transeunt casuation, when an object is affected by processes in other objects. A second stage is internal or immanent causation, where a process in an object is the outcome of previous stages in that process, as in a freely moving body. A third stage is the internal causation of a living being, in which changes are generated in a creature by internal features of the creature which are not earlier stages of the same change, but independent items, the function or finality of which is to provide for the good of the creature in question. A fourth stage is a culminating stage at which the conception of a certain mode by a human of something as being for that creatures good is sufficient to initiate the doing of that thing. Grice expands on this interesting last stage. At this stage, it is the case that the creature is liberated from every factive cause. There is also a discussion of von Wrights table of adverbial modifiers, or Grices pentagram. Also an exploration of specificity: Jack buttering a parsnip in the bathroom in the presence of Jill. Grice revisits some of his earlier concerns, and these are discussed in the appropriate places, such as his exploration on the Grecian etymology of aition. “That”-clause should be preferred to ‘oratio obliqua,’ since the latter is a misnomer when you ascribe a psychological state rather than an utterance. Refs.: The main sources are given under ‘oratio obliqua’ above, The BANC.

theory-theory, v. Grice’s theory-theory.

theseus’s ship. Grice sails on Theseus’s ship. Theseus’ ship: Example used by Grice to relativise ‘identity.’ After the hero Theseus accomplished his mission to sail to Crete to kill the Minotaur, his ship (Ship 1) was put on display in Athens. As the time went by, its original planks and other parts were replaced one by one with new materials until one day all of its parts were new, with none of its original parts remaining. Do we want to say that the completely rebuilt ship (Ship 2) is the same as the original or that it is a different ship? The case is further complicated. If all the original materials were kept and eventually used to construct a ship (Ship 3), would this ship be the same as the original? This example has inspired much discussion concerning the problems of identity and individuation. “To be something later is to be its closest continuer. Let us apply this view to one traditional puzzle about identity over time: the puzzle of the ship of Theseus.” Nozick, Philosophical Explanation. Grice basically formalized this with G. Myro. Refs.: Collingwood, translation of Benedetto Croce, “Il paradosso della nave di Teseo,” H. P. Grice, “Relative identity,” The Grice Papers, BANC.

thomson: Grice did not collaborate with that many friends. He did with his tutee Strawson. He later did it with G. J. Warnock only on the theory of perception (notably the ‘visum’). He collaborated with two more Oxonian philosophers, and with both on the philosophy of action: D. F. Pears and J. F. Thomson.  J. F. Scots London-born philosopher who would often give seminars with H. P. Grice. They also explored ‘philosophy of action.’ Thomson presented his views on public occasons on the topic, usually under the guidance of D. F. Pears – on topics such as ‘freedom of the will.’ Thomson has assocations with University, and is a Fellow of Corpus, Grice’s alma.

thomsonianism: Grice explored philosophy of action with J. F. Thomson. Thomson would socialize mainly with Grice and D. F. Pears. Oddly, Thomson was also interested in ‘if’ and reached more or less the same Philonian consequences that Grice does.         

three-year-old’s guide to Russell’s theory of types, the – by H. P. Grice, with an appendix by P. F. Strawson, “Advice to parents,” v. Grice’s three-year-old’s guide.

transcendental club. “A club I created to discuss what I call a ‘metaphysical argument,’ but Kant calls ‘transcendental.’ Strawson objected to my calling it “The Metaphysical Club.” transcendentalism: Also called “New England transcendentalism,” an early nineteenth-century spiritual and philosophical movement in the United States, represented by Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau. It was centered in the so-called The Transcendental Club in Boston, and published a quarterly journal The Dial. Influenced by German idealism and Romanticism, it claimed that there is a spirit of the whole, the over-soul, which is beyond the space and time of the everyday world but at the same time immanent in it, and which forms a higher spiritual reality. It advocated an ascetic lifestyle, emphasized selfreliance and communal living, and rejected contemporary civilization. The eventual goal of life is to achieve a mystical unity with this spiritual reality, that is, with nature. Transcendentalism is viewed as a mixture of speculative philosophy and semi-religious faith. This philosophical movement had a deep influence upon existentialism, James’s pragmatism, and contemporary environmental philosophy. In a broad sense, transcendentalism is any doctrine that emphasizes the transcendental, and is taken as a synonym of transcendental philosophy. In this sense, all types of absolute philosophy, especially those idealist systems that emphasize the transcendence of the Absolute over the finite world, are considered examples of transcendentalism. Thus, transcendentalists had aims differing from those of Kant’s transcendental philosophy, which criticized those who wished to extend knowledge beyond experience and instead sought to use a transcendental argument to establish the conditions for the possibility of experience. “The transcendentalists believed in man’s ability to apprehend absolute Truth, absolute Justice, absolute Rectitude, absolute goodness. They spoke of the Right, the True, the Beautiful as eternal realities which man can discover in the world and which he can incorporate into his life. And they were convinced of the unlimited perfectibility of man.” Werkmeister, A History of Philosophical Ideas in America.

type: v. Grice’s three-year-old’s guide to Russell’s theory of types.

uncertainty, v. certum. It may be held that ‘uncertain’ is wrong. Grice is certain that p. It is not the case that Grice is certain that p.

universale: Like ‘qualia,’ which is the plural for ‘quale,’ ‘universalia’ is the plural for ‘universale.’ The totum for Grice on “all” -- This is a Gricism. It all started with arbor porphyriana. It is supposed to translate Aristotle’s “to kath’olou” (which happens to be one of the categories in Kant, “alleheit,” and which Aristotle contrasts with “to kath’ekastou,” (which Kant has as a category, SINGULARITAS. For a nominalist, any predicate is a ‘name,’ hence ‘nominalism.’ Opposite ‘realism.’ “Nominalism” is actually a misnomer. The opposite of realism is anti-realism. We need something like ‘universalism,’ (he who believes in the existence, not necessary ‘reality’ of a universal) and a ‘particularist,’ or ‘singularist,’ who does not. Note that the opposite of ‘particularism,’ is ‘totalism.’ (Totum et pars). Grice holds a set-theoretical approach to the universalium. Grice is willing to provide always a set-theoretical extensionalist (in terms of predicate) and an intensionalist variant in terms of property and category. Grice explicitly uses ‘X’ for utterance-type (WOW:118), implying a distinction with the utterance-token. Grice gets engaged in a metabolical debate concerning the reductive analysis of what an utterance-type means in terms of a claim to the effect that, by uttering x, an utterance-token of utterance-type X, the utterer means that p. The implicature is x (utterance-token). Grice is not enamoured with the type/token or token/type distinction. His thoughts on logical form are provocative. f you cannot put it in logical form, it is not worth saying. Strawson infamously reacted with a smile. Oh, no: if you CAN put it in logical form, it is not worth saying. Grice refers to the type-token distinction when he uses x for token and X for type. Since Bennett cares to call Grice a meaning-nominalist we should not care about the type X anyway. He expands on this in Retrospective Epilogue. Grice should have payed more attention to the distinction seeing that it was Ogdenian. A common mode of estimating the amount of matter in a printed book is to count the number of words. There will ordinarily be about twenty thes on a page, and, of course, they count as twenty words. In another use of the word word, however, there is but one word the in the English language; and it is impossible that this word should lie visibly on a page, or be heard in any voice. Such a Form, Peirce, as cited by Ogden and Richards, proposes to term a type. A single object such as this or that word on a single line of a single page of a single copy of a book, Peirce ventures to call a token. In order that a type may be used, it has to be embodied in a token which shall be a sign of the type, and thereby of the object the type signifies, and Grice followed suit. Refs.: Some of the sources are given under ‘abstractum.’ Also under ‘grecianism,’ since Grice was keen on exploring what Aristotle has to say about this in Categoriae, due to his joint research with Austin, Code, Friedman, and Strawson. Grice also has a specific Peirceian essay on the type-token distinction. BANC.

universalisierung:  While Gric uses ‘univesal,’ he means like Russell, the unnecessary implication of ‘every.’ Oddly, Kant does not relate this –ung with the first of his three categories under ‘quantitas,’ the universal. But surely they are related. Problem is that Kant wasn’t aware because he kept moving from the Graeco-Roman classical vocabulary to the Hun. Thus, Kant has “Allheit,” which he renders in Latinate as “Universitas,” and “Totalität,” gehört in der Kategorienlehre des Philosophen Immanuel Kant zu den reinen Verstandesbegriffen, d. h. zu den Elementen des Verstandes, welche dem Menschen bereits a priori, also unabhängig von der sinnlichen Erfahrung gegeben sind. “Allheit” wird wie Einheit und Vielheit den Kategorien der “Quantität” zugeordnet und entspricht den Einzelnen Urteilen (Urteil hier im Sinn von 'Aussage über die Wirklichkeit') in der Form „Ein S ist P“, also z. B. „Immanuel Kant ist ein Philosoph“. Sie wird von Kant definiert als „die Vielheit als Einheit betrachtet“ (KrV, B 497 f.)[3]. Siehe auch Transzendentale Analytik Weblinks. Allheit – Bedeutungserklärungen, Wortherkunft, Synonyme, Übersetzungen Einzelnachweise  Immanuel Kant: Kritik der reinen Vernunft. Reclam, Stuttgart 1966, ISBN 3-15-006461-9.  Peter Kunzmann, Franz-Peter Burkard, Franz Wiedmann: dtv-Atlas zur Philosophie. dtv, München 1991, ISBN 3-423-03229-4, S. 136 ff.  Zitiert nach Arnim Regenbogen, Uwe Meyer (Hrsg.): Wörterbuch der Philosophischen Begriffe. Meiner, Hamburg 2005, ISBN 3-7873-1738-4: Allheit Kategorie: Ontologie. Referred to by Grice in his “Method,” – “A requisite for a maxim to enter my manual, which I call the Immanuel, is that it should be universalizable. Die Untersuchung zur »Universalisierung in der Ethik« greift eine Problematik auf, die für eine Reihe der prominentesten Ethikentwürfe der Gegenwart sowohl des deutschsprachigen wie des angelsächsischen Raumes zentral ist, nämlich ob der normative Rationalitätsanspruch, den ethische Argumentationen erheben, auf eine dem wissenschaftlichen Anspruch der deskriptiven Gesetzeswissenschaften vergleichbare Weise eingelöst werden kann, nämlich durch Verallgemeinerungs- oder Universalisierungsprinzipien. universalizability Ethics The idea that moral judgments should be universalizable can be traced to the Golden Rule and Kant’s ethics. In the twentieth century it was elaborated by Hare and became a major thesis of his prescriptivism. The principle states that all moral judgments are universalizable in the sense that if it is right for a particular person A to do an action X, then it must likewise be right to do X for any person exactly like A, or like A in the relevant respects. Furthermore, if A is right in doing X in this situation, then it must be right for A to do X in other relevantly similar situations. Hare takes this feature to be an essential feature of moral judgments. An ethical statement is the issuance of a universal prescription. Universalizability is not the same as generality, for a moral judgment can be highly specific and detailed and need not be general or simple. The universalizability principle enables Hare to avoid the charge of irrationality that is usually lodged against non-cognitivism, to which his prescriptivism belongs, and his theory is thus a great improvement on emotivism. “I have been maintaining that the meaning of the word ‘ought’ and other moral words is such that a person who uses them commits himself thereby to a universal rule. This is the thesis of universalizability.” Hare, Freedom and Reason

urmsonianism. Who other than Urmson would come up with a counter-example to the sufficiency of Grice’s analysis of an act of communication. In a case of bribery, the response or effect in the emittee is NOT meant to be recognised. So we need a further restriction unless we want to say that the briber means that his emittee recognise the ‘gift’ as a meta-bribe.

Urmson’s bribe: Urmson’s use of the bribe is ‘accidental.’ What Urmson is getting at is that if the briber intends the bribe acts as a cause to effect a response, even a cognitive one, in the bribe, the propositional complexum, “This is a bribe,” should not necessarily be communicated. It is amazing how Grice changed the example into one about physical action. They seem different. On the other hand, Grice would not have cared to credit Urmson had it not believed it worth knowing that the criticism arose within the Play Group (Grice admired Urmson). In his earlier “Meaning,” Grice presents his own self-criticisms to arrive at a more refined analysis. But in “Utterer’s meaning and intention,” when it comes to the SUFFICIENCY, it’s all about other people: notably Urmson and Strawson. Grice cites Stampe before Strawson, but many ignore Stampe on the basis that Strawson does not credit him, and there is no reason why he should have been aware of it. But Stampe was at Oxford at the time so this is worth noting. It has to be emphasised that the author list is under ‘sufficiency.’ Under necessity, Grice does not credit the source of the objections, so we can assume it is Grice himself, as he had presented criticisms to his own view within the same ‘Meaning.’ It is curious that Grice loved Stampe. Grice CHANGED Urmon’s example, and was unable to provide a specific scenario to Strawson’s alleged counterexample, because Strawson is vague himself. But Stampe’s, Grice left unchanged. It seems few Oxonian philosohpers of Grice’s playgroup had his analytic acumen. Consider his sophisticated account of ‘meaning.’ It’s different if you are a graduate student from the New World, and you have to prove yourself intelligent. But for Grice’s playgroup companion, only three or four joined in the analysis. The first is Urmson. The second is Strawson. The case by Urmson involved a tutee offering to buy Gardiner an expensive dinner, hoping that Gardiner will give him permission for an over-night visit to London. Gardiner knows that his tutee wants his permission. The appropriate analysans for "By offering to buy Gardiner an expensive dinner, the tuttee means that Gardiner should give him permission for an overnight stay in London" are fulfilled: (1) The tutee offers to buy Gardiner an expensive dinner with the intention of producing a certain response on the part of Gardiner (2) The tutee intends that Gardiner should recognize (know, think) that the tutee is offering to buy him an expensive dinner with the intention of producing this response; (3) The tutee intends that Gardiners recognition (thought) that the tutee has the intention mentioned in (2) should be at least part of Gardiners reason for producing the response mentioned. If in general to specify in (i) the nature of an intended response is to specify what was meant, it should be correct not only to say that by offering to buy Gardiner an expensive dinner, the tutee means that Gardiner is to give him permission for an overnight stay in London, but also to say that he meas that Gardiner should (is to) give him permission for an over-night visit to London. But in fact one would not wish to say either of these things; only that the tutee meant Gardiner to give him permission. A restriction seems to be required, and one which might serve to eliminate this range of counterexamples can be identified from a comparison of two scenarios. Grice goes into a tobacconists shop, ask for a packet of my favorite cigarettes, and when the unusually suspicious tobacconist shows that he wants to see the color of my money before he hands over the goods, I put down the price of the cigarettes on the counter. Here nothing has been meant. Alternatively, Grice goes to his regular tobacconist (from whom I also purchase other goods) for a packet of my regular brand of Players Navy Cuts, the price of which is distinctive, say 43p. Grice says nothing, but puts down 43p. The tobacconist recognizes my need, and hands over the packet. Here, I think, by putting down 43p I meant something-Namesly, that I wanted a packet of Players Navy Cuts. I have at the same time provided an inducement. The distinguishing feature of the second example seems to be that here the tobacconist recognized, and was intended to recognize, what he was intended to do from my "utterance" (my putting down the money), whereas in the first example this was not the case. Nor is it the case with respect to Urmson’s case of the tutees attempt to bribe Gardiner. So one might propose that the analysis of meaning be amended accordingly. U means something by uttering x is true if: (i) U intends, by uttering x, to induce a certain response in A (2) U intends A to recognize, at least in part from the utterance of x, that U intends to produce that response (3) U intends the fulfillment of the intention mentioned in (2) to be at least in part As reason for fulfilling the intention mentioned in (i). This copes with Urmsons counterexample to Grices proposal in the Oxford Philosophical Society talk involving the tutee attempting to bribe Gardiner.

utterer: cf. emissum, emissor. Usually Homo sapiens sapiens – and usually Oxonian, the Homo sapiens sapiens Grice interactes with. Sometimes tutees, sometimes tutor. There is something dualistic about the ‘utterer.’ It is a vernacularism from English ‘out.’ So the French impressionists were into IM-pressing, out to in; the German expressionists were into EX-pressing, in to out. Or ‘man’. The important thing is for Grice to avoid ‘speaker.’ He notes that ‘utterance’ has a nice fuzziness about it. He still notes that he is using ‘utter’ in a ‘perhaps artificial’ way. He was already wedded to ‘utter’ in  his talk for the Oxford Philosopical Society. Grice does not elaborate much on general gestures or signals. His main example is a sort of handwave by which the emissor communicates that either he knows the route or that he is about to leave the addressee. Even this is complex. Let’s try to apply his final version of communication to the hand-wave. The question of “Homo sapiens sapiens” is an interesting one. Grice is all for ascribing predicates regarding the soul to what he calls the ‘lower animals’. He is not ready to ascribe emissor’s meaning to them. Why? Because of Schiffer! I mean, when it comes to the conditions of necessity of the reductive analysis, he seems okay. When it comes to the sufficiency, there are two types of objection. One by Urmson, easily dismissed. The second, first by Stampe and Strawson, not so easily. But Grice agrees to add a clause limiting intentions to be ‘in the open.’ Those who do not have a philosophical background usually wonder about this. So for their sake, it may be worth considering Grice’s synthetic a posteriori argument to refuse an emissor other than a Homo sapiens sapiens to be able to ‘mean,’ if not ‘communicate,’ or ‘signify.’ There is an objection which is not mentioned by his editors, which seems to Grice to be one to which Grice must respond. The objection may be stated thus. One of the leading strands in Grice’s reductive analysis of an emissor communicating that p is that communication is not to be regarded exclusively, or even primarily, as a ‘feature’ of emissors who use what philosophers of language call ‘language’ (Sprache, Taal, Langage, Linguaggio – to restrict to the philosophical lexicon, cf. Plato’s Cratylus), and a fortiori of an emissor who emits this or that “linguistic” ‘utterance.’ There are many instances of NOTABLY NON-“linguistic” vehicles or devices of communication, within a communication-system, which fulfil this or that communication-function; these vehicles or devices are mostly syntactically un-structured or amorphous. Sometimes, a device may exhibit at least some rudimentary syntactic structure, in that we may distinguish a totum from a pars and identify a ‘simplex’ within a ‘complexum.’ Grice’s intention-based reductive analysis of a communicatum, based on Aristotle, Locke, and Peirce, is designed to allow for the possibility that a non-“linguistic,” and, further, indeed a non-“conventional” 'utterance' token, perhaps even manifesting some degree of syntactic structure, and not just a block of an amorphous signal, may be within the ‘repertoire’ of ‘procedures’ of this or that organism, or creature, or agent, which, even if not relying on any apparatus for communication of the kind that that we may label ‘linguistic’ or otherwise ‘conventional,’  ‘do’ this or that ‘thing’ thereby ‘communicating’ that p, or q. To provide for this possibility, it is plainly necessary that the key ingredient in any representation of ‘communicating,’ viz. intending that p, should be a ‘state’ of the emissor’s soul the capacity for which does not require what we may label the ‘possession’ of, shall we say, a ‘faculty,’ of what philosophers call ‘a’ ‘language’ (Sprache, Taal, langue, lingua – note that in German we do not distinguish between ‘die Deutsche Sprache’ and ‘Sprache’ as ‘ein Facultat.’). Now a philosopher, relying on this or that neo-Prichardian reductive analysis of ‘intending that p,’ may not be willing to allow the possibility of such, shall we call it, pre-linguistic intending that p, or non-linguistic intending that p. Surely if the emissor realizes that his addressee does not share what the Germans call ‘die Deutsche Sprache,” the emissor may still communicate with his addresse this or that by doing this or that. E. g. he may simulate that he wants to smoke a cigarette and wonders if his addressee has one to spare. Against that objection, Grice surely wins the day. But Grice grants that winning the day on THAT front may not be enough. And that is because, as far as Grice’s Oxonian explorations on communication go, in a succession of increasingly elaborate moves – ending with a ‘closure’ clause which cut this succession of increasingly elaborate moves -- designed to thwart this or that scenario, later deemed illegitimate, involving two rational agents where the emissor relies on an ‘inference-element’ that it is not the case that he intends his addressee will recogise – Grice is led to restrict the ‘intending’ which is to constitute a case of an emissor communicating that p to C-intending. Grice suspects that whatever may be the case in general with regard to ‘intending,’ C-intending seems for some reason to Grice to be unsophisticatedly, viz. plainly, too sophisticated a ‘state’ of a soul to be found in an organism, ‘pirot,’ creature, that we may not want to deem ‘rational,’ or as the Germans would say, a creature that is destitute of “Die Deutsche Sprache.” We need the pirot to be “very intelligent, indeed rational.”Grice regrets that some may think that what he thought were unavoidable rear-guard actions (ending with a complex reductive analysis of C-intending) seem to have undermined the raison d'etre of the Griciean campaign.”Unfortunately, Grice provides what he admittedly labels “a brief reply” which “will have to suffice.” Why? Because “a full treatment would require delving deep into crucial problems concerning the boundaries between vicious and virtuous circularity.” Which is promising. It is not something totally UNATTAINABLE. It reduces to the philosopher being virtuously circular, only! Why is the ‘virtuous circle’ so crucial – vide ‘circulus virtuosus.’ virtŭōsus , a, um, adj. virtus, I.virtuous, good (late Lat.), Aug. c. Sec. Man. 10. A circle is virtuous if it is not that bad. In this case, we need the ‘virtuous circle’ because we are dealing with ‘a loop.’ This is exactly Schiffer’s way of putting it in his ‘Introduction’ to Meaning (second edition). There is a ‘conceptual loop.’ Schiffer is not interested in ‘communicating;’ only ‘meaning.’ But his point can be transferred. He is saying that ‘U means that p,’ may rely on ‘U intends that p,’ where ‘U intends that p’ relies on ‘U means that p.’ There is a loop. In more generic terms:We have a creature, call it a pirot P1 that, by doing thing T, communicates that p. Are we talking of the OBSERVER? I hope so, because Grice’s favourite pirot is the parrot. So we have Prince Maurice’s Parrot. Locke: Since I think I may be confident, that, whoever should see a CREATURE of his own shape or make, though it had no more reason all its life than a cat or a PARROT, would call him still A MAN; or whoever should hear a cat or a parrot discourse, reason, and philosophize, would call or think it nothing but a cat or a PARROT; and say, the one was A DULL IRRATIONAL MAN, and the other A VERY INTELLIGENT RATIONAL PARROT. A relation we have in an author of great note, is sufficient to countenance the supposition of A RATIONAL PARROT. The author’s words are: I had a mind to know, from Prince Maurice's own mouth, the account of a common, but much credited story, that I had heard so often from many others, of an old parrot he has, that speaks, and asks, and answers common questions, like A REASONABLE CREATURE. So that those of his train there generally conclude it to be witchery or possession; and one of his chaplains, would never from that time endure A PARROT, but says all PARROTS have a devil in them. I had heard many particulars of this story, and as severed by people hard to be discredited, which made me ask Prince Maurice what there is of it. Prince Maurice says, with his usual plainness and dryness in talk, there is something true, but a great deal false of what is reported. I desired to know of him what there was of the first. Prince Maurice tells me short and coldly, that he had HEARD of such A PARROT; and though he believes nothing of it, and it was a good way off, yet he had so much curiosity as to send for the parrot: that it was a very great parrot; and when the parrot comes first into the room where Prince Maurice is, with a great many men about him, the parrot says presently, What a nice company is here. One of the men asks the parrot, ‘What thinkest thou that man is?,’ ostending his finger, and pointing to Prince Maurice. The parrot answers, ‘Some general -- or other.’ When the man brings the parrot close to Prince Maurice, Prince Maurice asks the parrot., “D'ou venez-vous?” The parrot answers, “De Marinnan.” Then Prince Maurice goes on, and poses a second question to the parrot. “A qui estes-vous?” The Parrot answers: “A un Portugais.” Prince Maurice asks a third question. “Que fais-tu la?” The parrot answers: “Je garde les poulles.”Prince Maurice smiles, which pleases the Parrot. Prince Maurice, violating a Griceian maxim, and being just informed that p, asks whether p. This is his fourth question. “Vous gardez les poulles?” The Parrot answers, “Oui, moi; et je scai bien faire.” The Parrott appeals to Peirce’s iconic system and makes the chuck four or five times that a man uses to make to chickens when a man calls them. I set down the words of this worthy dialogue in French, just as Prince Maurice said them to me. I ask Prince Maurice in what ‘language’ the parrot speaks. Prince Maurice says that the parrot speaks in Brazilian. I ask Prince William whether he understands the Brazilian language. Prince Maurice says: No, but he has taken care to have TWO interpreters by him, the one a Dutchman that spoke Brazilian, and the other a Brazilian that spoke Dutch; that Prince Maurice asked them separatelyand privately, and both of them AGREED in telling Prince Maurice just the same thing that the parrot had said. I could not but tell this ODD story, because it is so much out of the way, and from the first hand, and what may pass for a good one; for I dare say Prince Maurice at least believed himself in all he told me, having ever passed for a very honest and pious man. I leave it to naturalists to reason, and to other men to believe, as they please upon it. However, it is not, perhaps, amiss to relieve or enliven a busy scene sometimes with such digressions, whether to the purpose or no.Locke takes care that the reader should have the story at large in the author's own words, because he seems to me not to have thought it incredible.For it cannot be imagined that so able a man as he, who had sufficiency enough to warrant all the testimonies he gives of himself, should take so much pains, in a place where it had nothing to do, to pin so close, not only on a man whom he mentions as his friend, but on a prince in whom he acknowledges very great honesty and piety, a story which, if he himself thought incredible, he could not but also think RIDICULOUS. Prince Maurice, it is plain, who vouches this story, and our author, who relates it from him, both of them call this talker A PARROT. And Locke asks any one else who thinks such a story fit to be told, whether, if this PARROT, and all of its kind, had always talked, as we have a prince's word for it this one did,- whether, I say, they would not have passed for a race of RATIONAL ANIMALS; but yet, whether, for all that, they would have been allowed to be MEN, and not PARROTS? For I presume it is not the idea of A THINKING OR RATIONAL BEING alone that makes the idea of A MAN in most people's sense: but of A BODY, so and so shaped, joined to it: and if that be the idea of a MAN, the same successive body not shifted all at once, must, as well as  THE SAME IMMATERIAL SPIRIT, go to the making of the same MAN. So back to Grice’s pirotology.But first a precis of the conversation, or languaging:PARROT: What a nice company is here.MAN (pointing to Prince Maurice): What thinkest thou that man is?PARROT: Some general -- or other. (i. e. the parrot displays what Grice calls ‘up-take.’ The parrot recognizes the man’s c-intention. So far is ability to display uptake.PRINCE MAURICE: D'ou venez-vous?PARROT: De Marinnan.PRINCE MAURICE: A qui estes-vous?PARROT: A un Portugais.PRINCE MAURICE: Que fais-tu la?PARROT: Je garde les poulles.PRINCE MAURICE SMILES and flouts a Griceian maxim: Vous gardez les poulles?PARROT (losing patience, and grasping the Prince’s implicature that he doubts it): Oui, moi. Et je scai bien faire.(The Parrott then appeals to Peirce’s iconic system and makes the chuck five times that a man uses to make to chickens when a man calls them.)So back to Grice:“According to my most recent speculations about communication, one should distinguish between what I call the ‘factual’ or ‘de facto’ character of behind the state of affairs that one might describe as ‘rational agent A communicates that p,’ for those communication-relevant features which obtain or are present in the circumstances) the ‘titular’ or ‘de jure’ character, viz. the nested C-intending which is only deemed to be present. And the reason Grice calls it ‘nested’ is that it involves three sub-intentions:(C) Emissor E communicates that (psi*) p iff Emissor E c-intends that A recognises that E psi-s that p iffC1: Emissor E intends A to recognise that A psi-s that p.C2: Emissor intends that A recognise C1 by A recognising C2C3: There is no inference-element which is C-constitutive such that Emissor relies on it and yet does not intend A to recognise.Grice:“The titular or de jure character of the state of affairs that is described as “Emissor communicates that p,” involves self-reference in the closure clause regarding the third intention, C3, may be thought as being ‘regressive,’ or involving what mathematicians mean when they use “, …;” and the translators of Aristotle, ‘eis apeiron,’ translated as ‘ad infinitum.’There may be ways of UNDEEMING this, i. e. of stating that self-reference and closure are meant to BLOCK an infinite regress. Hence the circle, if there is one – one feature of a virtuous circle is that it doesn’t look like a circle simpliciter --  would be virtuous. The ‘de jure’ character stands for a situation which, in Grice’s words, is “infinitely complex,” and so cannot be actually present in toto – only DEEMED to be.”“In which case,” Grice concludes pointing to the otiosity or rendering inoperative, “to point out that THE INCONCEIVABLE actual presence of the ‘de jure’ character of ‘Emissor communicates that p’ WOULD, still, be possible, or would be detectable, only via the ‘use’ of something like ‘die Deutsche Sprache’ seem to serve little, if any, purpose.”“At its most meagre, the factual or ‘de facto’ character consists merely in the pre-rational ‘counterpart’ of the state of affairs describable by “Emissor E communicates that p,” which might amount to no more than making a certain sort of utterance in order thereby to get some creature to think or want some particular thing.This meagre condition does not involve a reference to any expertise regarding anything like ‘die Deutsche Sprache.’Let’s reformulate the condition.It’s just a pirot, at a ‘pre-rational’ level. The pirot does a thing T IN ORDER THEREBY to get some other pirot to think or do some particular thing. To echo Hare,Die Tur ist geschlossen, ja.Die Tur ist geschlossen, bitte.Grice continues as a corollary: “Maybe in a less straightforward instance of “Emissor E communicates that p” there is actually present the C-intention whose feasibility as an ‘intention’ suggests some ability to use ‘die Deutsche Sprache.’But vide “non-verbal communication,” pre-verbal communication, languaging, pre-conventional communication, gestural communication – as in What Grice has as “a gesture (a signal).” Not necessary ‘conventional,’ and MAYBE ‘established’ – is one-off sufficient for ‘established’? I think so. By waving his hand in a particular way (“a particular sort of hand wave”), the emissor communicates that he knows the route (or is about to leave the addressee).  Grice concludes about the less straightforward instances, that there can be no advance guarantee when this will be so, i. e. that there is actually present the C-intention whose feasibility as an intention points to some capacity to use ‘die Deutsche Sprache.’Grice adds: “It is in any case arguable that the use of ‘die Deutsche Sprache’ would here be an indispensable aid to philosophising about communication, rather than it being an element in the PHILOSOPHISING about communication!  Philosophers of Grice’s generation use ‘man’ on purpose to mean ‘mankind’. What a man means. What a man utters. The utterer is the man. In semiotics one can use something more Latinate, like gesturer, or emitter – or profferer. The distinction is between what an utterer means and what the logical and necessary implication. He doesn’t need to say this since ‘imply’ in the logical usage does not take utterer as subject. It’s what the utterer SAYS that implies this or that. (Strawson and Wiggins, p. 519). The utterer is possibly the ‘expresser.’

vagum: Oddly, A. C. Ewing has a very early thing on ‘vagueness.’ Grice liked Ewing. There is an essay on “Clarity” which relates. Cf. Price, “Clarity is not enough” Which implicates it IS a necessity, though. Cf. “Clarity – who cares?” Some days, Grice did not feel ‘Grecian,’ and would use very vernacular expressions. He thought that what Cicero calls ‘vagum’ is best rendered in Oxfordshire dialect as ‘fuzzy.’ It is not clear which of Grice’s maxim controls this. The opposite of ‘vague’ is ‘specific.’ Grice was more concerned about this in the earlier lectures where he has under the desideratum of conversational candour and the principle of conversational benevolence, and the desideratum of conversational clarity that one should be explicit, and make one’s point explicit. But under the submaxims of the conversational category of modus (‘be perspicuous [sic]), none seem to prohibit ‘vagueness’ as such: Avoid obscurity of expression.Avoid ambiguity.Be brief (avoid unnecessary prolixity).Be orderly The one he later calls a ‘tailoring principle’ ‘frame your contribution in way that facilitates a reply’, the ‘vagueness’ avoidance seems implicit. Cf. fuzzy. The indeterminacy of the field of application of an expression, in contrast to precision. For instance, the expression “young man” is vague since the point at which its appropriate application to a person begins and ends cannot be precisely defined. Vagueness should be distinguished from ambiguity, by which a term has more than one meaning. The vagueness of an expression is due to a semantic feature of the term itself, rather than to the subjective condition of its user. Vagueness gives rise to borderline cases, and propositions with vague terms lack a definite truth-value. For this reason, Frege rejected the possibility of vague concepts, although they are tolerated in recent work in vague or fuzzy logic. Various paradoxes arise due to the vagueness of words, including the ancient sorites paradox. It is because of its intrinsic vagueness that some philosophers seek to replace ordinary language with an ideal language. But ordinary language philosophers hold that this proposal creates a false promise of eliminating vagueness. Wittgenstein’s notion of family resemblance in part is a model of meaning that tolerates vagueness. As a property of expressions, vagueness extends to all sorts of cognitive representations. Some philosophers hold that there can be vagueness in things as well as in the representation of things. “A representation is vague when the relation of the representing system to the represented system is not one–one, but one–many.” Russell, Collected Papers of Bertrand Russell, vol. IX. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “Fuzzy impicatures, and how to unfuzz them.”

valitum: Oddly Vitters has a couple of lectures on ‘value,’ that Grice ‘ignored.’ Valitum should be contrasted from‘validum.’ ‘Valid,’ which is cognate with ‘value,’ a noun Grice loved, is used by logicians. In Grice’s generalised alethic-cum-deontic logic, ‘valid’ applies, too. ‘Valid’ is contrasted to the ‘satisfactoriness’ value that attaches directly to the utterance. ‘Valid’ applies to the reasoning, i.e. the sequence of psychological states from the premise to the conclusion. How common and insidious was the talk of a realm of ‘values’ at Oxford in the early 1930s to have Barnes attack it, and Grice defend it? ‘The realm of values’ sounds like an ordinary man’s expression, and surely Oxford never had a Wilson Chair of Metaphysical Axiology.  validum is the correct form out of Roman ‘valeor.’ Grice finds the need for the English equivalent, and plays with constructing the ‘concept’ “to be of value”! There’s also the axiologicum. The root for ‘value’ as ‘axis’ is found in Grice’s favourite book of the Republic, the First! Grice sometimes enjoys sounding pretentious and uses the definite article ‘the’ indiscriminately, just to tease Flew, his tutee, who said that talking of ‘the self’ is just ‘rubbish’. It is different with Grice’s ‘the good’ (to agathon), ‘the rational,’ (to logikon), ‘the valuable’ (valitum), and ‘the axiological’. Of course, whilesticking with ‘value,’ Grice plays with Grecian “τιμή.” Lewis and Short have ‘vălor,’ f. ‘valeo,’ which they render as ‘value,’ adding that it is supposed to translate in Gloss. Lab, Grecian ‘τιμή.’ ‘valor, τιμή, Gloss. Lab.’ ‘Valere,’ which of course algo gives English ‘valid,’ that Grice overuses, is said by Lewis and Short to be cognate with “vis,” “robur,” “fortissimus,” cf. debilis” and they render as “to be strong.” So one has to be careful here. “Axiology” is a German thing, and not used at Clifton or Oxford, where they stick with ‘virtus’ or ‘arete.’ This or that Graeco-Roman philosopher may have explored a generic approach to ‘value.’ Grice somewhat dismisses Hare who in Language of Morals very clearly distinguishes between deontic ‘ought’ and teleological, value-judgemental ‘good.’ For ‘good’ may have an aesthetic use: ‘that painting is good,’ the food is good). The sexist ‘virtus’ of the Romans perhaps did a disservice to Grecian ‘arete,’ but Grice hardly uses ‘arete,’ himself. It is etymologically unrelated to ‘agathon,’ yet rumour has it that ‘arete,’ qua ‘excellence,’ is ‘aristos,’ the superlative of ‘agathon.’ Since Aristotle is into the ‘mesotes,’ Grice worries not. Liddell and Scott have “ἀρετή” and render it simpliciter as “goodness, excellence, of any kind,” adding that “in Hom. esp. of manly qualities”: “ποδῶν ἀρετὴν ἀναφαίνων;” “ἀμείνων παντοίας ἀρετὰς ἠμὲν πόδας ἠδὲ μάχεσθαι καὶ νόον;” so of the gods, “τῶν περ καὶ μείζων ἀ. τιμή τε βίη τε;” also of women, “ἀ. εἵνεκα for valour,” “ἀ. ἀπεδείκνυντο,” “displayed brave deeds.”  But when Liddell and Scott give the philosophical references (Plathegel and Ariskant), they do render “ἀρετή,” as ‘value,’ generally, excellence, “ἡ ἀ. τελείωσίς τις” Arist. Met. 1021b20, cf. EN1106a15, etc.; of persons, “ἄνδρα πὺξ ἀρετὰν εὑρόντα,” “τὸ φρονεῖν ἀ. μεγίστη,” “forms of excellence, “μυρίαι ἀνδρῶν ἀ.;” “δικαστοῦ αὕτη ἀ.;” esp. moral virtue, opp. “κακία,” good nature, kindness, etc. We should not be so concerned about this, were not for the fact that Grice explored Foot, not just on meta-ethics as a ‘suppositional’ imperratives, but  on ‘virtue’ and ‘vice,’ by Foot, who had edited a reader in meta-ethics for the series of Grice’s friend, Warnock. Grice knows that when he hears the phrases value system, or belief system, he is conversing with a relativist. So he plays jocular here. If a value is not a concept, a value system at least is not what Davidson calls a conceptual scheme. However, in “The conception of value” (henceforth, “Conception”) Grice does argue that value IS a concept, and thus part of the conceptual scheme by Quine. Hilary Putnam congratulates Grice on this in “Fact and value,” crediting Baker – i. e. Judy – into the bargain. While utilitarianism, as exemplified by Bentham, denies that a moral intuition need be taken literally, Bentham assumes the axiological conceptual scheme of hedonistic eudaemonism, with eudaemonia as the maximal value (summum bonum) understood as hedone. The idea of a system of values (cf. system of ends) is meant to unify the goals of the agent in terms of the pursuit of eudæmonia. Grice wants to disgress from naturalism, and the distinction between a description and anything else. Consider the use of ‘rational’ as applied to ‘value.’ A naturalist holds that ‘rational’ can be legitimately apply to the ‘doxastic’ realm, not to the ‘buletic’ realm. A desire (or a ‘value’) a naturalist would say is not something of which ‘rational’ is predicable. Suppose, Grice says, I meet a philosopher who is in the habit of pushing pins into other philosophers. Grice asks the philosopher why he does this. The philosopher says that it gives him pleasure. Grice asks him whether it is the fact that he causes pain that gives him pleasure. The philosopher replies that he does not mind whether he causes pain. What gives him pleasure is the physical sensation of driving a pin into a philosopher’s body. Grice asks him whether he is aware that his actions cause pain. The philosopher says that he is. Grice asks him whether he would not feel pain if others did this to him. The philosopher agrees that he would. I ask him whether he would allow this to happen. He says that he guesses he would seek to prevent it. Grice asks him whether he does not think that others must feel pain when he drives pins into them, and whether he should not do to others what he would try to prevent them from doing to him. The philosopher says that pins driven into him cause him pain and he wishes to prevent this. Pins driven by him into others do not cause him pain, but pleasure, and he therefore wishes to do it. Grice asks him whether the fact that he causes pain to other philosophers does not seem to him to be relevant to the issue of whether it is rationally undesirable to drive pins into people. He says that he does not see what possible difference can pain caused to others, or the absence of it, make to the desirability of deriving pleasure in the way that he does. Grice asks him what it is that gives him pleasure in this particular activity. The philosopher replies that he likes driving pins into a philosopher’s resilient body. Grice asks whether he would derive equal pleasure from driving pins into a tennis ball. The philosopher says that he would derive equal pleasure, that into what he drives his pins, a philosopher or a tennis ball, makes no difference to him – the pleasure is similar, and he is quite prepared to have a tennis ball substituted, but what possible difference can it make whether his pins perforate living men or tennis balls? At this point, Grice begins to suspect that the philosopher is evil. Grice does not feel like agreeing with a naturalist, who reasons that the pin-pushing philosopher is a philosopher with a very different scale of moral values from Grice, that a value not being susceptible to argument, Grice may disagree but not reason with the pin-pushing philosopher. Grice rather sees the pin-pushing philosopher beyond the reach of communication from the world occupied by him. Communication is as unattainable as it is with a philosopher who that he is a doorknob, as in the story by Hoffman. A value enters into the essence of what constitutes a person. The pursuit of a rational end is part of the essence of a person. Grice does not claim any originality for his position (which much to Ariskant), only validity. The implicatum by Grice is that rationalism and axiology are incompatible, and he wants to cancel that. So the keyword here is rationalistic axiology, in the neo-Kantian continental vein, with a vengeance. Grice arrives at value (validitum, optimum, deeming) via Peirce on meaning. And then there is the truth “value,” a German loan-translation (as value judgment, Werturteil). The sorry story of deontic logic, Grice says, faces Jørgensens dilemma. The dilemma by Jørgensens is best seen as a trilemma, Grice says; viz. Reasoning requires that premise and conclusion have what Boole, Peirce, and Frege call a “truth” value. An imperative dos not have a “truth” value. There may be a reasoning with an imperative as premise or conclusion. A philosopher can reject the first horn and provide an inference mechanism on elements – the input of the premise and the output of the conclusion -- which are not presupposed to have a “truth” value. A philosopher can reject the second horn and restrict ‘satisfactory’ value to a doxastic embedding a buletic (“He judges he wills…”). A philosopher can reject the third horn, and refuse to explore the desideratum. Grice generalizes over value as the mode-neutral ‘satisfactory.’ Both ‘p’ and “!p” may be satisfactory. ‘.p’ has doxastic value (0/1); ‘!p’ has buletic value  (0/1). The mode marker of the utterance guides the addresse you as to how to read ‘satisfactory.’ Grice’s ‘satisfactory’ is a variation on a theme by Hofstadter and McKinsey, who elaborate a syntax for the imperative mode, using satisfaction. They refer to what they call the ‘satisfaction-function’ of a fiat. A fiat is ‘satisfied’ (as The door is closed may also be said to be satisfied iff the door is closed) iff what is commanded is the case. The fiat ‘Let the door be closed’ is satisfied if the door is closed. An unary or dyadic operator becomes a satisfaction-functor. As Grice puts it, an inferential rule, which flat rationality is the capacity to apply, is not arbitrary. The inferential rule picks out a transition of acceptance in which transmission of ‘satisfactory’ is guaranteed or expected. As Grice notes, since mode marker indicate the species ‘satisfactory’ does. He imports into the object-language ‘It is satisfactory-d/p that’ just in case psi-d/b-p is satisfactory. Alla Tarski, Grice introduces ‘It is acceptable that’: It is acceptable that psi-d/b-p is satisfactory-b/d just in case ‘psi-d/b-p is satisfactory-d/b’ is satisfactory-b/d. Grice goes on to provide a generic value-assignment for satisfactoriness-functors. For coordinators: “φ Λ ψ” is 1-b/d just in case φ is 1-b/d and ψ is 1-b/d. “φ ν ψ”  is 1-b/d just in case one of the pair, φ and ψ, is 1-b/d. For subordinator: “φ⊃ψ” is 1-b/d just in case either φ is 0-b/d or ψ is 0-b/d. There are, however, a number of points to be made. It is not fully clear to Grice just how strong the motivation is for assigning a value to a mode-neutral, generic functor. Also he is assuming symmetry, leaving room for a functor is introduced if a restriction is imposed. Consider a bi-modal utterance. “The beast is filthy and do not touch it” and “The beast is filthy and I shall not touch it” seem all right. The commutated “Do not touch the beast and it is filthy” is dubious. “Touch the beast and it will bite you,” while idiomatic is hardly an imperative, since ‘and’ is hardly a conjunction. “Smith is taking a bath or leave the bath-room door open” is intelligible. The commutated “Leave the bath-room door open or Smith is taking a bath” is less so. In a bi-modal utterance, Grice makes a case for the buletic to be dominant over the doxastic. The crunch comes, however, with one of the four possible unary satisfactoriness-functors, especially with regard to the equivalence of  “~psi-b/d-p” and “psi-b/d-~p). Consider “Let it be that I now put my hand on my head” or  “Let it be that my bicycle faces north” in which neither seems to be either satisfactory or unsatisfactory. And it is a trick to assign a satisfactory value to “~psi-b/d-p” and “~psi-b/d~p.” Do we proscribe this or that form altogether, for every cases? But that would seem to be a pity, since ~!~p seems to be quite promising as a representation for you may (permissive) do alpha that satisfies p; i.e., the utterer explicitly conveys his refusal to prohibit his addressee A doing alpha. Do we disallow embedding of (or iterating) this or that form? But that (again if we use ~!p and ~!~p  to represent may) seems too restrictive. Again, if !p is neither buletically satisfactory nor buletically unsatisfactory (U could care less) do we assign a value other than 1 or 0 to !p (desideratively neuter, 0.5). Or do we say, echoing Quine, that we have a buletically satisfactoriness value gap? These and other such problems would require careful consideration. Yet Grice cannot see that those problems would prove insoluble, any more than this or that analogous problem connected with Strawsons presupposition (Dont arrest the intruder!) are insoluble. In Strawsons case, the difficulty is not so much to find a solution as to select the best solution from those which present themselves. Grice takes up the topic of a calculus in connection with the introduction rule and the elimination rule of a modal such as must. We might hope to find, for each member of a certain family of modalities, an introduction rule and an elimination rule which would be analogous to the rules available for classical logical constants. Suggestions are not hard to come by. Let us suppose that we are seeking to provide such a pair of rules for the particular modality of necessity □. For (□,+) Grice considers the following (Grice thinks equivalent) forms: if φ is demonstrable, □φ is demonstrable. Provided φ is dependent on no assumptions, derive φ from □φ. For  (□,-), Grice considers From □φ derive φ. It is to be understood, of course, that the values of the syntactical variable φ would contain either a buletic or a doxastic mode markers. Both !p and .p would be proper substitutes for φ but p would not. Grice wonders: [W]hat should be said of Takeuti’s conjecture (roughly) that the nature of the introduction rule determines the character of the elimination rule? There seems to be no particular problem about allowing an introduction rule which tells us that, if it is established in P’s personalised system that φ, it is necessary, with respect to P, that φ is doxastically satisfactory/establishable. The accompanying elimination rule is, however, slightly less promising. If we suppose such a rule to tell us that, if one is committed to the idea that it is necessary, with respect to P, that φ, one is also committed to whatever is expressed by φ, we shall be in trouble. For such a rule is not acceptable. φ will be a buletic expression such as Let it be that Smith eats his hat. And my commitment to the idea that Smiths system requires him to eat his hat does not ipso facto involve me in accepting volitively Let Smith eat his hat. But if we take the elimination rule rather as telling us that, if it is necessary, with respect to X, that let X eat his hat, then let X eat his hat possesses satisfactoriness-with-respect-to-X, the situation is easier. For this person-relativised version of the rule seems inoffensive, even for Takeuti, we hope.  Grice, following Mackie, uses absolutism, as opposed to relativism, which denies the rational basis to attitude ascriptions (but cf. Hare on Subjectsivism). Grice is concerned with the absence of a thorough discussion of value by English philosophers, other than Hare (and he is only responding to Mackie!). Continental philosophers, by comparison, have a special discipline, axiology, for it! Similarly, a continental-oriented tradition Grice finds in The New World in philosophers of a pragmatist bent, such as Carus. Grice wants to say that rationality is a value, because it is a faculty that a creature (human) displays to adapt and survive to his changing environments. The implicature of the title is that values have been considered in the English philosophical tradition, almost alla Nietzsche, to belong to the realm irrational. Grice grants that axiological implicatum rests on a PRE-rational propension. While Grice could play with “the good” in the New World, as a Lit. Hum. he knew he had to be slightly more serious. The good is one of the values, but what is valuing? Would the New Worlders understand valuing unattached to the pragmatism that defines them? Grice starts by invoking Hume on his bright side: the concept of value, versus the conception of value. Or rather, how the concept of value derives from the conception of value. A distinction that would even please Aquinas (conceptum/conceptio), and the Humeian routine. Some background for his third Carus lecture. He tries to find out what Mackie means when he says that a value is ultimately Subjectsive. What about inter-Subjectsive, and constructively objective? Grice constructs absolute value out of relative value. But once a rational pirot P (henceforth, P – Grice liked how it sounded like Locke’s parrot) constructs value, the P assigns absolute status to rationality qua value. The P cannot then choose not to be rational at the risk of ceasing to exist (qua person, or essentially rationally human agent). A human, as opposed to a person, assigns relative value to his rationality. A human is accidentally rational. A person is necessarily so. A distinction seldom made by Aristotle and some of his dumbest followers obsessed with the modal-free adage, Homo rationale animal. Short and Lewis have “hūmānus” (old form: hemona humana et hemonem hominem dicebant, Paul. ex Fest. p. 100 Müll.; cf. homo I.init.), adj., f. “homo,” and which they render as “of or belonging to man, human.” Grice also considers the etymology of ‘person.’ Lewis and Short have ‘persōna,’  according to Gabius Bassus ap. Gell. 5, 7, 1 sq., f. ‘persŏno,’ “to sound through, with the second syllable lengthened.’ Falsa est (finitio), si dicas, Equus est animal rationale: nam est equus animal, sed irrationale, Quint.7,3,24:homo est animal rationale; “nec si mutis finis voluptas, rationalibus quoque: quin immo ex contrario, quia mutis, ideo non rationalibus;” “a rationali ad rationale;” “τὸ λογικόν ζῷον,” ChrysiStoic.3.95; ἀρεταὶ λ., = διανοητικαί, oἠθικαί, Arist. EN1108b9; “λογικός, ή, όν, (λόγος), ζῶον λόγον ἔχον NE, 1098a3-5. λόγον δὲ μόνον ἄνθρωπος ἔχει τῶν ζῴων, man alone of all animals possesses speech, from the Politics. Grice takes the stratification of values by Hartmann much more seriously than Barnes. Grice plays with rational motivation. He means it seriously. The motivation is the psychological bite, but since it is qualified by rational, it corresponds to the higher more powerful bit of the soul, the rational soul. There are, for Grice, the Grecians, Kantotle and Plathegel, three souls: the vegetal, the animal, and the rational. As a matter of history, Grice reaches value (in its guises of optimum and deeming) via his analysis of meaning by Peirce. Many notions are value-paradeigmatic. The most important of all philosophical notions that of rationality, presupposes objective value as one of its motivations. For Grice, ratio can be understood cognoscendi but also essendi, indeed volendi and fiendi, too. Rational motivation involves a ratio cognoscendi and a ratio volendi; objective, “objectum,” and “objectus,” ūs, m. f. “obicio,” rendered as “a casting before, a putting against, in the way, or opposite, an opposing; or, neutr., a lying before or opposite (mostly poet. and in postAug. prose): dare objectum parmaï, the opposing of the shield” “vestis;” “insula portum efficit objectu laterum,” “by the opposition,” “cum terga flumine, latera objectu paludis tegerentur;” “molis;” “regiones, quæ Tauri montis objectu separantur;” “solem interventu lunæ occultari, lunamque terræ objectu, the interposition,” “eademque terra objectu suo umbram noctemque efficiat;” “al. objecta soli: hi molium objectus (i. e. moles objectas) scandere, the projection,” transf., that which presents itself to the sight, an object, appearance, sight, spectacle;” al. objecto;  and if not categoric. This is analogous to the overuse by Grice of psychoLOGICAL when he just means souly. It is perhaps his use of psychological for souly that leads to take any souly concept as a theoretical concept within a folksy psychoLOGICAL theory. Grice considered the stratification of values, alla Hartmann, unlike Barnes, who dismissed him in five minutes. “Some like Philippa Foot, but Hare is MY man,” Grice would say. “Virtue” ethics was becoming all the fashion, especially around Somerville. Hare was getting irritated by the worse offender, his Anglo-Welsh tutee, originally with a degree from the other place, Williams. Enough for Grice to want to lecture on value, and using Carus as an excuse! Mackie was what Oxonians called a colonial, and a clever one! In fact, Grice quotes from Hares contribution to a volume on Mackie. Hares and Mackies backgrounds could not be more different. Like Grice, Hare was a Lit. Hum., and like Grice, Hare loves the Grundlegung. But unlike Grice and Barnes, Hare would have nothing to say about Stevenson. Philosophers in the play group of Grice never took the critique by Ayer of emotivism seriously. Stevenson is the thing. V. Urmson on the emotive theory of ethics, tracing it to English philosphers like Ogden, Barnes, and Duncan-Jones. Barnes was opposing both Prichard (who was the Whites professor of moral philosophy – and more of an interest than Moore is, seeing that Prichard is Barness tutor at Corpus) and Hartmann. Ryle would have nothing to do with Hartmann, but these were the days before Ryle took over Oxford, and forbade any reference to a continental philosopher, even worse if a “Hun.” Grice reaches the notion of value through that of meaning. If Peirce is simplistic, Grice is not. But his ultra-sophisticated analysis ends up being deemed to hold in this or that utterer. And deeming is valuing, as is optimum. While Grice rarely used axiology, he should! A set of three lectures, which are individually identified below. I love Carus! Grice was undecided as to what his Carus lectures were be on. Grice explores meaning under its value optimality guise in Meaning revisited. Grice thinks that a value-paradeigmatic notion allows him to respond in a more apt way to what some critics were raising as a possible vicious circle in his approach to semantic and psychological notions. The Carus lectures are then dedicated to the construction, alla Hume, of a value-paradeigmatic notion in general, and value itself. Grice starts by quoting Austin, Hare, and Mackie, of Oxford. The lectures are intended to a general audience, provided it is a philosophical general audience. Most of the second lecture is a subtle exploration by Grice of the categorical imperative of Kant, with which he had struggled in the last Locke lecture in “Aspects,” notably the reduction of the categorical imperative to this or that counsel of prudence with an implicated protasis to the effect that the agent is aiming at eudæmonia. The Carus Lectures are three: on objectivity and value, on relative and absolute value, and on metaphysics and value. The first lecture, on objectivity and value, is a review Inventing right and wrong by Mackie, quoting Hare’s antipathy for a value being ‘objective’. The second lecture, on relative and absolute value, is an exploration on the categorical imperative, and its connection with a prior hypothetical or suppositional imperative. The third lecture, on metaphycis and value, is an eschatological defence of absolute value. The collective citation should be identified by each lecture separately. This is a metaphysical defence by Grice of absolute value. The topic fascinates Grice, and he invents a few routines to cope with it. Humeian projection rationally reconstructs the intuitive concept being of value. Category shift allows to put a value such as the disinterestedness by Smith in grammatical subject position, thus avoiding to answer that the disinterestedness of Smith is in the next room, since it is not the spatio-temporal continuan prote ousia that Smith is. But the most important routine is that of trans-substantatio, or metousiosis. A human reconstructs as a rational personal being, and alla Kantotle, whatever he judges is therefore of absolute value. The issue involves for Grice the introduction of a telos qua aition, causa finalis (final cause), role, or métier. The final cause of a tiger is to tigerise, the final cause of a reasoner is to reason, the final cause of a person is to personise. And this entails absolute value, now metaphysically defended. The justification involves the ideas of end-setting, unweighed rationality, autonomy, and freedom. In something like a shopping list that Grice provides for issues on free. Attention to freedom calls for formidably difficult undertakings including the search for a justification for the adoption or abandonment of an ultimate end. The point is to secure that freedom does not dissolve into compulsion or chance. Grice proposes four items for this shopping list. A first point is that full action calls for strong freedom. Here one has to be careful that since Grice abides by what he calls the Modified Occams Razor in the third James lecture on Some remarks about logic and conversation, he would not like to think of this two (strong freedom and weak freedom) as being different senses of free. Again, his calls for is best understood as presupposes. It may connect with, say, Kanes full-blown examples of decisions in practical settings that call for or presuppose libertarianism. A second point is that the buletic-doxastic justification of action has to accomodate for the fact that we need freedom which is strong. Strong or serious autonomy or freedom ensures that this or that action is represented as directed to this or that end E which are is not merely the agents, but which is also freely or autonomously adopted or pursued by the agent. Grice discusses the case of the gym instructor commanding, Raise your left arm! The serious point then involves this free adoption or free pursuit. Note Grices use of this or that personal-identity pronoun: not merely mine, i.e. not merely the agents, but in privileged-access position. This connects with what Aristotle says of action as being up to me, and Kant’s idea of the transcendental ego. An end is the agents in that the agent adopts it with liberum arbitrium. This or that ground-level desire may be circumstantial. A weak autonomy or freedom satisfactorily accounts for this or that action as directed to an end which is mine. However, a strong autonomy or freedom, and a strong autonomy or freedom only, accounts for this or that action as directed to an end which is mine, but, unlike, say, some ground-level circumstantial desire which may have sprung out of some circumstantial adaptability to a given scenario, is, first, autonomously or freely adopted by the agent, and, second, autonomously or freely pursued by the agent. The use of the disjunctive particle or in the above is of some interest. An agent may autonomously or freely adopt an end, yet not care to pursue it autonomously or freely, even in this strong connotation that autonomous or free sometimes has. A further point relates to causal indeterminacy. Any attempt to remedy this situation by resorting to causal indeterminacy or chance will only infuriate the scientist without aiding the philosopher. This remark by Grice has to be understood casually. For, as it can be shown, this or that scientist may well have resorted to precisely that introduction and in any case have not self-infuriated. The professional tag that is connoted by philosopher should also be seen as best implicated than entailed. A scientist who does resort to the introduction of causal indeterminacy may be eo ipso be putting forward a serious consideration regarding ethics or meta-ethics. In other words, a cursory examination of the views of a scientist like Eddington, beloved by Grice, or this or that moral philosopher like Kane should be born in mind when considering this third point by Grice. The reference by Grice to chance, random, and causal indeterminacy, should best be understood vis-à-vis Aristotles emphasis on tykhe, fatum, to the effect that this or that event may just happen just by accident, which may well open a can of worms for the naive Griceian, but surely not the sophisticated one (cf. his remarks on accidentally, in Prolegomena). A further item in Grices shopping list involves the idea of autonomous or free as a value, or optimum. The specific character of what Grice has as  strong autonomy or freedom may well turn out to consist, Grice hopes, in the idea of this or that action as the outcome of a certain kind of strong valuation  ‒ where this would include the rational selection, as per e.g. rational-decision theory, of this or that ultimate end. What Grice elsewhere calls out-weighed or extrinsically weighed rationality, where rational includes the buletic, of the end and not the means to it. This or that full human action calls for the presence of this or that reason, which require that this or that full human action for which this or that reason accounts should be the outcome of a strong rational valuation. Like a more constructivist approach, this line suggests that this or that action may require, besides strong autonomy or freedom, now also strong valuation. Grice sets to consider how to adapt the buletic-doxastic soul progression to reach these goals. In the case of this or that ultimate end E, justification should be thought of as lying, directly, at least, in this or that outcome, not on the actual phenomenal fulfilment of this or that end, but rather of the, perhaps noumenal, presence qua end. Grice relates to Kants views on the benevolentia or goodwill and malevolentia, or evil will, or illwill. Considers Smiths action of giving Jones a job. Smith may be deemed to have given Jones a job, whether or not Jones actually gets the job. It is Smiths benevolentia, or goodwill, not his beneficentia, that matters. Hence in Short and Lewis, we have “bĕnĕfĭcentĭa,” f. “beneficus,” like “magnificentia” f. magnificus, and “munificentia” f. munificus; Cicero, Off. 1, 7, 20, and which they thus render as “the quality of beneficus, kindness, beneficence, an honorable and kind treatment of others” (omaleficentia, Lact. Ira Dei, 1, 1; several times in the philos. writings of Cicero. Elsewhere rare: quid praestantius bonitate et beneficentiā?” “beneficentia, quam eandem vel benignitatem vel liberalitatem appellari licet,” “comitas ac beneficentia,” “uti beneficentiā adversus supplices,”“beneficentia augebat ornabatque subjectsos.” In a more general fashion then, it is the mere presence of an end qua end of a given action that provides the justification of the end, and not its phenomenal satisfaction or fulfilment. Furthermore, the agents having such and such an end, E1, or such and such a combination of ends, E1 and E2, would be justified by showing that the agents having this end exhibits some desirable feature, such as this or that combo being harmonious. For how can one combine ones desire to smoke with ones desire to lead a healthy life? Harmony is one of the six requirements by Grice for an application of happy to the life of Smith. The buletic-doxastic souly ascription is back in business at a higher level. The suggestion would involve an appeal, in the justification of this or that end, to this or that higher-order end which would be realised by having this or that lower, or first-order end of a certain sort. Such valuation of this or that lower-order end lies within reach of a buletic-doxastic souly ascription. Grice has an important caveat at this point. This or that higher-order end involved in the defense would itself stand in need of justification, and the regress might well turn out to be vicious. One is reminded of Watson’s requirement for a thing like freedom or personal identity to overcome this or that alleged counterexample to freewill provided by H. Frankfurt. It is after the laying of a shopping list, as it were, and considerations such as those above that Grice concludes his reflection with a defense of a noumenon, complete with the inner conflict that it brings. Attention to the idea of autonomous and free leads the philosopher to the need to resolve if not dissolve the most important unsolved problem of philosophy, viz. how an agent can be, at the same time, a member of both the phenomenal world and the noumenal world, or, to settle the internal conflict between one part of our rational nature, the doxastic, even scientific, part which seems to call for the universal reign of a deterministic law and the other buletic part which insists that not merely moral responsibility but every variety of rational belief demands exemption from just such a reign. In this lecture, Grice explores freedom and value from a privileged-access incorrigible perspective rather than the creature construction genitorial justification. Axiology – v. axiological.  Refs.: The main source is The construction of value, the Carus lectures, Clarendon. But there are scattered essays on value and valuing in the Grice Papers. H. P. Grice, “Objectivity and value,” s. V, c. 8-f. 18, “The rational motivation for objective value,” s. V, c. 8-f. 19, “Value,” s. V, c. 9-f. 20; “Value, metaphysics, and teleology,” s. V, c. 9-f. 23, “Values, morals, absolutes, and the metaphysical,” s. V., c. 9-f.  24; “Value sub-systems and the Kantian problem,” s. V. c. 9-ff. 25-27; “Values and rationalism,” s. V, c. 9-f. 28; while the Carus are in the second series, in five folders, s. II, c-2, ff. 12-16, the H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

verificationism: see ayerism. Grice would possibly NOT be interested in verificationism had not been for Ayer ‘breaking tradition’ “and other things” with it --. Oppoiste Christian virtuous –ism: falsificationism. Verificationism is one of the twelve temptations Grice finds on his way to the City of Eternal Truth. (Each one has its own entry). Oddly, Boethius was the first verificationist. He use ‘verifico’ performatively. “When I say, ‘verifico’, I verify that what I say is true.” He didn’t mean it as a sophisma (or Griceisma, but it was (mis-)understood as such! “When I was listing the temptations, I thought of calling this ‘Ayerism,’ but then I changed my mind. verification theory of meaning The theory of meaning advocated by the logical positivists and associated with the criterion of verifiability. The latter provides a criterion of meaningfulness for sentences, while the verification theory of meaning specifies the nature of meaning. According to the criterion, a sentence is cognitively meaningful if and only if it is logically possible for it to be verified. The meaning of a sentence is its method of verification, that is, the way in which it can be verified or falsified, particularly by experience. The theory has been challenged because the best formulations still exclude meaningful sentences and allow meaningless sentences. Critics also claim that the theory is a test for meaningfulness rather than a theory of meaning proper. Further, they claim that it fails to recognize that the interconnectedness of language might allow a sentence that cannot itself be verified to be meaningful. “The verification theory of meaning, which dominated the Vienna Circle, was concerned with the meaning and meaningfulness of sentences rather than words.” Quine, Theories and Things verificationism Philosophical method, philosophy of science, philosophy of language A position fundamental to logical positivism, claiming that the meaning of a statement is its method of verification. Accordingly, apparent statements lacking a method of verification, such as those of religion and metaphysics, are meaningless. Theoretical expressions can be defined in terms of the experiences by means of which assertions employing them can be verified. In the philosophy of mind, behaviorism, which tries to reduce unobserved inner states to patterns of behavior, turns out to be a version of verificationism. Some philosophers require conclusive verification for a statement to be meaningful, while others allow any positive evidence to confer meaning. There are disputes whether every statement must be verified separately or theories can be verified as a whole even if some of their statements cannot be individually verified. Attempts to offer a rigorous account of verification have run into difficulties because statements that should be excluded as meaningless nevertheless pass the test of verification and statements that should be allowed as meaningful are excluded. “For over a hundred years, one of the dominant tendencies in the philosophy of science has been verificationism, that is, the doctrine that to know the meaning of a scientific proposition . . . is to know what would be evidence for that proposition.” Putnam, Mind, Language and Reality verisimilitude Philosophy of science [from Latin verisimilar, like the truth] The degree of approximation or closeness to truth of a statement or a theory. Popper defined it in terms of the difference resulting from truth-content minus falsity-content. The truthcontent of a statement is all of its true consequences, while the falsity-content of a statement is all of its false consequences. The aim of science is to find better verisimilitude. One theory has a better verisimilitude than competing theories if it can explain the success of competing theories and can also explain cases where the other theories fail. Popper emphasized that verisimilitude is different from probability. Probability is the degree of logical certainty abstracted from content, while verisimilitude is degree of likeness to truth and combines truth and content. “This suggests that we combine here the ideas of truth and content into one – the idea of a degree of better (or worse) correspondence to truth or of greater (or less) likeness or similarity to truth; or to use a term already mentioned above (in contradistinction to probability) the idea of (degrees of ) verisimilitude.” Popper, Conjectures and Refutations.

verum: Grice’s concern with the ‘verum’ is serious. If Quine is right, and logical truth should go, so truth should go. Grice needs ‘true’ to correct a few philosophical mistakes. It is true that Grice sees a horse as a horse, for example. The nuances of the implicatum are of a lesser concern for Grice than the taming of the true.  The root of Latin ‘vero’ is cognate with an idea Grice loved: that of ‘sincerity.’ The point is more obviously realised lexically in the negative: the fallax versus the mendax. But ‘verum’ had to do with candidum – and thus very much cognate with the English that Grice avoided, ‘truth,’ cognate with ‘trust.’ quod non possit ab honestate sejungi The true and simple Good which cannot be separated from honesty, Cicero, Academica, I, 2, but also for the ontological which one can find in Cicero’s tr. Topica, 35 of etumologia ἐτυμολογία by veriloquium. Most contemporary hypotheses propose that verus —and the words signifying true, vrai, vérité, G. wahr, G. Wahrheit — derive from an Indo-European root, *wer, which would retain meanings of to please, pleasing, manifesting benevolence, gifts, services rendered, fidelity, pact. Chantraine Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque links it to the Homeric expression êra pherein ἦϱα φέϱειν, to please, as well as to ἐπίηϱα, ἐπίηϱος, and ἐπιήϱανος, agreeable Odyssey, 19, 343, just like the Roman verus cf. se-vere, without benevolence, the G.  war, and the Russian vera, faith, or verit’ верить, to believe. Pokorny adds to this same theme the Grecian ἑοϱτή, religious feast, cult. And from the same basis have come terms signifying guarantee, protect: Fr.  garir and later garant, G.  Gewähren, Eng. warrant, to grant. According to Chantraine, this root *wer should be distinguished from another root ver-, whence eirô εἴϱω in Grecian , verbum in Roman word in English, etc., and words from the family of vereor, revereor, to fear, to respect, verecundia respectful fear. According to Chantraine, this root *wer should be distinguished from another root ver-, whence eirô εἴϱω in Grecian , verbum in Roman word in English, etc., and words from the family of vereor, revereor, to fear, to respect, verecundia respectful fear. Alfred Ernout does not support this separation. We should recall that plays on the words verum and verbum were common, as Augustine mentions verbum = verum boare, proclaiming the truth, Dialectics 1. P. Florensky, following G. Curtius, “Grundzüge der griechischen Etymologie,” also claims a single root for the ensemble of these derivations, including the Sanskrit vratum, sacred act, vow, promise, the Grecian bretas βϱέτας, cult object, wooden idol Aeschylus, Eumenides, v. 258, and the Roman “ver-bum.” The signification of verus must be considered as belonging first to the field of religious ritual and subsequently of juridical formulas: strictly speaking, verus means protected or grounded in the sense of that which is the object of a taboo or consecration Pillar and Ground. Then there’s from the juridical to the philosophical. “Verum” implies a rectification of an adversarial allegation considered to be fraudulent, as is indicated by the original opposition verax/fallax-mendax. It thus signifies the properly founded in fact or in the rules of law: crimen verissimum a well-founded accusation Cicero, In Verrem, 5, 15. In texts of grammar and rhetoric, but also in juridical texts as well, verus and veritas signify the veracity of the rule, inasmuch as it can be distinguished from usage. “Quid verum sit intellego; sed alias ita loquor ut concessum est I know what is correct, but sometimes I avail myself of the variation in usage, Cicero, De oratore, Loeb Classical Library; Consule veritatem: reprehendet; refer ad auris: probabunt If you consult the strict rule of analogy, it will say this practice is wrong, but if you consult the ear, it will approve 1586. The juridical connotation of the word verus and thus of veritas is retained and subsequently reinforced. In the glosses of the Middle Ages, verus signifies legitimate and the Roman sense of the word, legal and authentic or conforming to existing law. One normally finds “verum est” in legal texts to certify that a new rule conforms to preexisting ones Digest, 8, 4, 1. It is this juridical dimension that produces the meaning of verus as authenticated, authentic in contrast to false, imitative, deceiving and thus real as in real cream or a genuine Rolex watch.  The juridical here provides a foundation not only for the moral Verum et simplex bonum. The paradigm of “verum” is not easy to separate from any epistemological dimensions, as is evident in the varied fates of the Indo-European root *wer, from which derives, in addition to vera in Russian, belief, the old Fr.  garir, in the sense of certifying as true, designating as true, whence the participle garant. The evolution of these derived words inscribes G. “wahr,” and “Wahrheit” in a semantic network from which emerge two directions, belief and salvation. Belief. “Wahr” is often linked back, in composite words, to the idea of belief, in the sense of true belief, to take as true. “Wahrsagen,” to predict, “wahr haben,” to admit, agree upon, “für wahr halten,” to hold as true, to believe. This is the term that Kant employs in the Critique of Pure Reason, Transcendental theory of method, ch.2, 3 On Opinion, Science, and Belief: “das Fürwahrhalten” is a belief, as a modality of subjectivity, that can be divided into conviction Überzeugung or persuasion Überredung and that is capable of three degrees: opinion Meinung, belief Glaube, and science Wissenschaft. Safeguarding, conservation. Similarly “wahren,” “bewahren” in the sense of to guard, to conserve is linked to “Wahrung” in the sense of defending one’s interests or safeguarding. One might refer to Heidegger’s use of this etymological and semantic relation in reference to Nietzsche. It remains to be said that many common or colloquial expressions, in Fr.  as well as in English, play on the semantic slippages of vrai and real, between the ontological sense and linguistic meanings. Thus in Fr. , c’est pas vrai! does not mean it is false, but rather that it is not reality. In English, the opposite is the case: get real! means come back down to earth, accept the truth. Grice’s main manoeuvre may be seen as intended to crack the crib of reality. For he wants to say some philosophers engaged in conceptual analysis are misled if they think an inappropriate usage reveals a truth-condition. By coining ‘implicature,’ his point is to give room for “Emissor E communicates that p,” as opposed to ‘emissum x ‘means’ ‘p.’ Therefore, Grice can claim that an utterance may very well totally baffling and misleading YET TRUE (or otherwise ‘good’), and that in no way that reveals anything about the emissum itself. This is due to the fact that ‘Emissor E communicates that p’ is diaphanous. And one can conjoin what the emissor E communicates to what he explicitly conveys and NOT HAVE the emissor contradicting himself or uttering a falsehood. And that is what in philosophy should count. H. P. Grice was always happy with a ‘correspondence’ theory of truth. It was what Aristotle thought. So why change? The fact that Austin agreed helped. The fact that Strawson applied Austin’s shining new tool of the performatory had him fashion a new shining skid, and that helped, because, once Grice has identified a philosophical mistake, that justifies his role as methodologist in trying to ‘correct’ the mistake. The Old Romans did not have an article. For them it is the unum, the verum, the bonum, and the pulchrum. They were trying to translate the very articled Grecian ‘to alethes,’ ‘to agathon,’ and ‘to kallon.’ Grecian Grice is able to restore the articles. He would use ‘the alethic’ for the ‘verum,’ after von Wright. But occasionally uses the ‘verum’ root. E. g. when his account of ‘personal identity’ was seen to fail to distinguish between a ‘veridical’ memory and a non-veridical one. If it had not been for Strawson’s ‘ditto’ theory to the ‘verum,’ Grice would not have minded much. Like Austin, his inclination was for a ‘correspondence’ theory of truth alla Aristotle and Tarski, applied to the utterance, or ‘expressum.’ So, while we cannot say that an utterer is TRUE, we can say that he is TRUTHFUL, and trustworthy (Anglo-Saxon ‘trust,’ being cognate with ‘true,’ and covering both the credibility and desirability realms. Grice approaches the ‘verum’ in terms of predicate calculus. So we need at least an utterance of the form, ‘the dog is shaggy.’ An utterance of ‘The dog is shaggy’ is true iff the denotatum of ‘the dog’ is a member of the class ‘shaggy.’ So, when it comes to ‘verum,’ Grice feels like ‘solving’ a problem rather than looking for new ones. He thought that Strawson’s controversial ‘ditto’ was enough of a problem ‘to get rid of.’ Refs: Grice, “Rationality and Trust,” Grice, “The alethic.” “P. F. Strawson and the performatory account of ‘true’”, The Grice Papers.

vis: When in a Latinate mood, Grice would refer to a ‘vis’ of an expression. Apparently, ‘vis’ is cognate with ‘validum,’ transf., of abstr. things, force, notion, meaning, sense, import, nature, essence (cf. significatio): “id, in quo est omnis vis amicitiae,” Cic. Lael. 4, 15: “eloquentiae vis et natura,” id. Or. 31, 112: “vis honesti (with natura),” id. Off. 1, 6, 18; cf. id. Fin. 1, 16, 50: “virtutis,” id. Fam. 9, 16, 5: “quae est alia vis legis?” id. Dom. 20, 53: “vis, natura, genera verborum et simplicium et copulatorum,” i.e. the sense, signification, id. Or. 32, 115: “vis verbi,” id. Inv. 1, 13, 17; id. Balb. 8, 21: “quae vis insit in his paucis verbis, si attendes, si attendes, intelleges,” id. Fam. 6, 2, 3: “quae vis subjecta sit vocibus,” id. Fin. 2, 2, 6: “nominis,” id. Top. 8, 35: μετωνυμία, cujus vis est, pro eo, quod dicitur, causam, propter quam dicitur, ponere, Quint. 8, 6, 23.

weapon: Grice’s shining new tool. The funny thing is that his tutee Strawson didn’t allow him to play with it ONCE! Or weapon. Grice refers to the implicatum as a philosopher’s tool, and that the fun comes in the application. Strawson and Wiggins p. 522, reminds us of Austin. Austin used to say that when a philosopher “forges a new weapon, he is also fshioning new skids to put under his feet.” It is perhaps inappropriate that a memorial should mention this, but here they were, the memorialists. They were suggesting that Grice forged a shining new tool, the implicature, or implicatum – rather, he proposed a rational explanation for the distinction between what an emissor means (e. g., that p) and what anything else may be said, ‘metabolically,’ to “mean.” Suggesting an analogy with J. L. Austin and his infelicitious notion of infelicity, which found him fashioning a shining new skid, the memorialists suggest the same for Grice – but of course the analogy does not apply.

what the eye no longer sees the heart no longer grieves for. Grice. Vide sytactics.

whistle. If you can’t say it you can’t whistle it either – But you can implicate it. “To say” takes a ‘that’-clause. “To implicate” takes a ‘that’-clause. Grice: “ ‘To whisle’ takes a ‘that’-clause, “By whistling, E communicates that he intends his emissee to be there.” “Whistle and I’ll be there” – Houseman to a Shropshire farmer.

willkür, v.  Hobson’s choice.

winchism: After P. Winch, P. London-born philosopher. He quotes  Grice in a Royal Philosophy talk: “Grice’s point is that we should distinguish the truth of one’s remark form the point of one’s remarks – Grice’s example is: “Surely I have neither any doubt nor any desire to deny that the pillar box in front of me is red, and yet I won’t hesitate to say that it seems red to me” – Surely pointless, but an incredible truth meant to refute G. A. Paul!” Winch translated Vitters’s “little essay on value” which Grice “did not use for [his] essay on the conception of value.” (“Kultur und Wert.”)

wisdom: see metaphysical wisdom.

witters. typically referred to Wittgenstein in the style of English schoolboy slang of the time as, “Witters,” pronounced “Vitters.”“I heard Austin said once: ‘Some like Witters, but Moore’s MY man.’ Austin would open the “Philosophical Investigations,” and say, “Let’s see what Witters has to say about this.” Everybody ended up loving Witters at the playgroup.” Witters’s oeuvre was translated first into English by C. K. Ogden. There are interesting twists. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “Vitters.” Grice was sadly discomforted when one of his best friends at Oxford, D. F. Pears, dedicated so much effort to the unveiling of the mysteries of ‘Vitters.’ ‘Vitters’ was all in the air in Grice’s inner circle. Strawson had written a review of Philosophical Investigations. Austin was always mocking ‘Vitters,’ and there are other connections. For Grice, the most important is that remark in “Philosohpical Investigations,” which he never cared to check ‘in the Hun,’ about a horse not being seen ‘as a horse.’ But in “Prolegomena” he mentions Vitters in other contexts, too, and in “Causal Theory,” almost anonymously – but usually with regard to the ‘seeing as’ puzzle. Grice would also rely on Witters’s now knowing how to use ‘know’ or vice versa. In “Method” Grice quotes verbatim: ‘No psyche without the manifestation the ascription of psyche is meant to explain,” and also to the effect that most ‘-etic’ talk of behaviour is already ‘-emic,’ via internal perspective, or just pervaded with intentionalism.

wollheim: R. A. London-born philosopher, BPhil Oxon, Balliol (under D. Marcus) and All Souls.  Examined by H. P. Grice. “What’s two times two?” Wollheim treasured that examination. It was in the context of a discussion of J. S. Mill and I. Kant, for whom addition and multiplication are ‘synthetic’ – a priori for Kant, a posteriori for Mill. Grice was trying to provide a counterexample to Mill’s thesis that all comes via deduction or induction.

woodianism: Grice loved O. P. Wood, as anyone at Oxford did – even those who disliked Ryle!

woozleyianism: R. M. Harnish discussed H. P. Grice’s implicatum with A. D. Woozley. Woozley would know because he had been in contact with Grice since for ever. Woozley had a closer contact with Austin, since, unlike Grice, ‘being from the right side of the tracks,’ he socialized with Austin in what Berlin pretentiously calls the ‘early beginnings of Oxford philosophy,’ as if the Middle Ages never happened. Woozley edited Reid, that Grice read, or reed. Since the first way to approach Grice’s philosophy is with his colleagues at his Play Group, Woozley plays a crucial role.

yog and zog: “If” was a problem for Grice. According to Strawson and Wiggins, this was Grice having forged his shining new tool – the distinction between ‘By emitting x, An emissor coomunicates that p” and “The emissum x ‘means’ ‘p.’ Apply that to ‘if.’ In Strawson and Wiggins’s precis, for Grice, ‘p yields q’ is part of the conversational implicatum – for Strawson and Wiggins it is part of the conventional implicatum. They agree on ‘p  horseshoe q’ being the explicit emissum or explicatum in “Emissor explicitly conveys and communicates that p horseshoe q.” For Grice, the implicatum, which, being conversational is cancellable, is calculated on the assumption that the addressee can work out that the emissor has non-truth-functional grounds for the making of any stronger claim. For Strawson, that non-truth-functional reason is precisely ‘p yields q,’ which leads Strawson to think that the thing is not cancellable and conventionally implicated. If Strawson were right that this is Grice forging a new shining tool to crack the crib of reality and fashioning thereby a new shining skid under his metaphysical feet, it would be almost the second use of the tool!  This is an expansion by Grice on the implicatum of a ‘propositio conditionalis.’ Grice, feeling paradoxical, invites us to suppose a scenario involving ‘if.’ He takes it as a proof that his account of the conversational implicatum of ‘if’ is, as Strawson did not agree, correct, and that what an utterer explicitly conveys by ‘if p, q’ is ‘p > q.’  that two chess players, Yog and Zog, play 100 games under the following conditions. Yog is white nine of ten times. There are no draws.  And the results are:  Yog, when white, won 80 of 90 games. Yog, when black, won zero of ten games.  This implies that:  8/9 times, if Yog was white, Yog won. 1/2 of the time, if Yog lost, Yog was black.  9/10 that either Yog wasnt white or he won.  From these statements, it might appear one could make these deductions by contraposition and conditional disjunction: If Yog was white, then 1/2 of the time Yog won. 9/10 times, if Yog was white, then he won.  But both propositions are untrue. They contradict the assumption. In fact, they do not provide enough information to use Bayesian reasoning to reach those conclusions. That might be clearer if the propositions had instead been stated differently. When Yog was white, Yog won 8/9 times. No information is given about when Yog was black. When Yog lost, Yog was black 1/2 the time. No information is given about when Yog won. (9/10 times, either Yog was black and won, Yog was black and lost, or Yog was white and won. No information is provided on how the 9/10 is divided among those three situations. The paradox by Grice shows that the exact meaning of statements involving conditionals and probabilities is more complicated than may be obvious on casual examination. Refs.: Grice’s interest with ‘if’ surely started after he carefully read the section on ‘if’ and the horseshoe in Strawson’s Introduction to Logical Theory. He was later to review his attack on Strawson in view of Strawson’s defense in ‘If and the horseshoe.’ The polemic was pretty much solved as a matter of different intuitions: what Grice sees as a conversational implicatum, Strawson does see as an ‘implicatum,’ but a non-defeasible one – what Grice would qualify as ‘conventional.’ Grice leaves room for an implicatum to be nonconversational and yet nonconventional, but it is not worth trying to fit Strawson’s suggestion in this slot, since Strawson, unlike Grice, has nothing against a convention. Grice was motivated to formulate his ‘paradox,’ seeing that Strawson was saying that the so-called ‘paradoxes’ of ‘entailment’ and ‘implication’ are a misnomer. “They are not paradoxical; they are false!” Grice has specific essays on both the paradoxes of entailment and the paradoxes of implication. The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC MSS 90/135c, The University of California, Berkeley.

zettel: Grice entitled his further notes on logic and conversation, “zettel” – “What’s good enough for Vitters is good enough for me.”

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