IMPLICATVRA, in 12 volumes; vol. VII

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

hohfeld, of Stanford and Yale. His main contribution to moral theory was his identification of EIGHT fundamental conceptions: One person X has a duty to a second person Y to do some act A when it is required that X to do A for Y. X has a privilege (or liberty) in face of Y to do A when X has no duty to Y not to do A. X has a right (or claim) against Y that Y do A when Y has a duty to X to do A. X has a no-right against Y that Y not do A when Y has a liberty in face of X to do A. X has a power over Y to effect some consequence C for Y when there is some voluntary action of X that will bring about C for Y. X has a disability in face of Y to effect C when there is no action X can perform that will bring about C for Y. X has a liability in face of Y to effect C when Y has a power to effect C for X. X has a immunity against Y from C when Y has no power over X to effect C. Philosophers have adapted Hohfeld’s terminology to express analogous conceptions. In ethics, these fundamental conceptions provide something like atoms into which all more complex relationships can be analyzed. Semantically, these conceptions reveal pairs of correlatives, such as a claim of X against Y and a duty of Y to X, each of which IMPLIES the other, and pairs of opposites, such as a duty of X to Y and a liberty of Y in face of X, which are contradictories. In the theory of rights, his distinctions between liberties, claims, powers, and immunities are often used to reveal ambiguities in the language of rights or to classify species of rights – Grice thought this was “all implicatural, and due to an inability to understand Hohfeld.”

hölderlin: studied at Tübingen, where he befriended Schelling and Hegel, and at Jena, where he met Schiller and Fichte. Since Hölderlin never held an academic position or published any of his philosophical writings, his influence on philosophy was primarily through his personality, conversations, and letters. He is widely viewed as the author of the so-called “Oldest System-Program of German Idealism,” a fragment that culminates in an exaltation of poetry and a call for a new “mythology of reason.” This theme is illustrated in the novel Hyperion (1797/99), which criticizes the subjective heroism of ethical idealism, emphasizes the sacred character of nature, and attempts to conflate religion and art as “overseers of reason.” In his veneration of nature and objections to Fichte’s treatment of the “Not-I,” Hölderlin echoed Schelling’s Naturphilosophie. In his Hellenism and his critique of the “philosophy of reflection” (see Ueber Sein und Urteil [“On Being and Judgment”]) he anticipated and influenced Hegel. In Hölderlin’s exaltation of art as alone capable of revealing the nature of reality, he betrayed a debt to Schiller and anticipated Romanticism. However, his view of the poet possesses a tragic dimension quite foreign to Schelling and the younger Romantics. The artist, as the interpreter of divine nature, mediates between the gods and men, but for this very reason is estranged from his fellows. This aspect of Hölderlin’s thought influenced Heidegger.

holism: From Grecian ‘holon,’ Latin ‘totum.’ “One of Quine’s dogma of empiricism – the one I and Sir Peter had not the slightest intereset in!” – Grice. Holism is one of a wide variety of theses that in one way or another affirm the equal or greater reality or the explanatory necessity of the whole of some system in relation to its parts. In philosophy, the issues of holism (the word is more reasonably, but less often, spelled ‘wholism’) have appeared Hohenheim, Theophrastus Bombastus von holism 390 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 390 traditionally in the philosophy of biology, of psychology, and especially of the human sciences. In the context of description, holism with respect to some system maintains that the whole has some properties that its parts lack. This doctrine will ordinarily be trivially true unless it is further held, in the thesis of descriptive emergentism, that these properties of the whole cannot be defined by properties of the parts. The view that all properties of the wholes in question can be so defined is descriptive individualism. In the context of explanation, holism with respect to some object or system maintains either (1) that the laws of the more complex cases in it are not deducible by way of any composition laws or laws of coexistence from the laws of the less complex cases (e.g., that the laws of the behavior of people in groups are not deducible by composition laws or laws of coexistence from the laws of solitary behavior), or (2) that all the variables that constitute the system interact with each other. This denial of deducibility is known also as metaphysical or methodological holism, whereas affirming the deducibility is methodological individualism. In a special case of explanatory holism that presupposes descriptive emergentism, holism is sometimes understood as the thesis that with respect to some system the whole has properties that interact “back” with the properties of its parts. In the philosophy of biology, any of these forms of holism may be known as vitalism, while in the philosophy of psychology they have been called Gestalt doctrine. In the philosophy of the social sciences, where ‘holism’ has had its most common use in philosophy, the many issues have often been reduced to that of metaphysical holism versus methodological individualism. This terminology reflected the positivists’ belief that holism was non-empirical in postulating social “wholes” or the reality of society beyond individual persons and their properties and relations (as in Durkheim and other, mostly Continental, thinkers), while individualism was non-metaphysical (i.e., empirical) in relying ultimately only on observable properties in describing and explaining social phenomena. More recently, ‘holism’ has acquired additional uses in philosophy, especially in epistemology and philosophy of language. Doxastic or epistemic holism are theses about the “web of belief,” usually something to the effect that a person’s beliefs are so connected that their change on any topic may affect their content on any other topic or, perhaps, that the beliefs of a rational person are so connected. Semantic or meaning holism have both been used to denote either the thesis that the meanings of all terms (or sentences) in a language are so connected that any change of meaning in one of them may change any other meaning, or the thesis that changes of belief entail changes of meaning. Cited by Grice, “In defense of a dogma” “My defense of the other dogma must be left for another longer day” Duhem, Pierre-Maurice-Marie, physicist who wrote extensively on the history and philosophy of science. Like Georg Helm, Wilhelm Ostwald, and others, he was an energeticist, believing generalized thermodynamics to be the foundation of all of physics and chemistry. Duhem spent his whole scientific life advancing energetics, from his failed dissertation in physics a version of which was accepted as a dissertation in mathematics, published as Le potentiel thermodynamique 6, to his mature treatise, Traité d’énergétique 1. His scientific legacy includes the Gibbs-Duhem and DuhemMargules equations. Possibly because his work was considered threatening by the Parisian scientific establishment or because of his right-wing politics and fervent Catholicism, he never obtained the position he merited in the intellectual world of Paris. He taught at the provincial universities of Lille, Rennes, and, finally, Bordeaux. Duhem’s work in the history and philosophy of science can be viewed as a defense of the aims and methods of energetics; whatever Duhem’s initial motivation, his historical and philosophical work took on a life of its own. Topics of interest to him included the relation between history of science and philosophy of science, the nature of conceptual change, the historical structure of scientific knowledge, and the relation between science and religion. Duhem was an anti-atomist or anti-Cartesian; in the contemporary debates about light and magnetism, Duhem’s anti-atomist stance was also directed against the work of Maxwell. According to Duhem, atomists resolve the bodies perceived by the senses into smaller, imperceptible bodies. The explanation of observable phenomena is then referred to these imperceptible bodies and their motions, suitably combined. Duhem’s rejection of atomism was based on his instrumentalism or fictionalism: physical theories are not explanations but representations; they do not reveal the true nature of matter, but give general rules of which laws are particular cases; theoretical propositions are not true or false, but convenient or inconvenient. An important reason for treating physics as nonexplanatory was Duhem’s claim that there is general consensus in physics and none in metaphysics  thus his insistence on the autonomy of physics from metaphysics. But he also thought that scientific representations become more complete over time until they gain the status of a natural classification. Accordingly, Duhem attacked the use of models by some scientists, e.g. Faraday and Maxwell. Duhem’s rejection of atomism was coupled with a rejection of inductivism, the doctrine that the only physical principles are general laws known through induction, based on observation of facts. Duhem’s rejection forms a series of theses collectively known as the Duhem thesis: experiments in physics are observations of phenomena accompanied by interpretations; physicists therefore do not submit single hypotheses, but whole groups of them, to the control of experiment; thus, experimental evidence alone cannot conclusively falsify hypotheses. For similar reasons, Duhem rejected the possibility of a crucial experiment. In his historical studies, Duhem argued that there were no abrupt discontinuities between medieval and early modern science  the so-called continuity thesis; that religion played a positive role in the development of science in the Latin West; and that the history of physics could be seen as a cumulative whole, defining the direction in which progress could be expected. Duhem’s philosophical works were discussed by the founders of twentieth-century philosophy of science, including Mach, Poincaré, the members of the Vienna Circle, and Popper. A revival of interest in Duhem’s philosophy began with Quine’s reference in 3 to the Duhem thesis also known as the Duhem-Quine thesis. As a result, Duhem’s philosophical works were tr. into English  as The Aim and Structure of Physical Theory 4 and To Save the Phenomena 9. By contrast, few of Duhem’s extensive historical works  Les origines de la statique 2 vols., 608, Études sur Léonard de Vinci 3 vols., 613, and Système du monde 10 vols., 359, e.g.  have been tr., with five volumes of the Système du monde actually remaining in manuscript form until 459. Unlike his philosophical work, Duhem’s historical work was not sympathetically received by his influential contemporaries, notably George Sarton. His supposed main conclusions were rejected by the next generation of historians of science, who presented modern science as discontinuous with that of the Middle Ages. This view was echoed by historically oriented philosophers of science who, from the early 0s, emphasized discontinuities as a recurrent feature of change in science  e.g. Kuhn in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions 2. 

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

homœmerum: an adjective Grice adored, from Grecian homoiomeres, ‘of like parts’). Aristotle: “A lump of bronze differs from a statue in being homoeo-merous. The lump of bronze is divisible into at least two partial lumps of bronze, whereas the statue is not divisible into statues.” Having parts, no matter how small, that share the constitutive properties of the whole. The derivative abstract noun is ‘homœomeria’. The Grecian forms of the adjective and of its corresponding privative ‘anhomoeomerous’ are used by Aristotle to distinguish between (a) non-uniform parts of living things, e.g., limbs and organs, and (b) biological stuffs, e.g., blood, bone, sap. In spite of being composed of the four elements, each biological stuff, when taken individually and without admixtures, is through-and-through F, where F represents the cluster of the constitutive properties of that stuff. Thus, if a certain physical volume qualifies as blood, all its mathematically possible sub-volumes, regardless of size, also qualify as blood. Blood is thus homoeomerous. By contrast, a face or a stomach or a leaf are an-homoeomerous: the parts of a face are not a face, etc. In Aristotle’s system, the homœomeria of the biological stuff is tied to his doctrine of the infinite divisibility of matter. The homœomerum-heterormerum distinction is prefigured in Plato (Protagoras 329d). ‘Homœomerous’ is narrow in its application than ‘homogeneous’ and ‘uniform’. We speak of a homogeneous entity even if the properties at issue are identically present only in samples that fall above a certain size. The colour of the sea can be homogeneously or uniformly blue; but it is heteromerously blue. “homoiomeres” and “homoiomereia” also occur –in the ancient sources for a pre-Aristotelian philosopher, Anaxagoras of Clazomenae, with reference to the constituent things (“chremata”) involved in his scheme of universal mixture. Moreover, homœeomeria plays a significant role outside ancient Grecian (or Griceian) philosophy, notably in twentieth-century accounts of the contrast between mass terms and count terms or sortals, and the discussion was introduced by Grice. ANAXAGORAS' THEORY OF MATTER-I. 17 homoeomerous in Anaxagoras' system falls into one of these three class. (I. 834), for example, says: 'When he ... by FM Cornford - ‎1930. Refs. Grice, “Cornford on Anaxagoras.”

homomorphism: cf. isomorphism -- in Grice’s model theory of conversation, a structure-preserving mapping from one structure to another: thus the demonstratum is isomorph with the implicaturum, since every conversational implicaturum can be arrived via an argumentum. A structure consists of a domain of objects together with a function specifying interpretations, with respect to that domain, of the relation symbols, function symbols, and individual symbols of a given calculus. Relations, functions, and individuals in different structures for a system like System GHP correspond to one another if they are interpretations of the same symbol of GHP. To call a mapping “structure-preserving” is to say, first, that if objects in the first structure bear a certain relation to one another, then their images in the second structure (under the mapping) bear the corresponding relation to one another; second, that the value of a function for a given object (or ntuple of objects) in the first structure has as its image under the mapping the value of the corresponding function for the image of the object (or n-tuple of images) in the second structure; and third, that the image in the second structure of an object in the first is the corresponding object. An isomorphism is a homomorphism that is oneto-one and whose inverse is also a homomorphism.

co-substantia: homoousios. Athanasius -- early Christian father, bishop, and a leading protagonist in the disputes concerning Christ’s relationship to God. Through major works like On the Incarnation, Against the Arians, and Letters on the Holy Spirit, Athanasius contributed greatly to the classical doctrines of the Incarnation and the Trinity. Opposing all forms of Arianism, which denies Christ’s divinity and reduced him to what Grice would call a “creature,” Athanasius teaches, in the language of the Nicene Creed, that Christ the Son, and likewise the Holy Spirit, are of the same being as God the Father, cosubstantialis, “homoousios.” Thus with terminology and concepts drawn from Grecian and Graeco-Roman philosophy, Athanasius helps to forge the distinctly Christian and un-Hellenistic doctrine of the eternal tri-une God (“credo quia absurdum est”) who became enfleshed in time and matter and restored humanity to immortality, forfeited through sin, by involvement in its condition of corruption and decay. Homoousios (Greek, ‘of the same substance’), a concept central to the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, enshrined in the Nicene Creed (Nicaea, “Holy, Holy, Holy”). It attests that God the Son (and by extension the Spirit) is of one and the same being or substance (ousia) as the Father. Reflecting the insistence of Athanasius against Arianism that Christ is God’s eternal, co-equal Son and not a “creature,” as Grice uses the term, the Nicene “homoousios” is also to be differentiated from a rival formula, “homoiousios” (Grecian, ‘of SIMILAR substance’), which affirms merely the Son’s LIKENESS in being to God. Though notoriously and superficially an argument over one Greek iota, the issue was philosophically profound and crucial whether or not Jesus of Nazareth incarnated God’s own being, revealed God’s own truth, and mediated God’s own salvation. If x=x, x is like x. A horse is like a horse. Grice on implicaturum. “There is only an implicaturum to the effect that if a horse is a horse a horse is not like a horse.” “Similarly for Christ and God.” Cicero saw this when he philosophised on ‘idem’ and ‘similis.’

homuncularism -- Grice on the ‘fallacia homunculi’ Grice borrows ‘homunculus’ from St. Augustine, for a miniature ‘homo’ held to inhabit the brain (or some other organ) who perceives all the inputs to the sense organs and initiates all the commands to the muscles. Any theory that posits such an internal agent risks an infinite regress (what Grice, after Augustine, calls the ‘fallacia homunculi’) since we can ask whether there is a little man in the little man’s head, responsible for his perception and action, and so on. Many familiar views of the mind and its activities seem to require a homunculus. E. g. models of visual perception that posit an inner picture as its product apparently require a homunculus to look at the picture, and models of action that treat intentions as commands to the muscles apparently require a homunculus to issue the commands. It is never an easy matter to determine whether a theory is committed to the existence of a homunculus that vitiates the theory, and in some circumstances, a homunculus can be legitimately posited at intermediate levels of theory. As Grice says, a homunculus is, shall we say, a bogey-man (to use a New-World expression) only if he duplicates entire the talents he is rung in to explain. If one can get a relatively ignorant, narrow-minded, blind homunculus to produce the intelligent behaviour of the whole, this is progress. Grice calls a theory (in philosophoical psychology) that posit such a homunculus “homuncular functionalism.” Paracelsus is credited with the first mention of the homunculus in De homunculis (c. 1529–1532), and De natura rerum (1537). Refs.: H. P. Grice, “Paracelsus.”

horkheimer: philosopher, the leading theorist of the first generation of the Frankfurt School of critical theory. Both as director of the Institute for Social Research and in his early philosophical essays published in the Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung, Horkheimer set the agenda for the collaborative work of the Frankfurt School in the social sciences, including analyses of the developments of state capitalism, the family, modern culture, and fascism. His programmatic essays on the relation of philosophy and the social sciences long provided the philosophical basis for Frankfurt School social criticism and research and have profoundly influenced Habermas’s reformulation of Frankfurt School critical theory. In these essays, such as “The Present Situation of Social Philosophy and the Tasks of an Institute for Social Research” (1931), Horkheimer elaborated a cooperative relation between philosophy and the social sciences through an interdisciplinary historical materialism. His “Traditional and Critical Theory” (1937) develops the distinction between “critical” and “traditional” theories in terms of basic goals: critical theories aim at emancipating human beings rather than describing reality as it is now. In the darkest days of World War II Horkheimer began collaborating with Adorno on The Dialectic of Enlightenment (1941), in which they see the origins of modern reason and autonomy in the domination of nature and the inner self. This genealogy of modern reason argues that myth and enlightenment are inseparably “entwined,” a view proposed primarily to explain the catastrophe in which Europe found itself. While Horkheimer thought that a revised notion of Hegelian dialectics might lead beyond this impasse, he never completed this positive project. Instead, he further developed the critique of instrumental reason in such works as Eclipse of Reason (1947), where he argues that modern institutions, including democracy, are under the sway of formal and instrumental rationality and the imperatives of self-preservation. While he did little new work after this period, he turned at the end of his life to a philosophical reinterpretation of religion and the content of religious experience and concepts, developing a negative theology of the “completely Other.” His most enduring influence is his clear formulation of the epistemology of practical and critical social inquiry oriented to human emancipation.

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

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

Grice and the humboldts: Born in Potsdam, Wilhelm, with his brother Alexander, was educated by private tutors in the enlightened style thought suitable for a Prussian philosopher.This included Grice’s stuff: philosophy and the two classical languages, with a bit of ancient and modern history. After his university studies in law at Frankfurt an der Oder and Göttingen, Humboldt’s career was divided among assorted posts, philosophising on a broad range of topics, notably his first loves, like Grice’s: philosophy and the classical languages. Humboldt’s broad-ranging works reveal the important influences of Herder in his conception of history and culture, Kant and Fichte in philosophy, and the French “Ideologues” in semiotics. His most enduring work has proved to be the Introduction to his massive study of language. Humboldt maintains that language, as a vital and dynamic “organism,” is the key to understanding both the operations of the soul. A language such as Latin possesses a distinctive inner form that shapes, in a way reminiscent of Kant’s more general categories, the subjective experience, the world-view, and ultimately the institutions of Rome. While all philosophers are indebted to both his empirical studies and his theoretical insights on culture, such philosophers as Dilthey and Cassirer acknowledge him as establishing the Latin language as a central concern for the humanities. H. P. Grice, “Alexander and all the Humboldts.”

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

Tooke Ἒπεα πτερόεντα 

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

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

huygens: c., physicist and astronomer who ranked among the leading experimental scientists of his time and influenced many other thinkers, including Leibniz. He wrote on physics and astronomy in Latin (Horologium Oscillatorium, 1673; De Vi Centrifuga, 1703) and in French for the Journal des Scavans. He became a founding member of the French Academy of Sciences. Huygens ground lenses, built telescopes, discovered the rings of Saturn, and invented the pendulum clock. His most popular composition, Cosmotheoros (1699), inspired by Fontenelle, praises a divine architect and conjectures the possible existence of rational beings on other planets.

materia: One of Grice’s twelve labours is against Materialism -- Cicero’s translation of hyle, ancient Greek term for matter. Aristotle brought the word into use in philosophy by contrast with the term for form, and as designating one of the four causes. By hyle Aristotle usually means ‘that out of which something has been made’, but he can also mean by it ‘that which has form’. In Aristotelian philosophy hyle is sometimes also identified with potentiality and with substrate. Neoplatonists identified hyle with the receptacle of Plato.

forma: Grice always found ‘logical form’ redundant (“Surely we are not into ‘matter’ – that would be cheap!”) – “‘materia-forma’ is the unity, as the Grecians well knew.”- hylomorphism, the doctrine, first taught by Aristotle, that concrete substance consists of form in matter (hyle). The details of this theory are explored in the central books of Aristotle’s Metaphysics (Zeta, Eta, and Theta).

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

substantia – hypostasis, the process of regarding a concept or abstraction as an independent or real entity. The verb forms ‘hypostatize’ and ‘reify’ designate the acts of positing objects of a certain sort for the purposes of one’s theory. It is sometimes implied that a fallacy is involved in so describing these processes or acts, as in ‘Plato was guilty of the reification of universals’. The issue turns largely on criteria of ontological commitment.

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

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

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

ichthyological necessity: topic-neutral: Originally, Ryle’s term for logical constants, such as “of ” “not,” “every.” They are not endowed with special meanings, and are applicable to discourse about any subject-matter. They do not refer to any external object but function to organize meaningful discourse. J. J. C. Smart calls a term topic-neutral if it is noncommittal about designating something mental or something physical. Instead, it simply describes an event without judging the question of its intrinsic nature. In his central-state theory of mind, Smart develops a topic-neutral analysis of mental expressions and argues that it is possible to account for the situations described by mental concepts in purely physical and topic-neutral terms. “In this respect, statements like ‘I am thinking now’ are, as J. J. C. Smart puts it, topic-neutral. They say that something is going on within us, something apt for the causing of certain sorts of behaviour, but they say nothing of the nature of this process.” D. Armstrong, A Materialist Theory of the Mind

icon -- Would Ciero prefer the spelling ‘eiconicus’ or ‘iconicus’? We know Pliny preferred ‘icon.’īcon , ŏnis, f., = εἰκών,I.an image, figure: “fictae ceră icones,” Plin. 8, 54, 80, § 215.Iconicity -- depiction, pictorial representation, also sometimes called “iconic representation.” Linguistic representation is conventional: it is only by virtue of a convention that the word ‘cats’ refers to cats. A picture of a cat, however, seems to refer to cats by other than conventional means; for viewers can correctly interpret pictures without special training, whereas people need special training to learn languages. Though some philosophers, such as Goodman Languages of Art, deny that depiction involves a non-conventional element, most are concerned to give an account of what this non-conventional element consists in. Some hold that it consists in resemblance: pictures refer to their objects partly by resembling them. Objections to this are that anything resembles anything else to some degree; and that resemblance is a symmetric and reflexive relation, whereas depiction is not. Other philosophers avoid direct appeal to resemblance: Richard Wollheim Painting as an Art argues that depiction holds by virtue of the intentional deployment of the natural human capacity to see objects in marked surfaces; and dependence, causal depiction Kendall Walton Mimesis as Make-Believe argues that depiction holds by virtue of objects serving as props in reasonably rich and vivid visual games of make-believe. 

forma: ideatum – Cicero was a bit at a loss when trying to translate the Greek eidos or idea. For ‘eidos’ he had forma, but the Romans seemed to have liked the sound of ‘idea,’ and Martianus Capella even coined ‘ideal,’ which Kant and Grice later used. idea, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, whatever is immediately before the mind when one thinks. The notion of thinking was taken in a very broad sense; it included perception, memory, and imagination, in addition to thinking narrowly construed. In connection with perception, ideas were often (though not always – Berkeley is the exception) held to be representational images, i.e., images of something. In other contexts, ideas were taken to be concepts, such as the concept of a horse or of an infinite quantity, though concepts of these sorts certainly do not appear to be images. An innate idea was either a concept or a general truth, such as ‘Equals added to equals yield equals’, that was allegedly not learned but was in some sense always in the mind. Sometimes, as in Descartes, innate ideas were taken to be cognitive capacities rather than concepts or general truths, but these capacities, too, were held to be inborn. An adventitious idea, either an image or a concept, was an idea accompanied by a judgment concerning the non-mental cause of that idea. So, a visual image was an adventitious idea provided one judged of that idea that it was caused by something outside one’s mind, presumably by the object being seen. From Idea Alston coined ‘ideationalism’ to refer to Grice’s theory. “Grice’s is an ideationalist theory of meaning, drawn from Locke.”Alston calls Grice an ideationalist, and Grice takes it as a term of abuse. Grice would occasionally use ‘mental.’ Short and Lewis have "mens.” “terra corpus est, at mentis ignis est;” so too, “istic est de sole sumptus; isque totus mentis est;”  f. from the root ‘men,’ whence ‘memini,’  and ‘comminiscor.’ Lewis and Short render ‘mens’ as ‘the mind, disposition; the heart, soul.’ Lewis and Short have ‘commĭniscor,’ originally conminiscor ), mentus, from ‘miniscor,’ whence also ‘reminiscor,’ stem ‘men,’ whence ‘mens’ and ‘memini,’  cf. Varro, Lingua Latina 6, § 44. Lewis and Short render the verb as, literally, ‘to ponder carefully, to reflect upon;’ ‘hence, as a result of reflection; cf. 1. commentor, II.), to devise something by careful thought, to contrive, invent, feign. Myro is perhaps unaware of the implicatura of ‘mental’ when he qualifies his -ism with ‘modest.’ Grice would seldom use mind (Grecian nous) or mental (Grecian noetikos vs. æsthetikos). His sympathies go for more over-arching Grecian terms like the very Aristotelian soul, the anima, i. e. the psyche and the psychological. Grice discusses G. Myro’s essay, ‘In defence of a modal mentalism,’ with attending commentary by R. Albritton and S. Cavell. Grice himself would hardly use mental, mentalist, or mentalism himself, but perhaps psychologism. Grice would use mental, on occasion, but his Grecianism was deeply rooted, unlike Myro’s. At Clifton and under Hardie (let us recall he came up to Oxford under a classics scholarship to enrol in the Lit. Hum.) he knows that mental translates mentalis translates nous, only ONE part, one third, actually, of the soul, and even then it may not include the ‘practical rational’ one! Cf. below on ‘telementational.’

formalism: Cicero’s translation for ‘idealism,’ or ideism -- the philosophical doctrine that reality is somehow mind-correlative or mind-coordinated – that the real objects constituting the “external world” are not independent of cognizing minds, but exist only as in some way correlative to mental operations. The doctrine centers on the conception that reality as we understand it reflects the workings of mind. Perhaps its most radical version is the ancient Oriental spiritualistic or panpsychistic idea, renewed in Christian Science, that minds and their thoughts are all there is – that reality is simply the sum total of the visions (or dreams?) of one or more minds. A dispute has long raged within the idealist camp over whether “the mind” at issue in such idealistic formulas was a mind emplaced outside of or behind nature (absolute idealism), or a nature-pervasive power of rationality of some sort (cosmic idealism), or the collective impersonal social mind of people in general (social idealism), or simply the distributive collection of individual minds (personal idealism). Over the years, the less grandiose versions of the theory came increasingly to the fore, and in recent times virtually all idealists have construed “the minds” at issue in their theory as separate individual minds equipped with socially engendered resources. There are certainly versions of idealism short of the spiritualistic position of an ontological idealism that (as Kant puts it at Prolegomena, section 13, n. 2) holds that “there are none but thinking beings.” Idealism need certainly not go so far as to affirm that mind makes or constitutes matter; it is quite enough to maintain (e.g.) that all of the characterizing properties of physical existents resemble phenomenal sensory properties in representing dispositions to affect mind-endowed creatures in a certain sort of way, so that these properties have no standing without reference to minds. Weaker still is an explanatory idealism which merely holds that an adequate explanation of the real always requires some recourse to the operations of mind. Historically, positions of the generally idealistic type have been espoused by numerous thinkers. For example, Berkeley maintained that “to be [real] is to be perceived” (esse est percipi). And while this does not seem particularly plausible because of its inherent commitment to omniscience, it seems more sensible to adopt “to be is to be perceivable” (esse est percipile esse). For Berkeley, of course, this was a distinction without a difference: if something is perceivable at all, then God perceives it. But if we forgo philosophical reliance on God, the matter looks different, and pivots on the question of what is perceivable for perceivers who are physically realizable in “the real world,” so that physical existence could be seen – not so implausibly – as tantamount to observability-in-principle. The three positions to the effect that real things just exactly are things as philosophy or as science or as “common sense” takes them to be – positions generally designated as Scholastic, scientific, and naive realism, respectively – are in fact versions of epistemic idealism exactly because they see reals as inherently knowable and do not contemplate mind-transcendence for the real. Thus, the thesis of naive (“commonsense”) realism that ‘External things exist exactly as we know them’ sounds realistic or idealistic according as one stresses the first three words of the dictum or the last four. Any theory of natural teleology that regards the real as explicable in terms of value could to this extent be counted as idealistic, in that valuing is by nature a mental process. To be sure, the good of a creature or species of creatures (e.g., their well-being or survival) need not be something mind-represented. But nevertheless, goods count as such precisely because if the creatures at issue could think about it, they would adopt them as purposes. It is this circumstance that renders any sort of teleological explanation at least conceptually idealistic in nature. Doctrines of this sort have been the stock-in-trade of philosophy from the days of Plato (think of the Socrates of the Phaedo) to those of Leibniz, with his insistence that the real world must be the best possible. And this line of thought has recently surfaced once more in the controversial “anthropic principle” espoused by some theoretical physicists. Then too it is possible to contemplate a position along the lines envisioned in Fichte’s Wissenschaftslehre (The Science of Knowledge), which sees the ideal as providing the determining factor for the real. On such a view, the real is not characterized by the science we actually have but by the ideal science that is the telos of our scientific efforts. On this approach, which Wilhelm Wundt characterized as “ideal-realism” (Idealrealismus; see his Logik, vol. 1, 2d ed., 1895), the knowledge that achieves adequation to the real idea, clear and distinct idealism (adaequatio ad rem) by adequately characterizing the true facts in scientific matters is not the knowledge actually afforded by present-day science, but only that of an ideal or perfected science. Over the years, many objections to idealism have been advanced. Samuel Johnson thought to refute Berkeley’s phenomenalism by kicking a stone. He conveniently forgot that Berkeley goes to great lengths to provide for stones – even to the point of invoking the aid of God on their behalf. Moore pointed to the human hand as an undeniably mind-external material object. He overlooked that, gesticulate as he would, he would do no more than induce people to accept the presence of a hand on the basis of the handorientation of their experience. Peirce’s “Harvard Experiment” of letting go of a stone held aloft was supposed to establish Scholastic realism because his audience could not control their expectation of the stone’s falling to earth. But an uncontrollable expectation is still an expectation, and the realism at issue is no more than a realistic thought-exposure. Kant’s famous “Refutation of Idealism” argues that our conception of ourselves as mindendowed beings presupposes material objects because we view our mind-endowed selves as existing in an objective temporal order, and such an order requires the existence of periodic physical processes (clocks, pendula, planetary regularities) for its establishment. At most, however, this argument succeeds in showing that such physical processes have to be assumed by minds, the issue of their actual mind-independent existence remaining unaddressed. (Kantian realism is an intraexperiential “empirical” realism.) It is sometimes said that idealism confuses objects with our knowledge of them and conflates the real with our thought about it. But this charge misses the point. The only reality with which we inquirers can have any cognitive commerce is reality as we conceive it to be. Our only information about reality is via the operation of mind – our only cognitive access to reality is through the mediation of mind-devised models of it. Perhaps the most common objection to idealism turns on the supposed mind-independence of the real: “Surely things in nature would remain substantially unchanged if there were no minds.” This is perfectly plausible in one sense, namely the causal one – which is why causal idealism has its problems. But it is certainly not true conceptually. The objector has to specify just exactly what would remain the same. “Surely roses would smell just as sweet in a minddenuded world!” Well . . . yes and no. To be sure, the absence of minds would not change roses. But roses and rose fragrance and sweetness – and even the size of roses – are all factors whose determination hinges on such mental operations as smelling, scanning, measuring, and the like. Mind-requiring processes are needed for something in the world to be discriminated as a rose and determined to bear certain features. Identification, classification, property attribution are all required and by their very nature are all mental operations. To be sure, the role of mind is here hypothetical. (“If certain interactions with duly constituted observers took place, then certain outcomes would be noted.”) But the fact remains that nothing could be discriminated or characterized as a rose in a context where the prospect of performing suitable mental operations (measuring, smelling, etc.) is not presupposed. Perhaps the strongest argument favoring idealism is that any characterization of the real that we can devise is bound to be a mind-constructed one: our only access to information about what the real is is through the mediation of mind. What seems right about idealism is inherent in the fact that in investigating the real we are clearly constrained to use our own concepts to address our own issues – that we can learn about the real only in our own terms of reference. But what seems right about realism is that the answers to the questions we put to the real are provided by reality itself – whatever the answers may be, they are substantially what they are because it is reality itself that determines them to be that way. -- idealism, Critical.

ordinary language – opposed to ‘ideal’ language -- ideal language, a system of notation that would correct perceived deficiencies of ordinary language by requiring the structure of expressions to mirror the structure of that which they represent. The notion that conceptual errors can be corrected and philosophical problems solved (or dissolved) by properly representing them in some such system figured prominently in the writings of Leibniz, Carnap, Russell, Wittgenstein, and Frege, among others. For Russell, the ideal, or “logically perfect,” language is one in which grammatical form coincides with logical form, there are no vague or ambiguous expres sions, and no proper names that fail to denote. Frege’s Begriffsschrift is perhaps the most thorough and successful execution of the ideal language project. Deductions represented within this system (or its modern descendants) can be effectively checked for correctness.

Oxford idealism: Grice is a member of “The F. H. Bradley Society,” at Mansfield. -- ideal market, a hypothetical market, used as a tool of economic analysis, in which all relevant agents are perfectly informed of the price of the good in question and the cost of its production, and all economic transactions can be undertaken with no cost. A specific case is a market exemplifying perfect competition. The term is sometimes extended to apply to an entire economy consisting of ideal markets for every good.  -- ideal observer, a hypothetical being, possessed of various qualities and traits, whose moral reactions (judgments or attitudes) to actions, persons, and states of affairs figure centrally in certain theories of ethics. There are two main versions of ideal observer theory: (a) those that take the reactions of ideal observers as a standard of the correctness of moral judgments, and (b) those that analyze the meanings of moral judgments in terms of the reactions of ideal observers. Theories of the first sort – ideal observer theories of correctness – hold, e.g., that judgments like ‘John’s lying to Brenda about her father’s death was wrong (bad)’ are correct provided any ideal observer would have a negative attitude toward John’s action. Similarly, ‘Alison’s refusal to divulge confidential information about her patient was right (good)’ is correct provided any ideal observer would have a positive attitude toward that action. This version of the theory can be traced to Adam Smith, who is usually credited with introducing the concept of an ideal observer into philosophy, though he used the expression ‘impartial spectator’ to refer to the concept. Regarding the correctness of moral judgments, Smith wrote: “That precise and distinct measure can be found nowhere but in the sympathetic feelings of the impartial and well-informed spectator” (A Theory of Moral Sentiments, 1759). Theories of a second sort – ideal observer theories of meaning – take the concept of an ideal observer as part of the very meaning of ordinary moral judgments. Thus, according to Roderick Firth (“Ethical Absolutism and the Ideal Observer,” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 1952), moral judgments of the form ‘x is good (bad)’, on this view, mean ‘All ideal observers would feel moral approval (disapproval) toward x’, and similarly for other moral judgments (where such approvals and disapprovals are characterized as felt desires having a “demand quality”). Different conceptions of an ideal observer result from variously specifying those qualities and traits that characterize such beings. Smith’s characterization includes being well informed and impartial. However, according to Firth, an ideal observer must be omniscient; omnipercipient, i.e., having the ability to imagine vividly any possible events or states of affairs, including the experiences and subjective states of others; disinterested, i.e., having no interests or desires that involve essential reference to any particular individuals or things; dispassionate; consistent; and otherwise a “normal” human being. Both versions of the theory face a dilemma: on the one hand, if ideal observers are richly characterized as impartial, disinterested, and normal, then since these terms appear to be moral-evaluative terms, appeal to the reactions of ideal observers (either as a standard of correctness or as an analysis of meaning) is circular. On the other hand, if ideal observers receive an impoverished characterization in purely non-evaluative terms, then since there is no reason to suppose that such ideal observers will often all agree in their reactions to actions, people, and states of affairs, most moral judgments will turn out to be incorrect. Grice: “We have to distinguish between idealism and hegelianism; but the English being as they are, they don’t! And being English, I shouldn’t, either!” – “There is so-called ‘idealist’ logic; if so, there is so called ‘idealist implicaturum’” “My favourite idealist philosopher is Bosanquet.” “I like Bradley because Russell was once a Bradleyian, when it was fashionable to be so! But surely Russell lacked the spirit to understand, even, Bradley! It is so much easier to mock him!” --. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “Pre-war Oxford philosophy.” The reference to mentalism in the essay on ‘modest mentalism,’ after Myro, in The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

ideatum. Quite used by Grice. Cf. Conceptum. Sub-perceptual. Cognate with ‘eidos,’ that Grice translates as ‘forma.’ Why is an ‘eidos’ an ‘idea’ and in what sense is an idea a ‘form’? These are deep questions!

idem: a key philosophical notion that encompasses linguistic, logic, and metaphysical issues, and also epistemology. Possibly the central question in philosophy. Vide the principle of ‘identity.’ amicus est tamquam alter idem,” a second self, Identicum. Grecian ‘tautotes.’ late L. identitās (Martianus Capella, c425), peculiarly formed from ident(i)-, for L. idem ‘same’ + -tās, -tātem: see -ty.  Various suggestions have been offered as to the formation. Need was evidently felt of a noun of condition or quality from idem to express the notion of ‘sameness’, side by side with those of ‘likeness’ and ‘oneness’ expressed by similitās and ūnitās: hence the form of the suffix.  But idem had no combining stem.  Some have thought that ident(i)- was taken from the L. adv. "identidem" ‘over and over again, repeatedly’, connexion with which appears to be suggested by Du Cange's explanation of identitās as ‘quævis actio repetita’. Meyer-Lübke suggests that in the formation there was present some association between idem and id ens ‘that being’, whence "identitās" like "entitās." But assimilation to "entitās" may have been merely to avoid the solecism of *idemitās or *idemtās. sameness. However originated, "ident(i)-" (either from adverb "identidem" or an assimilation of "id ens," "id ens," that being, "id entitas" "that entity") became the combining stem of idem, and the series ūnitās, ūnicus, ūnificus, ūnificāre, was paralleled by identitās, identicus, identificus, identificāre: see identic, identific, identify above.] to  OED 3rd: identity, n. Pronunciation:  Brit./ʌɪˈdɛntᵻti/ , U.S. /aɪˈdɛn(t)ədi/ Forms:  15 idemptitie, 15 ydemptyte, 15–16 identitie, 15– identity, 16 idemptity.  Etymology: < Middle French identité, ydemtité, ydemptité, ydentité (French identité) quality or condition of being the same (a1310; 1756 in sense ‘individuality, personality’, 1801 in sense ‘distinct impression of a single person or thing presented to or perceived by others’) and its etymon post-classical Latin identitat-, identitas quality of being the same (4th cent.), condition or fact that a person or thing is itself and not something else (8th cent. in a British source), fact of being the same (from 12th cent. in British sources), continual sameness, lack of variety, monotony (from 12th cent. in British sources; 14th cent. in a continental source) < classical Latin idem same (see idem n.) + -tās (see -ty suffix1) [sameness], after post-classical Latin essentitas ‘being’ (4th cent.).The Latin word was formed to provide a translation equivalent for ancient Greek ταὐτότης (tautotes) identity. identity: identity was a key concept for Grice. Under identity, he views both identity simpliciter and personal identity. Grice advocates psychological or soul criterianism. Psychological or soul criterianism has been advocated, in one form or another, by philosophers such as Locke, Butler, Duncan-Jones, Berkeley, Gallie, Grice, Flew, Haugeland, Jones, Perry, Shoemaker and Parfit, and Quinton. What all of these theories have in common is the idea that, even if it is the case that some kind of physical states are necessary for being a person, it is the unity of consciousness which is of decisive importance for personal identity over time. In this sense, person is a term which picks out a psychological, or mental, "thing". In claiming this, all Psychological Criterianists entail the view that personal identity consists in the continuity of psychological features. It is interesting that Flew has an earlier "Selves," earlier than his essay on Locke on personal identity. The first, for Mind, criticising Jones, "The self in sensory cognition"; the second for Philosophy. Surely under the tutelage of Grice. Cf. Jones, Selves: A reply to Flew, Philosophy.  The stronger thesis asserts that there is no conceivable situation in which bodily identity would be necessary, some other conditions being always both necessary and sufficient. Grice takes it that Locke’s theory (II, 27) is an example of this latter type. To say "Grice remembers that he heard a noise", without irony or inverted commas, is to imply that Grice did hear a noise. In this respect remember is like, know, a factive. It does not follow from this, nor is it true, that each claim to remember, any more than each claim to know, is alethic or veridical; or, not everything one seems to remember is something one really remembers. So much is obvious, although Locke -- although admittedly referring only to the memory of actions, section 13 -- is forced to invoke the providence of God to deny the latter. These points have been emphasised by Flew in his discussion of Locke’s views on personal identity. In formulating Locke’ thesis, however, Flew makes a mistake; for he offers Lockes thesis in the form if Grice can remember Hardies doing such-and-such, Grice and Hardie are the same person. But this obviously will not do, even for Locke, for we constantly say things like I remember my brother Derek joining the army without implying that I and my brother are the same person. So if we are to formulate such a criterion, it looks as though we have to say something like the following. If Derek Grice remembers joining my, he is the person who did that thing. But since remembers doing means remembers himself doing, this is trivially tautologous, and moreover lends colour to Butlers famous objection that memory, so far from constituting personal identity, presupposes it.  As Butler puts it, one should really think it self-evident that consciousness of personal identity presupposes, and therefore cannot constitute, personal identity; any more than knowledge, in any other case, can constitute truth, which it presupposes. Butler then asserts that Locke’s misstep stems from his methodology. This wonderful mistake may possibly have arisen from hence; that to be endued with consciousness is inseparable from the idea of a person, or intelligent being. For this might be expressed inaccurately thus, that consciousness makes personality: and from hence it might be concluded to make personal identity. One of the points that Locke emphasizes—that persistence conditions are determined via defining kind terms—is what, according to Butler, leads Locke astray.  Butler additionally makes the point that memory is not required for personal persistence. But though present consciousness of what we at present do and feel is necessary to our being the persons we now are; yet present consciousness of past actions or feelings is not necessary to our being the same persons who performed those actions, or had those feelings. This is a point that others develop when they assert that Lockes view results in contradiction. Hence the criterion should rather run as follows. If Derek Grice claims to remember joining the army. We must then ask how such a criterion might be used.  Grices example is: I remember I smelled a smell. He needs two experiences to use same. I heard a noise and I smelled a smell.The singular defines the hearing of a noise is the object of some consciousness. The pair defines, "The hearing of a noise and the smelling of a smell are objects of the same -- cognate with self as in I hurt me self, -- consciousness. The standard form of an identity question is Is this x the same x as that x which E and in the simpler situation we are at least presented with just the materials for constructing such a question; but in the more complicated situation we are baffled even in asking the question, since both the transformed persons are equally good candidates for being its Subjects, and the question Are these two xs the same (x?) as the x which E is not a recognizable form of identity question. Thus, it might be argued, the fact that we could not speak of identity in the latter situation is no kind of proof that we could not do so in the former. Certainly it is not a proof, as Strawson points out to Grice. This is not to say that they are identical at all. The only case in which identity and exact similarity could be distinguished, as we have just seen, is that of the body, same body and exactly similar body really do mark a difference. Thus one may claim that the omission of the body takes away all content from the idea of personal identity, as Pears pointed out to Grice. Leaving aside memory, which only partially applies to the case, character and attainments are quite clearly general things. Joness character is, in a sense, a particular; just because Jones’s character refers to the instantiation of certain properties by a particular (and bodily) man, as Strawson points out to Grice (Particular and general). If in ‘Negation and privation,’ Grice tackles Aristotle, he now tackles Locke. Indeed, seeing that Grice went years later to the topic as motivated by, of all people, Haugeland, rather than perhaps the more academic milieu that Perry offers, Grice became obsessed with Hume’s sceptical doubts! Hume writes in the Appendix that when he turns his reflection on himself, Hume never can perceive this self without some one or more perceptions. Nor can Hume ever perceive any thing but the perceptions. It is the composition of these, therefore, which forms the self, Hume thinks. Hume grants that one can conceive a thinking being to have either many or few perceptions. Suppose, says Hume, the mind to be reduced even below the life of an oyster. Suppose the oyster to have only one perception, as of thirst or hunger. Consider the oyster in that situation. Does the oyster conceive any thing but merely that perception? Has the oyster any notion of, to use Gallies pretentious Aristotelian jargon, self or substance? If not, the addition of this or other perception can never give the oyster that notion. The annihilation, which this or that philosopher, including Grices first post-war tutee, Flew, supposes to  follow upon death, and which entirely destroys  the oysters self, is nothing but an extinction  of all particular perceptions; love and hatred,  pain and pleasure, thought and sensation. These therefore must be the same with self; since the one cannot survive the other. Is self the same with substance? If it be, how can that question have place, concerning the subsistence of self, under a change of substance? If they be distinct, what is the difference betwixt them? For his part, Hume claims, he has a notion of neither, when conceived distinct from this or that particular perception. However extraordinary Hume’s conclusion may seem,   it need not surprise us. Most philosophers, such as Locke, seems inclined to think, that personal identity arises from consciousness. But consciousness is nothing but a reflected thought or perception, Hume suggests. This is Grices quandary about personal identity and its implicatura. Some philosophers have taken Grice as trying to provide an exegesis of Locke. However, their approaches surely differ. What works for Grice may not work for Locke. For Grice it is analytically true that it is not the case that Person₁ and Person may have the same experience. Grice explicitly states that he thinks that his logical-construction theory is a modification of Locke’s theory. Grice does not seem terribly interested to find why it may not, even if the York-based Locke Society might! Rather than introjecting into Lockes shoes, Grices strategy seems to dismiss Locke, shoes and all. Specifically, it not clear to Grice what Lockes answer in the Essay would be to Grices question about this or that I utterance that he sets his analysis with. Admittedly, Grice does quote, albeit briefly, directly from Lockes Essay. As far as any intelligent being can repeat the idea of any past action with the same consciousness it had of it at first, and with the same consciousness it has of any present action, Locke claims, so far the being is the same personal self. Grice tackles Lockes claim with four objections. These are important to consider since Grice sees as improving on Locke. A first objection concerns icircularity, with which Grice easily disposes by following Hume and appealing to the experience of memory or introspection. A second objection is Reid’s alleged counterexample about the long-term memory of the admiral who cannot remember that he was flogged as a boy. Grice dismisses this as involving too long-term of a memory. A third objection concerns Locke’s vagueness about the aboutness of consciousness, a point made by Hume in the Appendix. A fourth objection concerns again circularity, this time in Locke’s use of same in the definiens ‒ cf. Wiggins, Sameness and substance. It’s extraordinary that Wiggins is philosophising on anything Griceian. Grice is concerned with the implicaturum involved in the use of the first person singular. I will be fighting soon. Grice means in body and soul. The utterance also indicates that this is Grices pre-war days at Oxford. No wonder his choice of an example. What else could he have in his soul? The topic of personal identity, which label Hume and Austin found pretentious, and preferred to talk about the illocutionary force of I, has a special Oxonian pedigree, perhaps as motivated by Humes challenge, that Grice has occasion to study and explore for his M. A. Lit. Hum. with Locke’s Essay as mandatory reading. Locke, a philosopher with whom Oxford identifies most, infamously defends this memory-based account of I. Up in Scotland, Reid reads it and concocts this alleged counter-example. Hume, or Home, if you must, enjoys it. In fact, while in the Mind essay he is not too specific about Hume, Grice will, due mainly to his joint investigations with Haugeland, approach, introjecting into the shoes of Hume ‒ who is idolised in The New World ‒ in ways he does not introject into Lockes. But Grices quandary is Hume’s quandary, too. In his own approach to I, the Cartesian ego, made transcendental and apperceptive by Kant, Grice updates the time-honoured empiricist mnemonic analysis by Locke. The first update is in style. Grice embraces, as he does with negation, a logical construction, alla Russell, via Broad, of this or that “I” (first-person) utterance, ending up with an analysis of a “someone,” third-person, less informative, utterance. Grices immediate source is Gallie’s essay on self and substance in Mind. Mind is still a review of psychology and philosophy, so poor Grice has not much choice. In fact, Grice is being heterodoxical or heretic enough to use Broad’s taxonomy, straight from the other place of I utterances. The logical-construction theory is a third proposal, next to the Bradleyian idealist pure-ego theory and the misleading covert-description theory. Grice deals with the Reids alleged counterexample of the brave officer. Suppose, Reid says, and Grice quotes verbatim, a brave officer to have been flogged when a boy at school, for robbing an orchard, to have taken a standard from the enemy in his first campaign, and to have been made a general in advanced life. Suppose also, which must be admitted to be possible, that when he₂ took the standard, he₂ was conscious of his having been flogged at school, and that, when made a general, he₃ was conscious of his₂ taking the standard, but had absolutely lost the consciousness of his1 flogging. These things being supposed, it follows, from Lockes doctrine, that he1 who is flogged at school is the same person as him₂ who later takes the standard, and that he₂ who later takes the standard is the same person as him₃ who is still later made a general. When it follows, if there be any truth in logic, that the general is the same person with him₁ who is flogged at school. But the general’s consciousness does emphatically not reach so far back as his1 flogging. Therefore, according to Locke’s doctrine, he₃ is emphatically not the same person as him1 who is flogged. Therefore, we can say about the general that he₃ is, and at the same time, that he₃ is not the same person as him₁ who was flogged at school. Grice, wholl later add a temporal suffix to =t yielding, by transitivity. The flogged boy =_t1 the brave officer. And the brave officer =_t2 the admiral. But the admiral ≠_t3 the flogged boy. In Mind, Grice tackles the basic analysans, and comes up with a rather elaborate analysans for a simple I or Someone statement. Grice just turns to a generic affirmative variant of the utterance he had used in Negation. It is now someone, viz. I, who hears that the bell tolls. It is the affirmative counterpart of the focus of his earlier essay on negation, I do not hear that the bell tolls. Grice dismisses what, in the other place, was referred to as privileged-access, and the indexicality of I, an approach that will be made popular by Perry, who however reprints Grices essay in his influential collection for the University of California Press. By allowing for someone, viz. I, Grice seems to be relying on a piece of reasoning which hell later, in his first Locke lecture, refer to as too good. I hear that the bell tolls; therefore, someone hears that the bell tolls. Grice attempts to reduce this or that I utterance (Someone, viz. I, hears that the bell tolls) is in terms of a chain or sequence of mnemonic states. It poses a few quandaries itself. While quoting from this or that recent philosopher such as Gallie and Broad, it is a good thing that Grice has occasion to go back to, or revisit, Locke and contest this or that infamous and alleged counterexample presented by Reid and Hume. Grice adds a methodological note to his proposed logical-construction theory of personal identity. There is some intricacy of his reductive analysis, indeed logical construction, for an apparently simple and harmless utterance (cf. his earlier essay on I do not hear that the bell tolls). But this intricacy does not prove the analysis wrong. Only that Grice is too subtle. If the reductive analysis of not is in terms of each state which I am experiencing is incompatible with phi), that should not be a minus, or drawback, but a plus, and an advantage in terms of philosophical progress. The same holds here in terms of the concept of a temporary state. Much later, Grice reconsiders, or revisits, indeed, Broads remark and re-titles his approach as the (or a) logical-construction theory of personal identity. And, with Haugeland, Grice re-considers Humes own vagaries, or quandary, with personal identity. Unlike the more conservative Locke that Grice favours in the pages of Mind, eliminationist Hume sees ‘I’ as a conceptual muddle, indeed a metaphysical chimæra. Hume presses the point for an empiricist verificationist account of I. For, as Russell would rhetorically ask, ‘What can be more direct that the experience of myself?’ The Hume Society should take notice of Grices simplification of Hume’s implicaturum on I, if The Locke Society won’t. As a matter of fact, Grice calls one of his metaphysical construction routines the Humeian projection, so it is not too adventurous to think that Grice considers I  as an intuitive concept that needs to be metaphysically re-constructed and be given a legitimate Fregeian sense. Why that label for a construction routine? Grice calls this metaphysical construction routine Humeian projection, since the mind (or soul) as it were, spreads over its objects. But, by mind, Hume does not necessarily mean the I. Cf. The minds I. Grice is especially concerned with the poverty and weaknesses of Humes criticism to Lockes account of personal identity. Grice opts to revisit the Lockeian memory-based of this or that someone, viz. I utterance that Hume rather regards as vague, and confusing. Unlike Humes, neither Lockes nor Grices reductive analysis of personal identity is reductionist and eliminationist. The reductive-reductionist distinction Grice draws in Retrospective epilogue as he responds to Rountree-Jack on this or that alleged wrong on meaning that. It is only natural that Grice would be sympathetic to Locke. Grice explores these issues with Haugeland mainly at seminars. One may wonder why Grice spends so much time in a philosopher such as Hume, with whom he agreed almost on nothing! The answer is Humes influence in the Third World that forced Grice to focus on this or that philosopher. Surely Locke is less popular in the New World than Hume is. One supposes Grice is trying to save Hume at the implicaturum level, at least. The phrase or term of art, logical construction is Russells and Broads, but Grice loved it. Rational reconstruction is not too dissimilar. Grice prefers Russells and Broads more conservative label. This is more than a terminological point. If Hume is right and there is NO intuitive concept behind I, one cannot strictly re-construct it, only construct it. Ultimately, Grice shows that, if only at the implicaturum level, we are able to provide an analysandum for this or that someone, viz. I utterance without using I, by implicating only this or that mnemonic concept, which belongs, naturally, as his theory of negation does, in a theory of philosophical psychology, and again a lower branch of it, dealing with memory. The topic of personal identity unites various interests of Grice. The first is identity “=” simpliciter. Instead of talking of the meaning of I, as, say, Anscombe would, Grice sticks to the traditional category, or keyword, for this, i. e. the theory-laden, personal identity, or even personal sameness. Personal identity is a type of identity, but personal adds something to it. Surely Hume was stretching person a bit when using the example of a soul with a life lower than an oyster. Since Grice follows Aristotles De Anima, he enjoys Hume’s choice, though. It may be argued that personal adds Locke’s consciousness, and rational agency. Grice plays with the body-soul distinction. I, viz someone or somebody, fell from the stairs, perhaps differs from I will be fighting soon. This or that someone, viz. I utterance may be purely bodily. Grice would think that the idea that his soul fell from the stairs sounds, as it would to Berkeley, harsh. But then theres this or that one may be mixed utterance. Someone, viz. I, plays cricket, where surely your bodily mechanisms require some sort of control by the soul. Finally, this or that may be purely souly ‒ the one Grice ends up analysing, Someone, viz. I, hear that the bell tolls. At the time of his Mind essay, Grice may have been unaware of the complications that the concept of a person may bring as attached in adjective form to identity. Ayer did, and Strawson and Wiggins will, and Grice learns much from Strawson. Since Parfit, this has become a common-place topic for analysis at Oxford. A person as a complexum of a body-soul spatio-temporal continuant substance. Ultimately, Grice finds a theoretical counterpart here. A P may become a human, which Grice understands physiologically. That is not enough. A P must aspire, via meteousis, to become a person. Thus, person becomes a technical term in Grices grand metaphysical scheme of things. Someone, viz. I, hear that the bell is tolls is analysed as  ≡df, or if and only if, a hearing that the bell tolls is a part of a total temporary t_n souly state S₁ which is one in a s. such that any state S_n,  given this or that condition, contains as a part a memory M_n of the experience of hearing that the bell tolls, which is a component in some pre-sequent t₁n item, or contains an experience of hearing that the bell tolls a memory M of which would, given this or that condition, occur as a component in some sub-sequent t₂>t_n item, there being no sub-set of items which is independent of the rest. Grice simplifies the reductive analysans. Someone, viz. I, hears that the bell tolls iff a hearing that the bell tolls is a component in an item of an interlocking s. with emphasis on lock, s. of this or that memorable and memorative total temporary t_n state S₁. Is Grice’s Personal identity ever referred to in the Oxonian philosophical literature? Indeeed. Parfit mentions, which makes it especially memorable and memorative. P. Edwards includes a reference to Grices Mind essay in the entry for Personal identity, as a reference to Grice et al on Met. , is referenced in Edwardss encyclopædia entry for metaphysics. Grice does not attribute privileged access or incorrigibility to I or the first person. He always hastens to add that I can always be substituted, salva veritate (if baffling your addressee A) by someone or other, if not some-body or other, a colloquialism Grice especially detested. Grices agency-based approach requires that. I am rational provided thou art, too. If, by explicitly saying he is a Lockeian, Grice surely does not wish us to see him as trying to be original, or the first to consider this or that problem about I; i.e. someone. Still, Grice is the philosopher who explores most deeply the reductive analysis of I, i.e. someone. Grice needs the reductive analysis because human agency (philosophically, rather than psychologically interpreted) is key for his approach to things. By uttering The bell tolls, U means that someone, viz. himself, hears that the bell tolls, or even, by uttering I, hear, viz. someone hears, that the bell tolls, U means that the experience of a hearing that the bell tolls is a component in a total temporary state which is a member of a s. such that each member would, given certain conditions, contain as an component one memory of an experience which is a component in a pre-sequent member, or contains as a component some experience a memory of which would, given certain conditions, occur as a component in a post-sequent member; there being no sub-set of members which is independent of the rest. Thanks, the addressee might reply. I didnt know that! The reductive bit to Grices analysis needs to be emphasised. For Grice, a person, and consequently, a someone, viz. I utterance, is, simpliciter, a logical construction out of this or that Humeian experience. Whereas in Russell, as Broad notes, a logical construction of this or that philosophical concept, in this case personal identity, or cf. Grices earlier reductive analysis of not, is thought of as an improved, rationally reconstructed conception. Neither Russell nor Broad need maintain that the logical construction preserves the original meaning of the analysandum someone, viz. I, hears that the bell tolls, or I do not hear that the bell tolls ‒ hence their paradox of reductionist analysis. This change of Subjects does not apply to Grice. Grice emphatically intends to be make explicit, if rationally reconstructed (if that is not an improvement) through reductive (if not reductionist) analysis, the concept Grice already claims to have. One particular development to consider is within Grices play group, that of Quinton. Grice and Quinton seem to have been the only two philosophers in Austins play group who showed any interest on someone, viz. I. Or not. The fact that Quinton entitles his thing “The soul” did not help. Note that Woozley was at the time editing Reid on “Identity,” Cf. Duncan-Jones on mans mortality. Note that Quintons immediate trigger is Shoemaker. Grice writes that he is not “merely a series of perceptions,” for he is “conscious of a permanent self, an I who experiences these perceptions and who is now identical with the I who experienced perceptions yesterday.” So, leaving aside that he is using I with the third person verb, but surely this is no use-mention fallacy, it is this puzzle that provoked his thoughts on temporal-relative “=” later on. As Grice notes, Butler argued that consciousness of experience can contribute to identity but not define it. Grice will use Butler in his elaboration of conversational benevolence versus conversational self-interest. Better than Quinton, it is better to consider Flew in Philosophy, 96, on Locke and the problem of personal identity, obviously suggested as a term paper by Grice! Wiggins cites Flew. Flew actually notes that Berkeley saw Lockes problem earlier than Reid, which concerns the transitiveness of =. Recall that Wigginss tutor at Oxford was a tutee by Grice, Ackrill. identity, the relation each thing bears just to itself. Formally, a % b Q EF(Fa P Fb); informally, the identity of a and b implies and is implied by their sharing of all their properties. Read from left to right, this biconditional asserts the indiscernibility of identicals; from right to left, the identity of indiscernibles. The indiscernibility of identicals is not to be confused with a metalinguistic principle to the effect that if a and b are names of the same object, then each may be substituted for the other in a sentence without change of truth-value: that may be false, depending on the semantics of the language under discussion. Similarly, the identity of indiscernibles is not the claim that if a and b can be exchanged in all sentential contexts without affecting truth-value, then they name the same object. For such intersubstitutability may arise when the language in question simply lacks predicates that could discriminate between the referents of a and b. In short, the identity of things is not a relation among names. Identity proper is numerical identity, to be distinguished from exact similarity (qualitative identity). Intuitively, two exactly similar objects are “copies” of each other; still they are two, hence not identical. One way to express this is via the notions of extrinsic and intrinsic properties: exactly similar objects differ in respect of the former only. But we can best explain ‘instrinsic property’ by saying that a thing’s intrinsic properties are those it shares with its copies. These notions appear virtually interdefinable. (Note that the concept of an extrinsic property must be relativized to a class or kind of things. Not being in San Francisco is an extrinsic property of persons but arguably an intrinsic property of cities.) While qualitative identity is a familiar notion, its theoretical utility is unclear. The absolute notion of qualitative identity should, however, be distinguished from an unproblematic relative notion: if some list of salient properties is fixed in a given context (say, in mechanics or normative ethics), then the exactly similar things, relative to that context, are those that agree on the properties listed. Both the identity of indiscernibles and (less frequently) the indiscernibility of identicals are sometimes called Leibniz’s law. Neither attribution is apt. Although Leibniz would have accepted the former principle, his distinctive claim was the impossibility of exactly similar objects: numerically distinct individuals cannot even share all intrinsic properties. Moreover, this was not, for him, simply a law of identity but rather an application of his principle of sufficient reason. And the indiscernibility of identicals is part of a universal understanding of identity. What distinguishes Leibniz is the prominence of identity statements in his metaphysics and logical theory. Although identity remains a clear and basic logical notion, identity questions about problematic kinds of objects raise difficulties. One example is the identification of properties, particularly in contexts involving reduction. Although we know what identity is, the notion of a property is unclear enough to pose systematic obstacles to the evaluation of theoretically significant identity statements involving properties. Other difficulties involve personal identity or the possible identification of numbers and sets in the foundations of mathematics. In these cases, the identity questions simply inherit – and provide vivid ways of formulating – the difficulties pertaining to such concepts as person, property, or number; no rethinking of the identity concept itself is indicated. But puzzles about the relation of an ordinary material body to its constituent matter may suggest that the logician’s analysis of identity does not cleanly capture our everyday notion(s). Consider a bronze statue. Although the statue may seem to be nothing besides its matter, reflection on change over time suggests a distinction. The statue may be melted down, hence destroyed, while the bronze persists, perhaps simply as a mass or perhaps as a new statue formed from the same bronze. Alternatively, the statue may persist even as some of its bronze is dissolved in acid. So the statue seems to be one thing and the bronze another. Yet what is the bronze besides a statue? Surely we do not have two statues (or statuelike objects) in one place? Some authors feel that variants of the identity relation may permit a perspicuous description of the relation of statue and bronze: (1) tensed identity: Assume a class of timebound properties – roughly, properties an object can have at a time regardless of what properties it has at other times. (E.g., a statue’s shape, location, or elegance.) Then a % t b provided a and b share all timebound properties at time t. Thus, the statue and the bronze may be identical at time t 1 but not at t 2. (2) relative identity: a and b may be identical relative to one concept (or predicate) but not to another. Thus, the statue may be held to be the same lump of matter as the bronze but not the same object of art. identity identity 415 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 415 In each case, only detailed study will show whether the variant notion can at once offer a natural description of change and qualify as a viable identity concept. (Strong doubts arise about (2).) But it seems likely that our everyday talk of identity has a richness and ambiguity that escapes formal characterization.  identity, ‘is’ of. See IS. identity, psychophysical. See PHYSICALISM. identity, theoretical. See PHILOSOPHY OF MIND. identity of indiscernibles, any of a family of principles, important members of which include the following: (1) If objects a and b have all properties in common, then a and b are identical. (2) If objects a and b have all their qualitative properties in common, then a and b are identical. (3) If objects a and b have all their non-relational qualitative properties in common, then a and b are identical. Two questions regarding these principles are raised: Which, if any, are true? If any are true, are they necessarily true? Discussions of the identity of indiscernibles typically restrict the scope of the principle to concrete objects. Although the notions of qualitative and non-relational properties play a prominent role in these discussions, they are notoriously difficult to define. Intuitively, a qualitative property is one that can be instantiated by more than one object and does not involve being related to another particular object. It does not follow that all qualitative properties are non-relational, since some relational properties, such as being on top of a brown desk, do not involve being related to some particular object. (1) is generally regarded as necessarily true but trivial, since if a and b have all properties in common then a has the property of being identical with b and b has the property of being identical with a. Hence, most discussions focus on (2) and (3). (3) is generally regarded as, at best, a contingent truth since it appears possible to conceive of two distinct red balls of the same size, shade of color, and composition. Some have argued that elementary scientific particles, such as electrons, are counterexamples to even the contingent truth of (3). (2) appears defensible as a contingent truth since, in the actual world, objects such as the red balls and the electrons differ in their relational qualitative properties. It has been argued, however, that (2) is not a necessary truth since it is possible to conceive of a world consisting of only the two red balls. In such a world, any qualitative relational property possessed by one ball is also possessed by the other. Defenders of the necessary truth of (2) have argued that a careful examination of such counterexamples reveals hidden qualitative properties that differentiate the objects. Grice learned about idem, ipsum and simile via his High Church maternal grandfather. “What an iota can do!” -- Refs.: The main references covering identity simpliciter are in “Vacuous Names,” and his joint work on metaphysics with G. Myro. The main references relating to the second group, of personal identity, are his “Mind” essay, an essay on ‘the logical-construction theory of personal identity,’ and a second set of essays on Hume’s quandary, The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

Griceian ideology: a term used by Ernest Gellner to refer to Grice’s Clifton/Corpus Christi background. generally a disparaging term used to describe someone else’s political views which one regards as unsound. This use derives from Marx’s employment of the term to signify a false consciousness shared by the members of a particular social class. For example, according to Marx, members of the capitalist class share the ideology that the laws of the competitive market are natural and impersonal, that workers in a competitive market are paid all that they can be paid, and that the institutions of private property in the means of production are natural and justified.

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

macaulay: Grice: “Unlike Whitehead, I care for style; so when  it comes to ‘if,’ we have to please Macaulay – the verbs change, for each mode – and sub-mode!” -- Grice: A curious phenomenon comes to light. I began by assuming (or stipulating) that the verbs 'judge' and 'will' (acceptance-verbs) are to be 'completed' by radicals (phrastics). Yet when the machinery developed above has been applied, we find that the verb 'accept' (or 'think') is to be completed by something of the form 'Op + p', that is, by a sentence. Perhaps we might tolerate this syntactical ambivalence; but if we cannot, the remedy is not clear. It would, for example, not be satisfactory to suppose that 'that', when placed before a sentence, acts as a 'radicalizer' (is a functor expressing a function which takes that sentence on to its radical); for that way we should lose the differentiations effected by varying mode-markers, and this would be fatal to the scheme. This phenomenon certainly suggests that the attempt to distinguish radicals from sentences may be misguided; that if radicals are to be admitted at all, they should be identified with indicative sentences. The operator '⊢' would then be a 'semantically vanishing' operator. But this does not wholly satisfy me; for, if '⊢' is semantically vacuous, what happens to the subordinate distinction made by 'A' and 'B' markers, which seems genuine enough? We might find these markers 'hanging in the air', like two smiles left behind by the Cheshire Cat. Whatever the outcome of this debate, however, I feel fairly confident that I could accommodate the formulation of my discussion to it. Fuller Exposition of the 'Initial Idea' First, some preliminary points. To provide at least a modicum of intelligibility for my discourse, I shall pronounce the judicative end p.72 operator '⊢' as 'it is the case that', and the volitive operator '!' as 'let it be that'; and I shall pronounce the sequence 'φ, ψ' as 'given that φ, ψ'. These vocal mannerisms will result in the production of some pretty barbarous 'English sentences'; but we must remember that what I shall be trying to do, in uttering such sentences, will be to represent supposedly underlying structure; if that is one's aim, one can hardly expect that one's speech-forms will be such as to excite the approval of, let us say, Jane Austen or Lord Macaulay. In any case, less horrendous, though (for my purposes) less perspicuous, alternatives will, I think, be available. Further, I am going to be almost exclusively concerned with alethic and practical arguments, the proximate conclusions of which will be, respectively, of the forms 'Acc (⊢ p)' and 'Acc (! p)'; for example, 'acceptable (it is the case that it snows)' and 'acceptable (let it be that I go home)'. There will be two possible ways of reading the latter sentence. We might regard 'acceptable' as a sentential adverb (modifier) like 'demonstrably'; in that case to say or think 'acceptable (let it be that I go home)' will be to say or think 'let it be that I go home', together with the qualification that what I say or think is acceptable; as one might say, 'acceptably, let it be that I go home'. To adopt this reading would seem to commit us to the impossibility of incontinence; for since 'accept that let it be that I go home' is to be my rewrite for 'Vaccept (will) that I go home', anyone x who concluded, by practical argument, that 'acceptable let it be that x go home' would ipso facto will to go home. Similarly (though less paradoxically) any one who concluded, by alethic argument, 'acceptable it is the case that it snows', would ipso facto judge that it snows. So an alternative reading 'it is acceptable that let it be that I go home', which does not commit the speaker or thinker to 'let it be that I go home', seems preferable. We can, of course, retain the distinct form 'acceptably, let it be that (it is the case that) p' for renderings of 'desirably' and 'probably'. Let us now tackle the judicative cases. I start with the assumption that arguments of the form 'A, so probably B' are sometimes (informally) valid; 'he has an exceptionally red face, so probably he has high blood pressure' might be informally valid, whereas 'he has an exceptionally red face, so probably he has musical talent' is unlikely to be allowed informal validity. end p.73 We might re-express this assumption by saying that it is sometimes the case that A informally yields-with-probability that B (where 'yields' is the converse of 'is inferable from'). If we wish to construct a form of argument the acceptability of which does not depend on choice of substituends for 'A' and 'B', we may, so to speak, allow into the object-language forms of sentence which correspond to metastatements of the form: 'A yields-with-probability that B'; we may allow ourselves, for example, such a sentence as "it is probable, given that he has a very red face, that he has high blood pressure". This will provide us with the argument-patterns: “Probable, given A, that B A So, probably, B” or “Probable, given A, that B A So probably that B” To take the second pattern, the legitimacy of such an inferential transition will not depend on the identity of 'A' or of 'B', though it will depend (as was stated in the previous chapter) on a licence from a suitably formulated 'Principle of Total Evidence'. The proposal which I am considering (in pursuit of the 'initial idea') would (roughly) involve rewriting the second pattern of argument so that it reads: It is acceptable, given that it is the case that A, that it is the case that B. It is the case that A. To apply this schema to a particular case, we generated the particular argument: It is acceptable, given that it is the case that Snodgrass has a red face, that it is the case that Snodgrass has high blood pressure. It is the case that Snodgrass has a red face. So, it is acceptable that it is the case that Snodgrass has high blood pressure. end p.74 If we make the further assumption that the singular 'conditional' acceptability statement which is the first premiss of the above argument may be (and perhaps has to be) reached by an analogue of the rule of universal instantiation from a general acceptability statement, we make room for such general acceptability sentences as: It is acceptable, given that it is the case that x has a red face, that it is the case that x has high blood pressure. which are of the form "It is acceptable, given that it is the case that Fx, that it is the case that Gx'; 'x' here is, you will note, an unbound variable; and the form might also (loosely) be read (pronounced) as: "It is acceptable, given that it is the case that one (something) is F, that it is the case that one (it) is G." All of this is (I think) pretty platitudinous; which is just as well, since it is to serve as a model for the treatment of practical argument. To turn from the alethic to the practical dimension. Here (the proposal goes) we may proceed, in a fashion almost exactly parallel to that adopted on the alethic side, through the following sequence of stages: (1) Arguments (in thought or speech) of the form: Let it be that A It is the case that B so, with some degree of desirability, let it be that C are sometimes (and sometimes not) informally valid (or acceptable). (2) Arguments of the form: It is desirable, given that let it be that A and that it is the case that B, that let it be that C Let it be that A It is the case that B so, it is desirable that let it be that C should, therefore, be allowed to be formally acceptable, subject to licence from a Principle of Total Evidence. (3) In accordance with our proposal such arguments will be rewritten: end p.75 It is acceptable, given that let it be A and that it is the case that B, that let it be that C Let it be that A It is the case that B so, it is desirable that let it be that C (4) The first premisses of such arguments may be (and perhaps have to be) reached by instantiation from general acceptability statements of the form: "It is acceptable, given that let one be E and that it is the case that one is F, that let it be that one is G." We may note that sentences like "it is snowing" can be trivially recast so as (in effect) to appear as third premisses in such arguments (with 'open' counterparts inside the acceptability sentence; they can be rewritten as, for example, "Snodgrass is such that it is snowing"). We are now in possession of such exciting general acceptability sentences as: "It is acceptable, given that let it be that one keeps dry and that it is the case that one is such that it is raining, that let one take with one one's umbrella." (5) A special subclass of general acceptability sentences (and of practical arguments) can be generated by 'trivializing' the predicate in the judicative premiss (making it a 'universal predicate'). If, for example, I take 'x is F' to represent 'x is identical with x' the judicative subclause may be omitted from the general acceptability sentence, with a corresponding 'reduction' in the shape of the related practical argument. We have therefore such argument sequences as the following: (P i ) It is acceptable, given that let it be that one survives, that let it be that one eats So (by U i ) It is acceptable, given that let it be that Snodgrass survives, that let it be that Snodgrass eats (P 2 ) Let it be that Snodgrass survives So (by Det) It is acceptable that let it be that Snodgrass eats. We should also, at some point, consider further transitions to: (a) Acceptably, let it be that Snodgrass eats, and to: (b) Let it be that Snodgrass eats. end p.76 And we may also note that, as a more colloquial substitute for "Let it be that one (Snodgrass) survives (eats)" the form "one (Snodgrass) is to survive (eat)" is available; we thus obtain prettier inhabitants of antecedent clauses, for example, "given that Snodgrass is to survive". We must now pay some attention to the varieties of acceptability statement to be found within each of the alethic and practical dimensions; it will, of course, be essential to the large-scale success of the proposal which I am exploring that one should be able to show that for every such variant within one dimension there is a corresponding variant within the other. Within the area of defeasible generalizations, there is another variant which, in my view, extends across the board in the way just indicated, namely, the unweighted acceptability generalization (with associated singular conditionals), or, as I shall also call it, the ceteris paribus generalization. Such generalization I take to be of the form "It is acceptable (ceteris paribus), given that φX, that ψX" and I think we find both practical and alethic examples of the form; for example, "It is ceteris paribus acceptable, given that it is the case that one likes a person, that it is the case that one wants his company", which is not incompatible with "It is ceteris paribus acceptable, given that it is the case that one likes a person and that one is feeling ill, that one does not want his company". We also find "It is ceteris paribus acceptable, given that let it be that one leaves the country and given that it is the case that one is an alien, that let it be that one obtains a sailing permit from Internal Revenue", which is compatible with "It is ceteris paribus acceptable, given that let it be that one leaves the country and given that it is the case that one is an alien and that one is a close friend of the President, that let it be that one does not obtain a sailing permit, and that one arranges to travel in Air Force I". I discussed this kind of generalization, or 'law', briefly in "Method in Philosophical Psychology"1 and shall not dilate on its features here. I will just remark that it can be adapted to handle 'functional laws' (in the way suggested in that address), and that end p.77 it is different from the closely related use of universal generalizations in 'artificially closed systems', where some relevant parameter is deliberately ignored, to be taken care of by an extension to the system; for in that case, when the extension is made, the original law has to be modified or corrected, whereas my ceteris paribus generalization can survive in an extended system; and I regard this as a particular advantage to philosophical psychology. In addition to these two defeasible types of acceptability generalization (each with alethic and practical sub-types), we have non-defeasible acceptability generalizations, with associated singular conditionals, exemplifying what I might call 'unqualified', 'unreserved', or 'full' acceptability claims. To express these I shall employ the (constructed) modal 'it is fully acceptable that . . .'; and again there will be occasion for its use in the representation both of alethic and of practical discourse. We have, in all, then, three varieties of acceptability statement (each with alethic and practical sub-types), associated with the modals "It is fully acceptable that . . . " (non-defeasible), 'it is ceteris paribus acceptable that . . . ', and 'it is to such-and-such a degree acceptable that . . . ', both of the latter pair being subject to defeasibility. (I should re-emphasize that, on the practical side, I am so far concerned to represent only statements which are analogous with Kant's Technical Imperatives ('Rules of Skill').)

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

iff: Grice: “a silly abbreviation for ‘if and only if’” -- that is used as if it were a single propositional operator (connective). Another synonym for ‘iff’ is ‘just in case’. The justification for treating ‘iff’ as if it were a single propositional connective is that ‘P if and only if Q’ is elliptical for ‘P if Q, and P only if Q’, and this assertion is logically equivalent to ‘P biconditional Q’.

Il’in, Ivan Aleksandrovich, philosopher and conservative legal and political theorist. He authored an important two-volume commentary on Hegel (1918), plus extensive writings in ethics, political theory, aesthetics, and spirituality. Exiled in 1922, he was known for his passionate opposition to Bolshevism, his extensive proposals for rebuilding a radically reformed Russian state, church, and society in a post-Communist future, and his devout Russian Orthodox spirituality. He is widely regarded as a master of Russian language and a penetrating interpreter of the history of Russian culture. His collected works are currently being published in Moscow.

illatum, f. illātĭo (inl- ), ōnis, f. in-fero, a logical inference, conclusion: “vel illativum rogamentum. quod ex acceptionibus colligitur et infertur,” App. Dogm. Plat. 3, pp. 34, 15. – infero: to conclude, infer, draw an inference, Cic. Inv. 1, 47, 87; Quint. 5, 11, 27. ILLATUM -- inference, the process of drawing a conclusion from premises or assumptions, or, loosely, the conclusion so drawn. An argument can be merely a number of statements of which one is designated the conclusion and the rest are designated premises. Whether the premises imply the conclusion is thus independent of anyone’s actual beliefs in either of them. Belief, however, is essential to inference. Inference occurs only if someone, owing to believing the premises, begins to believe the conclusion or continues to believe the conclusion with greater confidence than before. Because inference requires a subject who has beliefs, some requirements of (an ideally) acceptable inference do not apply to abstract arguments: one must believe the premises; one must believe that the premises support the conclusion; neither of these beliefs induction, eliminative inference 426 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 426 may be based on one’s prior belief in the conclusion. W. E. Johnson called these the epistemic conditions of inference. In a reductio ad absurdum argument that deduces a self-contradiction from certain premises, not all steps of the argument will correspond to steps of inference. No one deliberately infers a contradiction. What one infers, in such an argument, is that certain premises are inconsistent. Acceptable inferences can fall short of being ideally acceptable according to the above requirements. Relevant beliefs are sometimes indefinite. Infants and children infer despite having no grasp of the sophisticated notion of support. One function of idealization is to set standards for that which falls short. It is possible to judge how nearly inexplicit, automatic, unreflective, lessthan-ideal inferences meet ideal requirements. In ordinary speech, ‘infer’ often functions as a synonym of ‘imply’, as in ‘The new tax law infers that we have to calculate the value of our shrubbery’. Careful philosophical writing avoids this usage. Implication is, and inference is not, a relation between statements. Valid deductive inference corresponds to a valid deductive argument: it is logically impossible for all the premises to be true when the conclusion is false. That is, the conjunction of all the premises and the negation of the conclusion is inconsistent. Whenever a conjunction is inconsistent, there is a valid argument for the negation of any conjunct from the other conjuncts. (Relevance logic imposes restrictions on validity to avoid this.) Whenever one argument is deductively valid, so is another argument that goes in a different direction. (1) ‘Stacy left her slippers in the kitchen’ implies (2) ‘Stacy had some slippers’. Should one acquainted with Stacy and the kitchen infer (2) from (1), or infer not-(1) from not-(2), or make neither inference? Formal logic tells us about implication and deductive validity, but it cannot tell us when or what to infer. Reasonable inference depends on comparative degrees of reasonable belief. An inference in which every premise and every step is beyond question is a demonstrative inference. (Similarly, reasoning for which this condition holds is demonstrative reasoning.) Just as what is beyond question can vary from one situation to another, so can what counts as demonstrative. The term presumably derives from Aristotle’s Posterior Analytics. Understanding Aristotle’s views on demonstration requires understanding his general scheme for classifying inferences. Not all inferences are deductive. In an inductive inference, one infers from an observed combination of characteristics to some similar unobserved combination. ‘Reasoning’ like ‘painting’, and ‘frosting’, and many other words, has a process–product ambiguity. Reasoning can be a process that occurs in time or it can be a result or product. A letter to the editor can both contain reasoning and be the result of reasoning. It is often unclear whether a word such as ‘statistical’ that modifies the words ‘inference’ or ‘reasoning’ applies primarily to stages in the process or to the content of the product. One view, attractive for its simplicity, is that the stages of the process of reasoning correspond closely to the parts of the product. Examples that confirm this view are scarce. Testing alternatives, discarding and reviving, revising and transposing, and so on, are as common to the process of reasoning as to other creative activities. A product seldom reflects the exact history of its production. In An Examination of Sir William Hamilton’s Philosophy, J. S. Mill says that reasoning is a source from which we derive new truths (Chapter 14). This is a useful saying so long as we remember that not all reasoning is inference. -- inference to the best explanation, an inference by which one concludes that something is the case on the grounds that this best explains something else one believes to be the case. Paradigm examples of this kind of inference are found in the natural sciences, where a hypothesis is accepted on the grounds that it best explains relevant observations. For example, the hypothesis that material substances have atomic structures best explains a range of observations concerning how such substances interact. Inferences to the best explanation occur in everyday life as well. Upon walking into your house you observe that a lamp is lying broken on the floor, and on the basis of this you infer that the cat has knocked it over. This is plausibly analyzed as an inference to the best explanation; you believe that the cat has knocked over the lamp because this is the best explanation for the lamp’s lying broken on the floor. The nature of inference to the best explanation and the extent of its use are both controversial. Positions that have been taken include: (a) that it is a distinctive kind of inductive reasoning; (b) inference rule inference to the best explanation 427 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 427 that all good inductive inferences involve inference to the best explanation; and (c) that it is not a distinctive kind of inference at all, but is rather a special case of enumerative induction. Another controversy concerns the criteria for what makes an explanation best. Simplicity, cognitive fit, and explanatory power have all been suggested as relevant merits, but none of these notions is well understood. Finally, a skeptical problem arises: inference to the best explanation is plausibly involved in both scientific and commonsense knowledge, but it is not clear why the best explanation that occurs to a person is likely to be true. -- inferential knowledge, a kind of “indirect” knowledge, namely, knowledge based on or resulting from inference. Assuming that knowledge is at least true, justified belief, inferential knowledge is constituted by a belief that is justified because it is inferred from certain other beliefs. The knowledge that 7 equals 7 seems non-inferential. We do not infer from anything that 7 equals 7 – it is obvious and self-evident. The knowledge that 7 is the cube root of 343, in contrast, seems inferential. We cannot know this without inferring it from something else, such as the result obtained when multiplying 7 times 7 times 7. Two sorts of inferential relations may be distinguished. ‘I inferred that someone died because the flag is at half-mast’ may be true because yesterday I acquired the belief about the flag, which caused me to acquire the further belief that someone died. ‘I inferentially believe that someone died because the flag is at halfmast’ may be true now because I retain the belief that someone died and it remains based on my belief about the flag. My belief that someone died is thus either episodically or structurally inferential. The episodic process is an occurrent, causal relation among belief acquisitions. The structural basing relation may involve the retention of beliefs, and need not be occurrent. (Some reserve ‘inference’ for the episodic relation.) An inferential belief acquired on one basis may later be held on a different basis, as when I forget I saw a flag at half-mast but continue to believe someone died because of news reports. That “How do you know?” and “Prove it!” always seem pertinent suggests that all knowledge is inferential, a version of the coherence theory. The well-known regress argument seems to show, however, that not all knowledge can be inferential, which is a version of foundationalism. For if S knows something inferentially, S must infer it correctly from premises S knows to be true. The question whether those premises are also known inferentially begins either an infinite regress of inferences (which is humanly impossible) or a circle of justification (which could not constitute good reasoning). Which sources of knowledge are non-inferential remains an issue even assuming foundationalism. When we see that an apple is red, e.g., our knowledge is based in some manner on the way the apple looks. “How do you know it is red?” can be answered: “By the way it looks.” This answer seems correct, moreover, only if an inference from the way the apple looks to its being red would be warranted. Nevertheless, perceptual beliefs are formed so automatically that talk of inference seems inappropriate. In addition, inference as a process whereby beliefs are acquired as a result of holding other beliefs may be distinguished from inference as a state in which one belief is sustained on the basis of others. Knowledge that is inferential in one way need not be inferential in the other.

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

illusion: cf. veridical memories, who needs them? hallucination is Grice’s topic.Malcolm argues in Dreaming and Skepticism and in his Dreaming that the notion of a dream qua conscious experience that occurs at a definite time and has definite duration during sleep, is unintelligible. This contradicts the views of philosophers like Descartes (and indeed Moore!), who, Malcolm holds, assume that a human being may have a conscious thought and a conscious experience during sleep. Descartes claims that he had been deceived during sleep. Malcolms point is that ordinary language contrasts consciousness and sleep. The claim that one is conscious while one is sleep-walking is stretching the use of the term. Malcolm rejects the alleged counter-examples based on sleepwalking or sleep-talking, e.g. dreaming that one is climbing stairs while one is actually doing so is not a counter-example because, in such a case, the individual is not sound asleep after all. If a person is in any state of consciousness, it logically follows that he is not sound asleep. The concept of dreaming is based on our descriptions of dreams after we have awakened in telling a dream. Thus, to have dreamt that one has a thought during sleep is not to have a thought any more than to have dreamt that one has climbed Everest is to have climbed Everest. Since one cannot have an experience during sleep, one cannot have a mistaken experience during sleep, thereby undermining the sort of scepticism based on the idea that our experience might be wrong because we might be dreaming. Malcolm further argues that a report of a conscious state during sleep is unverifiable. If Grice claims that he and Strawson saw a big-foot in charge of the reserve desk at the Bodleian library, one can verify that this took place by talking to Strawson and gathering forensic evidence from the library. However, there is no way to verify Grices claim that he dreamed that he and Strawson saw a big-foot working at the Bodleian. Grices only basis for his claim that he dreamt this is that Grice says so after he wakes up. How does one distinguish the case where Grice dreamed that he saw a big-foot working at The Bodleian and the case in which he dreamed that he saw a person in a big-foot suit working at the library but, after awakening, mis-remembered that person in a big-foot suit as a big-foot proper? If Grice should admit that he had earlier mis-reported his dream and that he had actually dreamed he saw a person in a big-foot suit at The Bodleian, there is no more independent verification for this new claim than there was for the original one. Thus, there is, for Malcolm, no sense to the idea of mis-remembering ones dreams. Malcolm here applies one of Witters ideas from his private language argument. One would like to say: whatever is going to seem right to me is right. And that only means that here we cannot talk about right. For a similar reason, Malcolm challenges the idea that one can assign a definite duration or time of occurrence to a dream. If Grice claims that he ran the mile in 3.4 minutes, one could verify this in the usual ways. If, however, Grice says he dreamt that he ran the mile in 3.4 minutes, how is one to measure the duration of his dreamt run? If Grice says he was wearing a stopwatch in the dream and clocked his run at 3.4 minutes, how can one know that the dreamt stopwatch is not running at half speed (so that he really dreamt that he ran the mile in 6.8 minutes)? Grice might argue that a dream report does not carry such a conversational implicatura. But Malcolm would say that just admits the point. The ordinary criteria one uses for determining temporal duration do not apply to dreamt events. The problem in both these cases (Grice dreaming one saw a bigfoot working at The Bodleian and dreaming that he ran the mile in 3.4 minutes) is that there is no way to verify the truth of these dreamt events — no direct way to access that dreamt inner experience, that mysterious glow of consciousness inside the mind of Grice lying comatose on the couch, in order to determine the facts of the matter. This is because, for Malcolm, there are no facts of the matter apart from the report by the dreamer of the dream upon awakening. Malcolm claims that the empirical evidence does not enable one to decide between the view that a dream experience occurs during sleep and the view that they are generated upon the moment of waking up. Dennett agrees with Malcolm that nothing supports the received view that a dream involves a conscious experience while one is asleep but holds that such issues might be settled empirically. Malcolm also argues against the attempt to provide a physiological mark of the duration of a dream, for example, the view that the dream lasted as long as the rapid eye movements. Malcolm replies that there can only be as much precision in that common concept of dreaming as is provided by the common criterion of dreaming. These scientific researchers are misled by the assumption that the provision for the duration of a dream is already there, only somewhat obscured and in need of being made more precise. However, Malcolm claims, it is not already there (in the ordinary concept of dreaming). These scientific views are making radical conceptual changes in the concept of dreaming, not further explaining our ordinary concept of dreaming. Malcolm admits, however, that it might be natural to adopt such scientific views about REM sleep as a convention. Malcolm points out, however, that if REM sleep is adopted as a criterion for the occurrence of a dream, people would have to be informed upon waking up that they had dreamed or not. As Pears observes, Malcolm does not mean to deny that people have dreams in favour of the view that they only have waking dream-behaviour. Of course it is no misuse of language to speak of remembering a dream. His point is that since the concept of dreaming is so closely tied to our concept of waking report of a dreams, one cannot form a coherent concept of this alleged inner (private) something that occurs with a definite duration during sleep. Malcolm rejects a certain philosophical conception of dreaming, not the ordinary concept of dreaming, which, he holds, is neither a hidden private something nor mere outward behaviour.The account of dreaming by Malcolm has come in for considerable criticism. Some argue that Malcolms claim that occurrences in dreams cannot be verified by others does not require the strict criteria that Malcolm proposes but can be justified by appeal to the simplicity, plausibility, and predictive adequacy of an explanatory system as a whole. Some argue that Malcolms account of the sentence I am awake is inconsistent. A comprehensive programme in considerable detail has been offered for an empirical scientific investigation of dreaming of the sort that Malcolm rejects. Others have proposed various counterexamples and counter arguments against dreaming by Malcolm. Grices emphasis is in Malcolms easy way out with statements to the effect that implicatura do or do not operate in dream reports. They do in mine! Grice considers, I may be dreaming in the two essays opening the Part II: Explorations on semantics and metaphysics in WOW. Cf. Urmson on ‘delusion’ in ‘Parentheticals’ as ‘conceptually impossible.’ Refs.: The main reference is Grice’s essay on ‘Dreaming,’ but there are scattered references in his treatment of Descartes, and “The causal theory of perception” (henceforth, “Causal theory”), The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

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

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

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

mediatum: Grice is all about the mediatum. This he call a ‘soul-to-soul’ transfer. Imagine you pick up a rose, the thorn hurts you. You are in pain. You say “Ouch.” You transmit this to the fellow gardener. The mediacy means, “Beware of the thorn. It may hurt you.” “I am amazed that in The New World, it’s all about immediacy (Chisholm) when there’s so much which is mediately of immediate philosophical importance!”

immediatum: Grice: “Here the ‘in-’ is negative!” – the presence to the mind without intermediaries. The term ‘immediatum’ and its cognates have been used extensively throughout the history of philosophy, generally without much explanation. Descartes, e.g., explains his notion of thought thus: “I use this term to include everything that is within us in a way that we are IMMEDIATELY aware of it” (Second Replies). Descartes offers no explanation of immediate awareness, but the implicaturum is “contextually cancellable.” “Only an idiot would not realise that he is opposing it to mediated experience.” – Grice. Grice is well aware of this. “Check with Lewis and Short.” “mĕdĭo , 1, v. a. medius, I.to halve, divide in the middle (post-class.), Apic. 3, 9. — B. Neutr., to be in the middle: “melius Juno mediante,” Pall. Mart. 10, 32.” “So you see, ‘mediare’ can be transitive, but surely Descartes means it in the intransitive way – something mediates or something doesn’t – Clear as water!” However, when used as a primitive in this way, ‘immediatum’ may simply mean that thoughts are the immediate objects of perception because thoughts are the only things perceived in the strict and proper sense that no perception of an intermediary is required for the person’s awareness of them. Sometimes ‘immediate’ means ‘not mediated’. (1) An inference from a premise to a conclusion can exhibit logical immediacy because it does not depend on other premises. This is a technical usage of proof theory to describe the form of a certain class of inference rules. (2) A concept can exhibit conceptual immediacy because it is definitionally primitive, as in the Berkeleian doctrine that perception of qualities is immediate, and perception of objects is defined by the perception of their qualities, which is directly understood. (3) Our perception of something can exhibit causal immediacy because it is not caused by intervening acts of perception or cognition, as with seeing someone immediately in the flesh rather than through images on a movie screen. (4) A belief-formation process can possess psychological immediacy because it contains no subprocess of reasoning and in that sense has no psychological mediator. (5) Our knowledge of something can exhibit epistemic immediacy because it is justified without inference from another proposition, as in intuitive knowledge of the existence of the self, which has no epistemic mediator. A noteworthy special application of immediacy is to be found in Russell’s notion of knowledge by acquaintance. This notion is a development of the venerable doctrine originating with Plato, and also found in Augustine, that understanding the nature of some object requires that we can gain immediate cognitive access to that object. Thus, for Plato, to understand the nature of beauty requires acquaintance with beauty itself. This view contrasts with one in which understanding the nature of beauty requires linguistic competence in the use of the word ‘beauty’ or, alternatively, with one that requires having a mental representation of beauty. Russell offers sense-data and universals as examples of things known by acquaintance. To these senses of immediacy we may add another category whose members have acquired special meanings within certain philosophical traditions. For example, in Hegel’s philosophy if (per impossibile) an object were encountered “as existing in simple immediacy” it would be encountered as it is in itself, unchanged by conceptualization. In phenomenology “immediate” experience is, roughly, bracketed experience.

partiale.

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

imperatum – While of course there is a verb in the infinitive for this, Grice prefers the past participle – “It’s so diaphanous!” -- This starts with the Greeks, who had the klesis porstktike, modus imperativus. But then, under the modus subjunctives, the Romans added the modus prohibitivus. So this is interesting, because it seems that most of Grice’s maxims are ‘prohibitions’: “Do not say what you believe to be false.” “Do not that for which you lack adequate evidence.” And some while formally in the ‘affirmative,’ look prohibitive with ‘negative-loaded’ verbs like ‘avoid ambiguity,’ etc. hile an imperatus, m. is a command, ‘imperatum’ refers, diaphanously, to what is commanded. “Impero” is actually a derivation from the intensive “in-“ and the “paro,” as in “prepare,” “Paratum” would thus reflect the ssame cognateness with ‘imperatum.”  Modus imperativus -- imperative mode: At one point, Grice loved the “psi,” Actions are alright, but we need to stop at the psi level. The emissor communicates that the addressee thinks that the emissor has propositional attitude psi. No need to get into the logical form of action. One can just do with the logical form of a ‘that’-clause in the ascription of a state of the soul. This should usually INVOLVE an action, as in Hare, “The door is shut, please.” like Hare, Grice loves an imperative. In this essay, Grice attempts an exploration of the logical form of Kant’s concoction. Grice is especially irritated by the ‘the.’ ‘They speak of Kant’s categorical imperative, when he cared to formulate a few versions of it!” Grice lists them all in Abbott’s version. There are nine of them!  Grice is interested in the conceptual connection of the categorical imperative with the hypothetical or suppositional imperative, in terms of the type of connection between the protasis and the apodosis. Grice spends the full second Carus lecture on the conception of value on this. Grice is aware that the topic is central to Oxonian philosophers such as Hare, a member of Austin’s Play Group, too, who regard the universability of an imperative as a mark of its categoricity, and indeed, moral status. Grice chose some of the Kantian terminology on purpose.Grice would refer to this or that ‘conversational maxim.’A ‘conversational maxim’ contributes to what Grice jocularly refers to as the ‘conversational immanuel.’But there is an admission test.The ‘conversational maxim’ has to be shown that, qua items under an overarching principle of conversational helpfulness, the maxim displays a quality associated with conceptual, formal, and applicational generality. Grice never understood what Kant meant by the categoric imperative. But for Grice, from the acceptability of the the immanuel you can deduce the acceptability of this or that maxim, and from the acceptability of the conversational immanuel, be conversationally helpful, you can deduce the acceptability of this or that convesational maxim. Grice hardly considered Kants approach to the categoric imperative other than via the universability of this or that maxim. This or that conversational maxim, provided by Grice, may be said to be universalisable if and only if it displays what Grice sees as these three types of generality: conceptual, formal, and applicational. He does the same for general maxims of conduct. The results are compiled in a manual of universalisable maxims, the conversational immanuel, an appendix to the general immanuel. The other justification by Kant of the categoric imperative involve an approach other than the genitorial justification, and an invocation of autonomy and freedom. It is the use by Plato of imperative as per categoric imperative that has Grice expanding on modes other than the doxastic, to bring in the buletic, where the categoric imperative resides. Note that in the end Kant DOES formulate the categoric imperative, as Grice notes, as a real imperative, rather than a command, etc. Grice loved Kant, but he loved Kantotle best. In the last Kant lecture, he proposes to define the categorical imperative as a counsel of prudence, with a protasis Let Grice be happy. The derivation involves eight stages! Grice found out that out of his play-group activities with this or that linguistic nuance he had arrived at the principle, or imperative of conversational helpfulness, indeed formulated as an imperative: Make your contribution such as is required, at the stage at which it occurs, by the accepted purpose of the conversation in which you are engaged. He notes that the rationality behind the idea of conversation as rational co-operation does not preclude seeing rationality in conversation as other than cooperation. The fact that he chooses maxim, and explicitly echoes Kant, indicates where Grice is leading! An exploration on Paton on the categorical imperative. Grice had previously explored the logical form of hypothetical or suppositional imperatives in the Kant (and later Locke) lectures, notably in Lecture IV, Further remarks on practical and alethic reasons. Here he considers topics related to Hares tropic-clistic neustic-phrastic quartet. What does it mean to say that a command is conditional? The two successors of Grices post as Tutorial Fellow at St. Johns, Baker Hacker, will tackle the same issue with humour, in Sense and nonsense, published by Blackwell (too irreverent to be published by the Clarendon). Is the logical form of a maxim, .p⊃!q, or !(.p ⊃.q), etc. Kant thought that there is a special sub-class of hypothetical or suppositional  imperative (which he called a counsels of prudence) which is like his class of technical imperative, except in that the end specified in a full specfication of the imperative is the special end of eudæmonia (the agents eudæmonia). For Grice, understanding Kant’s first version of the categorical imperative involves understanding what a maxim is supposed to be. Grice explores at some length four alternative interpretations of an iffy buletic (as opposed to a non-iffy buletic): three formal, one material. The first interpretation is the horseshoe interpretation. A blind logical nose might lead us or be led to the assumption of a link between a buletically iffy utterance and a doxastically iffy utterance. Such a link no doubt exists, but the most obvious version of it is plainly inadequate. At least one other philosopher besides Grice has noticed that If he torments the cat, have him arrested! is unlikely to express an buletically iffy utterance, and that even if one restricts oneself to this or that case in which the protasis specifies a will, we find pairs of examples like If you will to go to Oxford, travel by AA via Richmond! or If you will to go to Cambridge, see a psychiatrist! where it is plain that one is, and the other is not, the expression of a buletically iffy utterance. For fun, Grice does not tell which! A less easily eliminable suggestion, yet one which would still interprets the notion of a buletically iffy utterance in terms of that particular logical form to which if, hypothetical or suppositional  and conditional attach, would be the following. Let us assume that it is established, or conceded, as legitimate to formulate an if utterance in which not only the apodosis is couched in some mode other than the doxastic, as in this or that conditional command. If you see the whites of their eyes, shoot fire! but also the protasis or some part (clause) of them. In which case all of the following might be admissible conditionals. Thus, we might have a doxastic protasis (If the cat is sick, take it to the vet), or a mixed (buletic-cum-doxastic protasis (If you are to take the cat to the vet and theres no cage available, put it on Marthas lap!), and buletic protasis (If you are to take the cat to the vet, put it in a cage!). If this suggestion seems rebarbative, think of this or that quaint if utterance (when it is quaint) as conditionalised versions of this or that therefore-sequence, such as: buletic-cum-doxastic premises (Take the cat to the vet! There isnt a cage. Therefore; Put the cat on Marthas lap!), buletic premise (Take the cat to the vet! Put it in a cage!). And then, maybe, the discomfort is reduced. Grice next considers a second formal interpretation or approach to the buletically iffy/non-iffy utterance. Among if utterances with a buletic apodosis some will have, then, a mixed doxastic-cum buletic protasis (partly doxastic, partly buletic), and some will have a purely doxastic protasis (If the cat is sick, take him to the vet!). Grice proposes a definition of the iffy/non-iffy distinction. A buletically iffy utterance is an iffy utterance the apodosis of which is buletic and the protasis of which is buletic or mixed (buletic-cum-dxastic) or it is an elliptical version of such an iffy utterance. A buletically non-iffy utterance is a buletic utterance which is not iffy or else, if it is iffy, has a purely doxastic protasis. Grice makes three quick comments on this second interpretation. First, re: a real imperative. The structures which are being offered as a way of interpreting an iffy and a non-iffy  imperative do not, as they stand, offer any room for the appearance this or that buletic modality like ought and should which are so prominently visible in the standard examples of those kinds of imperatives. The imperatives suggested by Grice are explicit imperatives. An explicit buletic utterance is Do such-and-such! and not You ought to do such and such or, worse, One ought to do such and such. Grice thinks, however, that one can modify this suggestion to meet the demand for the appearance or occurrence of ought (etc) if such occurrence is needed. Second, it would remain to be decided how close the preferred reading of Grices deviant conditional imperatives would be to the accepted interpretation of standard hypothetical or suppositional imperatives. But even if there were some divergence that might be acceptable if the new interpretation turns out to embody a more precise notion than the standard conception. Then theres the neustical versus tropical protases. There are, Grice thinks, serious doubts of the admissibility of conditionals with a NON-doxastic protasis, which are for Grice connected with the very difficult question whether the doxastic and the buletic modes are co-ordinate or whether the doxastic mode is in some crucial fashion (but not in other) prior (to use Suppess qualification) to the buletic. Grice confesses he does not know the answer to that question. A third formal interpretation links the iffy/non-iffy distinction to the absolute-relative value distinction. An iffy imperatives would be end-relative and might be analogous to an evidence-relative probability. A non-iffy imperatives would not be end-relative. Finally, a fourth Interpretation is not formal, but material. This is close to part of what Kant says on the topic. It is a distinction between an imperative being escapable (iffy), through the absence of a particular will and its not being escapable (non-iffy). If we understand the idea of escabability sufficiently widely, the following imperatives are all escapable, even though their logical form is not in every case the same: Give up popcorn!, To get slim, give up popcorn!, If you will to get slim, give up popcorn! Suppose Grice has no will to get slim. One might say that the first imperative (Give up popcorn!) is escaped, provided giving up popcorn has nothing else to recommend it, by falsifying You should give up popcorn. The second and the third imperatives (To get slim, give up pocorn! and If you will to get slim, give up popcorn!) would not, perhaps, involve falsification but they would, in the circumstances, be inapplicable to Grice – and inapplicability, too, counts, as escape. A non-iffy imperative however, is in no way escapable. Re: the Dynamics of Imperatives in Discourse, Grice then gives three examples which he had discussed in “Aspects,” which concern arguments (or therefore-chains). This we may see as an elucidation to grasp the logical form of buletically iffy utterance (elided by the therefore, which is an if in the metalanguage) in its dynamics in argumentation. We should, Grice suggests, consider not merely imperatives of each sort, together with the range of possible characterisations, but also the possible forms of argument into which_particular_ hypothetical or suppositional imperatives might enter. Consider: Defend the Philosophy Department! If you are to defend the philosophy department, learn to use bows and arrows! Therefore, learn to use bows and arrows! Grice says he is using the dichotomy of original-derived value. In this example, in the first premise, it is not specified whether the will is original or derived, the second premise specifies conducive to (means), and the conclusion would involve a derived will, provided the second premise is doxastically satisfactory. Another example would be: Fight for your country! If you are to fight for your country, join up one of the services! Therefore, join up! Here, the first premise and the conclusion do not specify the protasis. If the conclusion did, it would repeat the second premise. Then theres Increase your holdings in oil shares! If you visit your father, hell give you some oil shares. Therefore, visit your father! This argument (purportedly) transmits value. Let us explore these characterisations by Grice with the aid of Hares distinctions. For Hare in a hypothetical or suppositional imperative, the protasis contains a neustic-cum-tropic. A distinction may be made between this or that hypothetical or suppositional imperative and a term used by Grice in his first interpretation of the hypothetical or suppositional imperative, that of conditional command (If you see the whites of their eyes, shoot fire!). A hypothetical or suppositional imperative can be distinguished from a conditional imperative (If you want to make bread, use yeast! If you see anything suspicious, telephone the police!) by the fact that modus ponens is not valid for it. One may use hypothetical, suppositional or conditional imperative for a buletic utterance which features if, and reserve conditional command for a command which is expressed by an imperative, and which is conditional on the satisfaction of the protasis. Thus, on this view, treating the major premise of an argument as a hypothetical or suppositional imperative turns the therefore-chain invalid. Consider the sequence with the major premise as a hypothetical or suppositional imperative. If you will to make someone mad, give him drug D! You will to make Peter mad; therefore, give Peter drug D! By uttering this hypothetical or suppositional imperative, the utterer tells his addressee A only what means to adopt to achieve a given end in  a way which does not necessarily endorse the adoption of that end, and hence of the means to it. Someone might similarly say, if you will to make someone mad, give him drug D! But, of course, even if you will to do that, you must not try to do so. On the other hand, the following is arguably valid because the major premise is a conditional imperative and not a mere hypothetical or suppositional one. We have a case of major premise as a conditional imperative: You will to make someone mad, give him drug D! Make Peter mad! Therefore, give Peter drug D!. We can explain this in terms of the presence of the neustic in the antecedent of the imperative working as the major premise. The supposition that the protasis of a hypothetical or suppositional imperative contains a clause in the buletic mode neatly explains why the argument with the major premise as a hypothetical or suppositional imperative is not valid. But the argument with the major premise as a conditional imperative is, as well as helping to differentiate a suppositional or hypothetical or suppositional iffy imperative from a conditional iffy imperative. For, if the protasis of the major premise in the hypothetical or suppositional imperative is volitival, the mere fact that you will to make Peter mad does not license the inference of the imperative to give him the drug; but this _can_ be inferred from the major premise of the hypothetical or suppositional imperative together with an imperative, the minor premise in the conditional imperative, to make Peter mad. Whether the subordinate clause contains a neustic thus does have have a consequence as to the validity of inferences into which the complex sentence enters. Then theres an alleged principle of mode constancy in buletic and and doxastic inference. One may tries to elucidate Grices ideas on the logical form of the hypothetical or suppositional imperative proper. His suggestion is, admittedly, rather tentative. But it might be argued, in the spirit of it, that an iffy imperative is of the form ((!p⊃!q) Λ .p)) ∴ !q But this violates a principle of mode constancy. A phrastic must remain in the same mode (within the scope of the same tropic) throughout an argument. A conditional imperative does not violate the principle of Modal Constancy, since it is of the form ((p⊃!q) Λ !p)) ∴ !q The question of the logical form of the hypothetical or suppositional  imperative is too obscure to base much on arguments concerning it. There is an alternative to Grices account of the validity of an argument featuring a conditional imperative.  This is to treat the major premise of a conditional imperative, as some have urged it should be as a doxastic utterance tantamount to In order to make someone mad, you have to give him drug D.  Then an utterer who explicitly conveys or asserts the major premise of a conditional imperative and commands the second premise is in consistency committed to commanding the conclusion. If does not always connect phrastic with phrastic but sometimes connects two expressions consisting of a phrastic and a tropic. Consider: If you walk past the post office, post the letter! The antecedent of this imperative states, it seems, the condition under which the imperative expressed becomes operative, and so can not be construed buletically, since by uttering a buletic utterance, an utterer cannot explicitly convey or assert that a condition obtains. Hence, the protasis ought not be within the scope of the buletic !, and whatever we take to represent the form of the utterance above we must not take !(if p, q) to do so. One way out. On certain interpretation of the isomorphism or æqui-vocality Thesis between Indicative and Imperative Inference the utterance has to be construed as an imperative (in the generic reading)  to make the doxasatic conditional If you will walk past the post office,  you will post the letter satisfactory. Leaving aside issues of the implicaturum of if, that the utterance can not be so construed  seems to be shown by the fact that the imperative to make the associated doxastically iffy utterance satisfactory is conformed with by one who does not walk past the post office. But it seems strange at best to say that the utterance is conformed with in the same circumstances. This strangeness or bafflingliness, as Grice prefers, is aptly explained away in terms of the implicaturum. At Oxford, Dummett is endorsing this idea that a conditional imperative be construed as an imperative to make an indicative if utterance true. Dummett urges to divide conditional imperatives into those whose antecedent is within the power of the addressee, like the utterance in question, and those in which it is not. Consider: If you go out, wear your coat! One may be not so much concerned with how to escape this, as Grice is, but how to conform it. A child may choose not to go out in order to comply with the imperative. For an imperative whose protasis is_not_ within the power of the addressee (If anyone tries to escape, shoot him!) it is indifferent whether we treat it as a conditional imperative or not, so why bother. A small caveat here. If no one tries to escape, the imperative is *not violated*. One might ask, might there not be an important practical difference bewteen saying that an imperative has not been violated and that it has been complied with? Dummett ignores this distinction. One may feel think there is much of a practical difference there. Is Grice an intuitionist? Suppose that you are a frontier guard and the antecedent has remained unfulfilled. Then, whether we say that you complied with it, or simply did not *violate* it will make a great deal of difference if you appear before a war crimes tribunal.  For Dummett, the fact that in the case of an imperative expressed by a conditional imperative in which the antecedent is not within the agents power, we should *not* say that the agent had obeyed just on the ground that the protassi is false, is no ground for construing an imperative as expressing a conditional command: for there is no question of fixing what shall constitute obedience independently of the determination of what shall constitute disobedience. This complicates the issues. One may with Grice (and Hare, and Edgley) defend imperative inference against other Oxonian philosophers, such as Kenny or Williams. What is questioned by the sceptics about imperative inference is whether if each one of a set of imperatives is used with the force of a command, one can infer a _further_ imperative with that force from them. Cf. Wiggins on Aristotle on the practical syllogism. One may be more conservative than Hare, if not Grice. Consider If you stand by Jane, dont look at her! You stand by Jane; therefore, dont look at her! This is valid. However, the following, obtained by anti-logism, is not: If you stand by Jane, dont look at her! Look at her! Therefore, you dont stand by Jane. It may seem more reasonable to some to deny Kants thesis, and maintain that anti-logism is valid in imperative inference than it is to hold onto Kants thesis and deny that antilogism is valid in the case in question. Then theres the question of the implicatura involved in the ordering of modes. Consider: Varnish every piece of furniture you make! You are going to make a table; therefore, varnish it! This is prima facie valid. The following, however, switching the order of the modes in the premises is not. You are going to varnish every piece of furniture that you make. Make a table! Therefore; varnish it! The connection between the if and the therefore is metalinguistic, obviously – the validity of the therefore chain is proved by the associated if that takes the premise as, literally, the protasis and the consequence as the apodosis.  Conversational Implicaturum at the Rescue. Problems with or: Consider Rosss infamous example: Post the letter! Therefore, post the letter or burn it! as invalid, Ross – and endorsed at Oxford by Williams. To permit to do p or q is to permit to do p and to permit to do q. Similarly, to give permission to do something is to lift a prohibition against doing it. Admittedly, Williams does not need this so we are stating his claim more strongly than he does. One may review Grices way out (defense of the validity of the utterance above in terms of the implicaturum. Grice claims that in Rosss infamous example (valid, for Grice), whilst (to state it roughly) the premises permissive presupposition (to use the rather clumsy term introduced by Williams) is entailed by it, the conclusions is only conversationally implicated. Typically for an isomorphist, Grice says this is something shared by indicative inferences. If, being absent-minded, Grice asks his wife, What have I done with the letter? And she replies, You have posted it or burnt it, she conversationally implicates that she is not in a position to say which Grice has done. She also conversationally implicates that Grice may not have post it, so long as he has burnt it. Similarly, the future tense indicative, You are going to post the letter has the conversational implicaturum You may be not going to post the letter so long as you are going to burn it.  But this surely does not validate the introduction rule for OR, to wit:  p; therefore, p or q. One can similarly, say: Eclipse will win. He may not, of course, if it rains. And I *know* it will *not* rain. Problems with and. Consider: Put on your parachute AND jump out! Therefore, jump out! Someone who _only_ jumps out of an æroplane does not fulfil Put on your parachute and jump out!  He has done only what is necessary, but not sufficient to fulfil it.  Imperatives do not differ from indicatives in this respect, except that fulfilment takes the place of belief or doxa, which is the form of acceptance apprpriate to a doxasatic utterance, as the Names implies.  Someone who is told Smith put on his parachute AND jumped out is entitled to believe that Smith jumped out. But if he believes that this is _all_ Smith did he is in error (Cf. Edgley). One may discuss Grices test of cancellability in the case of the transport officer who says: Go via Coldstream or Berwick! It seems the transport officers way of expressing himself is extremely eccentric, or conversationally baffling, as Grice prefers – yet validly. If the transport officer is not sure if a storm may block one of the routes, what he should say is _Prepare_ to go via Coldstream or Berwick! As for the application of Grices test of explicit cancellation here, it yield, in the circumstances, the transport officer uttering Go either via Coldstream or Berwick!  But you may not go via Coldstream if you do not go via Berwick, and you may not go via Berwick if you do not go via Coldstream. Such qualifications  ‒ what Grice calls explicit cancellation of the implicaturum  ‒ seem to the addressee to empty the buletic mode of utterance of all content and is thus reminiscent of Henry Fords utterance to the effect that people can choose what colour car they like provided it is black. But then Grice doesnt think Ford is being illogical, only Griceian and implicatural! Grice was fascinated by “if” clauses in mode other than the indicative: “if the cat is on the mat, she is purring.” “If the cat had been, make her purr!” etc. He spent years at Clifton mastering this – only to have Ayer telling him at Oxford he didn’t need it! “I won’t take that!” -- Refs.: There is at least one essay just about the categorical imperative, but there are scattered references wherever Grice considers the mood markers, The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

implicaturum: or, Grice’s implication. Grice makes an important distinction which he thinks Austin doesn’t make because what a philosopher EXPLICITLY conveys and what he IMPLICITLY conveys. It was only a few years Grice was interacting philosophically with Austin and was reading some material by Witters, when Grice comes with this criticism and complaint. Austin ignores “all too frequently” a distinction that Witters apparently dnies. This is a distinction between what an emissor communicates (e. g. that p), which can be either explicitly (that p1) or implicitly (that p2) and what, metabolically, and derivatively, the emissum ‘communictates’ (explicitly or implicitly). At the Oxford Philosophical Society, he is considering Moore’s ‘entailment.’ This is not a vernacular expression, but a borrowing from a Romance language. But basically, Moore’s idea is that ‘p’ may be said to ‘entail’ q iff at least two conditions follow. Surely ‘entail’ has only one sense. In this metabolically usage where it is a ‘p’ that ‘entails’ the conditions are that there is a property and that there is a limitation. Now suppose Grice is discussing with Austin or reading Witters. Grice wants to distinguish various things: what the emissor communicates (explicitly or implicitly) and the attending diaphanous but metabolical, what WHAT THE EMSSOR COMMUNICATES (explicitly or implicitly) ENTAILS, AND the purely metabolical what the emissum ‘entails’ (explicitly or implicitly). This is Grice’s wording:“If we can elucidate the meaning of "A meantNN by x that p (on a particular occasion)," this might reasonably be expected to help us with the explication of "entails.”The second important occasion is in the interlude or excursus of his Aristotelian Society talk. How does he introduce the topic of ‘implication’? At that time there was a lot being written about ‘contextual’ or ‘pragmatic’ implication – even within Grice’s circle – as in D. K. Grant’s essay on pragmatic implication for Philosophy, and even earlier Nowell-Smith’s on ‘contextual implication’ in “Ethics,” and even earlier, and this is perhaps Grice’s main trigger, P. F. Strawson’s criticism of Whitehead and Russell, with Strawson having that, by uttering ‘The king of France is not bald,’ the emissor IMPLIES that there is a king of France (Strawson later changes the idiom from ‘imply,’ and the attending ‘implication, to ‘presuppose,’ but he keeps ‘imply’ in all the reprints of his earlier essays).  In “Causal Theory,” Grice surely cannot just ‘break’ the narrative and start with ‘implication’ in an excursus. So the first stage is to explore the use of ‘implication’ or related concepts in the first part of “Causal Theory” LEADING to the excursus for which need he felt. The first use appears in section 2.  The use is the noun, ‘implication.’ And Grice is reporting the view of an objector, so does not care to be to careful himself.“the OBJECTION MIGHT run as follows.” “… When someone makes a remark such as “The pillar box seems red” A CERTAIN IMPLICATION IS CARRIED.” He goes on “This implication is “DISJUNCTIVE IN FORM,” which should not concerns us here. Since we are considering the status of the implication, as seen by the objector as reported by Grice. He does not give a source, so we may assume G. A. Paul reading Witters, and trying to indoctrinate a few Oxonians into Wittgensteinianism (Grice notes that besides the playgroup there was Ryle’s group at Oxford and a THIRD, “perhaps more disciplined” group, that tended towards Witters.Grice goes on:“It IS implied that…” p. Again, he expands it, and obviously shows that he doesn’t care to be careful. And he is being ironic, because the implication is pretty lengthy! Yet he says, typically:“This may not be an absolutely EXACT or complete characterisation of the implication, but it is, perhaps, good ENOUGH to be going with!” Grice goes on to have his objector a Strawsonian, i. e. as REFUSING TO ASSIGN A TRUTH-VALUE to the utterance, while Grice would have that it is ‘uninterestingly true. In view of this it may to explore the affirmative and negative versions. Because the truth-values may change:In Grice’s view: “The pillar box seems red to me” IS “UNINTERESTINGLY TRUE,” in spite of the implication.As for “It is not the case that the pillar box seems red,” this is more of a trick. In “Negation,” Grice has a similar example. “That pillar box is red; therefore, it is not blue.”He is concerned with “The pillar box is not blue,” or “It is not the case that the pillar box is blue.”What about the truth-value now of the utterance in connection with the implication attached to it?Surely, Grice would like, unless accepting ‘illogical’ conversationalists (who want to make that something is UNASSERTIBLE or MISLEADING by adding ‘not’), the utterance ‘It is not the case that the pillar box seems red to me’ is FALSE in the scenario where the emissor would be truthful in uttering ‘The pillar box seems red to me.” Since Grice allows that the affirmative is ‘uninterestingly true,’ he is committed to having ‘It is not the case that the pillar box seems red’ as FALSE.For the Strawsonian Wittgensteinian, or truth-value gap theorist, the situation is easier to characterise. Both ‘The pillar box seems red to me” and its negation, “The pillar box does not seem red to me” lack a truth value, or in Grice’s word, as applied to the affirmative, “far from being uninterestingly true, is neither true nor false,” i. e. ‘neuter.’ It wold not be true but it would not be false either – breakdown of bivalence. Grice’s case is a complicated one because he distinguishes between the sub-perceptual “The pillar box seems red” from the perceptual ‘vision’ statement, “Grice sees that the pillar box is red.” So the truth of “The pillar box seems red” is a necessary condition for the statement about ‘seeing.’ This is itself controversial. Some philosophers have claimed that “Grice knows that p” does NOT entail “Grice believes that p,” for example. But for the causal theory Grice is thinking of an analysis of “Grice sees that the pillar box is red” in terms of three conditions: First, the pillar box seems red to Grice. Second, the pillar box is red. And third, it is the pillar box being red that causes it seeming red to Grice. Grice goes to reformulate the idea that “The pillar box seems red” being true. But now not “uninterestingly true,” but “true (under certain conditions),” or as he puts it “(subject to certain qualifications) true.” He may be having in mind a clown in a circus confronted with the blue pillar box and making a joke about it. Those ‘certain qualifications’ would not apply to the circus case. Grice goes on to change the adverb, it’s ‘boringly true,’ or ‘highly boringly true.’ He adds ‘suggestio falsi,’ which seems alright but which would not please the Wittgensteinian who would also reject the ‘false.’ We need a ‘suggestio neutri.’ In this second section, he gives the theoretical explanation. The “implication” arises “in virtue of a GENERAL FEATURE OR PRINCIPLE” of conversation, or pertaining to a system put in ‘communication,’ or a general feature or principle governing an emissor communicating that p. Note that ‘feature’ and ‘principle’ are appropriately ‘vague.’ “Feature” can be descriptive. “Principle” is Aristotelian. Boethius’s translation for Aristotle’s ‘arche.’ It can be descriptive. The first use of ‘principle’ in a ‘moral’ or ‘practical’ context seems to post-date its use in, say, geometry – Euclid’s axioms as ‘principia mathematica,’ or Newton’s “Principia.” Grice may be having in mind Moore’s ‘paradox’ (true, surely) when Grice adds ‘it is raining.’Grice’s careful wording is worth exploring. “The mistake [incorrectness, falsehood] of supposing the implication to constitute a "part of the meaning [sense]” of "The Alpha seems Beta" is somewhat similar to, though MORE INSIDUOUS …”[moral implication here: 1540s, from Middle French insidieux "insidious" (15c.) or directly from Latin insidiosus "deceitful, cunning, artful, treacherous," from insidiae (plural) "plot, snare, ambush," from insidere "sit on, occupy," from in- "in" (from PIE root *en "in") + sedere "to sit," from PIE root *sed- (1) "to sit." Figurative, usually with a suggestion of lying in wait and the intent to entrap. Related: Insidiously; insidiousness]“than, the mistake which one IF one supposes that the SO-CALLED [‘pragmatic’ or ‘contextual – implicaturum, “as I would not,” and indeed he does not – he prefers “expresses” here, not the weak ‘imply’] “implication” that one believes it to be raining is "a part of the meaning [or sense]" of the expression [or emissum] "It is raining.”Grice allows that no philosopher may have made this mistake. He will later reject the view that one conversationally implicates that one believes that it is raining by uttering ‘It is raining.’ But again he does not give sources. In these case, while without the paraphernalia about the ‘a part of the ‘sense’” bit, can be ascribed at Oxford to Nowell-Smith and Grant (but not, we hope to Strawson). Nowell-Smith is clear that it is a contextual implication, but one would not think he would make the mistake of bringing in ‘sense’ into the bargain. Grice goes on:“The short and literally inaccurate reply to such a supposition [mistake] might be that the so-called “implication” attaches because the expression (or emissum) is a PROPOSITIONAL one [expressable by a ‘that so-and-so’ clause] not because it is the particular propositional expression which it happens to be.”By ‘long,’ Grice implicates: “And it is part of the function of the informative mode that you utter an utterance in the informative mode if you express your belief in the content of the propositonal expression.”Grice goes on to analyse ‘implication’ in terms of ‘petitio principii.’ This is very interesting and requires exploration. Grice claims that his success the implicaturum in the field of the philosophy of perception led his efforts against Strawson on the syncategoremata.But here we see Grice dealing what will be his success.One might, for example, suggest that it is open to the champion of sense_data to lay down that the sense-datum sentence " I have a pink sense-datum " should express truth if and only if the facts are as they would have to be for it to be true, if it were in order, to say .. Something looks pink to me ", even though it may not actually be in ordei to say this (because the D-or-D condition is unfulfilled). But this attempt to by-pass the objector's position would be met by the reply that it begs the question; for it assumes that there is some way of specifying the facts in isolation from the implication standardly carried by such a specification; and this is precisely what the objector is denying.Rephrasing that:“One might, for example, suggest that it is open to the champion of sense_data to lay down that the sense-datum sentence "The pillar box seems red” is TRUE if and only if the facts are as the facts WOULD HAVE to be for “The pillar box seems red” to be true, IF (or provided that) it were IN ORDER [i. e. conversationally appropriate], to utter or ‘state’ or explicitly convey that the pillar box seems red, even though it may NOT actually be in order [conversationally appropriate] to explicitly convey that the pillar box seems red (because the condition specified in the implication is unfulfilled).”“But this attempt to by-pass the objector's position would be met by a charge of ‘petitio principia,’ i. e. the reply that it begs the question.”“Such a  manoeuvre is invalid in that it assumes that there IS some way of providing a SPECIFICATION of the facts of the matter in isolation from, or without recourse to, the implication that is standardly carried by such a specification.”“This is precisely what the objector is denying, i. e. the objector believes it is NOT the case that there is a way of giving a specification of the scenario without bringing in the implication.”Grice refers to the above as one of the “frustrations,” implicating that the above, the ‘petitio principia,’ is just one of the trials Grice underwent before coming with the explanation in terms of the general feature of communication, or as he will late express, in terms of ‘what the hell’ the ‘communication-function’ of “The pillar seems red to me” might be when the implicaturum is not meant – and you have to go on and cancel it (“That pillar box seems red; mind, I’m not suggesting that it’s not – I’m practicing my sub-perceptual proficiency.”).Grice goes on to note the generality he saw in the idea of the ‘implication.’ Even if “The pillar box seems red” was his FIRST attack, the reason he was willing to do the attacking was that the neo-Wittgensteinian was saying things that went against THE TENOR OF THE THINGS GRICE would say with regard to other ‘linguistic philosophical’ cases OTHER than in the philosophy of perception, notably his explorations were against Malcolm reading of Moore, about Moore ‘misusing’ “know.”Grice:“I was inclined to rule against my objector, partly because his opponent's position was more in line with the kind of thing I was inclined to say about other linguistic phenomena which are in some degree comparable.”Rephrase:“My natural inclination was to oppose the objector.”“And that was because his opponent's position is more “in line” with the kind of thing Grice is inclined to say – or thesis he is willing to put forward-- about OTHER phenomena involving this or that ‘communication-function’ of this or that philosophical adage, which are in some degree comparable to “The pillar box seems red.””So just before the ‘excursus,’ or ‘discursus,’ as he has it – which is then not numbered – but subtitlted (‘Implication’), he embark on a discursus about “certain ASPECTS of the concept OR CONCEPTS of implication.”He interestingly adds: “using some more or less well-worn examples.” This is not just a reference to Strawson, Grant, Moore, Hungerland and Nowell-Smith, but to the scholastics and the idea of the ‘suppositio’ as an ‘implicatio,’: “Tu non cessas edere ferrum.” Grice says he will consider only four aspects or FOUR IDEAS (used each as a ‘catalyst’) in particular illustrations.“Smith has not ceased beating his wife.”“Smith’s girlfriend is poor, but honest.”“Smith’s handwriting is beautiful”“Smith’s wife is in the kitchen or in the bathroom.”Each is a case, as Grice puts it, “in which in ordinary parlance, or at least in Oxonian philosophical parlance, something might be said to be ‘implied’ (hopefully by the emissor) -- as distinct from being ‘stated,’ or ‘explicitly put.’One first illustrationEXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “Smith has not ceased beating his wife.” IMPLICITLY CONVEYED, but cancellable: “Smith has been beating his wife.”CANCELLATION: “Smith has not ceased beating his wife; he never started.”APPLY THREE OTHER IDEAS.A second illustrationEXPLICITLY CONVEYED:“Smith’s girlfriend is poor, but honest.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “There is some contrast between Smith’s girlfriend’s honesty and her poverty; and possibly between Smith and the utterer.”CANCELLATION: “I’m sorry, I cannot cancel that.”TRY OTHER THREE IDEAS.A third illustrationEXPLICITLY CONVEYED “Smith’s handwriting is beautiful” – “Or “If only his outbursts were more angelic.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “He possibly cannot read Hegel in German.”CANCELLATION: “Smith’s handwriting is beautiful; on top, he reads Hegel in German.”TRY THREEOTHER IDEASA fourth illustration:EXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “Smith’s wife is in the kitchen or in the bathroom.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “It is not the case that I have truth-functional grounds to express disjunct D1, and it is not the case that I have truth-functional grounds to express disjunct D2; therefore, I am introducting the disjunction EITHER than by the way favoured by Gentzen.” (Grice actually focuses on the specific ‘doxastic’ condition: emissor believes …CANCELLATION: “I know perfectly well where she is, but I want you to find out for yourself.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEAS.Within the discursus he gives SIX (a sextet) other examples, of the philosophical type, because he is implicating the above are NOT of the really of philosophical type, hence his reference to ‘ordinary parlance.’ He points out that he has no doubt there are other candidates besides his sextet.FIRST IN THE SEXTETEXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “You cannot see a knife as a knife, though you may see what is not a knife as a knife.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “”AS” REQUIRES A GESTALT.”CANCELLATION: “I see the horse as a horse, because my gestalt is mine.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEASSECOND IN THE SEXTET:EXPLICITLY CONVEYED:“When Moore said he knew that the objects before him were human hands, he was guilty of misusing the word "know".”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “You can only use ‘know’ for ‘difficult cases.’CANCELLATION: “If I know that p iff I believe that p, p, and p causes my belief in p, I know that the objects before me are human hands.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEAS.THIRD IN THE SEXTETEXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “For an occurrence to be properly said to have a ‘cause,’ the occurrence must be something abnormal or unusual.”IMPLICILTY CONVEYED: “Refrain from using ‘cause’ when the thing is normal and usual.”CANCELLATION: “If I see that the pillar box is red iff the pillar box seems red, the pillar box is red, and the pillar box being red causes the pillar box seeming red, the cause of the pillar box seeming red is that the pillar box is red.”TRY OTHER THREE IDEAS.FOURTH IN THE SEXTET:  EXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “For an action to be properly described as one for which the agent is responsible, it must be the sort of action for which people are condemned.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “Refrain ascribing ‘responsibility’ to Timmy having cleaned up his bedroom.”CANCELLATION: “Timmy is very responsible. He engages in an action for which people are not condemned.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEAS.FIFTH IN THE SEXTET:EXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “What is actual is not also possible.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “There is a realm of possibilities which does not overlap with the realm of actualities.”CANCELLATION: “If p is actual iff p obtains in world w1, and p is possible iff p obtains in any world wn which includes w1, p is possible.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEAS.SIXTH IN THE SEXTETEXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “What is known by me to be the case is not also believed by me to be the case.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “To know is magical!”CANCELLATION: “If I know that p iff I believe that p, p, and p causes my believing that p, then what is known by me to be the case is also believed by me to be the case.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEAS.CASE IN QUESTION:EXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “The pillar box seems red.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “One will doubt it is.”CANCELLATION: “The pillar box seems red and I hope no one doubt it is.”TRY THREE OTHER IDEAS. THAT LISTING became commonplace for Grice. In ProlegomenaGROUP A: EXAMPLE I: RYLE on ‘voluntarily’ and “involuntarily” in “The Concept of Mind.” RYLE WAS LISTENING! BUT GRICE WAS without reach! Grice would nothavecriticised Ryle at a shorter distance.EXAMPLE II: MALCOLM IN “Defending common sense” in the Philosophical Review, on Moore’s misuse of ‘know’ – also in Causal, above, as second in the sextet.EXPLICITLY CONVEYED:“When Moore said he knew that the objects before him were human hands, he was guilty of misusing the word "know".REPHRASE IN “PROLEGOMENA.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “You can only use ‘know’ for ‘difficult cases.’CANCELLATION: “If I know that p iff I believe that p, p, and p causes my belief in p, I know that the objects before me are human hands.”EXAMPLE III: BENJAMIN ON BROAD ON THE “SENSE” OF “REMEMBERING”EXPLICITLY CONVEYED;IMPLICITLY CONVEYEDCANCELLATIONEXAMPLES, GROUP A, CLASS IV: philosophy of perception FIRST EXAMPLE: Witters on ‘seeing as’ in Philosophical InvestigationsEXPLICITLY CONVEYEDIMPLICITLY CONVEYEDCANCELLATION.Previously used in Causal as first in the sextet: FIRST IN THE SEXTETEXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “You cannot see a knife as a knife, though you may see what is not a knife as a knife.”Rephrased in Prolegomena. IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “”AS” REQUIRES A GESTALT.”CANCELLATION: “I see the horse as a horse, because my gestalt is mine.”GROUP A – CLASS IV – PHILOSOPHY OF PERCEPTIONEXAMPLE II – “The pillar box seems red to me.”Used in“Causal”EXPLICITLY CONVEYED: “The pillar box seems red.”IMPLICITLY CONVEYED: “One will doubt it is.”CANCELLATION: “The pillar box seems red and I hope no one doubt it is.”GROUP A – CLASS V – PHILOSOPHY OF ACTION – Here unlike Class IV, he uses (a), etc.EXAMPLE A: WITTERS AND OTHERS on ‘trying’ EXPLICITLY CONVEYEDIMPLICITLY CONVEYED:CANCELLATIONGROUP A – CLASS V – “ACTION,” not ‘philosophy of action’ – cf. ‘ordinary parlance.’EXAMPLE B: Hart on ‘carefully.’EXPLICITLY CONVEYEDIMPLICITLY CONVEYEDCANCELLATION

GROUP A – CLASS V – ACTIONEXAMPLE C: Austin in “A plea for excuses” on ‘voluntarily’ and ‘involuntarily’ – a refinement on Ryle above – using variable “Mly” – Grice would not have criticised Austin in the play group. He rather took it against his tutee, Strawson.EXPLICITLY CONVEYED

IMPLICITLY CONVEYEDCANCELLATIONGROUP B: syncategorema – not lettered butFIRST EXAMPLE: “AND” (not ‘not’)SECOND EXAMPLE: “OR”THIRD EXAMPLE: “IF” – particularly relevant under ‘implication.’ STRAWSON, Introduction to logical theory.GRICE’S PHRASING: “if p, q” ENTAILS ‘p horseshoe q.’ The reverse does not hold: it is not the case that ‘p horseshoe q’ ENTAILS ‘if p, q’. Odd way of putting it, but it was all from Strawson. It may be argued that ‘entail’ belongs in a system, and ‘p horseshoe q’ and ‘if p, q’ are DISPARATE. Grice quotes verbatim from Strawson:a ‘primary or standard’ use of “if … then …,” or “if,” of which the main characteristics were: that for each hypothetical statement made by this use of “if,” there could be made just one statement which would be the antecedent of the hypothetical and just onestatement which would be its consequent; that the hypothetical statement is acceptable (true, reasonable) if the antecedent statement, if made or accepted, would, in the circumstances, be a good ground or reason for accepting the consequent statement; and that the making of the hypothetical statement carries the implicationeither of uncertainty about, or of disbelief in, the fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent.Grice rephrases that by stating that for Grice “a primary or standard use of ‘if, then’” is characterised as follows:“for each hypothetical statement made by this use of “if,” there could be made just one statement which would be the antecedent of the hypothetical and just one statement which would be its consequent; that the hypothetical statement is acceptable (true, reasonable) if the antecedent statement, if made or accepted, would, in the circumstances, be a good ground or reason for accepting the consequent statement; and that the making of the hypothetical statement carries the implication either of uncertainty about, or of disbelief in, the fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent.”Grice rephrases the characterisation as from “each” and eliding a middle part, but Grice does not care to add the fastidious “[…],” or quote, unquote.“each hypothetical ‘statement’ made by this use of “if” is acceptable (TRUE, reasonable) if the antecedent ‘statement,’ IF made or accepted, would, in the circumstances, be a good ground or reason for accepting the consequent ‘statement;’ and that the making of thehypothetical statement carries the implication either of uncertainty about, or of disbelief in, the fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent.  “A hypothetical, or conditional ‘statement’ or composite proposition such as “If it is day, I talk”is acceptable (or TRUE, or ‘reasonable’) if (but not only if), first, the antecedent ‘statement,’ ‘It is day,’ IF made on its own, or accepted on its own, i. e. simpliciter, would, in the circumstances, be a good ground or ‘reason’ for accepting the consequent ‘statement,’ to wit: “I talk;” and, second, that the making of the conditional proposition or hypothetical ‘statement’ carries the implication, or rather the emissor of the emissum IMPLIES, either it is not the case that the emissor is CERTAIN about or that it is day and CERTAIN about or that he talks, or BELIEVES that it is day and BELIEVES that he talks.”More or less Grice’s denial or doubt. Or rather ‘doubt’ (Strawson’s ‘uncertainty about’) or denial (‘disbelief in’). But it will do at this point to explore the argument by Strawson to which Grice is responding. First two comments. Strawson has occasion to respond to Grice’s response in more than one opportunity. But Grice never took up the issue again in a detailed fashion – after dedicating a full lecture to it. One occasion was Strawson’s review of the reprint of Grice in 1989. Another is in the BA memorial. The crucial one is repr. by Strawson (in a rather otiose way) in his compilation, straight from PGRICE. This is an essay which Strawson composed soon after the delivery by Grice of the lecture without consulting. Once Stawson is aware of Grice’s terminology, he is ready to frame his view in Grice’s terms: for Strawson, there IS an implicaturum, but it is a conventional one. His analogy is with the ‘asserted’ “therefore” or “so.” Since this for Grice was at least the second exemplar of his manoeuvre, it will do to revise the argument from which Grice extracts the passage in “Prolegomena.” In the body of the full lecture IV, Grice does not care to mention Strawson at all; in fact, he makes rather hasty commentaries generalising on both parties of the debate: the formalists, who are now ‘blue-collared practitioners of the sciences,” i. e. not philosophers like Grice and Strawson; and the informalists or ‘traditionalists’ like Strawson who feel offended by the interlopers to the tranquil Elysium of philosophy. Grice confesses a sympathy for the latter, of course. So here is straight from the tranquil Elysium of philosophy. For Strawson, the relations between “if” and “⊃” have already, but only in part, been discussed (Ch. 2, S. 7).” So one may need to review those passages. But now he has a special section that finishes up the discussion which has been so far only partial. So Strawson resumes the points of the previous partial discussion and comes up with the ‘traditionalist’ tenet.  The sign “⊃” is called the material implication sign. Only by Whitehead and Russell, that is, ‘blue-collared practitioners of the sciences,’ in Grice’s wording. Whitehead and Russell think that ‘material’ is a nice opposite to ‘formal,’ and ‘formal implication’ is something pretty complex that only they know to which it refers! Strawson goes on to explain, and this is a reminder of his “Introduction” to his “Philosophical Logic” where he reprints Grice’s Meaning (for some reason). There Strawson has a footnote quoting from Quine’s “Methods of Logic,” where the phrasing is indeed about the rough phrase, ‘the meaning of ‘if’’ – cf. Grice’s laughter at philosophers talking of ‘the sense of ‘or’’ – “Why, one must should as well talk of the ‘sense’ of ‘to,’ or ‘of’!’ – Grice’s implicaturum is to O. P. Wood, whose claim to fame is for having turned Oxford into the place where ‘the sense of ‘or’’ was the key issue with which philosophers were engaged.  Strawson goes on to say that its meaning is given by the ‘rule’ that any statement of the form ‘p⊃q’ is FALSE in the case in which the first of its constituent statements is true and the second false, and is true in every other case considered in the system; i. e., the falsity of the first constituent statement or the truth of the second are, equally, sufficient conditions of the truth of a statement of material implication. The combination of truth in the first with falsity in the second is the single, NECESSARY AND SUFFICIENT, condition of its falsity. The standard or primary -- the importance of this qualifying phrase, ‘primary,’ can scarcely be overemphasized – Grice omits this bracket when he expolates the quote. The bracket continues. The place where Strawson opens the bracket is a curious one: it is obvious he is talking about the primary use of ‘if’. So here he continues the bracket with the observation that there are uses of “if”  which do not answer to the description given here, or to any other descriptions given in this [essay] -- use of “if” sentence, on the other hand [these are Strawson’s two hands], are seen to be in circumstances where, not knowing whether some statement which could be made by the use of a sentence corresponding in a certain way to the sub-ordinated clause of the utterance is true or not, or believing it to be false, the emissor nevertheless considers that a step in reasoning from THAT statement to a statement related in a similar way to the main clause would be a sound or reasonable step [a reasonable reasoning, that is]; this statement related to the main clause also being one of whose truth the emissor is in doubt, or which the emissor believes to be false. Even in such circumstances as these a philosopher may sometimes hesitate to apply ‘true’ to a conditional or hypothetical statement, i.e., a statement which could be made by the use of “if ”(Philo’s ‘ei,’ Cicero’s ‘si’)  in its standard significance, preferring to call a conditional statement reasonable or well-founded. But if the philosopher does apply ‘true’ to an ‘if’ utterance at all, it will be in such circumstances as these. Now one of the sufficient conditions of the truth of a ‘statement’ or formula of material implication may very well be fulfilled without the conditions for the truth, or reasonableness, of the corresponding hypothetical or conditional statement being fulfilled. A statement of the form ‘p ⊃ q’ (where the horseshoe is meant to represent an inverted ‘c’ for ‘contentum’ or ‘consequutum’ -- does not entail the corresponding statement of the ‘form’ “if p, q.” But if the emissor is prepared to accept the hypothetical statement, he must in consistency be prepared to deny the conjunction of the statement corresponding to the sub-ordinated clause of the sentence used to make the hypothetical statement with the negation of the statement corresponding to its main or super-ordinated clause. A statement of the ‘form’ “if p, q” does entail the corresponding statement of the form ‘p ⊃ q.’ The force of “corresponding” may need some elucidation. Consider the following very ‘ordinary’ or ‘natural’ specimens of a hypothetical sentence. Strawson starts with a totally unordinary subjective counterfactual ‘if,’ an abyss with Philo, “If it’s day, I talk.” Strawson surely involves The Hun. ‘If the Germans had invaded England in 1940, they, viz. the Germans, would have won the war.’ Because for the Germans, invading England MEANT winning the war. They never cared much for Wales or Scotland, never mind Northern Ireland. Possibly ‘invaded London’ would suffice. Strawson’s second instantiation again is the odd subjective counter-factual ‘if,’ an abyss or chasm from Philo, ‘If it’s day, I talk.’ “If Smith were in charge, half the staff would have been dismissed.’ Strawson is thinking Noel Coward, who used to make fun of the music-hall artist Wade. “If you WERE the only girl in the world, and I WAS the only boy…’. The use of ‘were’ is Oxonian. A Cockney is forbidden to use it, using ‘was’ instead. The rationale is Philonian. ‘was’ is indicative.  “If Smith were in charge, half the staff would have been dismissed.’ Strawson’s third instantiation is, at last, more or less Philonian, a plain indicative ‘weather’ protasis, etc. “If it rains, the match will be cancelled.” The only reservation Philo would have is ‘will’. Matches do not have ‘will,’ and the sea battle may never take place – the world may be destroyed by then. “If it rains, the match will be cancelled.” Or “If it rains, the match is cancelled – but there is a ‘rain date.’” The sentence which could be used to make a statement corresponding in the required ‘sense’ to the sub-ordinate clause can be ascertained by considering what it is that the emissor of each hypothetical sentence must (in general) be assumed either to be in doubt about or to believe to be not the case. Thus, the corresponding sentences. ‘The Germans invaded England in 1940.’ Or ‘The Germans invade England’ – historical present -- ‘The Germans won the war.’ Or ‘The Germans win the war’ – historical present. ‘Smith is in charge.’ ‘Half the staff has been dismissed.’ Or ‘Half the staff is dismissed.’ ‘It will rain.’ Or ‘It rains.’‘The match will be cancelled.’ Or ‘The match is cancelled.’ A sentence could be used to make a statement of material implication corresponding to the hypothetical statement made by the  sentence is framed, in each case, from these pairs of sentences as follows. ‘The Germans invaded England in 1940 ⊃ they won the war.’ Or in the historical present,’The Germans invade London ⊃ The Germans win the war. ‘ ‘Smith is in charge ⊃ half the staff has been, dismissed.’ Or in the present tense, ‘Smith is in charge ⊃ half the staff is dismissed.’ ‘ It will rain ⊃ the match will be cancelled.’ Or in the present ‘It rains ⊃ the match is cancelled.’  The very fact that a few verbal modifications are necessary to please the Oxonian ear, in order to obtain from the clauses of the hypothetical sentence the clauses of the corresponding material implication sentence is itself a symptom of the radical difference between a hypothetical statement and a truth-functional statement. Some detailed differences are also evident from these instantiations. The falsity of a statement made by the use of ‘The Germans invade London in 1940’ or ‘Smith is in charge’ is a sufficient condition of the truth of the corresponding statements made by the use of the ⊃-utterances. But not, of course, of the corresponding statement made by the use of the ‘if’ utterance. Otherwise, there would normally be no point in using an ‘if’ sentence at all.An ‘if’ sentence would normally carry – but not necessarily: one may use the pluperfect or the imperfect subjunctive when one is simply working out the consequences of an hypothesis which one may be prepared eventually to accept -- in the tense or mode of the verb, an implication (or implicaturum) of the emissor’s belief in the FALSITY of the statements corresponding to the clauses of the hypothetical.That it is not the case that it rains is sufficient to verify (or truth-functionally confirm) a statement made by the use of “⊃,” but not a statement made by the use of ‘if.’ That it is not the case that it rains is also sufficient to verify (or truth-functionally confirm) a statement made by the use of ‘It will rain ⊃ the match will not be cancelled.’ Or ‘It rains ⊃ the match is cancelled.’ The formulae ‘p ⊃ q’ and ‘p ⊃ ~ q' are consistent with one another.The joint assertion of corresponding statements of these forms is equivalent to the assertion of the corresponding statement of the form ‘~ p.’ But, and here is one of Philo’s ‘paradoxes’: “If it rains, the match will be cancelled” (or ‘If it rains, the match is cancelled’) seems (or sounds) inconsistent with “If it rains, the match will not be cancelled,’ or ‘If it rains, it is not the case that the match is cancelled.’But here we add ‘not,’ so Philo explains the paradox away by noting that his account is meant for ‘pure’ uses of “ei,” or “si.”Their joint assertion in the same context sounds self-contradictory. But cf. Philo, who wisely said of ‘If it is day, it is night’ “is true only at night.” (Diog. Laert. Repr. in Long, The Hellenistic Philosophers). Suppose we call the statement corresponding to the sub-ordinated clause of a sentence used to make a hypothetical statement the antecedent of the hypothetical statement; and the statement corresponding to the super-ordinated clause, its consequent. It is sometimes fancied that, whereas the futility of identifying a conditional ‘if’ statement with material implication is obvious in those cases where the implication of the falsity of the antecedent is normally carried by the mode or tense of the verb – as in “If the Germans invade London in 1940, they, viz. the Germans, win the war’ and ‘If Smith is in charge, half the staff is dismissed’ -- there is something to be said for at least a PARTIAL identification in cases where no such implication is involved, i.e., where the possibility of the truth of both antecedent and consequent is left open – as in ‘If it rains, the match is cancelled.’ In cases of the first kind (an ‘unfulfilled,’ counterfactual, or ‘subjunctive’ conditional) the intended addressee’s attention is directed, as Grice taught J. L. Mackie, in terms of the principle of conversational helpfulness, ONLY TO THE LAST TWO ROWS of the truth-tables for ‘ p ⊃ q,’ where the antecedent has the truth-value, falsity. Th suggestion that ‘~p’ ‘entails’ ‘if p, q’ is felt or to be or ‘sounds’ – if not to Philo’s or Grice’s ears -- obviously wrong.  But in cases of the second kind one inspects also the first two ROWS. The possibility of the antecedent's being fulfilled is left open. It is claimed that it is NOT the case that the suggestion that ‘p ⊃ q’ ‘entails’ ‘if p, q’ is felt to be or sound obviously wrong, to ANYBODY, not just the bodies of Grice and Philo. This Strawson calls, to infuriate Grice, ‘an illusion,’ ‘engendered by a reality.’The fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent of a hypothetical statement does not show that the man who made the hypothetical statement is right. It is not the case that the man would be right, Strawson claims, if the consequent is made true as a result of this or that factor unconnected with, or in spite of, rather than ‘because’ of, the fulfilment of the antecedent.  E. g. if Grice’s unmissable match is missed because the Germans invade – and not because of the ‘weather.’ – but cf. “The weather in the streets.” Strawson is prepared to say that the man (e. g., Grice, or Philo) who makes the hypothetical statement is right only if Strawson is also prepared to say that the antecedent being true is, at least in part, the ‘explanation’ of the consequent being true. The reality behind the illusion Strawson naturally finds ‘complex,’ for surely there ain’t one! Strawson thinks that this is due to two phenomena. First, Strawson claims, in many cases, the fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent provides confirmation for the view that the existence of states of affairs like those described by the antecedent IS a good ‘reason’ for expecting (alla Hume, assuming the uniformity of nature, etc.) a states of affair like that described by the consequent. Second, Starwson claims, a man (e. g. Philo, or Grice) who (with a straight Grecian or Griceian face) says, e. g. ‘If it rains, the match is cancelled’ makes a bit of a prediction, assuming the ‘consequent’ to be referring to t2>t1 – but cf. if he is reporting an event taking place at THE OTHER PLACE. The prediction Strawson takes it to be ‘The match is cancelled.’And the man is making the prediction ONLY under what Strawson aptly calls a “proviso,” or “caveat,” – first used by Boethius to translate Aristotle -- “It rains.” Boethius’s terminology later taken up by the lawyers in Genoa. mid-15c., from Medieval Latin proviso (quod) "provided (that)," phrase at the beginning of clauses in legal documents (mid-14c.), from Latin proviso "it being provided," ablative neuter of provisus, past participle of providere (see provide). Related: Provisory. And that the cancellation of the match because of the rain therefore leads us to say, not only that the reasonableness of the prediction was confirmed, but also that the prediction itself was confirmed.  Because it is not the case that a statement of the form ‘ p ⊃ q’ entails the corresponding statement of the form ' if p, q ' (in its standard employment), Strawson thinks he can find a divergence between this or that ‘rule’ for '⊃' and this or that ‘rule’ for '’if ,’ in its standard employment. Because ‘if p, q’ does entail ‘p ⊃ q,’ we shall also expect to find some degree of parallelism between the rules. For whatever is entailed by ‘p ⊃ q’ is entailed by ‘if p, q,’ though not everything which entails ‘p ⊃ q’ does Strawson claims, entail ‘if p, q.’  Indeed, we find further parallels than those which follow simply from the facts that ‘if p, q’ entails ‘p ⊃ q’ and that entailment is transitive.  To some laws for ‘⊃,’ Strawson finds no parallels for ‘if.’ Strawson notes that for at least four laws for ‘⊃,’ we find that parallel laws ‘hold’ good for ‘if. The first law is mentioned by Grice, modus ponendo ponens, as elimination of ‘⊃.’ Strawson does not consider the introduction of the horseshoe, where p an q forms a collection of all active assumptions previously introduced which could have been used in the deduction of  ‘if p, q.’ When inferring ‘if p, q’ one is allowed to discharge assumptions of the form p. The fact that after deduction of ‘if p, q’  this assumption is discharged (not active is pointed out by using [ ] in vertical notation, and by deletion from the set of assumptions in horizontal notation. The latter notation shows better the character of the rule; one deduction is transformed into the other. It shows also that the rule for the introduction of ‘if’ corresponds to an important metatheorem, the Deduction Theorem, which has to be proved in axiomatic formalizations of logic. But back to the elimination of ‘if’. Modus ponendo ponens. ‘‘((p ⊃ q).p) ⊃ q.’ For some reason, Strawson here mixes horseshoes and ifs as if Boethius is alive! Grice calls these “half-natural, half-artificial.’ Chomsky prefers ‘semi-native.’ ‘(If p, q, and p) ⊃q.’ Surely what Strawson wants is a purely ‘if’ one, such as ‘If, if p, q, and p, q.’ Some conversational implicaturum!  As Grice notes: “Strawson thinks that one can converse using his converses, but we hardly.’ The second law. Modus tollendo tollens. ‘((p⊃q). ~ q)) ⊃ (~ p).’ Again, Strawson uses a ‘mixed’ formula: (if p, q, and it is not the case that q) ⊃ it is not the case that p. Purely unartificial: If, if p, q, and it is not the case that q, it is not the case that p. The third law, which Strawson finds problematic, and involves an operator that Grice does not even consider. ‘(p ⊃ q) ≡ (~ q  ⊃ ~ p). Mixed version, Strawson simplifies ‘iff’ to ‘if’ (in any case, as Pears notes, ‘if’ IMPLICATES ‘iff.’). (If p, q) ⊃ if it is not the case that q, it is not the case that p. Unartificial: If, if p, q, it is not the case that if q, it is not the case that p. The fourth law. ((p ⊃ q).(q ⊃ r)) ⊃ (p ⊃ r). Mixed: (if p, q, and if q, r) ⊃ (if p, r). Unartificial: ‘If, if p, q, and if q, r, if p, r.’ Try to say that to Mrs. Grice! (Grice: “It’s VERY SURPRISING that Strawson think we can converse in his lingo!”). Now Strawson displays this or that ‘reservation.’ Mainly it is an appeal to J. Austen and J. Austin. Strawson’s implicaturum is that Philo, in Megara, has hardly a right to unquiet the tranquil Elysium. This or that ‘reservation’ by Strawson takes TWO pages of his essay. Strawson claims that the reservations are important. It is, e. g., often impossible to apply entailment-rule (iii) directly without obtaining incorrect or absurd results. Some modification of the structure of the clauses of the hypothetical is commonly necessary. Alas, Whitehead and Russell give us little guide as to which modifications are required.  If we apply rule (iii) to our specimen hypothetical sentences, without modifying at all the tenses or moods of the individual clauses, we obtain expressions which Austin would not call ‘ordinary language,’ or Austen, for that matter, if not Macaulay.  If we preserve as nearly as possible the tense-mode structure, in the simplest way consistent with grammatical requirements, we obtain this or that sentence. TOLLENDO TOLLENS. ‘If it is not the case that the Germans win the war, it is not the case that they, viz. the Germans, invade England in 1940.’ ‘If it is not the case that half the staff is dismissed, it is not the case that Smith is in charge.’ ‘If it is not the case that the match is cancelled, it is not the case that it rains.’ But, Strawson claims, these sentences, so far from SOUNDING or seeming logically equivalent to the originals, have in each case a quite different ‘sense.’ It is possible, at least in some cases, to frame, via tollendo tollens a target setence of more or less the appropriate pattern for which one can imagine a use and which DOES stand in the required relationship to the source sentence. ‘If it is not the case that the Germans win the war, (trust) it is not the case that they, viz. the Germans, invade England in 1940,’ with the attending imlicatum: “only because they did not invade England in 1940.’ or even, should historical evidence be scanty). ‘If it is not the case that the Germans win the war, it SURELY is not the case that they, viz. the Germans, invade London in 1940.’ ‘If it is not the case that half the staff is dismissed, it surely is not the case that Smith is in charge.’ These changes reflect differences in the circumstances in which one might use these, as opposed to the original, sentences.  The sentence beginning ‘If Smith is in charge …’ is normally, though not necessarily, used by a man who antecedently knows that it is not the case that Smith is in charge. The sentence beginning ‘If it is not the case that half the staff is dismissed …’  is normally, though not necessarily, used by by a man who is, as Cook Wilson would put it, ‘working’ towards the ‘consequent’ conclusion that Smith is not in charge.  To say that the sentences are nevertheless truth-functionally equivalent seems to point to the fact that, given the introduction rule for ‘if,’ the grounds for accepting the original ‘if’-utterance AND the ‘tollendo tollens’ correlatum, would, in two different scenarios, have been grounds for accepting the soundness or validity of the passage or move from a premise ‘Smith is in charge’ to its ‘consequentia’ ‘consequutum,’ or ‘conclusion,’ ‘Half the staff is dismissed.’ One must remember that calling each formula (i)-(iv) a LAW or a THEOREM is the same as saying that, e.g., in the case of (iii), ‘If p, q’ ‘ENTAILS’ ‘If it is not the case that q, it is not the case that p.’ Similarly, Strawson thinks, for some steps which would be invalid for ‘if,’ there are corresponding steps that would be invalid for ‘⊃.’ He gives two example using a symbol Grice does not consider, for ‘therefore,’ or ‘ergo,’ and lists a fallacy. First example. ‘(p ⊃ q).q ∴ p.’ Second example of a fallacy:‘(p ⊃ q). ~p ∴ ~q.’ These are invalid inference-patterns, and so are the correlative patterns with ‘if’: ‘If p, q; and q  ∴ p’ ‘If p, q; and it is not the case that p ∴ it is not the case that q. The formal analogy here may be described by saying that neither ‘p ⊃  q’ nor ‘if p, q’ is a simply convertible (“nor hardly conversable” – Grice) formula. Strawson thinks, and we are getting closer to Philo’s paradoxes, revisied, that there may be this or that laws which holds for ‘p ⊃ q’ and not for ‘If p, q.’  As an example of a law which holds for ‘if’ but not for ‘⊃,’ one may give an analytic formula. ~[(if p, q) . (if p, it is not the case that q)]’. The corresponding formula with the horseshoe is not analytic. ‘~[(p ⊃ q) . (p ⊃ ~q)]’ is not analytic, and is equivalent to the contingent formula ‘~ ~p.’ The rules to the effect that this or that formula is analytic is referred to by Johnson, in the other place, as the ‘paradox of implication.’ This Strawson finds a Cantabrigian misnomer. If Whitehead’s and Russell’s ‘⊃’ is taken as identical either with Moore’s ‘entails’ or, more widely, with  Aelfric’s‘if’ – as in his “Poem to the If,” MSS Northumberland – “If” meant trouble in Anglo-Saxon -- in its standard use, the rules that yield this or that so-called ‘paradox’ -- are not, for Strawson, “just paradoxical.” With an attitude, he adds. “They are simply incorrect.”This is slightly illogical.“That’s not paradoxical; that’s incorrect.”Cf. Grice, “What is paradoxical is not also incorrect.” And cf. Grice: “Philo defines a ‘paradox’ as something that surprises _his father_.’ He is ‘using’ “father,” metaphorically, to refer to his tutor. His father was unknown (to him). On the other hand (vide Strawson’s Two Hands), with signs you can introduce alla Peirce and Johnson by way of ostensive definition any way you wish! If ‘⊃’ is given the meaning it is given by what Grice calls the ‘truth-table definition,’ or ‘stipulation’ in the system of truth functions, the rules and the statements they represent, may be informally dubbed ‘paradoxical,’ in that they don’t agree with the ‘man in the street,’ or ‘the man on High.’ The so-called ‘paradox’ would be a simple and platitudinous consequence of the meaning given to the symbol. Strawson had expanded on the paradoxes in an essay he compiled while away from Oxford. On his return to Oxford, he submitted it to “Mind,” under the editorship by G. Ryle, where it was published. The essay concerns the ‘paradoxes’ of ‘entailment’ in detail, and mentions Moore and C. I. Lewis. He makes use of modal operators, nec. and poss. to render the ‘necessity’ behind ‘entail.’ He thinks the paradoxes of ‘entailment’ arise from inattention to this modality. At the time, Grice and Strawson were pretty sure that nobody then accepted, if indeed anyone ever did and did make, the identification of the relation symbolised by the horseshoe, ⊃, with the relation which Moore calls ‘entailment,’ p⊃q, i. e. The mere truth-functional ‘if,’ as in ‘p ⊃ q,’ ‘~(pΛ~q)’ is rejected as an analysis of the meta-linguistic ‘p entails q.’ Strawson thinks that the identification is rejected because ‘p ⊃ q’ involves this or that allegedly paradoxical implicaturum.Starwson explicitly mentions ‘ex falso quodlibeet.’ Any FALSE proposition entails any proposition, true or false. And any TRUE proposition is entailed by any proposition, true or falso (consequentia mirabilis). It is a commonplace  that  Lewis, whom Grice calls a ‘blue-collared practioner of the sciences,’ Strawson thinks, hardly solved the thing. The amendment by Lewis, for Strawson, has consequences scarcely less paradoxical in terms of the implicatura. For if p is impossible, i.e. self-contradictory, it is impossible that p and ~q. And if q is necessary, ~q is impossible and it is impossible that p and ~q; i. e., if p entails q means it is impossible that p and ~q any necessary proposition is entailed by any proposition and any self-contradictory proposition entails any proposition. On the other hand, the definition by Lewis of ‘strict’ implication or entailment (i.e. of the relation which holds from p to q whenever q is deducible from p), Strawson thinks, obviously commends itself in some respects. Now, it is clear that the emphasis laid on the expression-mentioning character of the intensional contingent statement by writing ‘ ‘pΛ~q’ is impossible instead’ of ‘It is impossible that p and ~q’ does not avoid the alleged paradoxes of entailment. But, Starwson optimistically thinks, it is equally clear that the addition of some provision does avoid them. Strawson proposes that one should use “p entails q” such that no necessary statement and no negation of a necessary statement can significantly be said to “entail” or be entailed by any statement; i. e. the function “p entails q” cannot take necessary or self-contradictory statements as arguments. The expression “p entails q” is to be used to mean “ ‘p ⊃ q’ is necessary, and neither ‘p’ nor ‘q’ is either necessary or self-contradictory.” Alternatively, “p entails q” should be used only to mean “ ‘pΛ~q’ is impossible and neither ‘p’ nor ‘q,’ nor either of their contradictories, is necessary. In this way, Strawson thinks the paradoxes are avoided. Strawson’s proof. Let us assume that p1 expresses a contingent, and q1 a necessary, proposition. p1 and ~q1 is now impossible because ~q1 is impossible. But q1 is necessary. So, by that provision, p1 does not entail q1. We may avoid the paradoxical assertion “p1 entails q2” as merely falling into the equally paradoxical assertion “ “p1 entails q1” is necessary.” For: If ‘q’ is necessary, ‘q is necessary’ is, though true, not necessary, but a CONTINGENT INTENSIONAL (Latinate)  statement. This becomes part of the philosophers lexicon: intensĭo, f. intendo, which L and S render as a stretching out, straining, effort. E. g. oculorum, Scrib. Comp. 255. Also an intensifying, increase. Calorem suum (sol) intensionibus ac remissionibus temperando fovet,” Sen. Q. N. 7, 1, 3. The tune: “gravis, media, acuta,” Censor. 12.  Hence: ‘~ (‘q’ is necessary)’ is, though false, possible. Hence “p1 Λ ~ (q1 is necessary)” is, though false, possible.  Hence ‘p1’ does NOT entail ‘q1 is necessary.’ Thus, by adopting the view that an entailment statement, and other intensional statements, are contingent, viz. non-necessary, and that no necessary statement or its contradictory can entail or be entailed by any statement, Strawson thinks he can avoid the paradox that a necessary proposition is entailed by any proposition, and indeed all the other associated paradoxes of entailment.  Grice objects that the alleged cure by Strawson is worse than disease of Moore!  The denial that a necessary proposition can entail or be entailed by any proposition, and, therefore, that necessary propositions can be related to each other by the entailment relation, is too high a price to pay for the solution of the paradoxes, which are perfectly true utterances with only this or that attending cancellable implicaturum. Strawson’s introduction of ‘acc.’ makes sense. Which makes sense in that Philo first supplied his truth-functional account of ‘if’ to criticise his tutor Diodorus on modality. Philo reported to Diodorus something he had heard from Neptune. In dreams, Neptune appeared to Philo and told him: “I saw down deep in the waters a wooden trunk of a plant that only grows under weather – algae -- The trunk can burn!” Neptune said.Awakening, Philo ran to Diodorus: “A wooden trunk deep down in the ocean can burn.”   Throughout this section, Strawson refers to a ‘primary or standard’ use of ‘if,’ of which the main characteristics are various. First, that for each hypothetical statement made by this use of ‘if,’ there could be made just one statement which would be the antecedent of the hypothetical and just one statement which would be its consequent. Second, that the hypothetical statement is acceptable (true, reasonable) if the antecedent statement, if made or accepted, would, in the circumstances, be a good ground or reason for accepting the consequent statement. Third, the making of the hypothetical statement carries the implication either of uncertainty about, or of disbelief in, the fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent.’ This above is the passage extrapolated by Grice. Grice does not care to report the platitudionous ‘first’ ‘characteristic’ as Strawson rather verbosely puts it. The way Grice reports it, it is not clear Strawson is listing THREE characteristics. Notably, from the extrapolated quote, it would seem as if Grice wishes his addressee to believe that Strawson thinks that characteristic 2 and characteristic 3 mix. On top, Grice omits a caveat immediately after the passage he extrapolates. Strawso notes: “There is much more than this to be said about this way of using ‘if;’ in particular, about the meaning of the question whether the antecedent would be a GOOD ground or reason for accepting the consequent, and about the exact way in which THIS question is related to the question of whether the hypothetical is TRUE {acceptable, reasonable) or not.’ Grice does not care to include a caveat by Strawson: “Not all uses of ‘if ,’ however, exhibit all these three characteristics.” In particular, there is a use which has an equal claim to rank as standard ‘if’ and which is closely connected with the use described, but which does not exhibit the first characteristic and for which the description of the remainder must consequently be modified.  Strawson has in mind what is sometimes called a ‘formal’ (by Whitehead and Russell) or 'variable' or 'general’ or ‘generic’ hypothetical. Strawson gives three examples. The first example is ‘lf ice is left in the sun, it melts.’ This is Kantian. Cf. Grice on indicative conditionals in the last Immanuel Kant Lecture.  Grice: "It should be, given that it is the case that one smears one's skin with peanut butter before retiring and that it is the case that one has a relatively insensitive skin, that it is the case that one preserves a youthful complexion." More generally, there is some plausibility to the idea that an exemplar of the form 'Should (! E, ⊢F; ! G)' is true just in case a corresponding examplar of the form 'Should (⊢ F, ⊢G; ⊢E)' is true. Before proceeding further, I will attempt to deal briefly with a possible objection which might be raised at this point. I can end imagine an ardent descriptivist, who first complains, in the face of someone who wishes to allow a legitimate autonomous status to practical acceptability generalizations, that truth-conditions for such generalizations are not available, and perhaps are in principle not available; so such generalizations are not to be taken seriously. We then point out to him that, at least for a class of such cases, truth-conditions are available, and that they are to be found in related alethic generalizations, a kind of generalization he accepts. He then complains that, if finding truth-conditions involves representing the practical acceptability generalizations as being true just in case related alethic generalizations are true, then practical acceptability generalizations are simply reducible to alethic generalizations, and so are not to be taken seriously for another reason, namely, that they are simply transformations of alethic generalizations, and we could perfectly well get on without them. Maybe some of you have heard some ardent descriptivists arguing in a style not so very different from this. Now a deep reply to such an objection would involve (I think) a display of the need for a system of reasoning in which the value to be transmitted by acceptable inference is not truth but practical value, together with a demonstration of the role of practical acceptability generalizations in such a system. I suspect that such a reply could be constructed, but I do not have it at my fingertips (or tongue-tip), so I shall not try to produce it. An interim reply, however, might take the following form: even though it may be true (which is by no means certain) that certain practical acceptability generalizations have the same truth-conditions as certain corresponding alethic generalizations, it is not to be supposed that the former generalizations are simply reducible to the latter (in some disrespectful sense of 'reducible'). For though both kinds of generalization are defeasible, they are not defeasible in the same way; more exactly, what is a defeating condition for a given practical generalization is not a defeating condition for its alethic counterpart. A generalization of the form 'should (! E, ⊢F; ! G)' may have, as a defeating condition, 'E*'; that is to say, consistently with the truth of this generalization, it may be true that 'should (! E & ! E*, ⊢F; ! G*)' where 'G*' is inconsistent with 'G'. But since, in the alethic counterpart generalization 'should (⊢ F, ⊢G; ⊢E)', 'E' does not occur in the antecedent, 'E*' cannot be a defeating end p.92 condition for this generalization. And, since liability to defeat by a certain range of defeating conditions is essential to the role which acceptability generalizations play in reasoning, this difference between a practical generalization and its alethic counterpart is sufficient to eliminate the reducibility of the former to the latter. To return to the main theme of this section. If, without further ado, we were to accept at this point the suggestion that 'should (! E, ⊢F; ! G)' is true just in case 'should (⊢ F, ⊢G; ⊢E)' is true, we should be accepting it simply on the basis of intuition (including, of course, linguistic or logical intuition under the head of 'intuition'). If the suggestion is correct then we should attain, at the same time, a stronger assurance that it is correct and a better theoretical understanding of the alethic and practical acceptability, if we could show why it is correct by deriving it from some general principle(s). Kant, in fact, for reasons not unlike these, sought to show the validity of a different but fairly closely related Technical Imperative by just such a method. The form which he selects is one which, in my terms, would be represented by "It is fully acceptable, given let it be that B, that let it be that A" or "It is necessary, given let it be that B, that let it be that A". Applying this to the one fully stated technical imperative given in Grundlegung, we get Kant’s hypothetical which is of the type Strawson calls ‘variable,’ formal, ‘generic,’ or ‘generic.’ Kant: “It is necessary, given let it be that one bisect a line on an unerring principle, that let it be that I draw from its extremities two intersecting arcs". Call this statement, (α). Though he does not express himself very clearly, I am certain that his claim is that this imperative is validated in virtue of the fact that it is, analytically, a consequence of an indicative statement which is true and, in the present context, unproblematic, namely, the statement vouched for by geometry, that if one bisects a line on an unerring principle, then one does so only as a result of having drawn from its extremities two intersecting arcs. Call this statement, (β). His argument seems to be expressible as follows. (1) It is analytic that he who wills the end (so far as reason decides his conduct), wills the indispensable means thereto. (2) So it is analytic that (so far as one is rational) if one wills that A, and judges that if A, then A as a result of B, then one wills that B. end p.93 (3) So it is analytic that (so far as one is rational) if one judges that if A, then A as a result of B, then if one wills that A then one wills that B. (4) So it is analytic that, if it is true that if A, then A as a result of B, then if let it be that A, then it must be that let it be that B. From which, by substitution, we derive (5): it is analytic that if β then α. Now it seems to me to be meritorious, on Kant's part, first that he saw a need to justify hypothetical imperatives of this sort, which it is only too easy to take for granted, and second that he invoked the principle that "he who wills the end, wills the means"; intuitively, this invocation seems right. Unfortunately, however, the step from (3) to (4) seems open to dispute on two different counts. (1) It looks as if an unwarranted 'must' has appeared in the consequent of the conditional which is claimed, in (4), as analytic; the most that, to all appearances, could be claimed as being true of the antecedent is that 'if let it be that A then let it be that B'. (2) (Perhaps more serious.) It is by no means clear by what right the psychological verbs 'judge' and 'will', which appear in (3), are omitted in (4); how does an (alleged) analytic connection between (i) judging that if A, A as a result of B and (ii) its being the case that if one wills that A then one wills that B yield an analytic connection between (i) it's being the case that if A, A as a result of B and (ii) the 'proposition' that if let it be that A then let it be that B? Can the presence in (3) of the phrase "in so far as one is rational" legitimize this step? I do not know what remedy to propose for the first of these two difficulties; but I will attempt a reconstruction of Kant's line of argument which might provide relief from the second. It might, indeed, even be an expansion of Kant's actual thinking; but whether or not this is so, I am a very long way from being confident in its adequacy. Back to Strawson. First example:  ‘lf ice is left in the sun, it melts.’Or “If apple goes up, apple goes down.” – Newton, “Principia Mathematica.” “If ice is left in the sun, it, viz. ice, melts.” Strawson’s second example of a formal, variable, generic, or general ‘if’ ‘If the side of a triangle is produced, the exterior angle is equal to the sum of the two interior and opposite angles.’ Cf. Kant: “If a line on an unerring principle is bisected, two intersecting arcs are drawn from its extremities.” Synthetical propositions must no doubt be employed in defining the means to a proposed end; but they do not concern the principle, the act of the will, but the object and its realization. E.g., that in order to bisect a line on an unerring principle I must draw from its extremities two intersecting arcs; this no doubt is taught by mathematics only in synthetical propositions; but if I know that it is only by this process that the intended operation can be performed, then to say that, if I fully will the operation, I also will the action required for it, is an analytical proposition; for it is one and the same thing to conceive something as an effect which I can produce in a certain way, and to conceive myself as acting in this way. Strawson’s third example: ‘If a child is very strictly disciplined in the nursery, it, viz. the child, that should be seen but not heard, will develop aggressive tendencies in adult life.’ To a statement made by the use of a sentence such as these there corresponds no single pair of statements which are, respectively, its antecedent and consequent.  On the other hand, for every such statement there is an indefinite number of NON-general, or not generic, hypothetical statements which might be called exemplifications, applications, of the variable hypothetical; e.g., a statement made by the use of the sentence ‘If THIS piece of ice is left in the sun, it, viz. this piece, melts.’Strawson, about to finish his section on “ ‘⊃’ and ‘if’,” – the expression, ‘’ ⊃’ and ‘if’” only occurs in the “Table of Contents,” on p. viii, not in the body of the essay, as found redundant – it is also the same title Strawson used for his essay which circulated (or ‘made the rounds’) soon after Grice delivered his attack on Strawson, and which Strawson had, first, the cheek to present it to PGRICE, and then, voiding the idea of a festschrift, reprint it in his own compilation of essays. -- from which Grice extracted the quote for “Prolegomena,” notes that there are two ‘relatively uncommon uses of ‘if.’‘If he felt embarrassed, he showed no signs of it.’It is this example that Grice is having in mind in the fourth lecture on ‘indicative conditionals.’ “he didn’t show it.”Grice is giving an instantiation of an IMPLICIT, or as he prefers, ‘contextual,’ cancellation of the implicaturum of ‘if.’  He does this to show that even if the implicaturum of ‘if’ is a ‘generalised,’ not ‘generic,’ or ‘general,’ one, it need not obtain or be present in every PARTICULAR case. “That is why I use the weakened form ‘generalISED, not general. It’s all ceteris paribus always with me).” The example Grice gives corresponds to the one Strawson listed as one of the two ‘relatively uncommon’ uses of ‘if.’ By sticking with the biscuit conditional, Grice is showing Strawson that this use is ‘relatively uncommon’ because it is absolutely otiose!  “If he was surprised, he didn’t show it.”Or cf. AustinIf you are hungry, there are. Variants by Grice on his own example:“If Strawson was surprised, he did not show it.”“If he was surprised, it is not the case that Strawson showed it, viz. that he was surprised.”Grice (on the phone with Strawson’s friend) in front of Strawson – present tense version:“If he IS surprised, it is not th case that he, Strawson, is showing it, viz. the clause that he is surprised. Are you implicating he SHOULD?”and a second group:‘If Rembrandt passes the exam at the Koninklijke Academie van Beeldende Kunsten, I am a Dutchman.’‘If the Mad Hatter is not mad, I'll eat my hat.’(as opposed to ‘If the Mad Hatter IS mad, I’ll eat HIS hat.’)Hats were made at Oxford in a previous generation, by mad ‘hatters.’ “To eat one’s hat,” at Oxford, became synonymous with ‘I’ll poison myself and die.’ The reason of the prevalence of Oxonian ‘lunatic’ hatters is chemical. Strawson is referring to what he calls an ‘old wives’ tale’As every grandmother at Oxford knows, the chemicals used in hat-making include mercurious nitrate, which is used in ‘curing’ felt. Now exposure to the mercury vapours cause mercury poisoning. Or, to use an ‘if’: “If Kant is exposed to mercury vapour, Kant gets poisoned. A poisoned victim  develops a severe and uncontrollable muscular tremors and twitching limbs, distorted vision and confused speech, hallucinations and psychosis, if not death. For a time, it was at Oxford believed that a wearer of a hat could similarly die, especially by eating the felt containing the mercurial nitrate. The sufficient and necessary condition of the truth of a statement made by “If he was surprised, it is not the case that Strawson showed it, viz. that he was surprised” is that it is not the case that Strawson showed that he was surprised. The antecedent is otiose. Cf. “If you are hungry, there are biscuits in the cupboard.’ Austin used to expand the otiose antecedent further, ‘If you are hungry – AND EVEN IF YOU ARE NOT – there are biscuits in the cupboard,” just in case someone was ignorant of Grice’s principle of conversational helpfulness. Consequently, Strawson claims that such a statement cannot be treated either as a standard hypothetical or as a material implication. This is funny because by the time Grice is criticizing Strawson he does take “If Strawson is surprised, it is not the case that he is showing it, viz. that he is surprised.” But when it comes to “Touch the beast and it will bite you” he is ready to say that here we do not have a case of ‘conjunction.’Why? Stanford.Stanford is the answer.Grice had prepared the text to deliver at Stanford, of all places. Surely, AT STANFORD, you don’t want to treat your addressee idiotically. What Grice means is:“Now let us consider ‘Touch the beast and it will bite you.’ Symbolise it: !p et !q. Turn it into the indicative: You tell your love and love bites you (variant on William Blake).” Grice: “One may object to the  use of ‘p.q’ on Whiteheadian grounds. Blue-collared practitioners of the sciences will usually proclaim that they do not care about the ‘realisability’ of this or that operator. In fact, the very noun, ‘realisability,’ irritated me so that I coined non-detachability as a balance. The blue-collared scientist will say that ‘and’ is really Polish, and should be PRE-FIXED as an “if,” or condition, or proviso. So that the conjunction becomes “Provided you tell your love, love bites you.”Strawson gives his reason about the ‘implicaturum’ of what P. L. Gardiner called the ‘dutchman’ ‘if,’ after G. F. Stout’s “ ‘hat-eating’ if.”  Examples of the second kind are sometimes erroneously treated as evidence that Philo was not crazy, and that ‘if’ does, after all, behave somewhat as ‘⊃’ behaves.  Boethius appropriately comments: “Philo had two drawbacks against his favour. He had no drawing board, and he couldn’t write. Therefore he never symbolized, other than ‘via verba,’  his ‘ei’ utterance, “If it is day, it is night,” which he held to be true “at night only.”” Strawson echoes Grice. The evidence for this conversational explanation of the oddity of the ‘dutcham’ if, as called by Gardiner, and the ‘hat-eating’ if, as called by Stout, is, presumably, the facts, first, that the relation between antecedent and consequent is non-Kantian. Recall that Kant has a ‘Funktion’ which, after Aristotle’s ‘pros ti,’ and Boethius’s ‘relatio,’ he called ‘Relation’ where he considers the HYPOTHETICAL. Kant expands in section 8.5. “In the hypothetical, ‘If God exists, I’ll eat my hat,’ existence is no predicate.”Strawson appeals to a second, “more convincing,” fact, viz. that the consequent is obviously not – in the Dutchman ‘if,’ or not to be, in the ‘hat-eating’ if, fulfilled, or true.Grice’s passing for a Dutchman and sitting for an exam at the Koninklijke Academie van Beeldende Kunsten, hardly makes him a Dutchman.Dickens was well aware of the idiocy of people blaming hatters for the increases of deaths at Oxford. He would often expand the consequent in a way that turned it “almost a Wittgensteinian ‘contradiction’” (“The Cricket in the House, vii). “If the Hatter is not mad, I will eat my hat, with my head in it.”Grice comments: “While it is analytic that you see with your eyes, it is not analytic that you eat with your mouth. And one can imagine Dickens’s mouth to be situated in his right hand. Therefore, on realizing that the mad hatter is not mad, Dickens is allowing for it to be the case that he shall eat his hat, with his head in it. Since not everybody may be aware of the position of Dickens’s mouth, I shall not allot this common-ground status.”Strawson gives a third Griciean fact.“The intention of the emissor, by uttering a ‘consequens falsum’ that renders the ‘conditionalis’ ‘verum’ only if the ‘antecedens’ is ‘falsum, is an emphatic, indeed, rude, gesture, with a gratuitious nod to Philo, to the conviction that the antecedens is not fulfilled either. The emissor is further abiding by what Grice calls the ‘principle of truth,’ for the emissor would rather see himself dead than uttering a falsehood, even if he has to fill the conversational space with idiocies like ‘dutchman-being’ and ‘hat-eating.’ The fourth Griceian fact is obviously Modus Tollendo Tollens, viz. that  “(p ⊃ q) . ~q” entails “~p,” or rather, to avoid the metalanguage (Grice’s Bootlace: Don’t use a metalanguage: you can only implicate that your object-language is not objectual.”), “[(p ⊃ q) . ~ q] ⊃ ~ p.”At this point, Strawson reminisces: “I was slightly surprised that on my first tutorial with Grice, he gave me “What the Tortoise Said To Achilles,” with the hint, which I later took as a defeasible implicaturum, “See if you can resolve this!” ACHILLEs had overtaken the Tortoise, and had seated himself comfortably on its back. "So you've got to the end of our race-course?" said the Tortoise. "Even though it does consist of an infinite series of distances ? I thought some wiseacre or other had proved that the thing couldnl't be doiie ? " " It can be done," said Achilles. " It has been done! Solvitur ambulando. You see the distances were constaiitly diminishing; and so-" "But if they had beenl constantly increasing?" the Tortoise interrupted. "How then?" "Then I shouldn't be here," Achilles modestly replied; "and you would have got several times round the world, by this time! " "You flatter me-flatten, I mean," said the Tortoise; "for you are a heavy weight, and no mistake! Well now, would you like to hear of a race-course, that most people fancy they can get to the end of in two or three steps, while it really consists of an infinite number of distances, each one longer than the previous one? " "Very much indeed !" said the Grecian warrior, as he drew from his helmet (few Grecian warriors possessed pockets in those days) an enormous note-book and a pencil. "Proceed! And speak slowly, please! Shorthand isn't invented yet !" "That beautiful First Proposition of Euclid! " the Tortoise miurmured dreamily. "You admire Euclid?" "Passionately! So far, at least, as one can admire a treatise that wo'n't be published for some centuries to come ! " "Well, now, let's take a little bit of the argument in that First Proposition-just two steps, and the conclusion drawn from them. Kindly enter them in your note-book. And in order to refer to them conveniently, let's call them A, B, and Z:- (A) Things that are equal to the same are equal to each other. (B) The two sides of this Triangle are things that are equal to the same. (Z) The two sides of this Triangle are equal to each other. Readers of Euclid will grant, I suppose, that Z follows logically from A and B, so that any one who accepts A and B as true, must accept Z as true?" " Undoubtedly! The youngest child in a High School-as. soon as High Schools are invented, which will not be till some two thousand years later-will grant that." " And if some reader had not yet accepted A and B as true, he might still accept the sequence as a valid one, I suppose?" NOTES. 279 "No doubt such a reader might exist. He might say 'I accept as true the Hypothetical Proposition that, if A and B be true, Z must be true; but, I don't accept A and B as true.' Such a reader would do wisely in abandoning Euclid, and taking to football." " And might there not also be some reader who would say ' I accept A anld B as true, but I don't accept the Hypothetical'?" "Certainly there might. He, also, had better take to football." "And neither of these readers," the Tortoise continued, "is as yet under any logical necessity to accept Z as true?" "Quite so," Achilles assented. "Well, now, I want you to consider me as a reader of the second kind, and to force me, logically, to accept Z as true." " A tortoise playing football would be--" Achilles was beginning " -an anomaly, of course," the Tortoise hastily interrupted. "Don't wander from the point. Let's have Z first, and football afterwards !" " I'm to force you to accept Z, am I?" Achilles said musingly. "And your present position is that you accept A and B, but you don't accept the Hypothetical-" " Let's call it C," said the Tortoise. "-but you don't accept (C) If A and B are true, Z must be true." "That is my present position," said the Tortoise. "Then I must ask you to accept C." - "I'll do so," said the Tortoise, "as soon as you've entered it in that note-book of yours. What else have you got in it?" " Only a few memoranda," said Achilles, nervously fluttering the leaves: "a few memoranda of-of the battles in which I have distinguished myself!" "Plenty of blank leaves, I see !" the Tortoise cheerily remarked. "We shall need them all !" (Achilles shuddered.) "Now write as I dictate: (A) Things that are equal to the same are equal to each other. (B) The two sides of this Triangle are things that are equal to the same. (C) If A and B are true, Z must be true. (Z) The two sides of this Triangle are equal to each other." " You should call it D, not Z," said Achilles. " It comes next to the other three. If you accept A and B and C, you must accept Z." "And why must I?" "Because it follows logically from them. If A and B and C are true, Z must be true. You don't dispute that, I imagine ?" "If A and B and C are true, Z must be true," the Tortoise thoughtfully repeated. " That's another Hypothetical, isn't it? And, if I failed to see its truth, I might accept A and B and C, and still not accept Z, mightn't I?" "You might," the candid hero admitted; "though such obtuseness would certainly be phenomenal. Still, the event is possible. So I must ask you to grant one more Hypothetical." " Very good. I'm quite willing to grant it, as soon as you've written it down. We will call it (D) If A and B and C are true, Z must be true. Have you entered that in your note-book ? " " I have! " Achilles joyfully exclaimed, as he ran the pencil into its sheath. "And at last we've got to the end of this ideal race-course! Now that you accept A and B and C and D, of course you accept Z." " Do I ? " said the Tortoise innocently. " Let's make that quite clear. I accept A and B and C and D. Suppose I still refused to accept Z? " 280 NOTES. " Then Logic would take you by the throat, and force you to do it !" Achilles triumphantly replied. "Logic would tell you 'You ca'n't help yourself. Now that you've accepted A and B and C and D, you mvust accept Z!' So you've no choice, you see." "Whatever Logic is good enough to tell me is worth writing down," said the Tortoise. " So enter it in your book, please. We will call it (E) If A and B and C and Dare true, Zmust be true. Until I've granted that, of course I needn't grant Z. So it's quite a necessary step, you see?" "I see," said Achilles; and there was a touch of sadness in his tone. Here the narrator, having pressing business at the Bank, was obliged to leave the happy pair, and did not again pass the spot until some months afterwards. When he did so, Achilles was still seated on the back of the much-enduring Tortoise, and was writing in his note-book, which appeared to be nearly full. The Tortoise was saying " Have you got that last step written down ? Unless I've lost count, that makes a thousand and one. There are several millions more to come. And would you mind, as a personal favour, considering what a lot of instruction this colloquy of ours will provide for the Logicians of the Nineteenth Century-would you mnind adopting a pun that my cousin the Mock-Turtle will then make, and allowing yourself to be re-named Taught- Us ?" "As you please !" replied the weary warrior, in the hollow tones of despair, as he buried his face in his hands. " Provided that you, for your part, will adopt a pun the Mock-Turtle never made, and allow yourself to be re-named A Kill-Ease !"Strawon protests:“But this is a strange piece of logic.”Grice corrects: “Piece – you mean ‘piece’ simpliciter.”“But what do you protest that much!?”“Well, it seems that, on any possible interpretation, “if p, q” has, in respect of modus tollendo tollens the same powers as ‘p ⊃ q.’“And it is just these  powers that you, and Cook Wilson before you, are jokingly (or fantastically) exploiting!”“Fantastically?” “You call Cook Wilson ‘fantastical’? You can call me exploitative.’Strawson: “It is the absence of Kantian ‘Relation,’ Boethius’s ‘relatio,’ Aristotle’s ‘pros ti,’ referred to in that makes both Stout’s hat-eating if and Gardiner’s dutchman if quirks (as per Sir Randolph Quirk, another Manx, like Quine), a verbal or conversational flourish, an otiosity, alla Albritton, an odd, call it Philonian, use of ‘if.’ If a hypothetical statement IS, as Grice, after Philo, claims, is what Whitehead and Russell have as a ‘material’ implication, the statements would be not a quirkish oddity, but a linguistic sobriety and a simple truth. Or rather they are each, the dutchman  if and the hat-eating if, each a ‘quirkish oddity’ BECAUSE each is a simple, sober, truth. “Recall my adage,” Grice reminded Strawson, “Obscurely baffling, but Hegelianly true!”Strawson notes, as a final commentary on the relevant section, that ‘if’  can be employed PERFORMATORILY, which will have Grice finding his topic for the Kant lectures at Stanford: “must” is univocal in “Apples must fall,” and “You must not lie.”An ‘if’ is used ‘performatorily’ when it is used not simply in making this or that statement, but in, e.g., making a provisional announcement of an intention. Strawson’s example:“If it rains, I shall stay at home.”Grice corrected:“*I* *will* stay at home. *YOU* *shall.*”“His quadruple implicatura never ceased to amaze me.”Grice will take this up later in ‘Ifs and cans.’“If I can, I intend to climb Mt Everest on hands and knees, if I may disimplicate that to Davidson.”This hich, like an unconditional announcement of intention, Strawson “would rather not” call ‘truly true’ or ‘falsely false.’ “I would rather describe it in some other way – Griceian perhaps.” “A quessertion, not to be iterated.”“If the man who utters the quoted sentence leaves home in spite of the rain, we do not say that what he said was false, though we might say that he lied (never really intended to stay in) ; or that he changed his mind – which, Strawson adds, “is a form of lying to your former self.” “I agreed with you!” Grice screamed from the other side of the Quadrangle!Strawson notes: “There are further uses of ‘if’ which I shall not discuss.”This is a pantomime for Austin (Strawson’s letter to Grice, “Austin wants me to go through the dictionary with ‘if.’ Can you believe it, Grice, that the OED has NINE big pages on it?! And the sad thing is that Austin has already did ‘if’ in “Ifs and cans.” Why is he always telling OTHERS what to do?”Strawson’s Q. E. D.: “The safest way to read the material implication sign is, perhaps, ‘not both … and not …,” and avoid the ‘doubt’ altogether. (NB: “Mr. H. P. Grice, from whom I never ceased to learn about logic since he was my tutor for my Logic paper in my PPE at St. John’s back in the day, illustrates me that ‘if’ in Frisian means ‘doubt.’ And he adds, “Bread, butter, green cheese; very good English, very good Friese!”. GROUP C – “Performatory” theories – descriptive, quasi-descriptive, prescriptive – examples not lettered.EXAMPLE I: Strawson on ‘true’ in Analysis.EXAMPLE II: Austin on ‘know’ EXAMPLE III: Hare on ‘good.’EXPLICITLY CONVEYED: if p, qIMPLICITLY CONVEYED: p is the consequensCANCELLATION: “I know perfectly well where your wife is, but all I’ll say is that if she is not in kitchen she is in the bedroom.”Next would be to consider uses of ‘implication’ in the essay on the ‘indicative conditional.’ We should remember that the titling came out in 1987. The lecture circulated without a title for twenty years. And in fact, it is about ‘indicative conditional’ AND MORE BESIDES, including Cook Wilson, if that’s a plus. Grice states the indirectness condition in two terms:One in the obviously false terms “q is INFERRABLE, that’s the word Grice uses, from p”The other one is in terms of truth-value assignment:The emissor has NON-TRUTH-FUNCTIONAL GROUNDS for the emissum, ‘if p, q’. In Grice’s parlance: “Grounds for ACCEPTING “p ⊃ q.”This way Grice chooses is controversial in that usually he holds ‘accept’ as followed by the ‘that’-clause. So ‘accepting ‘p ⊃ q’” is not clear in that respect. A rephrase would be, accepting that the emissor is in a position to emit, ‘if p, q’ provided that what he EXPLICITLY CONVEYS by that is what is explicitly conveyed by the Philonian ‘if,’ in other words, that the emissor is explicitly conveying that it is the case of p or it is not the case of q, or that it is not the case that a situation obtains such that it is the case that p and it is not the case that q.“p ⊃ q” is F only in the third row. It is no wonder that Grice says that the use-mention was only used correctly ONCE.For Grice freely uses ‘the proposition that p ⊃ q.’ But this may be licensed because it was meant as for ‘oral delivery.’ THE FIRST INSTANTIATION GRICE GIVES (WoW:58) is“If Smith is in London, he, viz. Smith, is attending the meeting.”Grice goes on (WoW:59) to give FIVE alternatives to the ‘if’ utterance, NOT using ‘if.’ For the first four, he notes that he fells the ‘implicaturum’ of ‘indirectness’ seems ‘persistent.’On WoW:59, Grice refers to Strawson as a ‘strong theorist,’ and himself as a ‘weak theorist,’ i. e. an Occamist. Grice gives a truth-table or the ‘appropriate truth table,’ and its formulation, and notes that he can still detect the indirectness condition implication. Grice challenges Strawson. How is one to learn that what one conveys by the scenario formulated in the truth-table for the pair “Smith is in London” and “Smith is attending the meeting” – without using ‘if’ because this is Grice’s exercise in detachment – is WEAKER than what one would convey by “If Smith is in London, he, viz. Smith, is attending the meeting”?This sort of rhetorical questions – “Of course he can’t” are a bit insidious. Grice failed to give Strawson a copy of the thing. And Strawson is then invited to collaborate with P. G. R. I. C. E., so he submits a rather vague “If and ⊃,” getting the rebuke by Grice’s friend Bennett – “Strawson could at least say that Grice’s views were published in three different loci.” BUT: Strawson compiled that essay in 1968. And Strawson was NOT relying on a specific essay by Grice, but on his memory of the general manoeuvre. Grice had been lecturing on ‘if’ before at Oxford, in seminars entitled “Logic and Convesation.” But surely at Oxford you are not supposed to ‘air’ your seminar views. Outside Oxford it might be different. It shoud not!And surely knowing Grice, why would *GRICE* provide the input to Strawson. For Grice, philosophy is very personal, and while Grice might have thought that Sir Peter was slightly interested in what his former tutor would say about ‘if,’ it would be inappropriate of the tutor to overwhelm the tutee, or keep informing the tutee how wrong he is. For a tutor, once a tutee, always a tutee. On WoW:59, Grice provides the FIRST CANCELLATION of an ‘if,’ and changes it slightly from the one on p. 58. The ‘if’ now becomesIf Smith is in the library, he, viz. Smith, is working.’In Wiltshire:“If Smith is in the swimming-pool library, he, viz. Smith, is swimming.”THE CANCELLATION GOES by ‘opting out’:“I know just where Smith is and what he, viz. Smith, is doing, but all I will tell you is that if he is in the library he is working.”Grice had to keep adding his ‘vizes’ – viz. Smith – because of the insidious contextualists – some of them philosophical!“What do you mean ‘he,’ – are you sure you are keeping the denotatum constant?”Grice is challenging Strawson’s ‘uncertainty and disbelief.’No one would be surprised if Grice’s basis for his saying “I know just where Smith is and what he, viz. Smith, is doing, but all I will tell you is that if he is in the library, he is working” is that Grice has just looked in the library and found Smith working. So, Grice IS uttering “If Smith is in the library, he is working” WHEN THE INDIRECT (strong) condition ceteris-paribus carried by what Grice ceteris paribus IMPLIES by uttering “If Smith is in the library, Smith is working.”The situation is a bit of the blue, because Grice presents it on purpose as UNVOLUNTEERED. The ‘communication-function’ does the trick. GRICE THEN GIVES (between pages WoW: 59 and 60) TWO IMPLICIT cancellations of an implicaturum, or, to avoid the alliteration, ‘contextual’ cancellation. Note incidentally that Grice is aware of the explicit/implicit when he calls the cancellation, first, EXPLICIT, and then contextual. By ‘explicit,’ he means, ‘conveying explicitly’ in a way that commits you. THE THIRD INSTANTIATION refers to this in what he calls a ‘logical’ puzzle, which may be a bit question-begging, cf. ‘appropriate truth-table.’ For Strawson would say that Grice is using ‘if’ as a conscript, when it’s a civil. “If Smith has black, Mrs. Smith has black.”Grice refers to ‘truth-table definition’ OR STIPULATION. Note that the horseshoe is an inverted “C” for ‘contentum.’F. Cajori, “A history of mathematical notations,” SYMBOLS IN MATHEMATICAL LOGIC, §667-on : [§674] “A theory of the ‘meccanisme du raisonnement’ is offered by J. D. Gergonne in his “Essai de dialectique rationnelle.”In Gergonne’s “Essai,” “H” stands for complete logical disjunction, X” for logical product, “I” for "identity," [cf. Grize on izzing] “C” for "contains," and "Ɔ (inverted C)" for "is contained in."  [§685] Gergonne is using the Latinate, contineoIn rhet., the neuter substantive “contĭnens” is rendered as  “that on which something rests or depends, the chief point, hinge: “causae,” Cic. Part. Or. 29, 103; id. Top. 25, 95: “intuendum videtur, quid sit quaestio, ratio, judicatio, continens, vel ut alii vocant, firmamentum,” Quint. 3, 11, 1; cf. id. ib. § 18 sqq.—Adv.: contĭnen-ter . So it is a natural evolution in matters of implication. while Giusberti (“Materiale per studio,” 31) always reads “pro constanti,” the MSS occasionally has the pretty Griciean “precontenti,” from “prae” and “contenti.” Cf. Quine, “If my father was a bachelor, he was male. And I can say that, because ‘male’ is CONTAINED in ‘bachelor.’”E. Schröder, in his “Vorlesungen über die Algebra der Logik,” [§690]  Leipzig, uses “⊂” for "untergeordnet”, roughly, “is included in,” and the inverted “⊃” for the passive voice, "übergeordnet,” or includes.  Some additional symbols are introduced by Peano into Number 2 of Volume II of his influential “Formulaire.” Thus "ɔ" becomes ⊃. By “p.⊃ x ... z. q” is expressed “from p one DEDUCES, whatever x ... z may be, and q."  In “Il calcolo geometrico,” – “according to the Ausdehnungslehre of H. Grassmann, preceded by the operations of deductive logic,” Peano stresses the duality of interpretations of “p.⊃ x ... z. q” in terms of classes and propositions. “We shall indicate [the universal affirmative proposition] by the expression  A < B, or B > A,  which can be read "every A is a B," or "the class B CONTAINS A." [...]  Hence, if a,b,... are CONDITIONAL propositions, we have:  a < b, or b > a, ‘says’ that "the class defined by the condition a is part of that defined by b," or [...] "b is a CONSEQUENCE of a," "if a is true, b is true."  In Peano’s “Arithmetices principia: nova methodo exposita,” we have:  “II. Propositions.” “The sign “C” means is a consequence of [“est consequentia.” Thus b C a is read b is a consequence of the proposition a.” “The sign “Ɔ” means one deduces [DEDUCITUR]; thus “a Ɔ b” ‘means’ the same as b C a. [...]  IV. Classes “The sign Ɔ ‘means’ is contained in. Thus a Ɔ b means class a is contained in class b.  a, b ∈ K Ɔ (a Ɔ b) :=: (x)(x ∈ a Ɔ x ∈ b).  In his “Formulaire,” Peano writes:  “Soient a et b des Cls. a ⊃ b signifie "tout a est b".  Soient p et q des propositions contenant une variable x; p ⊃x q, signifie "de p on déduit, quel que soit x, la q", c'est-à-dire: "les x qui satisfont à la condition p satisferont aussi à la q".  Russell criticizes Peano’s dualism in “The Principles of mathematics,” §13. “The subject of Symbolic Logic consists of three parts, the calculus of propositions, the calculus of classes and the calculus of relations. Between the first two, there is, within limits, a certain parallelism, which arises as follows: In any symbolic expression, the letters may be interpreted as classes or as propositions, and the relation of inclusion in the one case may be replaced by that of formal implication in the other.  A great deal has been made of this duality, and in the later editions of his “Formulaire,” Peano appears to have sacrificed logical precision to its preservation. But, as a matter of fact, there are many ways in which the calculus of propositions differs from that of classes.” Whiehead and Russell borrow the basic logical symbolism from Peano, but they freed it from the "dual" interpretation.  Thus, Whitehead and Russell adopt Schröder's ⊂ for class inclusion:  a ⊂ b :=: (x)(x ∈ a Ɔ x ∈ b) Df.  and restricted the use of the "horseshoe" ⊃ to the connective "if’: “p⊃q.’ Whitehead’s and Russell’s decision isobvious, if we consider the following example from Cesare Burali-Forti, “Logica Matematica,” a Ɔ b . b Ɔ c : Ɔ : a Ɔ c [...]  The first, second and fourth [occurrences] of the sign Ɔ mean is contained, the third one means one deduces.So the horseshoe is actually an inverted “C” meant to read “contentum” or “consequens” (“consequutum”). Active Nominal Forms Infinitive: implicā́re Present participle: implicāns; implicántis Future participle: implicītúrus; implicātúrus Gerund: implicándum Gerundive: implicándus  Passive Nominal Forms Infinitive: implicā́re Perfect participle: implicī́tum; implicā́tumGRICE’s second implicit or contextual cancellation does not involve a ‘logical puzzle’ but bridge – and it’s his fourth instantiation:“If I have a red king, I also have a black king.” – to announce to your competititve opponents upon inquiry a bid of five no trumps. Cf. Alice, “The red Queen” which is a chess queen, as opposed to the white queen. After a precis, he gives a FIFTH instantiation to prove that ‘if’ is always EXPLICITLY cancellable.WoW:60“If you put that bit of sugar in water, it will dissolve, though so far as I know there can be no way of knowing in advance that this will happen.”This is complex. The cancellation turns the ‘if p, q’ into a ‘guess,’ in which case it is odd that the emissor would be guessing and yet be being so fortunate as to make such a good guess. At the end of page 60, Grice gives THREE FURTHER instantations which are both of philosophical importance and a pose a problem to such a strong theorist as Strawson.The first of the trio is:“If the Australians win the first Test, they will win the series, you mark my words.”The second of the trio is:“Perhaps if he comes, he will be in a good mood.”The third in the trio is:“See that, if he comes, he gets his money.”Grice’s point is that in the three, the implicaturum is cancelled. So the strong theorist has to modify the thesis ‘a sub-primary case of a sub-primary use of ‘if’ is…” which seems like a heavy penalty for the strong theorist. For Grice, the strong theorist is attaching the implicaturum to the ‘meaning’ of ‘if,’ where, if attached at all, should attach to some mode-marker, such as ‘probably,’ which may be contextual. On p. 61 he is finding play and using ‘logically weaker’ for the first time, i. e. in terms of entailment. If it is logically weaker, it is less informative. “To deny that p, or to assert that q.”Grice notes it’s ceteris paribus.“Provided it would be worth contributing with the ‘more informative’ move (“why deny p? Why assert q?) While the presumption that one is interested in the truth-values of at least p or q, this is ceteris paribus. A philosopher may just be interested in “if p, q” for the sake of exploring the range of the relation between p and q, or the powers of p and q. On p. 62 he uses the phrase “non-truth functional” as applied not to grounds but to ‘evidence’: “non-truth-functional evidence.”Grice wants to say that emissor has implicated, in a cancellable way, that he has non-truth-functional evidence for “if p, q,” i. e. evidence that proceeds by his inability to utter “if p, q” on truth-functional grounds. The emissor is signaling that he is uttering “if p, q” because he cannot deny p, or that he cannot assert q(p ⊃ q) ≡ ((~p) v q)Back to the first instantiation“If Smith is in London, he, viz. Smith is attending the meeting there, viz. in London”I IMPLICATE, in a cancellable way, that I have no evidence for “Smith is not in London”I IMPLICATE, in a cancellable way, that I have no evidence for “Smith is attending the lecture.On p. 61 he gives an example of an contextual cancellation to show that even if the implicaturum is a generalised one, it need not be present in every PARTICULAR case (hence the weakned form ‘generalISED, not general). “If he was surprised, he didn’t show it.”Or cf. AustinIf you are hungry, there are biscuits in the cupboard. Traditionalist Grice on the tranquil Elysium of philosophyĒlysĭum , ii, n., = Ἠλύσιον, the abode of the blest, I.Elysium, Verg. A. 5, 735 Serv.; 6, 542; 744 al.; cf. Heyne Verg. A. 6, 675 sq.; and ejusd. libri Exc. VIII. p. 1019 Wagn.—Hence, II. Ēlysĭus , a, um, adj., Elysian: “campi,” Verg. G. 1, 38; Tib. 1, 3, 58; Ov. Ib. 175; cf. “ager,” Mart. 10, 101: “plagae,” id. 6, 58: “domus,” Ov. M. 14, 111; cf. “sedes,” Luc. 3, 12: “Chaos,” Stat. Th. 4, 520: “rosae,” Prop. 4 (5), 7, 60. “puella,” i. e. Proserpine, Mart. 10, 24.—On p. 63, Grice uses ‘sense’ for the first time to apply to a Philonian ‘if p, q.’He is exploring that what Strawson would have as a ‘natural’ if, not an artificial ‘if’ like Philo’s, may have a sense that descends from the sense of the Philonian ‘if,’ as in Darwin’s descent of man. Grice then explores the ‘then’ in some formulations, ‘if p, then q’, and notes that Philo never used it, “ei” simpliciter – or the Romans, “si.”Grice plays with the otiosity of “if p, in that case q.”And then there’s one that Grice dismisses as ultra-otiose:“if p, then, in that case, viz. p., q.”Grice then explores ‘truth-functional’ now applied not to ‘evidence’ but to ‘confirmation.’“p or q” is said to be truth-functionally confirmable.While “p horseshoe q’ is of course truth-functionally confirmable.Grice has doubts that ‘if p, q’ may be regarded by Strawson as NOT being ‘truth-functionally confirmable.’ If would involve what he previously called a ‘metaphysical excrescence.’Grice then reverts to his bridge example“If I have a red king, I have a black king.”And provides three scenarios for a post-mortem truth-functional confirmability.For each of the three rowsNo red, no blackRed, no blackRed, blackWhich goes ditto for  the ‘logical’ puzzleIf Jones has black, Mrs. Jones has black. The next crop of instantiations come from PM, and begins on p. 64.He kept revising these notes. And by the time he was submitting the essay to the publisher, he gives up and kept the last (but not least, never latter) version. Grice uses the second-floor ‘disagree,’ and not an explicit ‘not.’ So is partially agreeing a form of disagreeing? In 1970, Conservative Heath won to Labour Wilson.He uses ‘validate’ – for ‘confirm’. ‘p v q’ is validated iff proved factually satisfactory.On p. 66 he expands“if p, q”as a triple disjunction of the three rows when ‘if p, q’ is true:“(not-p and not-q) or (not-p and q) or (p and q)”The only left out is “(p and not-q).”Grice gives an instantiation for [p et]q“The innings closed at 3:15, Smith no batting.”as opposed to“The inning close at 3:15, and Smith did not bat.”as displayed byp.qAfter using ‘or’ for elections he gives the first instantation with ‘if’:“If Wilson will not be prime minister, it will be Heath.”“If Wilson loses, he loses to Heath.”‘if’ is noncommutative – the only noncommutative of the three dyadic truth-functors he considers (‘and,’ ‘or’ and ‘if’).This means that there is a ‘semantic’ emphasis here.There is a distinction between ‘p’ and ‘q’. In the case of ‘and’ and ‘or’ there is not, since ‘p and q’ iff ‘q and p’ and ‘p or q’ iff ‘q or p.’The distinction is expressed in terms of truth-sufficiency and false-sufficiency.The antecedent or protasis, ‘p’ is FALSE-SUFFICIENT for the TRUTH of ‘if p, q.’The apodosis is TRUE-sufficient for the truth of ‘if p, q.’On p. 67 he raises three questions.FIRST QUESTIONHe is trying to see ‘if’ as simpler:The three instantiations areIf Smith rings, the butler will let Smith inIt is not the case that Smith rings, or the butler will let Smith in.It is not the case both Smith rings and it is not the the butler will let Smith in. (Grice changes the tense, since the apodosis sometimes requires the future tense) (“Either Smith WILL RING…”)SECOND QUESTIONWhy did the Anglo-Saxons feel the need for ‘if’ – German ‘ob’? After all, if Whitehead and Russell are right, the Anglo-Saxons could have done with ‘not’ and ‘and,’ or indeed with ‘incompatible.’The reason is that ‘if’ is cognate with ‘doubt,’ but The Anglo-Saxons left the doubt across the North Sea. it originally from an oblique case of the substantive which may be rendered as "doubt,” and cognate with archaic German “iba,” which may be rendered as “condition, stipulation, doubt," Old Norse if "doubt, hesitation," modern Swedish jäf "exception, challenge")It’s all different with ‘ei’ and ‘si.’For sisī (orig. and ante-class. form seī ),I.conj. [from a pronominal stem = Gr. ἑ; Sanscr. sva-, self; cf. Corss. Ausspr. 1, 778; Georg Curtius Gr. Etym. 396], a conditional particle, if.As for “ei”εἰ , Att.-Ion. and Arc. (for εἰκ, v. infr. 11 ad init.), = Dor. and Aeol. αἰ, αἰκ (q. v.), Cypr.A.“ἤ” Inscr.Cypr.135.10 H., both εἰ and αἰ in Ep.:— Particle used interjectionally with imper. and to express a wish, but usu. either in conditions, if, or in indirect questions, whether. In the former use its regular negative is μή; in the latter, οὐ.THIRD QUESTION. Forgetting Grecian neutral apodosis and protasis, why did the Romans think that while ‘antecedens’ is a good Humeian rendition of ‘protasis,’ yet instead they chose for the Grecian Humeian ‘apodosis,’ the not necessarily Humeian ‘con-sequens,’ rather than mere ‘post-sequens’?The Latin terminology is antecedens and consequens, the ancestors and ... tothem the way the Greek grammatical termsή πρότασιs and ήαπόδοσιsBRADWARDINE: Note that a consequence is an argumentation made up of an antecedent and a consequent. He starts with the métiers.For ‘or’ he speaks of ‘semiotic economy’ (p. 69). Grice’s Unitarianism – unitary particle.If, like iff, is subordinating, but only if is non-commutative. Gazdar considers how many dyadic particles are possible and why such a small bunch is chosen. Grice did not even care, as Strawson did, to take care of ‘if and only if.’ Grice tells us the history behind the ‘nursery rhyme’ about Cock Robin. He learned it from his mother, Mabel Fenton, at Harborne. Clifton almost made it forget it! But he recovered in the New World, after reading from Colin Sharp that many of those nursery rhymes travelled “with the Mayflower.” "Who Killed Cock Robin" is an English nursery rhyme, which has been much used as a murder archetype[citation needed] in world culture. It has a Roud Folk Song Index number of 494.  Contents 1             Lyrics 2Origin and meaning 3Notes 4                                External links Lyrics[edit] The earliest record of the rhyme is in Tommy Thumb's Pretty Song Book, published c. 1744, which noted only the first four verses. The extended version given below was not printed until c. 1770.[1]  Who killed Cock Robin? I, said the Sparrow, with my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin. Who saw him die? I, said the Fly, with my little eye, I saw him die. Who caught his blood? I, said the Fish, with my little dish, I caught his blood. Who'll make the shroud? I, said the Beetle, with my thread and needle, I'll make the shroud. Who'll dig his grave? I, said the Owl, with my little trowel, I'll dig his grave. Who'll be the parson? I, said the Rook, with my little book, I'll be the parson. Who'll be the clerk? I, said the Lark, if it's not in the dark, I'll be the clerk. Who'll carry the link? I, said the Linnet, I'll fetch it in a minute, I'll carry the link. Who'll be chief mourner? I, said the Dove, I mourn for my love, I'll be chief mourner. Who'll carry the coffin? I, said the Kite, if it's not through the night, I'll carry the coffin. Who'll bear the pall? We, said the Wren, both the cock and the hen, We'll bear the pall. Who'll sing a psalm? I, said the Thrush, as she sat on a bush, I'll sing a psalm. Who'll toll the bell? I, said the Bull, because I can pull, I'll toll the bell. All the birds of the air fell a-sighing and a-sobbing, when they heard the bell toll for poor Cock Robin. The rhyme has often been reprinted with illustrations, as suitable reading material for small children.[citation needed] The rhyme also has an alternative ending, in which the sparrow who killed Cock Robin is hanged for his crime.[2] Several early versions picture a stocky, strong-billed bullfinch tolling the bell, which may have been the original intention of the rhyme.[3]  Origin and meaning[edit] Although the song was not recorded until the mid-eighteenth century,[4] there is some evidence that it is much older. The death of a robin by an arrow is depicted in a 15th-century stained glass window at Buckland Rectory, Gloucestershire,[5] and the rhyme is similar to a story, Phyllyp Sparowe, written by John Skelton about 1508.[1] The use of the rhyme 'owl' with 'shovel', could suggest that it was originally used in older middle English pronunciation.[1] Versions of the story appear to exist in other countries, including Germany.[1]  A number of the stories have been advanced to explain the meaning of the rhyme:  The rhyme records a mythological event, such as the death of the god Balder from Norse mythology,[1] or the ritual sacrifice of a king figure, as proposed by early folklorists as in the 'Cutty Wren' theory of a 'pagan survival'.[6][7] It is a parody of the death of King William II, who was killed by an arrow while hunting in the New Forest (Hampshire) in 1100, and who was known as William Rufus, meaning "red".[8] The rhyme is connected with the fall of Robert Walpole's government in 1742, since Robin is a diminutive form of Robert and the first printing is close to the time of the events mentioned.[1] All of these theories are based on perceived similarities in the text to legendary or historical events, or on the similarities of names. Peter Opie pointed out that an existing rhyme could have been adapted to fit the circumstances of political events in the eighteenth century.[1]  The theme of Cock Robin's death as well as the poem's distinctive cadence have become archetypes, much used in literary fiction and other works of art, from poems, to murder mysteries, to cartoons.[1]  Notes[edit] ^ Jump up to:a b c d e f g h I. Opie and P. Opie, The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes (Oxford University Press, 1951, 2nd edn., 1997), pp. 130–3. ^ * Cock Robin at Project Gutenberg ^ M. C. Maloney, ed., English illustrated books for children: a descriptive companion to a selection from the Osborne Collection (Bodley Head, 1981), p. 31. ^ Lockwood, W. B. "The Marriage of the Robin and the Wren." Folklore 100.2 (1989): 237–239. ^ The gentry house that became the old rectory at Buckland has an impressive timbered hall that dates from the fifteenth century with two lights of contemporary stained glass in the west wall with the rebus of William Grafton and arms of Gloucester Abbey in one and the rising sun of Edward IV in the other light; birds in various attitudes hold scrolls "In Nomine Jesu"; none is reported transfixed by an arrow in Anthony Emery, Greater Medieval Houses of England and Wales, 1300–1500: Southern England, s.v. "Buckland Old Rectory, Gloucestershire", (Cambridge University Press, 2006), p. 80. ^ R. J. Stewart, Where is St. George? Pagan Imagery in English Folksong (1976). ^ B. Forbes, Make Merry in Step and Song: A Seasonal Treasury of Music, Mummer's Plays & Celebrations in the English Folk Tradition (Llewellyn Worldwide, 2009), p. 5. ^ J. Harrowven, The origins of rhymes, songs and sayings (Kaye & Ward, 1977), p. 92. External links[edit] Children's literature portal Death and Burial of Poor Cock Robin, by H. L. Stephens, from Project Gutenberg Death and Burial of Poor Cock Robin From the Collections at the Library of Congress Categories: Robert Walpole1744 songsFictional passerine birdsEnglish nursery rhymesSongwriter unknownEnglish folk songsEnglish children's songsTraditional children's songsSongs about birdsSongs about deathMurder balladsThe train from Oakland to Berkeley.Grice's aunt once visited him, and he picked her up at the Oakland Railway Station. On p. 74, Grice in terms of his aunt, mentions for the first time ‘premise’ and ‘conclusion.’On same p. for the record he uses ‘quality’ for affirmative, negative or infinite. On p. 74 he uses for the first time, with a point, the expression ‘conditional’ as attached to ‘if.’Oddly on the first line of p. 75, he uses ‘material conditional,’ which almost nobody does – except for a blue-collared practitioner of the sciences. ‘Material’ was first introduced by blue-collared Whitehead and Russell, practictioners of the sciences. They used ‘material’ as applied to ‘implication,’ to distinguish it, oddly, and unclassily, from ‘formal’ implication. It is only then he quotes Wilson verbatim in quotes“The question whether so and so is a case of a question whether such and such” This actually influenced Collingwood, and Grice is trying to tutor Strawson here once more!For the logic of question and answer has roots in the very philosophy that it was ... is John Cook Wilson, whose Statement and Inference can be regarded as the STATEMENT AND ITS RELATION TO THINKING AND APREHENSIOTHE DISTINCTION OF SUBJECT AND PREDICATE IN LOGIC AND GRAMMAR The influence of Strawson on Cook Wilson.“The building is the Bodleian.”As answer to“What is that building?”“Which building is the Bodleian”If the proposition is answer to first question, ‘that building’ is the subject, if the proposition is answer to second question, ‘the bodleian’ is the subject. Cf. “The exhibition was not visited by a bald king – of France, as it doesn’t happen.SUBJECT AS TOPICPREDICATE AS COMMENT.Cf. Grice, “The dog is a shaggy thig”What is shaggy?What is the dog?THIS DOG – Subject – TopicTHAT SHAGGY THING – Subject – occasionally, but usually Predicate, Comment.In fact, Wilson bases on StoutI am hungryWho is hungry?: subject IIs there anything amiss with you? ‘hungry’ is the subjectAre you really hungry? ‘am’ is the subject.Grice used to be a neo-Stoutian before he turned a neo-Prichardian so he knew. But perhaps Grice thought better of Cook Wilson. More of a philosopher. Stout seemed to have been seen as a blue-collared practioner of the SCIENCE of psychology, not philosophical psychology! Cf. Leicester-born B. Mayo, e: Magdalen, Lit. Hum. (Philosophy) under? on ‘if’ and Cook Wilson in Analysis.Other example by Wilson:“Glass is elastic.”Grice is motivated to defend Cook Wilson because Chomsky was criticizing him (via a student who had been at Oxford). [S]uppose instruction was being given in the properties of glass, and the instructor said ‘glass is elastic’, it would be natural to say that what was being talkedabout and thought about was ‘glass’, and that what was said of it was that it was elastic. Thus glass would be the subject and that it is elastic would be the predicate. (Cook Wilson 1926/1969, Vol. 1:117f.) What Cook Wilson discusses here is a categorical sentence. The next two quotes are concerned with an identificational sentence. [I]n the statement ‘glass is elastic’, if the matter of inquiry was elasticity and the question was what substances possessed the property of elasticity, glass, in accordance with the principle of the definition, would no longer be subject, and the kind of stress which fell upon ‘elastic’ when glass was the subject, would now be transferred to ‘glass’. [. . .] Thus the same form of words should be analyzed differently according as the words are the answer to one question or another. (Cook Wilson 1926/1969, Vol. 1:119f.) When the stress falls upon ‘glass’, in ‘glass is elastic’, there is no word in the sentence which denotes the actual subject elasticity; the word ‘elastic’ refers to what is already known of the subject, and glass, which has the stress, is the only word which refers to the supposed new fact in the nature of elasticity, that it is found in glass. Thus, according to the proposed formula, ‘glass’ would have to be the predicate. [. . .] Introduction and overview  But the ordinary analysis would never admit that ‘glass’ was the predicate in the given sentence and elasticity the subject. (Cook Wilson 1926/1969, Vol. 1:121)H. P. Grice knew that P. F. Strawson knew of J. C. Wilson  on “That building is the Bodleian” via Sellars’s criticism.There is  a  strong suggestion  in  Sellars' paper  that I would  have done better if I had stuck to Cook Wilson. This suggestion I want equally strongly to  repudiate.  Certainly  Cook  Wilson  draws  attention to  an interesting difference in ways  in which  items may appear in discourse. It may be roughly  expressed  as follows. When we  say Glass is elastic we may be talking  about glass or we may be talking about elasticity (and we may, in the relevant sense of  'about' be doing neither). We are talking about glass if  we are citing elasticity  as one of  the properties  of  glass, we  are talking  about  elasticity if  we  are  citing glass as one of  the substances which  are elastic.  Similarly when we  say Socrates is wise,  we  may be citing Socrates as an instance of  wisdom or wisdom as one of  the proper- ties  of  Socrates. And of  course  we  may be  doing neither  but, e.g., just imparting  miscellaneous  information.  Now  how,  if  at all,  could  this difference help me with my question? Would  it help at all, for example, if  it were plausible (which it is not) to say that we  were inevitably more interested in determining what properties  a given particular had,than in determining what particular had a given property? Wouldn't  this at least suggest that particulars were the natural subjects, in the sense of  subjects of  &erest?  Let me  answer this question  by the reminder  that what I have  to  do  is to establish  a connexion  between some formal  linguistic difference  and a  category  difference;  and  a  formal  linguistic  difference is one which logic can take cognizance of, in abstraction from pragmatic considerations,  like  the direction of  interest. Such  a  formal  ditference exists in the difference between appearing in discourse directly designated and  appearing  in  discourse under  the cloak of  quantification. ““But the difference in the use  of  unquantified  statements to which Cook Wilson draws attention is not a formal difference at all.”Both glass and elasticity, Socrates  and wisdom appear named  in  such  statements, whichever, in Cook  Wilson's  sense,  we  are talking about. An  appeal  to  pragmatic considerations  is,  certainly, an essential  part  of  my  own  account  at  a certain point: but this is the point  at which such considerations are in- voked to explain why  a certain formal difference should  be particularly closely linked, in common speech, with a certain category difference. The difference  of  which Cook  Wilson speaks is, then, though  interesting in itself, irrelevant to my question. Cook Wilson is, and I am not, concerned with  what  Sellars calls  dialectical  distinctions.”

On p.76 Grice mentions for the first time the “ROLE” of if in an indefinite series of ‘interrogative subordination.”For Cook Wilson,as Price knew (he quotes him in Belief), the function of ‘if’ is to LINK TWO QUESTIONS. You’re the cream in my coffee as ‘absurd’ if literally (p. 83). STATEMENT

In this entry we will explore how Grice sees the ‘implicaturum’ that he regards as ‘conversational’ as applied to the emissor and in reference to the Graeco-Roman classical tradition. Wht is implicated may not be the result of any maxim, and yet not conventional – depending on a feature of context. But nothing like a maxim – Strawson Wiggins p. 523. Only a CONVERSATIONAL IMPLICATURUM is the result of a CONVERSATIONAL MAXIM and the principle of conversational helpfulness. In a ‘one-off’ predicament, there may be an ‘implicaturum’ that springs from the interaction itself. If E draws a skull, he communicates that there is danger. If addressee runs away, this is not part of the implicaturum. This Grice considers in “Meaning.” “What is meant” should cover the immediate effect, and not any effect that transpires out of the addressee’s own will. Cf. Patton on Kripke. One thief to another: “The cops are coming!” The expressiom “IMPLICATION” is figures, qua entry, in a philosophical dictionary that Grice consulted at Oxford. In the vernacular, there are two prominent relata: entailment and implicaturum, the FRENCH have their “implication.” When it comes to the Germans, it’s more of a trick. There’s the “nachsichziehen,” the “zurfolgehaben,” the “Folge(-rung),” the “Schluß,” the “Konsequenz,” and of course the “Implikation” and the “Implikatur,” inter alia.  In Grecian, which Grice learned at Clifton, we have the “sumpeplegmenon,” or “συμπεπλεγμένον,” if you must, i. e. the “sum-peplegmenon,” but there’s also the “sumperasma,” or “συμπέϱασμα,” if you must, “sum-perasma;” and then there’s the “sunêmmenon,” or “συνημμένον,” “sun-emmenon,” not to mention (then why does Grice?) the “akolouthia,” or “ἀϰολουθία,” if you must, “akolouthia,” and the “antakolouthia,” ἀνταϰολουθία,” “ana-kolouthia.” Trust clever Cicero to regard anything ‘Grecian’ as not displaying enough gravitas, and thus rendering everything into Roman. There’s the “illatio,” from ‘in-fero.’ The Romans adopted two different roots for this, and saw them as having the same ‘sense’ – cf. referro, relatum, proferro, prolatum; and then there’s the “inferentia,”– in-fero; and then there’s the “consequentia,” -- con-sequentia. The seq- root is present in ‘sequitur,’ non sequitur. The ‘con-‘ is transliterating Greek ‘syn-’ in the three expressions with ‘syn’: sympleplegmenon, symperasma, and synemmenon. The Germans, avoiding the Latinate, have a ‘follow’ root: in “Folge,” “Folgerung,” and the verb “zur-folge-haben. And perhaps ‘implicatio,’  which is the root Grice is playing with. In Italian and French it underwent changes, making ‘to imply’ a doublet with Grice’s ‘to implicate’ (the form already present, “She was implicated in the crime.”). The strict opposite is ‘ex-plicatio,’ as in ‘explicate.’ ‘implico’ gives both ‘implicaturum’ and ‘implicitum.’ Consequently, ‘explico’ gives both ‘explicatum’ and ‘explicitum.’ In English Grice often uses ‘impicit,’ and ‘explicit,’ as they relate to communication, as his ‘implicaturum’ does. His ‘implicaturum’ has more to do with the contrast with what is ‘explicit’ than with ‘what follows’ from a premise. Although in his formulation, both readings are valid: “by uttering x, implicitly conveying that q, the emissor CONVERSATIONALY implicates that p’ if he has explicitly conveyed that p, and ‘q’ is what is required to ‘rationalise’ his conversational behavioiur. In terms of the emissor, the distinction is between what the emissor has explicitly conveyed and what he has conversationally implicated. This in turn contrasts what some philosophers refer metabolically as an ‘expression,’ the ‘x’ ‘implying’ that p – Grice does not bother with this because, as Strawson and Wiggins point out, while an emissor cannot be true, it’s only what he has either explicitly or implicitly conveyed that can be true. As Austin says, it’s always a FIELD where you do the linguistic botany. So, you’ll have to vide and explore: ANALOGY, PROPOSITION, SENSE, SUPPOSITION, and TRUTH. Implication denotes a relation between propositions and statements such that, from the truth-value of the protasis or antecedent (true or false), one can derive the truth of the apodosis or consequent. More broadly, we can say that one idea ‘implies’ another if the first idea cannot be thought without the second one -- RT: Lalande, Vocabulaire technique et critique de la philosophie. Common usage makes no strict differentiation between “to imply,” “to infer,” and “to lead to.” Against Dorothy Parker. She noted that those of her friends who used ‘imply’ for ‘infer’ were not invited at the Algonquin. The verb “to infer,” (from Latin, ‘infero,’ that gives both ‘inferentia,’ inference, and ‘illatio,’ ‘illatum’) meaning “to draw a consequence, to deduce” (a use dating to 1372), and the noun “inference,” meaning “consequence” (from 1606), do not on the face of it seem to be manifestly different from “to imply” and “implication.” But in Oxonian usage, Dodgson avoided a confusion. “There are two ways of confusing ‘imply’ with ‘infer’: to use ‘imply’ to mean ‘infer,’ and vice versa. Alice usually does the latter; the Dodo the former.” Indeed, nothing originally distinguishes “implication” as Lalande defines it — “a relation by which one thing ‘implies’ another”— from “inference” as it is defined in Diderot and d’Alembert’s Encyclopédie (1765): “An operation by which one ACCEPTS (to use a Griceism) a proposition because of its connection to other propositions held to be true.” The same phenomenon can be seen in the German language, in which the terms corresponding to “implication,” “Nach-sich-ziehen,” “Zur-folge-haben,” “inference,” “Schluß”-“Folgerung,” “Schluß,” “to infer,” “schließen,” “consequence,” “Folge” “-rung,” “Schluß,” “Konsequenz,” “reasoning,” “”Schluß-“ “Folgerung,” and “to reason,” “schließen,” “Schluß-folger-ung-en ziehen,” intersect or overlap to a large extent. In the French language, the expression “impliquer” reveals several characteristics that the expression does not seem to share with “to infer” or “to lead to.” First of all, “impliquer” is originally (1663) connected to the notion of contradiction, as shown in the use of impliquer in “impliquer contradiction,” in the sense of “to be contradictory.” The connection between ‘impliquer’ and ‘contradiction’ does not, however, explain how “impliquer” has passed into its most commonly accepted meaning — “implicitly entail” — viz. to lead to a consequence. Indeed, the two usages (“impliquer” connected with contradiction” and otherwise) constantly interfere with one another, which certainly poses a number of difficult problems. An analogous phenomenon can be found in the case of “import,” commonly given used as “MEAN” or “imply,” but often wavering instead, in certain cases, between “ENTAIL” and “imply.” In French, the noun “import” itself is generally left as it I (“import existentiel,” v. SENSE, Box 4, and cf. that’s unimportant, meaningless).  “Importer,” as used by Rabelais, 1536, “to necessitate, to entail,” forms via  It.“importare,” as used by Dante), from the Fr. “emporter,” “to entail, to have as a consequence,” dropped out of usage, and was brought back through Engl. “import.” The nature of the connection between the two primary usages of L. ‘implicare,’ It. ‘implicare,’ and Fr. ‘impliquer,’ “to entail IMPLICITitly” and “to lead to a consequence,” nonetheless remains obscure, but not to a Griceian, or Grecian. Another difficulty is understanding how the transition occurs from Fr. “impliquer,” “to lead to a consequence,” to “implication,” “a logical relation in which one statement necessarily supposes another one,” and how we can determine what in this precise case distinguishes “implication” from “PRAE-suppositio.” We therefore need to be attentive to what is implicit in Fr. “impliquer” and “implication,” to the dimension of Fr. “pli,” a pleat or fold, of Fr. “re-pli,” folding back, and of the Fr. “pliure,” folding, in order to separate out “imply,” “infer,” “lead to,” or “implication,” “inference,” “consequence”—which requires us to go back to Latin, and especially to medieval Latin. Once we clarify the relationship between the usage of “implication” and the medieval usage of “implicatio,” we will be able to examine certain derivations (as in Sidonius’s ‘implicatura,” and H. P. Grice’s “implicaturum,” after ‘temperature,’ from ‘temperare,’) or substitutes (“entailment”) of terms related to the generic field (for linguistic botanising) of “implicatio,” assuming that it is difficulties with the concept of implication (e. g., the ‘paradoxes,’ true but misleading, of material versus formal implication – ‘paradox of implication’ first used by Johnson 1921) that have given rise to this or that newly coined expression corresponding to this or that original attempt. This whole set of difficulties certainly becomes clearer as we leave Roman and go further upstream to Grecian, using the same vocabulary of implication, through the conflation of several heterogeneous gestures that come from the systematics in Aristotle and the Stoics. The Roman Vocabulary of Implication and the Implicatio has the necessary ‘gravitas,’ but Grice, being a Grecian at heart, found it had ‘too much gravitas,’ hence his ‘implicaturum,’ “which is like the old Roman ‘implicare,’ but for fun!” A number of different expressions in medieval Latin can express in a more or less equivalent manner the relationship between propositions and statements such that, from the truth-value of the antecedent (true or false), one can derive the truth-value of the consequent. There is “illatio,” and of course “illatum,” which Varro thought fell under ‘inferre.’ Then there’s the feminine noun, ‘inferentia,’ from the ‘participium praesens’ of ‘inferre,’ cf. ‘inferens’ and ‘ilatum.’ There is also ‘consequentia,’ which is a complex transliterating the Greek ‘syn-,’ in this case with ‘’sequentia,’ from the deponent verb. “I follow you.” Peter Abelard (Petrus Abelardus, v. Abelardus) makes no distinction in using the expression “consequentia” for the ‘propositio conditionalis,’ hypothetical. Si est homo, est animal. If Grice is a man, Grice is an animal (Dialectica, 473 – Abelardus uses ‘Greek man,’ not Grice.’ His implicaturum is ‘if a Greek man is a man, he is therefore also some sort of an animal’). But Abelardus also uses the expression “inferentia” for ‘same old same old’ (cf. “Implicaturum happens.”). Si non est iustus homo, est non iustus homo. Grice to Strawson on the examiner having given him a second. “If it is not the case that your examiner was a fair man, it follows thereby that your examiner was not a fair man, if that helps.” (Dialectica., 414).  For some reason, which Grice found obscure, ‘illatio” appears “almost always” in the context of commenting on Aristotle’s “Topics,” – “why people found the topic commenting escapes me” -- aand denotes more specifically a reasoning, or “argumentum,” in Boethius, allowing for a “consequentia” to be drawn from a given place. So Abelardus distinguishes: “illatio a causa.” But there is also “illatio a simili.” And there is “iillatio a pari.” And there is “illatio a partibus.” “Con-sequentia” sometimes has a very generic usage, even if not as generic as ‘sequentia.” “Consequentia est quaedam habitudo inter antecedens et consequens,” “Logica modernorum,” 2.1:38 – Cfr. Grice on Whitehead as a ‘modernist’! Grice draws his ‘habit’ from the scholastic ‘habitudo.’ Noe that ‘antededens’ and ‘consequens.’ The point is a tautological formula, in terms of formation. Surely ‘consequentia’ relates to a ‘consequens,’ where the ‘consequens’ is the ‘participium praesens’ of the verb from which ‘consequentia’ derives. It’s like deving ‘love’ by ‘to have a beloved.’ “Consequentia” is in any case present, in some way, without the intensifier ‘syn,’ which the Roman gravitas added to transliterate the Greek ‘syn,’ i. e. ‘cum.’ -- in the expression “sequitur” and in the expression “con-sequitur,” literally, ‘to follow,’ ‘to ensue,’ ‘to result in’). Keenan told Grice that this irritated him. “If there is an order between a premise and a conclusion, I will stop using ‘follow,’ because that reverts the order. I’ll use ‘… yields …’ and write that ‘p yields q.’” “Inferentia,” which is cognate (in the Roman way of using this expression broadly) with ‘illatio,’ and ‘illatum,’ -- frequently appears, by contrast, and “for another Grecian reason,” as Grice would put it -- in the context of the Aristotle’s “De Interpretatione,” on which Grice lectures only with J. L. Austin (Grice lectured with Strawson on “Categoriae,” only – but with Austin, from whom Grice learned – Grice lectured on both “Categoriae’ AND “De Interpretatione.” --  whether it is as part of a commentarium on Apuleius’s Isagoge and the Square of Oppositions (‘figura quadrata spectare”), in order to explain this or that “law” underlying any of the four sides of the square. So, between A and E we have ‘propositio opposita.’ Between A and I, and between E and O, we have propositio sub-alterna. Between A and O, and between E and I, we have propositio contradictoria. And between I and O, we have “propositio sub-alterna.” -- Logica modernorum, 2.1:115. This was irritatingly explored by P. F. Strawson and brought to H. P. Grice’s attention, who refused to accept Strawson’s changes and restrictions of the ‘classical’ validities (or “laws”) because Strawson felt that the ‘implication’ violated some ‘pragmatic rule,’ while still yielding a true statement. Then there’s the odd use of “inferentia” to apply to the different ‘laws’ of ‘conversio’ -- from ‘convertire,’ converting one proposition into another (Logica modernorum 131–39). Nevertheless, “inferentia” is used for the dyadic (or triadic, alla Peirce) relationship of ‘implicatio,’ which for some reason, the grave Romans were using for less entertaining things, and not this or that expressions from the “implication” family, or sub-field.  Surprisingly, a philosopher without a classical Graeco-Roman background could well be mislead into thinking that “implicatio” and “implication” are disparate! A number of treatises, usually written by monks – St. John’s, were Grice teaches, is a Cicercian monastery -- explore the “implicits.” Such a “tractatus” is not called ‘logico-philosophicus,’ but a “tractatus implicitarum,” literally a treatise on this or that  ‘semantic’ property of the proposition said to be an ‘implicaturum’ or an ‘implication,’ or ‘propositio re-lativa.’ This is Grice’s reference to the conversational category of ‘re-lation.’ “Re-latio” and “Il-latio” are surely cognate. The ‘referre’ is a bring back; while the ‘inferre’ is the bring in. The propositio is not just ‘brought’ (latum, or lata) it is brought back. Proposition Q is brought back (relata) to Proposition P. P and Q become ‘co-relative.’ This is the terminology behind the idea of a ‘relative clause,’ or ‘oratio relativa.’ E.g. “Si Plato tutee Socrates est, Socratos tutor Platonis est,” translated by Grice, “If Strawson was my tutee, it didn’t show!”. Now, closer to Grice “implicitus,” with an “i” following the ‘implic-‘ rather than the expected ‘a’ (implica), “implicita,” and “implicitum,” is an alternative “participium passatum” from “im-plic-are,” in Roman is used for “to be joined, mixed, enveloped.” implĭco (inpl- ), āvi, ātum, or (twice in Cic., and freq. since the Aug. per.) ŭi, ĭtum (v. Neue, Formenl. 2, 550 sq.), 1, v. a. in-plico, to fold into; hence, I.to infold, involve, entangle, entwine, inwrap, envelop, encircle, embrace, clasp, grasp (freq. and class.; cf.: irretio, impedio). I. Lit.: “involvulus in pampini folio se,” Plaut. Cist. 4, 2, 64: “ut tenax hedera huc et illuc Arborem implicat errans,” Cat. 61, 35; cf. id. ib. 107 sq.: “et nunc huc inde huc incertos implicat orbes,” Verg. A. 12, 743: “dextrae se parvus Iulus Implicuit,” id. ib. 2, 724; cf.: “implicuit materno bracchia collo,” Ov. M. 1, 762: “implicuitque suos circum mea colla lacertos,” id. Am. 2, 18, 9: “implicuitque comam laevā,” grasped, Verg. A. 2, 552: “sertis comas,” Tib. 3, 6, 64: “crinem auro,” Verg. A. 4, 148: “frondenti tempora ramo,” id. ib. 7, 136; cf. Ov. F. 5, 220: in parte inferiore hic implicabatur caput, Afran. ap. Non. 123, 16 (implicare positum pro ornare, Non.): “aquila implicuit pedes atque unguibus haesit,” Verg. A. 11, 752: “effusumque equitem super ipse (equus) secutus Implicat,” id. ib. 10, 894: “congressi in proelia totas Implicuere inter se acies,” id. ib. 11, 632: “implicare ac perturbare aciem,” Sall. J. 59, 3: “(lues) ossibus implicat ignem,” Verg. A. 7, 355.—In part. perf.: “quini erant ordines conjuncti inter se atque implicati,” Caes. B. G. 7, 73, 4: “Canidia brevibus implicatura viperis Crines,” Hor. Epod. 5, 15: “folium implicaturum,” Plin. 21, 17, 65, § 105: “intestinum implicaturum,” id. 11, 4, 3, § 9: “impliciti laqueis,” Ov. A. A. 2, 580: “Cerberos implicitis angue minante comis,” id. H. 9, 94: “implicitamque sinu absstulit,” id. A. A. 1, 561: “impliciti Peleus rapit oscula nati,” held in his arms, Val. Fl. 1, 264. II. Trop. A. In gen., to entangle, implicate, involve, envelop, engage: “di immortales vim suam ... tum terrae cavernis includunt, tum hominum naturis implicant,” Cic. Div. 1, 36, 79: “contrahendis negotiis implicari,” id. Off. 2, 11, 40: “alienis (rebus) nimis implicari molestum esse,” id. Lael. 13, 45: “implicari aliquo certo genere cursuque vivendi,” id. Off. 1, 32, 117: “implicari negotio,” id. Leg. 1, 3: “ipse te impedies, ipse tua defensione implicabere,” Cic. Verr. 2, 2, 18, § 44; cf.: multis implicari erroribus, id. Tusc. 4, 27, 58: “bello,” Verg. A. 11, 109: “eum primo incertis implicantes responsis,” Liv. 27, 43, 3: “nisi forte implacabiles irae vestrae implicaverint animos vestros,” perplexed, confounded, id. 40, 46, 6: “paucitas in partitione servatur, si genera ipsa rerum ponuntur, neque permixte cum partibus implicantur,” are mingled, mixed up, Cic. Inv. 1, 22, 32: ut omnibus copiis conductis te implicet, ne ad me iter tibi expeditum sit, Pompei. ap. Cic. Att. 8, 12, D, 1: “tanti errores implicant temporum, ut nec qui consules nec quid quoque anno actum sit digerere possis,” Liv. 2, 21, 4.—In part. perf.: “dum rei publicae quaedam procuratio multis officiis implicaturum et constrictum tenebat,” Cic. Ac. 1, 3, 11: “Deus nullis occupationibus est implicatus,” id. N. D. 1, 19, 51; cf.: “implicatus molestis negotiis et operosis,” id. ib. 1, 20, 52: “animos dederit suis angoribus et molestiis implicatos,” id. Tusc. 5, 1, 3: “Agrippina morbo corporis implicatura,” Tac. A. 4, 53: “inconstantia tua cum levitate, tum etiam perjurio implicatura,” Cic. Vatin. 1, 3; cf. id. Phil. 2, 32, 81: “intervalla, quibus implicatura atque permixta oratio est,” id. Or. 56, 187: “(voluptas) penitus in omni sensu implicatura insidet,” id. Leg. 1, 17, 47: “quae quatuor inter se colligata atque implicatura,” id. Off. 1, 5, 15: “natura non tam propensus ad misericordiam quam implicatus ad severitatem videbatur,” id. Rosc. Am. 30, 85; “and in the form implicitus, esp. with morbo (in morbum): quies necessaria morbo implicitum exercitum tenuit,” Liv. 3, 2, 1; 7, 23, 2; 23, 40, 1: “ubi se quisque videbat Implicitum morbo,” Lucr. 6, 1232: “graviore morbo implicitus,” Caes. B. C. 3, 18, 1; cf.: “implicitus in morbum,” Nep. Ages. 8, 6; Liv. 23, 34, 11: “implicitus suspicionibus,” Plin. Ep. 3, 9, 19; cf.: “implicitus terrore,” Luc. 3, 432: “litibus implicitus,” Hor. A. P. 424: “implicitam sinu abstulit,” Ov. A. A. 1, 562: “(vinum) jam sanos implicitos facit,” Cael. Aur. Acut. 3, 8, 87.— B. In partic., to attach closely, connect intimately, to unite, join; in pass., to be intimately connected, associated, or related: “(homo) profectus a caritate domesticorum ac suorum serpat longius et se implicet primum civium, deinde mortalium omnium societate,” Cic. Fin. 2, 14, 45: “omnes qui nostris familiaritatibus implicantur,” id. Balb. 27, 60: “(L. Gellius) ita diu vixit, ut multarum aetatum oratoribus implicaretur,” id. Brut. 47, 174: “quibus applicari expediet, non implicari,” Sen. Ep. 105, 5.— In part. perf.: “aliquos habere implicatos consuetudine et benevolentia,” Cic. Fam. 6, 12, 2: “implicatus amicitiis,” id. Att. 1, 19, 8: “familiaritate,” id. Pis. 29, 70: “implicati ultro et citro vel usu diuturno vel etiam officiis,” id. Lael. 22, 85. —Hence, 1. implĭcātus (inpl- ), a, um, P. a., entangled, perplexed, confused, intricate: “nec in Torquati sermone quicquam implicaturum aut tortuosum fuit,” Cic. Fin. 3, 1, 3: “reliquae (partes orationis) sunt magnae, implicaturae, variae, graves, etc.,” id. de Or. 3, 14, 52: vox rauca et implicatura, Sen. Apocol. med. — Comp.: “implicatior ad loquendum,” Amm. 26, 6, 18. — Sup.: “obscurissima et implicatissima quaestio,” Gell. 6, 2, 15: “ista tortuosissima et implicatissima nodositas,” Aug. Conf. 2, 10 init.— 2. im-plĭcĭtē (inpl- ), adv., intricately (rare): “non implicite et abscondite, sed patentius et expeditius,” Cic. Inv. 2, 23, 69. -- “Implicare” adds to these usages the idea of an unforeseen difficulty, i. e. a hint of “impedire,” and even of deceit, i. e. a hint of “fallere.” Why imply what you can exply? Cf. subreptitious. subreption (n.)"act of obtaining a favor by fraudulent suppression of facts," c. 1600, from Latin subreptionem (nominative subreptio), noun of action from past-participle stem of subripere, surripere (see surreptitious). Related: Subreptitious. surreptitious (adj.)mid-15c., from Latin surrepticius "stolen, furtive, clandestine," from surreptus, past participle of surripere "seize secretly, take away, steal, plagiarize," from assimilated form of sub "from under" (hence, "secretly;" see sub-) + rapere "to snatch" (see rapid). Related: Surreptitiously. The source of the philosophers’s usage of ‘implicare’ is a passage from Aristotle’s “De Int.” on the contrariety of proposition A and E (14.23b25–27), in which “implicita” (that sould be ‘com-plicita,’ and ‘the emissor complicates that p”) renders Gk. “sum-pepleg-menê,” “συμ-πεπλεγμένη,” f. “sum-plek-ein,” “συμ-πλέϰein,” “to bind together,” as in ‘com-plicatio,’ complication, and Sidonius’s ‘complicature,’ and Grice’s ‘complicature,’ as in ‘temperature,’ from ‘temperare.’ “One problem with P. F. Strawson’s exegesis of J. L. Austin is the complicature is brings.” This is from the same family or field as “sum-plokê,” “συμ-πλοϰή,” which Plato (Pol. 278b; Soph. 262c) uses for the ‘second articulation,’ the “com-bination” of sounds (phone) that make up a word (logos), and, more philosophically interesting, for ‘praedicatio,’ viz., the interrelation within a ‘logos’ or ‘oratio’ of a noun, or onoma or nomen, as in “the dog,” and a verb, or rhema, or verbum, -- as in ‘shaggisising’ -- that makes up a propositional complex, as “The dog is shaggy,” or “The dog shaggisises.” (H. P. Grice, “Verbing from adjectiving.”). In De Int. 23b25-27, referring to the contrariety of A and O, Aristotle, “let’s grant it” – as Grice puts it – “is hardly clear.” Aristotle writes: “hê de tou hoti kakon to agathon SUM-PEPLEG-MENÊ estin.” “Kai gar hoti ouk agathon anagkê isôs hupolambanein ton auton.”“ἡ δὲ τοῦ ὅτι ϰαϰὸν τὸ ἀγαθὸν συμπεπλεγμένη ἐστίν.”“ϰαὶ γὰϱ ὅτι οὐϰ ἀγαθὸν ἀνάγϰη ἴσως ὑπολαμϐάνειν τὸν αὐτόν.” Back in Rome, Boethius thought of bring some gravitas to this. “Illa vero quae est,” Boethius goes,” Quoniam malum est quod est bonum, IMPLICATURA est. Et enim: “Quoniam non bonum est.” necesse est idem ipsum opinari (repr. in Aristoteles latinus, 2.1–2.4–6. In a later vulgar Romance, we have J. Tricot). “Quant au jugement, “Le bon est mal” ce n’est en réalité qu’une COMBINAISON de jugements, cars sans doute est-il nécessaire de sous-entendre en même temps “le bon n’est pas le bon.” Cf. Mill on ‘sous-entendu’ of conversation. This was discussed by H. P. Grice in a tutorial with Reading-born English philosopher J. L. Ackrill at St. John’s.  With the help of H. P. Grice, J. L. Ackrill tries to render Boethius into the vernacular (just to please Austin) as follows. “Hê de tou hoti kakon to agathon SUM-PEPLEG-MENÊ estin, kai gar hoti OUK agathon ANAGKê isôs hupo-lambanein ton auton” “Illa vero quae est, ‘Quoniam malum est quod est bonum,’ IMPLICATURA est, et enim, ‘Quoniam non bonum est,’ necesse est idem ipsum OPINARI. In the vernacular: “The belief expressed by the proposition, ‘The good is bad,’ is COM-PLICATED or com-plex, for the same person MUST, perhaps, suppose also the proposition, ‘The good it is not good.’” Aristotle goes on, “For what kind of utterance is “The good is not good,” or as they say in Sparta, “The good is no good”? Surely otiose. “The good” is a Platonic ideal, a universal, separate from this or that good thing. So surely, ‘the good,’ qua idea ain’t good in the sense that playing cricket is good. But playing cricket is NOT “THE” good: philosophising is.” H. P. Grice found Boethius’s commentary “perfectly elucidatory,” but Ackrill was perplexed, and Grice intended Ackrill’s perplexity to go ‘unnoticed’ (“He is trying to communicate his perplexity, but I keep ignoring it.” For Ackrill was surreptitiously trying to ‘correct’ his tutor. Aristotle, Acrkill thought, is wishing to define the ‘contrariety’ between two statements or opinions, or not to use a metalanguage second order, that what is expressed by ‘The good is bad’ is a contrarium of what is expressed by ‘The good is no good.’” Aristotle starts, surely, from a principle. The principle states that a maximally false proposition, set in opposition to a maximally true proposition (such as “The good is good”), deserves the name “contraria” – and ‘contrarium’ to what is expressed by it. In a second phase, Aristotle then tries to demonstrate, in a succession of this or that stage, that ‘The good is good’ understood as a propositio universalis dedicativa – for all x, if x is (the) good, x is good (To agathon agathon estin,’ “Bonum est bonum”) is a maximally true proposition.” And the reason for this is that “To agathon agathon estin,” or “Bonum bonum est,” applies to the essence (essentia) of “good,” and ‘predicates’ “the same of the same,” tautologically. Now consider Aristotle’s other proposition “The good is the not-bad,” the correlative E form, For all x, if x is good, x is not bad. This does not do. This is not a maximally true proposition. Unlike “The good is good,” The good is not bad” does not apply to the essence of ‘the good,’ and it does not predicate ‘the same of the same’ tautologically. Rather, ‘The good is not bad,’ unless you bring one of those ‘meaning postulates’ that Grice rightly defends against Quine in “In defense of a dogma,” – in this case, (x)(Bx iff ~Gx) – we stipulate something ‘bad’ if it ain’t good -- is only true notably NOT by virtue of a necessary logical implication, but, to echo my tutor, by implicaturum, viz. by accident, and not by essence (or essential) involved in the ‘sense’ of either ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ or ‘not’ for that matter. Surely Aristotle equivocates slightly when he convinced Grice that an allegedly maximally false proposition (‘the good is bad’) entails or yields the negation of the same attribute, viz., ‘The good is not good,’ or more correctly, ‘It is not the case that the good is good,’ for this is axiomatically contradictory, or tautologically and necessarily false without appeal to any meaning postulate. For any predicate, Fx and ~Fx. The question then is one of knowing whether ‘The good is bad’ deserves to be called the contrary proposition (propositio contraria) of ‘The good is good.’ Aristotle notes that the proposition, ‘The good is bad,’ “To agathon kakon estin,” “Bonum malum est,” is NOT the maximally false proposition opposed to the maximally true, tautological, and empty, proposition, “The good is good,” ‘To agathon agathon estin,’ “Bonum bonum est.” “Indeed, “the good is bad” is sumpeplegmenê, or COMPLICATA. What the emissor means is a complicatum, or as Grice preferred, a ‘complicature. Grice’s complicature (roughly rendered as ‘complification’) condenses all of the moments of the transition from the simple idea of a container (cum-tainer) to the “modern” ideas of implication, Grice’s implicaturum, and prae-suppositio. The ‘propositio complicate,’ is, as Boethius puts it, duplex, or equivocal. The proposition  has a double meaning – one explicit, the other implicit. “A ‘propositio complicata’ contains within itself [“continet in se, intra se”]: bonum non est.” Boethius then goes rightly to conclude (or infer), or stipulate, that only a “simplex” proposition, not a propositio complicata, involving some ‘relative clause,’ can be said to be contrary to another -- Commentarii in librum Aristotelis Peri hermêneais, 219. Boethius’s exegesis thesis is faithful to Aristotle. For Aristotle, nothing like “the good is not bad,” but only the tautologically false “the good is not good,” or it is not the case that the good is good, (to agathon agathon esti, bonum bonum est), a propositio simplex, and not a propositio complicate, is the opposite (oppositum, -- as per the ‘figura quadrata’ of ‘oppoista’ -- of “the good is good,” another propositio simplex. Boethius’s analysis of “the good is bad,” a proposition that Boethius calls ‘propositio complicate or ‘propositio implicita’ are manifestly NOT the same as Aristotle’s. For Aristotle, the “doxa hoti kakon to agathon [δόξα ὅτι ϰαϰὸν τὸ ἀγαθόν],” the opinion according to which the good is bad, is only ‘contrary’ to “the good is good” to the extent that it “con-tains” (in Boethius’s jargon) the tautologically false ‘The good is not good.’ For Boethius, ‘The good is bad’ is contrary to ‘the good is good’ is to the extent that ‘the good is bad’ contains, implicitly, the belief which Boethius expresses as ‘Bonum NON est —“ cf. Grice on ‘love that never told can be” – Featuring “it is not the case that,” the proposition ‘bonum non est’ is a remarkably complicated expression in Latin, a proposition complicata indeed. ‘Bonum non est’ can mean, in the vernacular, “the good is not.” “Bonum non est” can only be rendered as “there is nothing good.’ “Bonum non est’ may also be rendered, when expanded with a repeated property, the tautologically false ‘The good is not good” (Bonum non bonum est). Strangely, Abelard goes in the same direction as Aristotle, contra Boethius. “The good is bad” (Bonum malum est)  is “implicit” (propositio implicita or complicate) with respect to the tautologically false ‘Bonum bonum non est’ “the good is not good.”Abelardus, having read Grice – vide Strawson, “The influence of Grice on Abelardus” -- explains clearly the meaning of “propositio implicita”: “IMPLYING implicitly ‘bonum non bonum est,’ ‘the good is not good’ within itself, and in a certain wa containing it [“IM-PLICANS eam in se, et quodammodo continens.” Glossa super Periermeneias, 99–100. But Abelard expands on Aristotle. “Whoever thinks ‘bonum malum est,’ ‘the good is bad’ also thinks ‘bonum non bonum est,’ ‘the good is not good,’ whereas the reverse does not hold true, i. e. it is not the case that whoever thinks the tautologically false ‘the good is not good’ (“bonum bonum non est”) also think ‘the good is bad’ (‘bonum malum est’). He may refuse to even ‘pronounce’ ‘malum’ (‘malum malum est’) -- “sed non convertitur.” Abelard’s explanation is decisive for the natural history of Grice’s implication. One can certainly express in terms of “implication” what Abelard expresses when he notes the non-reciprocity or non-convertibility of the two propositions. ‘The good is bad,’ or ‘Bonum malum est’ implies or presupposes the tautologically true “the good is not good;’It is not the case that the tautologically false “the good is not good” (‘Bonum bonum non est’) implies ridiculous “the good is bad.” Followers of Aristotle inherit these difficulties.  Boethius and Abelard bequeath to posterity an interpretation of the passage in Aristotle’s “De Interpretatione” according to which “bonum malum est” “the good is bad” can only be considered the ‘propositio opposita’ of the tautologically true ‘bonum bonum est’ (“the good is good”) insofar as, a ‘propositio implicita’ or ‘relativa’ or ‘complicata,’ it contains the ‘propositio contradictoria, viz. ‘the good is not good,’ the tautologically false ‘Bonum non bonum est,’ of the tautologically true ‘Bonum bonum est’ “the good is good.” It is this meaning of “to contain a contradiction” that, in a still rather obscure way, takes up this analysis by specifying a usage of “impliquer.” The first attested use in French of the verb “impliquer” is in 1377 in Oresme, in the syntagm “impliquer contradiction” (RT: DHLF, 1793). These same texts give rise to another analysis. A propositio implicita or pregnant, or complicate, is a proposition that “implies,” that is, that in fact contains two propositions, one principalis, and the other relative, each a ‘propositio explicita,’ and that are equivalent or equipollent to the ‘propositio complicata’ when paraphrased. Consider. “Homo qui est albus est animal quod currit,” “A man who is white is an animal who runs.” This ‘propositio complicate contains the the propositio implicita, “homo est albus” (“a man is white”) and the propositio implicita, “animal currit” (“an animal  runs.”). Only by “exposing” or “resolving” (via ex-positio, or via re-solutio) such an ‘propositio complicata’ can one assign it a truth-value. “Omnis proposition implicita habet duas propositiones explicitas.” “A proposition implicita “P-im” has (at least) a proposition implicita P-im-1 and a different proposition implicita P-im-2.” “Verbi gratia.” “Socrates est id quod est homo.” “Haec propositio IMplicita aequivalet huic copulativae constanti ex duis propositionis explicitis. Socrates est aliquid est illud est homo. Haec proposition est vera, quare et propositio implicita vera. Every “implicit proposition” has two explicit propositions.” “Socrates is something (aliquid) which is a man.” This implicit proposition, “Socrates is something shich is a man,” is equivalent or equipoent to the following conjunctive proposition made up of two now EXplicit propositions, to wit, “Socrates is something,” and “That something is a man.” This latter conjunctive proposition of the two explicit propositions is true. Therefore, the “implicit” proposition is also true” (Tractatus implicitarum, in Giusberti – Materiale per studum, 43). The two “contained” propositions are usually relative propositions. Each is called an ‘implicatio.’ ‘Implicatio’ (rather than ‘implicitio’) becomes shorthand for “PROPOSITIO implicita.” An ‘implicatio’ becomes one type of  ‘propositio exponibilis,’ i. e. a proposition that is to be “exposed” or paraphrased for its form or structure to be understood.  In the treatises of Terminist logic, one chapter is by custom devoted to the phenomenon of “restrictio,” viz. a restriction in the denotation or the suppositio of the noun (v. SUPPOSITION). A relative expression (an implication), along with others, has a restrictive function (viz., “officium implicandi”), just like a sub-propositional expression like an adjective or a participle. Consider.  “A man, Grice, who argues, runs to the second base.”  “Man,” because of the relative expression or clause “who runs,” is restricted to denoting the present time (it is not Grice, who argues NOW but ran YESTERDAY). Moreover there is an equivalence or equipolence between the relative expression “qui currit” and the present participle “currens.” Running Grice argues. Grice who runs argues. Summe metenses, Logica modernorum, 2.1:464. In the case in which a relative expression is restrictive, its function is to “leave something that is constant,” “aliquid pro constanti relinquere,” viz., to produce a pre-assertion that conditions the truth of the main super-ordinate assertion without being its primary object or topic or signification or intentio. “Implicare est pro constanti et involute aliquid significare.” “Ut cum dicitur homo qui est albus currit.”  “Pro constanti” dico, quia praeter hoc quod assertitur ibi cursus de homine, aliquid datur intelligi, scilicet hominem album; “involute” dico quia praeter hoc quod ibi proprie et principaliter significatur hominem currere, aliquid intus intelligitur, scilicet hominem esse album. Per hoc patet quod implicare est intus plicare. Id enim quod intus “plicamus” sive “ponimus,” pro constanti relinquimus. Unde implicare nil aliud est quam subiectum sub aliqua dispositione pro constanti relinquere et de illo sic disposito aliquid affirmare. Ackrill translates to Grice: “To imply” is to signify something by stating it as constant, and in a pretty ‘hidden’ manner – “involute.” When I state that the man runs, I state, stating it as constant, because, beyond (“praeter”) the main supra-ordinate assertion or proposition that predicates the running of the man, my addressee is given to understand something else (“aliquid intus intelligitur”), viz. that the man is white; This is communicated in a hidden manner (“involute”) because, beyond (“praeter”) what is communicated (“significatur”) primarily, principally (“principaliter”) properly (“proprie”), literally, and explicitly, viz. that the man is running, we are given to understand something else (“aliquid intus intelligutur”) within (“intus”), viz.  that the man is white.  It follows from this that implicare is nothing other than what the form of the expression literally conveys, intus plicare (“folded within”).  What we fold or state within, we leave as a constant.  It follows from this that “to imply” is nothing other than leaving something as a constant in the subject (‘subjectum’), such that the subject (subjectum, ‘homo qui est albus”) is under a certain disposition, and that it is only under this disposition that something about the subjectum is affirmed” -- De implicationibus, Nota, 100) For the record: while Giusberti (“Materiale per studio,” 31) always reads “pro constanti,” the MSS occasionally has the pretty Griciean “precontenti.” This is a case of what the “Logique du Port-Royal” describes as an “in-cidental” assertion. The situation is even more complex, however, insofar as this operation only relates to one usage of a relative proposition, viz. when the proposition is restrictive. A restriction can sometimes be blocked, or cancelled, and the reinscriptions are then different for a  nonrestrictive and a restrictive relative proposition. One such case of a blockage is that of “false implication” (Johnson’s ‘paradox of ‘implicatio’) as in “a [or the] man who is a donkey runs,” (but cf. the centaur, the man who is a horse, runs) where there is a conflict (“repugnantia”) between what the determinate term itself denotes (homo, man) and the determination (ansinus, donkey). The truth-values of a proposition containing a relative clause or propositio thus varies according to whether it is restrictive, and of composite meaning, as in “homo, qui est albus, currit” (A man, who is white, runs), or non-restrictive, and of divided meaning, as in “Homo currit qui est albus” (Rendered in the vernacular in the same way, the Germanic languages not having the syntactic freedom the classical languages do: A man, who is white, is running. When the relative is restrictive, as in “Homo, qui est albus, curris”, the propositio implicits only produces one single assertion, since the relative corresponds to a pre-assertion. Thus, it is the equivalent, at the level of the underlying form, to a proposition conditionalis or hypothetical. Only in the second case can there be a “resolution” of the proposition implicita into the pair of this and that ‘propositio explicita, to wit, “homo currit,”  “homo est albus.”—and an equipolence between the complex proposition implicita and the conjunction of the first proposition explicita and the second proposition explicitta. Homo currit et ille est albus. So it is only in this second case of proposition irrestrictiva  that one can say that “Homo currit, qui est albus implies “Homo currit,” and “Homo est albus” and therefore, “Homo qui est albus currit.” The poor grave Romans are having trouble with Grecisms. The Grecist vocabulary of implication is both disparate and systematic, in a Griceian oxymoronic way. The grave Latin “implicare” covers and translates an extremely varied Grecian field of expressions ready to be botanized, that bears the mark of heterogeneous rather than systematic operations, whether one is dealing Aristotle or the Stoics. The passage through grave Roman allows us to understand retrospectively the connection in Aristotle’s jargon between the “implicatio” of the “propositio implicita,” sum-pepleg-menê, as an interweaving or interlacing, and conclusive or con-sequential implicatio, sumperasma, “συμπέϱασμα,” or “sumpeperasmenon,” “συμπεπεϱασμένον,” “sumpeperasmenê,” “συμπεπεϱασμένη,” f. perainein, “πεϱαίνein, “to limit,” which is the jargon Aristotle uses in the Organon to denote the conclusion of a syllogism (Pr. Anal. 1.15.34a21–24). If one designates as A the premise, tas protaseis, “τὰς πϱοτάσεις,” and as B the con-clusion, “to sumperasma,” συμπέϱασμα.” Cf. the Germanic puns with ‘closure,’ etc.  When translating Aristotle’s definition of the syllogism at Prior Analytics 1.1.24b18–21, Tricot chooses to render as the “con-sequence” Aristotle’s verb “sum-bainei,” “συμ-ϐαίνει,” that which “goes with” the premise and results from it. A syllogism is a discourse, “logos,” “λόγος,” in which, certain things being stated, something other than what is stated necessarily results simply from the fact of what is stated. Simply from the fact of what is stated, I mean that it is because of this that the consequence is obtained, “legô de tôi tauta einai to dia tauta sumbainei,” “λέγω δὲ τῷ ταῦτα εἶναι τὸ διὰ ταῦτα συμϐαίνει.” (Pr. Anal. 1.1, 24b18–21). To make the connection with “implication,” though, we also have to take into account, as is most often the case, the Stoics’ own jargon. What the Stoics call “sumpeplegmenon,” “συμπεπλεγμένον,” is a “conjunctive” proposition; e. g. “It is daytime, and it is light” (it is true both that A and that B). The conjunctive is a type of molecular proposition, along with the “conditional” (sunêmmenon [συνημμένον] -- “If it is daytime, it is light”) and the “subconditional” (para-sunêmmenon [παϱασυνημμένον]; “SINCE it is daytime, it is light”), and the “disjunctive” (diezeugmenon [διεζευγμένον] --  “It is daytime, or it is night.” Diog. Laert. 7.71–72; cf. RT: Long and Sedley, A35, 2:209 and 1:208). One can see that there is no ‘implicatio’ in the conjunctive, whereas there is one in the ‘sunêmmenon’ (“if p, q”), which constitutes the Stoic expression par excellence, as distinct from the Aristotelian categoric syllogism.Indeed, it is around the propositio conditionalis that the question and the vocabulary of ‘implicatio’ re-opens. The Aristotelian sumbainein [συμϐαίνειν], which denotes the accidental nature of a result, however clearly it has been demonstrated (and we should not forget that sumbebêkos [συμϐεϐηϰός] denotes accident; see SUBJECT, I), is replaced by “akolouthein” [ἀϰολουθεῖν] (from the copulative a- and keleuthos [ϰέλευθος], “path” [RT: Chantraine, Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque, s.v. ἀϰόλουθος]), which denotes instead being accompanied by a consequent conformity. This connector, i. e. the “if” (ei, si) indicates that the second proposition, the con-sequens (“it is light”) follows (akolouthei [ἀϰολουθεῖ]) from the first (“it is daytime”) (Diog. Laert, 7.71). Attempts, beginning with Philo or Diodorus Cronus up to Grice and Strawson to determine the criteria of a “valid” conditional (to hugies sunêmmenon [τὸ ὑγιὲς συνημμένον] offer, among other possibilities, the notion of emphasis [ἔμφασις], which Long and Sedley translate as “G. E. Moore’s entailment” and Brunschwig and Pellegrin as “implication” (Sextus Empiricus, The Skeptic Way, in RT: Long and Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers, 35B, 2:211 and 1:209), a term that is normally used to refer to a reflected image and to the force, including rhetorical force, of an impression. Elsewhere, this “emphasis” is explained in terms of dunamis [δύναμις], of “virtual” content (“When we have the premise which results in a certain conclusion, we also have this conclusion virtually [dunamei (δυνάμει)] in the premise, even if it is not explicitly indicated [kan kat’ ekphoran mê legetai (ϰἂν ϰατ̕ ἐϰφοϱὰν μὴ λέγεται)], Sextus Empiricus, Against the Grammarians 8.229ff., D. L. Blank, 49 = RT: Long and Sedley, G36 (4), 2:219 and 1:209)—where connecting the different usages of “implication” creates new problems. One has to understand that the type of implicatio represented by the proposition conditionalis implies, in the double usage of “contains implicitly” and “has as its consequence,” the entire Stoic system. It is a matter of to akolouthon en zôêi [τὸ ἀϰόλουθον ἐν ζωῇ], “consequentiality in life,” or ‘rational life, as Grice prefers, as Long and Sedley translate it (Stobeus 2.85.13 = RT: Long and Sedley, 59B, 2:356; Cicero prefers “congruere,” (congruential) De finibus 3.17 = RT: Long and Sedley, 59D, 2:356). It is akolouthia [ἀϰολουθία] that refers to the conduct con-sequent upon itself that is the conduct of the wise man, the chain of causes defining will or fate, and finally the relationship that joins the antecedent to the con-sequent in a true proposition. Goldschmidt, having cited Bréhier (Le système stoïcien), puts the emphasis on antakolouthia [ἀνταϰολουθία], a Stoic neologism that may be translated as “reciprocal” implicatio,” and that refers specifically to the solidarity of virtues (antakolouthia tôn aretôn [ἀνταϰολουθία τῶν ἀϱετῶν], Diog. Laert. 7.125; Goldschmidt, as a group that would be encompassed by dialectical virtue, immobilizing akolouthia in the absolute present of the wise man. “Implicatio” is, in the final analysis, from then on, the most literal name of the Stoic system. Refs.: Aristotle.  Anal. Pr.. ed. H. Tredennick,  in Organon, Harvard; Goldschmidt, Le système stoïcien et l’idée de temps. Paris: Vrin, Sextus Empiricus. Against the Grammarians, ed. D. L. Blank. Oxford: Oxford. END OF INTERLUDE. Now for “Implication”/“Implicaturum.” Implicatura was used by Sidonius in a letter (that Grice found funny) and used by Grice in seminars on conversational helpfulness at Oxford. Grice sets out the basis of a systematic approach to communication, viz, concerning the relation between a proposition p and a proposition q in a conversational context. The need is felt by Sidonius and Grice for ‘implicaturum,’ tdistinct from “implication,” insofar as “implication” is used for a relation between a proposition p and a proposition q, whereas an “implicaturum” is a relation between this or that statement, within a given context, that results from an EMISSOR having utterered an utterance (thereby explicitly conveying that p) and thereby implicitly conveying and implicating that q. Grice thought the distinction was ‘frequently ignored by Austin,’ and Grice thought it solved a few problems, initially in G. A. Paul’s neo-Wttigensteinian objections to Price’s causal theory of perception (“The pillar box seems red to me; which does not surprise me, seeing that it is red”).  An “implication” is a relation bearing on the truth or falsity of this or that proposition (e. g. “The pillar box seems red” and, say, “The pillar box MAY NOT be red”) whereas an “implicaturum” brings an extra meaning to this or that statement it governs (By uttering “The pillar box seems red” thereby explicitly conveying that the pillar box seems red, the emissor implicates in a cancellable way that the pillar box MAY NOT be red.”). Whenever “implicaturum” is determined according to its context (as at Collections, “Strawson has beautiful handwriting; a mark of his character. And he learned quite a bit in spite of the not precisely angelic temperament of his tutor Mabbott”) it enters the field of pragmatics, and therefore has to be distinguished from a presupposition. Implicatio simpliciter is a relation between two propositions, one of which is the consequence of the other (Quine’s example: “My father is a bachelor; therefore, he is male”). An equivalent of “implication” is “entailment,” as used by Moore. Now, Moore was being witty. ‘Entail’ is derived from “tail” (Fr. taille; ME entaill or entailen = en + tail), and prior to its logical use, the meaning of “entailment” is “restriction,” “tail” having the sense of “limitation.” As Moore explains in his lecture: “An entailment is a limitation on the transfer or handing down of a property or an inheritance. *My* use of ‘entailment’ has two features in common with the Legalese that Father used to use; to wit: the handing down of a property; and; the limitation on one of the poles of this transfer. As I stipulate we should use “entailment” (at Cambridge, but also at Oxford), a PROPERTY is transferred from the antecedent to the con-sequent. And also, normally in semantics, some LIMITATION (or restriction, or ‘stricting,’ or ‘relevancing’) on the antecedent is stressed.” The mutation from the legalese to Moore’s usage explicitly occurs by analogy on the basis of these two shared common elements. Now, Whitehead had made a distinction between a material (involving a truth-value) implication and formal (empty) implication. A material implication (“if,” symbolized by the horseshoe “⊃,” because “it resembles an arrow,” Whitehead said – “Some arrow!” was Russell’s response) is a Philonian implication as defined semantically in terms of a truth-table by Philo of Megara. “If p, q” is false only when the antecedent is true and the con-sequent false. In terms of a formalization of communication, this has the flaw of bringing with it a counter-intuitive feeling of ‘baffleness’ (cf. “The pillar box seems red, because it is”), since a false proposition implies materially any proposition: If the moon is made of green cheese, 2 + 2 = 4. This “ex falso quodlibet sequitur” has a pedigreed history. For the Stoics and the Megarian philosophers, “ex falso quodlibet sequitur” is what distinguishes Philonian implication and Diodorean implication. It traverses the theory of consequence and is ONE of the paradoxes of material implication that is perfectly summed up in these two rules of Buridan: First, if P is false, Q follows from P; Second, if P is true, P follows from Q (Bochenski, History of Formal Logic). A formal (empty) implication (see Russell, Principles of Mathematics, 36–41) is a universal conditional implication: Ɐx (Ax ⊃ Bx), for any x, if Ax, then Bx. Different means of resolving the paradoxes of implication have been proposed. All failed except Grice’s. An American, C. I. Lewis’s “strict” implication (Lewis and Langford, Symbolic Logic) is defined as an implication that is ‘reinforced’ such that it is impossible for the antecedent to be true and the con-sequent false. Unfortunately, as Grice tells Lewis in a correspondence, “your strict implication, I regret to prove, has the same alleged flaw as the ‘material’ implication that your strict implication was meant to improve on. (an impossible—viz., necessarily false—proposition strictly implies any proposition). The relation of entailment introduced by Moore in 1923 is a relation that seems to avoid this or that paradox (but cf. Grice, “Paradoxes of entailment, followed by paradoxes of implication – all conversationally resolved”) by requiring a derivation of the antecedent from the con-sequent. In this case, “If 2 + 2 = 5, 2 + 3 = 5” is false, since the con-sequent is stipulated not be derivable from the antecedent. Occasionally, one has to call upon the pair “entailment”/“implication” in order to distinguish between an implication in qua material implication and an implication in Moore’s usage (metalinguistic – the associated material implication is a theorem), which is also sometimes called “relevant” if not strictc implication (Anderson and Belnap, Entailment), to ensure that the entire network of expressions is covered. Along with this first series of expressions in which “entailment” and “implication” alternate with one another, there is a second series of expressions that contrasts two kinds of “implicaturum,” or ‘implicatura.’ “Implicaturum” (Fr. implicaturum, G. Implikatur) is formed from “implicatio” and the suffix –ture, which expresses, as Grice knew since his Clifton days, a ‘resultant aspect,’ ‘aspectum resultativus’ (as in “signature”; cf. L. temperatura, from temperare).  “Implicatio” may be thought as derived from “to imply” (if not ‘employ’) and “implicaturum” may be thought as deriving from “imply”’s doulet, “to implicate” (from L. “in-“ + “plicare,” from plex; cf. the IE. plek), which has the same meaning. Some mistakenly see Grice’s “implicaturum” as an extension and modification of the concept of presupposition, which differs from ‘material’ implication in that the negation of the antecedent implies the consequent (the question “Have you stopped beating your wife?” presupposes the existence of a wife in both cases). An implicaturum escapes the paradoxes of material implication from the outset. In fact, Grice, the ever Oxonian, distinguishes “at least” two kinds of implicaturum, conventional and non-conventional, the latter sub-divided into non-conventional non-converastional, and non-conventional conversational. A non-conventional non-conversational implicaturum may occur in a one-off predicament. A Conventional implicaturum and a conventional implicaturum is practically equivalent, Strawson wrongly thought, to presupposition prae-suppositum, since it refers to the presuppositions attached by linguistic convention to a lexical item or expression.  E. g. “Mary EVEN loves Peter” has a relation of conventional implicaturum to “Mary loves other entities than Peter.” This is equivalent to: “ ‘Mary EVEN loves Peter’ presupposes ‘Mary loves other entities than Peter.’ With this kind of implicaturum, we remain within the expression, and thus the semantic, field. A conventional implicaturum, however, is surely different from a material implicatio. It does not concern the truth-values. With conversational implicaturum, we are no longer dependent on this or that emissum, but move into pragmatics (the area that covers the relation between statements and contexts. Grice gives the following example: If, in answer to A’s question about how C is getting on in his new job at a bank, B utters, “Well, he likes his colleagues, and he hasn’t been to in prison yet,” what B implicates by the proposition that it is not the case that C has been to prison yet depends on the context. It compatible with two very different contexts: one in which C, naïve as he is, is expected to be entrapped by unscrupulous colleagues in some shady deal, or, more likely, C is well-known by A and B to tend towards dishonesty (hence the initial question). References: Abelard, Peter. Dialectica. Edited by L. M. De Rijk. Assen, Neth.: Van Gorcum, 1956. 2nd rev. ed., 1970. Glossae super Periermeneias. Edited by Lorenzo Minio-Paluello. In TwelfthCentury Logic: Texts and Studies, vol. 2, Abelaerdiana inedita. Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1958. Anderson, Allan Ross, and Nuel Belnap. Entailment: The Logic of Relevance and Necessity. Vol. 1. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1975. Aristotle. De interpretatione. English translation by J. L. Ackrill: Aristotle’s Categories and De interpretatione. Notes by J. L. Ackrill. Oxford: Clarendon, 1963. French translation by J. Tricot: Organon. Paris: Vrin, 1966. Auroux, Sylvain, and Irène Rosier. “Les sources historiques de la conception des deux types de relatives.” Langages 88 (1987): 9–29. Bochenski, Joseph M. A History of Formal Logic. Translated by Ivo Thomas. New York: Chelsea, 1961. Boethius. Aristoteles latinus. Edited by Lorenzo Minio-Paluello. Paris: Descleé de Brouwer, 1965. Translation by Lorenzo Minio-Paluello: The Latin Aristotle. Toronto: Hakkert, 1972. Commentarii in librum Aristotelis Peri hermêneias. Edited by K. Meiser. Leipzig: Teubner, 1877. 2nd ed., 1880. De Rijk, Lambertus Marie. Logica modernorum: A Contribution to the History of Early Terminist Logic. 2 vols. Assen, Neth.: Van Gorcum, 1962–67.  “Some Notes on the Mediaeval Tract De insolubilibus, with the Edition of a Tract Dating from the End of the Twelfth-Century.” Vivarium 4 (1966): 100–103. Giusberti, Franco. Materials for a Study on Twelfth-Century Scholasticism. Naples, It.: Bibliopolis, 1982. Grice, H. P. “Logic and Conversation.” In Syntax and Semantics 3: Speech Acts, edited by P. Cole and J. Morgan, 41–58. New York: Academic Press, 1975. (Also in The Logic of Grammar, edited by D. Davidson and G. Harman, 64–74. Encino, CA: Dickenson, 1975.) Lewis, Clarence Irving, and Cooper Harold Langford. Symbolic Logic. New York: New York Century, 1932. Meggle, Georg. Grundbegriffe der Kommunikation. 2nd ed. Berlin: De Gruyter, 1997. Meggle, Georg, and Christian Plunze, eds. Saying, Meaning, Implicating. Leipzig: Leipziger Universitätsverlag, 2003. Moore, G. E.. Philosophical Studies. London: Kegan Paul, 1923. Rosier, I. “Relatifs et relatives dans les traits terministes des XIIe et XIIIe siècles: (2) Propositions relatives (implicationes), distinction entre restrictives et non restrictives.” Vivarium 24: 1 (1986): 1–21. Russell, Bertrand. The Principles of Mathematics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1903. implication, a relation that holds between two statements when the truth of the first ensures the truth of the second. A number of statements together imply Q if their joint truth ensures the truth of Q. An argument is deductively valid exactly when its premises imply its conclusion. Expressions of the following forms are often interchanged one for the other: ‘P implies Q’, ‘Q follows from P’, and ‘P entails Q’. (‘Entailment’ also has a more restricted meaning.) In ordinary discourse, ‘implication’ has wider meanings that are important for understanding reasoning and communication of all kinds. The sentence ‘Last Tuesday, the editor remained sober throughout lunch’ does not imply that the editor is not always sober. But one who asserted the sentence typically would imply this. The theory of conversational implicaturum explains how speakers often imply more than their sentences imply. The term ‘implication’ also applies to conditional statements. A material implication of the form ‘if P, then Q’ (often symbolized ‘P P Q’ or ‘P / Q’) is true so long as either the if-clause P is false or the main clause Q is true; it is false only if P is true and Q is false. A strict implication of the form ‘if P, then Q’ (often symbolized ‘P Q’) is true exactly when the corresponding material implication is necessarily true; i.e., when it is impossible for P to be true when Q is false. The following valid forms of argument are called paradoxes of material implication: Q. Therefore, P / Q. Not-P. Therefore, P / Q. The appearance of paradox here is due to using ‘implication’ as a name both for a relation between statements and for statements of conditional form. A conditional statement can be true even though there is no relation between its components. Consider the following valid inference: Butter floats in milk. Therefore, fish sleep at night / butter floats in milk. Since the simple premise is true, the conditional conclusion is also true despite the fact that the nocturnal activities of fish and the comparative densities of milk and butter are completely unreimmediate inference implication 419 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 419 lated. The statement ‘Fish sleep at night’ does not imply that butter floats in milk. It is better to call a conditional statement that is true just so long as it does not have a true if-clause and a false main clause a material conditional rather than a material implication. Strict conditional is similarly preferable to ‘strict implication’. Respecting this distinction, however, does not dissolve all the puzzlement of the so-called paradoxes of strict implication: Necessarily Q. Therefore, P Q. Impossible that P. Therefore, P Q. Here is an example of the first pattern: Necessarily, all rectangles are rectangles. Therefore, fish sleep at night all rectangles are rectangles. ‘All rectangles are rectangles’ is an example of a vacuous truth, so called because it is devoid of content. ‘All squares are rectangles’ and ‘5 is greater than 3’ are not so obviously vacuous truths, although they are necessary truths. Vacuity is not a sharply defined notion. Here is an example of the second pattern: It is impossible that butter always floats in milk yet sometimes does not float in milk. Therefore, butter always floats in milk yet sometimes does not float in milk fish sleep at night. Does the if-clause of the conclusion imply (or entail) the main clause? On one hand, what butter does in milk is, as before, irrelevant to whether fish sleep at night. On this ground, relevance logic denies there is a relation of implication or entailment. On the other hand, it is impossible for the if-clause to be true when the main clause is false, because it is impossible for the if-clause to be true in any circumstances whatever. Speranza, Luigi. Join the Grice Club! Strawson, P. F.. “On Referring.” Mind 59 (1950): 320–44.

implicaturum: a pragmatic relation different from, but easily confused with, the semantic relation of entailment. This concept was first identified, explained, and used by H. P. Grice (Studies in the Way of Words, 1989). Grice identified two main types of implicaturum, conventional and non-conventional (including conversational). An emisor is said to conversationally implicate that p in uttering x, provided that, although p is NOT logically implied by what the emisor explicitly communicates, the assumption that the emisor is attempting cooperative communication warrants inferring that the emisor is communicating that p. If Grice utters “There is a garage around the corner” in response to Strawson’s saying, “I am out of gas,” Grice conversationally implicates that the garage is open and has gas to sell. Grice identifies several conversational maxims to which cooperative conversationalists may be expected to conform, and which justify inferences about what the emisor implicates. In the above example, the implicaturums are due to the maxim of conversational relevance. Another important maxim is the maxim of conversational fortitude  (“Make your contribution as informatively strong as is required”). Among implicatura due to the Maxim of conversational fortitude is the scalar implicaturum, wherein the utterance contains an element that is part of a quantitative scale. Utterance of such a sentence conversationally implicates that the emisor does not believe related propositions higher on the scale of conversational fortitude or informativeness. E. g. an emisor who says, “Some of the zoo animals escaped,” implies that he does not believe that that most of the zoo animals escaped, or that every animal of the zoo animals escaped. Unlike a conversational implicaturum, a conventional implicaturum is due solely to the semantics of the expression. An emisor is said by Grice to conventionally imply that p, if the semantics of the expression commits the emisor to p, even though what the emisor explicitly communicates does not entail that p. Thus, uttering, as the Tommies did during the Great War, “She was poor but she was honest” a Tommy implicates, but does not explicitly convey, that there is a contrast between her poverty and her honesty.

impositum: a property of terms resulting from a convention to designate something. A term is not a mere noise but a significant sound. A term designating extralinguistic entities, such as ‘tree’, ‘stone’, ‘blue’, and the like, are classified by the tradition since Boethius as terms of “prima impositio,” first imposition. A term designating another term or other communicative items, such as ‘noun’, ‘declension’, and the like, is classified as terms of ‘secunda imposition,’ second imposition. The distinction between a terms of ‘prima impositio’ and ‘secunda impositio’ belongs to the realm of written and spoken language, while the parallel distinction between terms of first and second ‘intentio’ belongs to the realm of the soul. A ‘prima intentio’ (intentio re re), frst intention is, broadly, thoughts about trees, stones, colours, etc. A ‘seconda intention’ (intention de sensu), second intention, is a thought about a first intention. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “De sensu implicaturum.”

prædicatum: Grice on the praedicatum/impraedicatum distinction – an impredicative definition is the definition of a concept in terms of the totality to which it belongs. Whitehead and Russell, in their “Principia Mathematica” introduce ‘im-predicative’ (earlier, ‘non-predicative,’ which Grice prefers) prohibiting an impredicative definition from conceptual analysis, on the grounds that an impredicative definition entails (to use Moore’s jargon) a paradox – which Grice loves. An impredicative definition of the set R of all sets that are not members of themselves leads to the self-contradictory conclusion that R is a member of itself if and only if it is not a member of itself. In Grice’s rewrite: “Austin’s paradoxical dream was to create a ‘class’ each of whose member was such that his class had no other member.” To avoid an antinomy of this kind in the formalization of logic, Whitehead and Russell first implement in their ramified type theory the vicious circle principle, that no whole (totum) may contain parts (pars) that are definable only in terms of that whole (totum). The limitation of ramified type theory is that without use of an impredicative definition it is impossible to quantify over every item, but only over every item of a certain order or type. Without being able to quantify over every item generally, many of the most important definitions and theorems of classical philosophy cannot be formulated. Whitehead and Russell for this reason later abandoned ramified in favour of simple type theory, which avoids a logical paradox without outlawing an impredicative definition by forbidding the predication of terms of any type (object, property and relation, higher-order propertiy and relations of properties and relations, etc.) to terms of the same type.

correctum: there’s‘corrigibility’ (=  correctum) and ‘incorrigibility’ – “The implicaturum is that something is incorrigibile it cannot be corrected – but Chisholm never explies ‘by whom’”! (Grice uses ‘exply’ as opposite of ‘imply’).  Who is corrigible? The emissor. “I am sorry I have to tell you you are wrong.” On WoW: 142, Grice refers to the ‘authority’ of the utterer as a ‘rational being’ to DEEM that an M-intention is an antecedent condition for his act of meaning. Grice uses ‘privilege’ as synonym for ‘authority’ here. But not in the phrase ‘privileged access.’ His point is not so much about the TRUTH (which ‘incorrigibility’ suggests), but about the DEEMING. It is part of the authority or privilege of the utterer as rational to provide an ACCEPTABLE assignment of an M-intention behind his utterance.

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

consistens: “There’s consistens, and there’s inconsistens.” – H. P. Grice. The inconsistent triad, most generally, any three propositions such that it cannot be the case that all three of them are true. More narrowly, any three categorical propositions such that it cannot be the case that all three of them are true. A categorical syllogism is valid provided the three propositions that are its two premises and the negation (contradiction) of its conclusion are an inconsistent triad; this fact underlies a test for the validity of categorical syllogisms, which test are thus called by Grice the “method of” the inconsistent triad.

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

determinatum: There’s the determinatum and there’s the indeeterminatum – “And then there’s ‘indeterminacy.”” “A determinatum is like a definitum, in that a ‘term’ is like the ‘end’ – “Thus, I am a Mercian, from Harborne.” “The Mericans were thus called because the lived at the end of England.” “Popper, who doesn’t know the first thing about this, prefers, ‘demarcatum’, which is cognate with “mercian.’” Grice was always cautious and self-apologetic. “I’m not expecting that you’ll find this to be a complete theory of implication, but that was not my goal, and the endeavour should be left for another day, etc.” But consider the detail into which he, like any other philosopher before, went when it came to what he called the ‘catalyst’ tests or ideas or tests or ideas for the implicaturum. In “Causal Theory” there are FOUR ideas. It is good to revise the treatment in “Causal.” He proposes two ideas with the first two examples and two further ideas with the two further examples. Surely his goal is to apply the FOUR ideas to his own example of the pillar box. Grice notes re: “You have not ceased eating iron” – the cxample is “a stock case of what is sometimes called " prcsupposition " and it is often held that here 1he truth of what is irnplicd is a necessary condition of the original statement's beirrg cither true or false.” So the first catalyst in the first published version concerns the value, or satisfactory value. This will be retained and sub-grouped in Essay II. “It is often held” Implicture: but often not, and trust me I won’t. “that here the truth of what is implied [implicated in the negative, entailed in the affirmative] is a necessary condition of the original statement's being either true or false.” So the first catalyst in the first published version concerns the value, or satisfactory value. This will be retained and sub-grouped in Essay II. “This might be disputed, but it is at least arguable that it is so, and its being arguable might be enough to distinguish this type of case from others.” So he is working on a ‘distinctive feature’ model. And ‘feature’ is exactly the expression he uses in Essay II. He is looking for ‘distinctive features’ for this or that implication. When phonologists speak of ‘distinctive feature’ they are being philosophical or semioticians.“I shall however for convenience assume that the common view mentioned is correct.”“This consideration clearly distinguishes “you have not ceased eating iron” from [a case of a conventional implicaturum] “poor BUT honest.”“Even if the implied proposition were false, i.e. if there were no reason in the world to contrast poverty with honesty either in general or in her case, the original statement COULD still be false.” “She [is]  poor but she [is] honest” would be false if for example she were rich and dishonest.”“One might perhaps be less comfortable about assenting to its TRUTH if the implied contrast did not in fact obtain; but the possibility of falsity is enough for the immediate purpose.”“My next experiment [test, litmus idea – that he’ll apply as one of the criteria to provide distinctive features for this or that implicaturum, with a view to identify the nature of the animal that a conversational implicaturum is] on these examples is to ask what it is in each case which could properly be said to be the vehicle of implication (to do the implying).”In Essay II, since he elaborates this at an earlier stage than when he is listing the distinctive features, he does not deal much. It is understood that in Essay II by the time he is listing the distinctive features, the vehicle is the UTTERER. But back in “Causal,” he notes: “There are AT LEAST FOUR candidates, not necessarily mutually exclusive.”“Supposing someone to have ‘uttered’ one or other of [the] sample sentences, we may ask whether the vehicle of implication would be (FIRST) WHAT the emissor communicated (or asserted or stated or explicitly conveyed), or (SECOND) the emissor himself ("Surely you’re not  implying that ….’ ) or (THIRD) the utterance  (FOURTH) his communicating, or explicitly conveying that (or again his explicitly conveying that in that way); or possibly some plurality of these items.”“As regards the first option for the vehicle, ‘what the emissor has explicitly conveyed,’ Grice takes it that “You have not ceased eating iron” and “Poor but honest” may differ.It seems correct for Grice to say in the case of “eating iron” that indeed it is the case that it is what he emissor explicitly conveys which implies that Smith has been eating iron.On the other hand, Grice feels it would be ‘incorrect,’ or improper, or bad, or unnatural or artificial, to say in the case of “poor but honest” that it is the case. Rather it is NOT the case that  it is WHAT the emissor explicitly conveys which implies that there is a contrast between, e. g., honesty and poverty.”“A sub-test on which Grice would rely is the following.If accepting that the conventional implicaturum holds (contrast between honesty and poverty) involves the emissor in accepting an hypothetical or conditional ‘if p, q,’ where 'p’ represents the original statement (“She [is] poor and she [is] honest) and 'q' represents what is implied (“There is a contrast between honesty and poverty”), it is the case that it is what the emissor explicitly conveys which is a (or the) vehicle of implication. If that chain of acceptances does not hold, it is not. To apply this rule to the “eat iron” and “poor but honest”, if the emissor accepts the implication alleged to hold in the case of “eat iron”, I should feel COMPELLED (forced, by the force of entailment) to accept the conditional or hypothetical "If you have not ceased eating iron, you may have never started.”[In “Causal,” Grice has yet not stressed the asymmetry between the affirmative and the negative in alleged cases of presupposition. When, due to the success of his implicaturum, he defines the presuppositum as a form of implicaturum, he does stress the asymmetry: the entailment holds for the affirmative, and the implicaturum for the negative). On the other hand, when it comes to a CONVENTIONAL implicaturum (“poor but honest”) if the emissor accepted the alleged implication in the case of “poor but honest”, I should NOT feel compelled to accept the conditional or hypothetical "If she was poor but honest, there is some contrast between poverty and honesty, or between her poverty and her honesty." Which would yield that in the presuppositum case, we have what is explicitly conveyed as a vehicle, but not in the case of the conventional implicaturum.The rest of the candidates (Grice lists four and allows for a combination) can be dealt with more cursorily.As regards OPTION II (second):Grice should be inclined to say with regard to both “eat iron” and “poor but honest” that the emissor could be said to have implied whatever it is that is irnplied.As regards Option III (third: the utterance): In the case of “poor but honest” it seems fairly clear that the utterance could be said, if metabolically, and animistically, to ‘imply’ a contrast.It is much less clear whether in the case of “eat iron” the utterance could be said to ‘imply’ that Smith has been eating iron.As for option IV, in neither case would it be evidently appropriate (correct, natural) to speak of the emissor’s explicitly conveying that, or of his explicitly conveying that in that way, as ‘implying’ what is implied. A third catalyst idea with which Grice wish to assail my two examples is really a TWIN idea, or catalyst, or test [That’s interesting – two sides of the same coin] that of the detachability or cancellability of the implication. Consider “eat iron.”One cannot find an alternative utterance which could be used to assert explicitly just what the utterance “Smith has not ceased from eating iron" might be used to convey explicitly, such that when this alternative utterance is used the implication that Smith never started eating iron is absent. Any way of (or any utterance uttered with a view to) conveying explicitly what is explicitly conveyed in (1) involves the implication in question. Grice expresses this fact – which he mentioned in seminars, but this is the first ‘popularisation’ -- by saying that in the case of (l) the implication is NOT detachable FROM what is asserted (or simpliciter, is not detachable). Furthermore, and here comes the twin of CANCELLABILITY: one cannot take any form of words for which both what is asserted and what is implied is the same as for (l), AND THEN ADD a further clause withholding commitment from what would otherwise be implied, with the idea of ANNULLING THE IMPLICATURUM *without* ANNULLING annulling the EXPLICITUM.  One cannot intelligibly say " Smith has left off beating his wife but I do not mean to imply that he has been beating her." But one surely can intelligibly say, “You have not ceased eating iron because you never started.”While Grice uses “Smith,” the sophisma (or Griceisma) was meant in the second person, to test the tutee’s intelligence (“Have you stopped beating your dog?”). The point is that the tutee will be offended – whereas he shouldn’t, and answer, “I never started, and I never will.”Grice expresses this fact by saying that in the case of ‘eat iron’ the implication is not cancellable or annullable (without cancelling or annulling the assertion). If we turn to “poor but honest” we find, Grice thinks, that there is quite a strong case for saying that here the implication IS detachable. Therc sccms quite a good case for maintaining that if, instead of saying " She is poor but she is honcst " I were to say, alla Frege, without any shade, " She is poor AND she is honcst", I would assert just what I would havc asscrtcct ii I had used thc original senterrce; but there would now be no irnplication of a contrast between e.g', povery and honesty. Of course, this is not a philosophical example, and it would be good to revise what Frege thought about ‘aber.’ By the time Grice is lecturing “Causal Theory” he had lectured for the Logic Paper for Strawson before the war, so Whitehead and Russell are in the air.Surely in Anglo-Saxon, the contrast is maintained, since ‘and’ means ‘versus.’“She is poor contra her being honest.”Oddly, the same contrariety is present in Deutsche, that Frege speaks, with ‘UND.”It’s different with Roman “et.” While Grecian ‘kai,’ even Plato thought barbaric!The etymology of ‘by-out’ yields ‘but.’So Grice is thinking that he can have a NEUTRAL conjoining – but ‘and’ has this echo of contrariety, which is still present in ‘an-swer, i. e. and-swear, to contradict. Perhaps a better neutral version would be. Let’s start with the past version and then the present tense version.“She was pooo-ooor, she was honest, and her parents were the same, till she met a city feller, and she lost her honest name.”In terms of the concepts CHOSEN, the emissor wants to start the ditty with pointing to the fact that she is poor – this is followed by stating that she is honest. There’s something suspicious about that.I’m sure a lady may feel offended without the ‘and’ OR ‘but’ – just the mere ‘succession’ or conjoining of ‘poor’ as pre-ceding the immediate ‘honest’ ‘triggers’ an element of contrast. The present tense seems similar: “She is poooor, she is honest, and her parents are the same, but she’ll meet a city feller, and she’ll lose her honest name.”The question whether, in thre case of ‘poor but honest,’ the implication is cancellable, is slightly more cornplex, which shouldn’t if the catalysts are thought of as twins.There is a way in which we may say that it is not cancellable, or annullable.Imagine a Tommy marching  and screaming: “She is poor but she is honest,”“HALT!” the sargent shouts.The Tommy catches the implicaturum:“though of course, sir, I do not mean to imply, sir, that there is any contrast, sir, between her poverty, sir, and her honesty, sir.”As Grice notes, this would be a puzzling and eccentric thing for a Tommy to engage in.And though the sargent might wish to quarrel with the tommy (Atkins – Tommy Atkins is the name”), an Oxonian philosopher should NOT go so far as to say that the tommy’s utterance is unintelligible – or as Vitters would say, ‘nunsense.’The sargent should rather suppose, or his lieutenant, since he knows more, that private Tommy Atkins has adopted a “most pecooliar” way of conveying the news that she was poor and honest.The sargent’s argument to the lieu-tenant:“Atkins says he means no disrespect, sir, but surely, sir, just conjoining poverty and honesty like that makes one wonder.”“Vitters: this is a Cockney song! You’re reading too much into it!”“Cockney? And why the citty feller, then – aren’t Cockneys citty fellers. I would rather, sir, think it is what Sharp would call a ‘sharp’ folk, sir, song, sir.’ The fourth and last test Grice imposes on his examples is to ask whether we would be inclined to regard the fact that the appropriate (or corresponding, since they are hardly appropriate – either of them! – Grice changes the tune as many Oxford philosophers of ordinary language do when some female joins the Union) implication is present as being a matter of the, if we may be metabolic and animistic, ‘meaning’ of some particular word or phrase occurring in the sentences in question. Grice is aware and thus grants that this may not be always a very clear or easy question to answer.Nevertheless, Grice risks the assertion that we would be fairly happy and contented to say that, as regards ‘poor but honest,’ the fact that the implication obtains is a matter of the ‘meaning’ of 'but ' – i. e. what Oxonians usually mean when they ‘but.’So far as “he has not ceased from…’ is concerned we should have at least some inclination to say that the presence of the implication is a matter of the, metabolically, ‘meaning’ of some of the words in the sentence, but we should be in some difficulty when it came to specifying precisely which this word, or words are, of which this is true. Well, it’s semantics. Why did Roman think that it was a good thing to create a lexeme, ‘cease.’“Cease” means “stop,” or ‘leave off.”It is not a natural verb, like ‘eat.’A rational creature felt the need to have this concept: ‘stop,’ ‘leave off,’ ‘cease.’The communication-function it serves is to indicate that SOMETHING has been taken place, and then this is no longer the case.“The fire ceased,” one caveman said to his wife.The wife snaps back – this is the Iron Age:“Have you ceased eating iron, by the way, daa:ling?”“I never started!”So it’s the ‘cease’ locution that does the trick – or equivalents, i.e. communication devices by which this or that emissor explicitly convey more or less the same thing: a halting of some activity.Surely the implication has nothing to do with the ‘beat’ and the ‘wife.’After third example (‘beautiful handwriting) introduced, Grice goes back to IDEA OR TEST No. 1 (the truth-value thing). Grice notes that it is plain that there is no case at all for regarding the truth of what is implied here (“Strawson is hopeless at philosophy”) as a pre-condition of the truth or falsity of what the tutor has asserted.A denial of the truth of what is implied would have no bearing at all on whether what I have asserted is true or false. So ‘beautiful handwring’ is much closer to ‘poor but honest’ than ‘cease eating iron’ in this respect. Next, as for the vehicle we have the at least four options and possible combinations.The emissor, the tutor, could certainly be said to have implied that Strawson is hopeless (provided that this is what the tutor intended to ‘get across’) and the emissor’s, the tutor’s explicitly saying that (at any rate the emissor’s saying that and no more) is also certainly a vehicle of implication. On the other hand the emissor’s words and what the emissor explicitly conveys are, Grice thinks, not naturally here characterised as the ‘vehicle’ of implication. “Beautiful handwriting” thus differs from BOTH “don’t cease eating iron” and “poor but honest” – so the idea is to have a table alla distinctive features, with YES/NO questions answered for each of the four implication, and the answers they get.As for the third twin, the result is as expected: The implication is cancellable but not detachable. And it looks as if Grice created the examples JUST to exemplify those criteria.If the tutor adds, 'I do not of course mean to imply that Strawson is no good at philosophy” the whole utterance is intelligible and linguistically impeccable, even though it may be extraordinary tutorial behaviour – at the other place, not Oxford --.The tutor can no longer be said to have, or be made responsible for having implied that Strawson was no good, even though perhaps that is what Grice’s colleagues might conclude to be the case if Grice had nothing else to say. The implication is not however, detachable.Any other way of making, in the same context of utterance, just the assertion I have made would involve the same implication.“His calligraphy is splendid and he is on time.”“Calligraphy splendid,” Ryle objected. “That’s slightly oxymoronic, Grice – ‘kallos agathos’”Finally, for TEST No. 4, ‘meaning’ of expression? The fact that the implication holds is surely NOT a matter of any particular word or phrase within the sentence which I have uttered.It is just the whole sentence. Had he gone tacit and say,“Beautiful handwriting!”Rather than“He has beautiful handwriting.”The implication SEEMS to be a matter of two particular words: the handwriting word, viz. ‘handwriting.’ And the ‘beautiful’ word, i. e. ‘beautiful.’Any lexeme expressing same concept, ‘Calligraphy unique!’would do the trick because this is damn by faint praise, or suggestio falsi, suppressio veri. So in this respect “Beautiful handwring” is certainly different from “Poor but honest” and, possibly different from “Don’t cease to eat iron!”One obvious fact should be mentioned before one passes to the fourth example (“kitchen or bedroom”).This case of implication is unlike the others in that the utterance of the sentence "Strawson has beautiful handwriting" does not really STANDARDLY involve the implication here attributed to it (but cf. “We should have lunch together sometime” meaning “Get lost” – as Grice said, “At Oxford, that’s the standard – that’s what the ‘expression’ “means”); it requires a special context (that it should be uttered at Collections) to attach the implication to its utterance. More generally: it requires a special scenario (one should avoid the structuralist Derrideian ‘context’ cf. Grice, “The general theory of context”). If back in the house, Mrs. Grice asks, “He has beautiful handwriting,” while not at Collections, the implicaturum would hold. Similarly at the “Lamb and Flag,” or “Bird and Baby.”But one gets Grice’s point. The scenario is one where Strawson is being assessed or evaluated AS A PHILOSOPHER. Spinoza’s handwriting was, Stuart Hampshire said, “terrible – which made me wonder at first whether I should actually waste my time with him.”After fourth and last example is introduced (“kitchen or bedroom”): in the case of the Test No. I (at least four possible vehicles) one can produce a strong argument in favour of holding that the fulfllment of the implication of the speaker's ignorance (or that he is introducing “or” on grounds other than Whitehead’s and Russell’s truth-functional ones) is not a precaution (or precondition) of the truth or falsity of the disjunctive statement. Suppose that the emissor KNOWS that his wife IS in the KITCHEN, that the house has only two rooms, and no passages. Even though the utterer knows that his wife is in the kitchen (as per given), the utterer can certainly still say truly (or rather truthfully) "She is IN THE HOUSE.”SCENARIOA: Where is your wife? ii. Where in your house is your wife?B: i. In the kitchen. ii. In the bedroom. iiia. She’s in the house, don’t worry – she’s in the house, last time I checked. iii. In the HOUSE (but inappropriate if mentioned in the question – unless answered: She’s not. iv. In the kitchen or in the bedroom (if it is common ground that the house only has two rooms there are more options) vi. v. I’m a bachelor.  vi. If she’s not in the bedroom, she is in the kitchen. vii. If she’s not in the kitchen, she’s in the bedroom. viii. Verbose but informative: “If she’s not in the bedroom she’s in the kitchen, and she’s not in the kitchen” Or consider By uttering “She is in the house,” the utterer is answering in a way that he is merely not being as informative as he could bc if need arose.  But the true proposition [cf. ‘propositional complex’] that his wife is IN THE HOUSE together with the true proposition that ‘THE HOUSE’ consists entirely of a ‘kitchen’ and a ‘bedroom,’ ENTAIL or yield the proposition that his wife is in the kitchen or in the bedroom. But IF to express the proposition p (“My wife is in the house, that much I can tell”) in certain circumstances (a house consisting entirely of a kitchen and a bedroom – an outback bathroom which actually belongs to the neighbour – cf. Blenheim) would be to speak truly, and p (“My wife is, do not worry, in the house”) togelher with another true proposition – assumed to be common ground, that the house consists entirely of a kitchen and a bedroom -- entails q (“My wife is in the kitchen OR in the bedroom”), surely to express what is entailed (“My wife is in the kitchen or in the bedroom”) in the same circvmstances must be, has to be to speak truly.  So we have to take it that the disjunctive statement – “kitchen or bedroom” -- does not fail to be TRUE or FALSE if the implied ignorance (or the implied consideration that the utterer is uttering ‘or’ on grounds other than the truth-functional ones that ‘introduce’ “or” for Gentzen) is in fact not realized, i. e. it is false. Secondly, as for Test No. 2 (the four or combo vehicles), Grice thinks it is fairly clear that in this case, as in the case of “beautiful handwriting”, we could say that the emissor had implies that he did not know (or that his ground is other than truth-functional – assuming that he takes the questioner to be interested in the specific location – i. e. to mean, “where IN THE HOUSE is your wife?”) and also that his conveying explicilty that (or his conveying explicitly that rather than something else, viz, in which room or where in the house she is, or ‘upstairs,’ or ‘downstairs,’ or ‘in the basement,’ or ‘in the attic,’ ‘went shopping,’ ‘at the greengrocer’ – ‘she’s been missing for three weeks’) implied that he did not know in which one of the two selected rooms his wife is ‘resident’ (and that he has grounds other than Gentzen’s truth-functional ones for the introduction of ‘or.’). Thirdly, the implication (‘kitchen or bedroom’) is in a way non-detachable, in that if in a given context the utterance of the disjunctive sentence would involve the implication that the emissor did not know in which room his his wife was (or strictly, that the emissor is proceeding along non-truth-functional grounds for the introduction of ‘or,’ or even more strictly still, that the emissor has grounds other than truth-functional for the uttering of the disjunction), this implication would also be involved in the utterance of any other form of words which would make the same disjunctive assertion (e.g., "Look, knowing her, the alternatives are she is either preparing some meal in the kitchen or snoozing in the bedroom;” “One of the following things is the case, I’m pretty confident. First thing: she is in the kitchen, since she enjoys watching the birds from the kitchen window. Second thing: she is in the bedroom, since she enjoys watching birds from the bedroom window.” Etymologically, “or” is short for ‘other,’ meaning second. So a third possibility: “I will be Anglo-Saxon: First, she is the kitchen. Second, she is in the bedroom.” “She is in the kitchen UNLESS she is in the bedroom”“She is in the kitchen IF SHE IS NOT in the bedroom.”“Well, it is not the case that she is in the KITCHEN *AND* in the bedroom, De Morgan!” She is in the kitchen, provided she is not in the bedroom” “If she is not in the kitchen, she is in the bedroom” “Bedroom, kitchen; one of the two.” “Kitchen, bedroom; check both just in case.”“Sleeping; alternatively, cooking – you do the maths.”“The choices are: bedroom and kitchen.”“My choices would be: bedroom and kitchen.”“I would think: bedroom? … kitchen?”“Disjunctively, bedroom – kitchen – kitchen – bedroom.”“In alternation: kitchen, bedroom, bedroom, kitchen – who cares?”“Exclusively, bedroom, kitchen.”ln another possible way, however, the implication could perhaps bc said to BE indeed detachable: for there will be some contexts of utterance (as Firth calls them) in which the ‘normal’ implication (that the utterer has grounds other than truth-functional for the utterance of a disjunction) will not hold.Here, for the first time, Grice brings a different scenario for ‘or’:“Thc Secretary of the Aristotelian Society, announcing ‘Our coming symposium will be in Oxford OR not take place at all” perhaps does not imply that he is has grounds other than truth-functional for the utterance of the disjunction. He is just being wicked, and making a bad-taste joke. This totally extraneous scenario points to the fact that the implication of a disjunction is cancellable.Once we re-apply it to the ‘Where in the hell in your house your wife is? I hear the noise, but can’t figure!’ Mutatis mutandi with the Secretary to The Aristotelian Socieety, a man could say, “My wife is in the kitchen or in the bedroorn.”in circumstances in which the implication (that the man has grounds other than truth-functional for the uttering of the disjunction) would normally be present, but he is not being co-operative – since one doesn’t HAVE to be co-operative (This may be odd, that one appeals to helpfulness everywhere but when it comes to the annulation!).So the man goes on, “Mind you, I am not saying that I do not know which.”This is why we love Grice. Why I love Grice. One would never think of finding that sort of wicked English humour in, say Strawson. Strawson yet says that Grice should ‘let go.’ But to many, Grice is ALWAYS humorous, and making philosophy fun, into the bargain, if that’s not the same thing. Everybody else at the Play Group (notably the ones Grice opposed to: Strawson, Austin, Hare, Hampshire, and Hart) would never play with him. Pears, Warnock, and Thomson would!“Mind you, I am not saying that I do not know which.”A: Where in the house is your wife? I need to talk to her.B: She is in the kitchen – or in the bedroom. I know where she is – but since you usually bring trouble, I will make you decide so that perhaps like Buridan’s ass, you find the choice impossible and refrain from ‘talking’ (i. e. bringing bad news) to her.A: Where is your wife? B: In the kitchen or in the bedroom. I know where she is. But I also know you are always saying that you know my wife so well. So, calculate, by the time of the day – it’s 4 a.m – where she could be. A: Where is your wife? B: In the bedroom or in the kitchen. I know where she is – but remember we were reading Heidegger yesterday? He says that a kitchen is where one cooks, and a bedroom is where one sleeps. So I’ll let you decide if Heidegger has been refuted, should you find her sleeping in the kitchen, or cooking in the bedroom.A: Where is your wife? B: In the kitchen or the bedroom. I know where she is. What you may NOT know, is that we demolished the separating wall. We have a loft now. So all I’ll say is that she may be in both!  All this might be unfriendly, unocooperative, and perhaps ungrammatical for Austen [Grice pronounced the surname so that the Aristotelian Society members might have a doubt] – if not Vitters, but, on the other hand, it would be a perfectly intelligible thing for a (married) man to say. We may not even GO to bachelors. Finally, the fact that the utterance of the disjunctive sentence normally or standardly or caeteris paribus involves the implication of the emissor's ignorance of the truth-values of the disjuncts (or more strictly, the implication of the emissor’s having grounds other than truth-functional for the uttering of the disjunctive) is, I should like to say, to be ‘explained’ – and Grice is being serious here, since Austin never cared to ‘explain,’ even if he could -- by reference to a general principle governing – or if that’s not too strong, guiding – conversation, at least of the cooperative kind the virtues of which we are supposed to be exulting to our tuttees. Exactly what this principle we should not go there. To explain why the implicaturum that the emissor is having grounds other than truth-functional ones for the utterance of a disjunction one may appeal to the emissor being rational, assuming his emissee to be rational, and abiding by something that Grice does NOT state in the imperative form, but using what he calls a Hampshire modal (Grice divides the modals as Hampshire: ‘should,’ the weakest, ‘ought’ the Hare modal, the medium, and ‘must,’ Grice, the stronges)"One, a man, a rational man, should not make conversational move communicating ‘p’ which may be characterised (in strict terms of entailment) as weaker (i.e. poor at conversational fortitude) rather than a stronger (better at conversational fortitude) one unless there is a good reason for so doing." So Gentzen is being crazey-basey if he thinks:p; therefore, p or q.For who will proceed like that?“Or” is complicated, but so is ‘if.’ The Gentzen differs from the evaluation assignemt:‘p or q’ is 1 iff p is 1 or q is 1. When we speak of ‘truth-functional’ grounds it is this assignment above we are referring to.Of courseif p, p or q [a formulation of the Gentzen introduction]is a TAUTOLOGY [which is what makes the introduction a rule of inference].In terms of entailment P Or Q (independently)  Is stronger than ‘p v q’ In that either p or q entail ‘p or q’ but the reverse is not true. Grice says that he first thought of the pragmatic rule in terms of the theory of perception, and Strawson hints at this when he says in the footnote to “Introduction to Logical theory” that the rule was pointed out by his tutor in the Logic Paper, Grice, “in a different connection.” The logic paper took place before the war, so this is early enough in Grice’s career – so the ghosts of Whitehead and Russell were there! We can call the above ‘the principle of conversational fortitude.’ This is certainly not an adequate formulation but will perhaps be good enough for Grice’s purpose in “Causal.” On the assumption that such a principle as this is of general application, one can DRAW or infer or explain the conclusion that the utterance of a disjunctive sentence would imply that the emissor has grounds other than truth-functional for the uttering of a disjunctum, given that, first, the obvious reason for not making a statemcnt which there is some call on one to make VALIDLY is that one is not in a position (or entitled) to make it, and given, second, the logical ‘fact’ that each disjunct entails the disjunctive, but not vice versa; which being so, each disjunct is stronger (bears more conversational ‘fortitude’) than the disjunctive. If the outline just given is on the right lines, Grice would wish to say, we have a reason for REFUSING (as Strawson would not!) in the case of “kitchen or bedroom” to regard the implication of the emissor having grounds other than truth-functional for the uttering of the disjunctive as being part of the ‘meaning’ (whatever that ‘means’) of 'or' – but I should doublecheck with O. P. Wood – he’s our man in ‘or’ – A man who knows about the logical relation between a disjunction and each disjunct, i. e. a man who has at least BROWSED Whitehead and Russell – and diregards Bradley’s exclusivist account -- and who also ‘knew,’ qua Kantian rational agent, about the alleged general principle or guiding conversational, could work out for hirnself, surely, that a disjunctive utterance would involve the implication which it does in fact involve. Grice insists, however, that his aim in discussing this last point – about the principle of conversational fortitude EXPLAING the generation of the implicaturum -- has been merelyto indicate the position I would wish to take up, and not to argue scriously in favour of it. Grice’s main purpose in the excursus on implication was to introduce four ideas or catalysts, or tesets – TEST No. I: truth-value; TEST No. 2: Vehicle out of four; Test No. 3/Twin Test: Annulation and Non-Detachment (is there a positive way to express this – non-detached twins as opposed to CONJOINT twins), and Test No. 4 – ‘Meaning’ of expression? -- of which Grice then goes to make some use re: the pillar box seeming red.; and to provide some conception of the ways in which each of the four tests apply or fail to apply to various types of implication. By the numbering of it, it seems that by the time of Essay II he has, typically, added an extra. It’s FIVE catalysts now, but actually, since he has two of the previous tests all rolled up in one, it is SIX CATALSTS. He’ll go back to them in Essay IV (“Indicative conditionals” with regard to ‘if’), and in Presupposition and Conversational (with regard to Example I here: “You have not ceased eating iron”). Implicaturum.He needs those catalysts. Why? It seems like he is always thinking that someone will challenge him! This is Grice: “We can now show that, it having been stipulated as being what it is, a conversational implicaturum must possess certain distinctive features, they are six. By using distinctive feature Grice is serious. He wants each of the six catalysts to apply to each type of ‘implicaturum’, so that a table can be constructed. With answers yes/no. Or rather here are some catalyst ideas which will help us to determine or individuate. Six tests for implicaturum as it were. SO THESE FEATURES – six of them – apply to three of the examples – not the ‘poor but honest’ – but the “you have not ceased eating iron,” “Beautiful handwriting,” and “Kitchen or bedroom.”First test – nothing about the ‘twin’ – it’s ANNULATION or CANCELLABILITY – as noted in “Causal Theory” – for two of the examples (‘beautiful handwriting’ and ‘kitchen or bedroom’ and NEGATIVE version of “You don’t cease to eat iron”) and the one of the pillar box – He adds a qualifier now: the annulation should best be IMPLICIT. But for the fastidious philosopher, he allows for an EXPLICITATION which may not sound grammatical enough to Austen (pronounced to rhyme with the playgroup master, or the kindergarten’s master). To assume the presence of a conversational implicaturum, the philosopher (and emissee) has to assume that the principle of conversational co-operation (and not just conversational fortitude) is being observed.However, it is mighty possible to opt out of this and most things at Oxford, i. e. the observation of this principle of conversational cooperation (or the earlier principle of conversational fortitude).It follows then that now we CAN EXPLAIN WHY CANCELLABILITY IS A DISTINCTIVE FEATURE. He left it to be understood in “Causal.”It follows then, deductively, that an implicaturum can be canceled (or annulled) in a particular case. The conversational implicaturum may be, drearily – but if that’s what the fastidious philosopher axes -- explicitly canceled, if need there be, by the addition of a clause by which the utterer states or implies that he opts out (e. g. “The pillar box seems red but it is.” “Where is your wife?” “My lips are sealed”). Then again the conversational implicaturum may be contextually (or implicitly) canceled, as Grice prefers (e. g. to a very honest person, who knows I disbelieve the examiner exists, “The loyalty examiner won’t be summoning you at any rate”). The utterance that usually would carry an implicaturum is used on an occasion that makes it clear or obvious that the utterer IS opting out without having to bore his addressee by making this obviousness explicit. SECOND DISTINCTIVE FEATURE: CONJOINING, i.e. non-detachability.There is a second litmus test or catalyst idea.Insofar as the calculation that a implicaturum is present requires, besides contextual and background information only an intuitive rational knowledge or understanding or processing of what has been explicitly conveyed (‘are you playing squash? B shows bandaged leg) (or the, shall we say, ‘conventional’ ‘arbitrary’ ‘commitment’ of the utterance), and insofar as the manner or style, of FORM, rather than MATTER, of expression should play at best absolutely no role in the calculation, it is NOT possible to find another way of explicitly conveying or putting forward the same thing, the same so-and-so (say that q follows from p) which simply ‘lacks’ the unnecessary implicaturum in question -- except [will his excluders never end?] where some special feature of the substituted version [this other way which he says is not conceivable] is itself relevant to the determination of the implicaturum (in virtue of this or that conversational maxims pertaining to the category of conversational mode. THIS BIG CAVEAT makes you wonder that Grice regretted making fun of Kant. By adopting jocularly the four conversational categories, he now finds himself in having to give an excuse or exception for those implicatura generated by a flout to what he earlier referred to as the ‘desideratum of conversational clarity,’ and which he jocularly rephrased as a self-defeating maxim, ‘be perspicuous [sic], never mind perspicacious!’If we call this feature, as Grice does in “Causal Theory,” ‘non-detachability’ (or conjoining)– in that the implicaturum cannot be detached or disjointed from any alternative expression that makes the same point -- one may expect the implicaturum carried by this or that locution to have a high degree of non-detachability. ALTERNATIVES FOR “NOT” Not, it is not the case, it is false that. There’s nothing unique about ‘not’.ALTERNATIVES FOR “AND” and, nothing, furthermore, but. There isnothing unique about ‘and’ALTERNATIVES FOR “OR”: One of the following is true. There is nothing unique about ‘or’ALTERNATIVES FOR “IF” Provided. ‘There is nothing unique about ‘if’ALTERNATIVES FOR “THE” – There is at least one and at most one. And it exists. (existence and uniqueness). There is nothing unique about ‘the’.THIS COVERS STRAWSON’S first problem.What about the other English philosophers?AUSTIN – on ‘voluntarily’ ALTERNATIVES to ‘voluntarily,’ with the will, willingly, intentionally. Nothing unique about ‘voluntarily.’STRAWSON on ‘true’ – it is the case, redundance theory, nothing. Nothing unique about ‘true’HART ON good. To say that ‘x is commendable’ is to recommend x. Nothing unique about ‘good.’HART on ‘carefully.’ Da Vinci painted Mona Lisa carefully, with caution, with precaution. Nothing unique about ‘carefully.’THIRD LITMUS TEST or idea and ATTENDING THIRD  DISTINCTIVE FEATURE. THIRD DISTINCTIVE FEATURE is in the protasis of the conditional.The implicaturum depends on the explicatum or explicitum, and a fortiori, the implicaturum cannot INVOLVE anything that the explicatum involves – There is nothing about what an emissor explicitly conveys about “or” or a disjunctum in general, which has to do with the emissor having grounds other than truth-functional for the utterance of a disjunctum.The calculation of the presence of an implicaturum presupposes an initial knowledge, or grasping, or understanding, or taking into account of the ‘conventional’ force (not in Austin’s sense, but translating Latin ‘vis’) of the expression the utterance of which carries the implicaturum.A conversational implicaturum will be a condition (but not a truth-condition), i. e. a condition that is NOT, be definition, on risk of circularity of otiosity, included in what the emissor explicitly conveys, i. e. the original specification of the expression's ‘conventional’ or arbitrary forceIf I’m saying that ‘seems’ INVOLVES, as per conventional force, ‘doubt or denial,’what’s my point? If Strawson is right that ‘if’ has the conventional force of conventionally committing the utterer with the belief that q follows from p, why bother? And if that were so, how come the implicaturum is still cancellable?Though it may not be impossible for what starts life, so to speak, as a conversational implicaturum to become conventionalized, to suppose that this is so in a given case would require special justification. (Asking Lewis). So, initially at least, a conversational implicaturum is, by definition and stipulation, not part of the sense, truth-condition, conventional force, or part of what is explicitly conveyed or put forward, or ‘meaning’ of the expression to the employment of which the impicatum attaches. FOURTH LITMUS TEST or catalyst idea. Mentioned in “Causal theory” YIELDS THE FOUTH DISICTINVE FEATURE and the FIFTH distinctive feature.FOURTH DISTINCTIVE FEATURE: in the protasis of the conditional – truth value.The alethic value – conjoined with the test about the VEHICLE --. He has these as two different tests – and correspondingly two distinctive features in “Causal”. The truth of a conversational implicaturum is not required by (is not a condition for) the truth of what is said or explicitly conveyed (what is said or explicated – the explicatum or explicitum, or what is explicitly conveyed or communicated) may be true -- what is implicated may be false – that he has beautiful handwriting, that q follows from p, that the utterer is ENDORSING what someone else said, that the utterer is recommending x, that the person who is said to act carefully has taken precaution), FIFTH DISTINCTIVE FEATURE: vehicle – this is the FOURTH vehicle of the four he mentions in “Causal”: ‘what the emissor explicitly conveys,’ ‘the emissor himself,’ the emissor’s utterance, and fourth, the emissor’s explicitly conveying, or explicitly conveying it that way --. The apodosis of the conditional – or inferrability schema, since he uses ‘since,’ rather than ‘if,’ i. e. ‘GIVEN THAT p, q. Or ‘p; therefore, q’. The implicaturum is NOT carried by what is said or the EXPLICATUM or EXPLICITUM, or is explicitly conveyed, but only by the ‘saying’ or EXPLICATING or EXPLICITING of what is said or of the explicatum or explicitum, or by 'putting it that way.’The fifth and last litmus test or catalyst idea YIELDS A SIXTH DISTINCTIVE FEATURE:Note that he never uses ‘first, second, etc.’ just the numerals, which in a lecture format, are not visible!SIXTH DISTINCTIVE FEATURE: INDETERMINACY. Due to the open character of the reasoning – and the choices available to fill the gap of the content of the propositional attitude that makes the conversational rational:“He is potentially dishonest.” “His colleagues are treacherous”Both implicatura possible for “He hasn’t been to prison at his new job at the bank – yet.”Since, to calculate a conversational implicaturum is to calculate what has to be supposed in order to preserve the supposition that the utterer is a rational, benevolent, altruist agent, and that the principle of conversational cooperation is being observed, and since there may be various possible specific explanations or alternatives that fill the gap here – as to what is the content of the psychological attitude to be ascribed to the utterer, a list of which may be open, or open-ended, the conversational implicaturum in such cases will technically be an open-ended disjunction of all such specific explanations, which may well be infinitely non-numerable. Since the list of these IS open, the implicaturum will have just the kind of INDETERMINACY or lack of determinacy that an implicaturum appears in most cases to possess. indeterminacy of translation, a pair of theses derived, originally, from a thought experiment regarding radical translation first propounded by Quine in Word and Object (1960) and developed in his Ontological Relativity (1969), Theories and Things (1981), and Pursuit of Truth (1990). Radical translation is an imaginary context in which a field linguist is faced with the challenge of translating a hitherto unknown language. Furthermore, it is stipulated that the linguist has no access to bilinguals and that the language to be translated is historically unrelated to that of the linguist. Presumably, the only data the linguist has to go on are the observable behaviors of incompleteness indeterminacy of translation 422 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:39 AM Page 422 native speakers amid the publicly observable objects of their environment. (1) The strong thesis of indeterminacy, indeterminacy of translation of theoretical sentences as wholes, is the claim that in the context of radical translation a linguist (or linguists) could construct a number of manuals for translating the (natives’) source language into the (linguists’) target language such that each manual could be consistent with all possible behavior data and yet the manuals could diverge with one another in countless places in assigning different target-language sentences (holophrastically construed) as translations of the same source-language sentences (holophrastically construed), diverge even to the point where the sentences assigned have conflicting truth-values; and no further data, physical or mental, could single out one such translation manual as being the uniquely correct one. All such manuals, which are consistent with all the possible behavioral data, are correct. (2) The weak thesis of indeterminacy, indeterminacy of reference (or inscrutability of reference), is the claim that given all possible behavior data, divergent target-language interpretations of words within a source-language sentence could offset one another so as to sustain different targetlanguage translations of the same source-language sentence; and no further data, physical or mental, could single out one such interpretation as the uniquely correct one. All such interpretations, which are consistent with all the possible behavioral data, are correct. This weaker sort of indeterminacy takes two forms: an ontic form and a syntactic form. Quine’s famous example where the source-language term ‘gavagai’ could be construed either as ‘rabbit’, ‘undetached rabbit part’, ‘rabbithood’, etc. (see Word and Object), and his proxy function argument where different ontologies could be mapped onto one another (see Ontological Relativity, Theories and Things, and Pursuit of Truth), both exemplify the ontic form of indeterminacy of reference. On the other hand, his example of the Japanese classifier, where a particular three-word construction of Japanese can be translated into English such that the third word of the construction can be construed with equal justification either as a term of divided reference or as a mass term (see Ontological Relativity and Pursuit of Truth), exemplifies the syntactic form of indeterminacy of reference.

indexical: Bradley’s thisness, and whatness – “Grice is improving on Scotus: Aristotle’s tode ti is exactly Bradley’s thisness whatness – and more familiar to the English ear than Scotus feminine ‘haecceitas.’” “Russell, being pretentious, call Bradley’s “thisness” and “thatness,” but not “whatness” – as a class of the ‘egocentric particular’ --  a type of expression whose semantic value is in part determined by features of the context of utterance, and hence may vary with that context. Among indexicals are the personal pronouns, such as ‘I’, ‘you’, ‘he’, ‘she’, and ‘it’; demonstratives, such as ‘this’ and ‘that’; temporal expressions, such as ‘now’, ‘today’, ‘yesterday’; and locative expressions, such as ‘here’, ‘there’, etc. Although classical logic ignored indexicality, many recent practitioners, following Richard Montague, have provided rigorous theories of indexicals in the context of formal semantics. Perhaps the most plausible and thorough treatment of indexicals is by David Kaplan, a prominent philosopher of language and logic whose long-unpublished “Demonstratives” was especially influential; it eventually appeared in J. Almog, J. Perry, and H. Wettstein, eds., Themes from Kaplan. Kaplan argues persuasively that indexical singular terms are directly referential and a species of rigid designator. He also forcefully brings out a crucial lesson to be learned from indexicals, namely, that there are two types of meaning, which Kaplan calls “content” and “character.” A sentence containing an indexical, such as ‘I am hungry’, can be used to say different things in different contexts, in part because of the different semantic contributions made by ‘I’ in these contexts. Kaplan calls a term’s contribution to what is said in a context the term’s content. Though the content of an indexical like ‘I’ varies with its context, it will nevertheless have a single meaning in the language, which Kaplan calls the indexical’s character. This character may be conceived as a rule of function that assigns different contents to the indexical in different contexts.

implicaturum: in his Oxford seminars. Grice: “I distinguish between the ‘implicaturum’ and the ‘implicaturum.’” “The ‘implicaturum’ corresponds to Moore’s entailment.” “For the ‘pragmatic-type’ of thing, one should use ‘implicaturum.’” “The –aturum’ form is what at Clifton I learned as the future, and a ‘future’ twist it has, since it refers to the future.” “ ‘Implicaturum esse’ is, strictly, the infinitivum futurum, made out of the ‘esse’ plus the ‘indicaturum.’ We loved these things at Clifton!”

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

directum. “Searle thought he was being witty when adapting my implicaturum to what he called an Indirect Austinian thing. Holdcroft was less obvious!” – Grice. – indirectum -- indirect discourse, also called oratio obliqua, the use of words to report what others say, but without direct quotation. When one says “John said, ‘Not every doctor is honest,’ “ one uses the words in one’s quotation directly – one uses direct discourseto make an assertion about what John said. Accurate direct discourse must get the exact words. But in indirect discourse one can use other words than John does to report what he said, e.g., “John said that some physicians are not honest.” The words quoted here capture the sense of John’s assertion (the proposition he asserted). By extension, ‘indirect discourse’ designates the use of words in reporting beliefs. One uses words to characterize the proposition believed rather than to make a direct assertion. When Alice says, “John believes that some doctors are not honest,” she uses the words ‘some doctors are not honest’ to present the proposition that John believes. She does not assert the proposition. By contrast, direct discourse, also called oratio recta, is the ordinary use of words to make assertions. Grice struggled for years as to what the ‘fundamentum distinctionis’ is between the central and the peripheric communicatum. He played with first-ground versus second-ground. He played with two different crtieria: formal/material, and dictive-non-dictive. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “Holdcroft on direct and indirect communication.”

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

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

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

inductivism: “A philosophy of science invented by Popper and P. K. Feyerabend as a foil for their own views. Why, I must just have well invented ‘sensism’ as a foil for my theory of implicaturum!” -- According to inductivism, a unique a priori inductive logic enables one to construct an algorithm that will compute from any input of data the best scientific theory accounting for that data.

inductum: Not deductum, -- nor abductum -- epapoge, Grecian term for ‘induction’. Especially in the logic of Aristotle, epagoge is opposed to argument by syllogism. Aristotle describes it as “a move from particulars to the universal.” E.g., premises that the skilled navigator is the best navigator, the skilled charioteer the best charioteer, and the skilled philosopher the best philosopher may support the conclusion by epagoge that those skilled in something are usually the best at it. Aristotle thought it more persuasive and clearer than the syllogistic method, since it relies on the senses and is available to all humans. The term was later applied to dialectical arguments intended to trap opponents. R.C. epicheirema, a polysyllogism in which each premise represents an enthymematic argument; e.g., ‘A lie creates disbelief, because it is an assertion that does not correspond to truth; flattery is a lie, because it is a conscious distortion of truth; therefore, flattery creates disbelief’. Each premise constitutes an enthymematic syllogism. Thus, the first premise could be expanded into the following full-fledged syllogism: ‘Every assertion that does not correspond to truth creates disbelief; a lie is an assertion that does not correspond to truth; therefore a lie creates disbelief’. We could likewise expand the second premise and offer a complete argument for it. Epicheirema can thus be a powerful tool in oral polemics, especially when one argues regressively, first stating the conclusion with a sketch of support in terms of enthymemes, and then  if challenged to do so  expanding any or all of these enthymemes into standard categorical syllogisms.

illatum: A form of the conjugation Grice enjoyed was “inferentia,” cf essentia, sententia, prudentia, etc.. – see illatum -- Cf. illatio. Consequentia. Implicatio. Grice’s implicaturum and what the emissor implicates as a variation on the logical usage.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

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

infinite-off predicament, or ∞-off predicament.

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

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

informal logic: Grice preferred ‘material’ logic – “What Strawson means by ‘informal logic’ is best expressed by ‘ordinary-language logic,’ drawing on Bergmann’s distinction between the ordinary and the ideal.” Also called practical logic, the use of logic to identify, analyze, and evaluate arguments as they occur in contexts of discourse in everyday conversations. In informal logic, arguments are assessed on a case-by-case basis, relative to how the argument was used in a given context to persuade someone to accept the conclusion, or at least to give some reason relevant to accepting the conclusion.

informatum – “What has ‘forma’ to do with ‘inform’?” – Grice. While etymologically it means ‘to mould,’ Lewis and Short render ‘informare’ as “to inform, instruct, educate (syn.: “instruere, instituere): artes quibus aetas puerilis ad humanitatem informari solet,” Cic. Arch. 3, 4: “animus a natura bene informatus,” formed, id. Off. 1, 4, 13. I. e. “the soul is well informed by nature.” Informativus – informational. Grice distinguishes between the indicative and the informational. “Surely it is stupid to inform myself, but not Strawson, that it is raining. Grammarians don’t care, but I do!” information theory, also called communication theory, a primarily mathematical theory of communication. Prime movers in its development include Claude Shannon, H. Nyquist, R. V. L. Hartley, Norbert Wiener, Boltzmann, and Szilard. Original interests in the theory were largely theoretical or applied to telegraphy and telephony, and early development clustered around engineering problems in such domains. Philosophers (Bar-Hillel, Dretske, and Sayre, among others) are mainly interested in information theory as a source for developing a semantic theory of information and meaning. The mathematical theory has been less concerned with the details of how a message acquires meaning and more concerned with what Shannon called the “fundamental problem of communication” – reproducing at one point either exactly or approximately a message (that already has a meaning) selected at another point. Therefore, the two interests in information – the mathematical and the philosophical – have remained largely orthogonal. Information is an objective (mind-independent) entity. It can be generated or carried by messages (words, sentences) or other products of cognizers (interpreters). Indeed, communication theory focuses primarily on conditions involved in the generation and transmission of coded (linguistic) messages. However, almost any event can (and usually does) generate information capable of being encoded or transmitted. For example, Colleen’s acquiring red spots can contain information about Colleen’s having the measles and graying hair can carry information about her grandfather’s aging. This information can be encoded into messages about measles or aging (respectively) and transmitted, but the information would exist independently of its encoding or transmission. That is, this information would be generated (under the right conditions) by occurrence of the measles-induced spots and the age-induced graying themselves – regardless of anyone’s actually noticing. This objective feature of information explains its potential for epistemic and semantic development by philosophers and cognitive scientists. For example, in its epistemic dimension, a single (event, message, or Colleen’s spots) that contains informal logic information theory 435 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:40 AM Page 435 (carries) the information that Colleen has the measles is something from which one (mom, doctor) can come to know that Colleen has the measles. Generally, an event (signal) that contains the information that p is something from which one can come to know that p is the case – provided that one’s knowledge is indeed based on the information that p. Since information is objective, it can generate what we want from knowledge – a fix on the way the world objectively is configured. In its semantic dimension, information can have intentionality or aboutness. What is happening at one place (thermometer reading rising in Colleen’s mouth) can carry information about what is happening at another place (Colleen’s body temperature rising). The fact that messages (or mental states, for that matter) can contain information about what is happening elsewhere, suggests an exciting prospect of tracing the meaning of a message (or of a thought) to its informational origins in the environment. To do this in detail is what a semantic theory of information is about. The mathematical theory of information is purely concerned with information in its quantitative dimension. It deals with how to measure and transmit amounts of information and leaves to others the work of saying what (how) meaning or content comes to be associated with a signal or message. In regard to amounts of information, we need a way to measure how much information is generated by an event (or message) and how to represent that amount. Information theory provides the answer. Since information is an objective entity, the amount of information associated with an event is related to the objective probability (likelihood) of the event. Events that are less likely to occur generate more information than those more likely to occur. Thus, to discover that the toss of a fair coin came up heads contains more information than to discover this about the toss of a coin biased (.8) toward heads. Or, to discover that a lie was knowingly broadcast by a censored, state-run radio station, contains less information than that a lie was knowingly broadcast by a non-censored, free radio station (say, the BBC). A (perhaps surprising) consequence of associating amounts of information with objective likelihoods of events is that some events generate no information at all. That is, that 55 % 3125 or that water freezes at 0oC. (on a specific occasion) generates no information at all – since these things cannot be otherwise (their probability of being otherwise is zero). Thus, their occurrence generates zero information. Shannon was seeking to measure the amount of information generated by a message and the amount transmitted by its reception (or about average amounts transmissible over a channel). Since his work, it has become standard to think of the measure of information in terms of reductions of uncertainty. Information is identified with the reduction of uncertainty or elimination of possibilities represented by the occurrence of an event or state of affairs. The amount of information is identified with how many possibilities are eliminated. Although other measures are possible, the most convenient and intuitive way that this quantity is standardly represented is as a logarithm (to the base 2) and measured in bits (short for how many binary digits) needed to represent binary decisions involved in the reduction or elimination of possibilities. If person A chooses a message to send to person B, from among 16 equally likely alternative messages (say, which number came up in a fair drawing from 16 numbers), the choice of one message would represent 4 bits of information (16 % 24 or log2 16 % 4). Thus, to calculate the amount of information generated by a selection from equally likely messages (signals, events), the amount of information I of the message s is calculated I(s) % logn. If there is a range of messages (s1 . . . sN) not all of which are equally likely (letting (p (si) % the probability of any si’s occurrence), the amount of information generated by the selection of any message si is calculated I(si) % log 1/p(si) % –log p(si) [log 1/x % –log x] While each of these formulas says how much information is generated by the selection of a specific message, communication theory is seldom primarily interested in these measures. Philosophers are interested, however. For if knowledge that p requires receiving the information that p occurred, and if p’s occurrence represents 4 bits of information, then S would know that p occurred only if S received information equal to (at least) 4 bits. This may not be sufficient for S to know p – for S must receive the right amount of information in a non-deviant causal way and S must be able to extract the content of the information – but this seems clearly necessary. Other measures of information of interest in communication theory include the average information, or entropy, of a source, information theory information theory 436 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:40 AM Page 436 I(s) % 9p(si) $ I(si), a measure for noise (the amount of information that person B receives that was not sent by person A), and for equivocation (the amount of information A wanted or tried to send to B that B did not receive). These concepts from information theory and the formulas for measuring these quantities of information (and others) provide a rich source of tools for communication applications as well as philosophical applications. informed consent, voluntary agreement in the light of relevant information, especially by a patient to a medical procedure. An example would be consent to a specific medical procedure by a competent adult patient who has an adequate understanding of all the relevant treatment options and their risks. It is widely held that both morality and law require that no medical procedures be performed on competent adults without their informed consent. This doctrine of informed consent has been featured in case laws since the 1950s, and has been a focus of much discussion in medical ethics. Underwritten by a concern to protect patients’ rights to self-determination and also by a concern with patients’ well-being, the doctrine was introduced in an attempt to delineate physicians’ duties to inform patients of the risks and benefits of medical alternatives and to obtain their consent to a particular course of treatment or diagnosis. Interpretation of the legitimate scope of the doctrine has focused on a variety of issues concerning what range of patients is competent to give consent and hence from which ones informed consent must be required; concerning how much, how detailed, and what sort of information must be given to patients to yield informed consent; and concerning what sorts of conditions are required to ensure both that there is proper understanding of the information and that consent is truly voluntary rather than unduly influenced by the institutional authority of the physician.

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

inscriptum -- inscriptionalism -- nominalism. While Grice pours scorn on the American School of Latter-Day  Nominalists, nominalism, as used by Grice is possibly a misnomer. He doesn’t mean Occam, and Occam did not use ‘nominalismus.’ “Terminimus’ at most. So one has to be careful. The implicaturum is that the nominalist calls a ‘name’ what others shouldn’t.  Mind, Grice had two nominalist friends: S. N. Hamphsire (Scepticism and meaning”) and A. M. Quinton, of the play group! In “Properties and classes,” for the Aristotelian Society. And the best Oxford philosophical stylist, Bradley, is also a nominalist. There are other, more specific arguments against universals. One is that postulating such things leads to a vicious infinite regress. For suppose there are universals, both monadic and relational, and that when an entity instantiates a universal, or a group of entities instantiate a relational universal, they are linked by an instantiation relation. Suppose now that a instantiates the universal F. Since there are many things that instantiate many universals, it is plausible to suppose that instantiation is a relational universal. But if instantiation is a relational universal, when a instantiates F, a, F and the instantiation relation are linked by an instantiation relation. Call this instantiation relation i₂ (and suppose it, as is plausible, to be distinct from the instantiation relation (i₁) that links a and F). Then since i₂ is also a universal, it looks as if a, F, i₁ and i₂ will have to be linked by another instantiation relation i₃, and so on ad infinitum. (This argument has its source in Bradley 1893, 27–8.)

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

Swinehead: “I like Swinehead – it sounds almost like Grice!” – Grice.

solubile -- insolubile: “As opposed to the ‘piece-of-cake’ solubilia” – Grice. A solubile is a piece of a cake. An insolubile is a sentences embodying a semantic antinomy such as the liar paradox. The insolubile is used by philosophers to analyze a self-nullifying sentences, the possibility that every sentence implies that they are true, and the relation between a communicatum and an animatum (psi). At first, Grice focuses on nullification to explicate a sentence like ‘I am lying’ (“Mento.” “Mendax”) which, when spoken, entails that the utterer “says nothing.” Grice: “Bradwardine suggests that such a sentence as “Mento” signifies that it is at once true and false, prompting Burleigh to argue that every sentences implies that it is true.” “Swineshead uses the insolubile to distinguish between truth and correspondence to reality.” While ‘This sentence is false’ is itself false, it corresponds to reality, while its contradiction, ‘This sentence is not false,’ does not, although the latter is also false. “Wyclif uses the insolubile to describe the senses (or implicatura) in which a sentence can be true, which led to his belief in the reality of logical beings or entities of reason, a central tenet of his realism.” “d’Ailly uses the insolubile to explain how the animatum (or soul) differs from the communicatum, holding that there is no insoluble in the soul, but that communication lends itself to the phenomenon by admitting a single sentence corresponding to two distinct states of the soul. Grice: “Of course that was Swine’s unEnglish overstatement, ‘unsolvable;’ everything is solvable!” Refs.: H. P. Grice, “Liars at Oxford.”

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

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

intellectum: hile the ‘dianoia’ is the intellectus, the ‘intellectum’ is the Griceian diaphanous ‘what is understood.’ (dianoia): Grice was fascinated by Cicero. “The way he managed to translate the Grecian ‘dia’ by the ‘inter is genial!” As Short and Lewis have it, it’s from “inter-legere,” to see into, perceive, understand. “intelligere,” originally meaning to comprehend, appeared frequently in Cicero, then underwent a slippage in its passive form, “intelligetur,” toward to understand, to communicate, to mean, ‘to give it to be understood.’ What is understood – INTELLECTUM -- by an expression can be not only its obvious sense but also something that is connoted, implied, insinuated, IMPLICATED, as Grice would prefer. Verstand, corresponding to Greek dianoia and Latin intellectio] Kant distinguished understanding from sensibility and reason. While sensibility is receptive, understanding is spontaneous. While understanding is concerned with the range of phenomena and is empty without intuition, reason, which moves from judgment to judgment concerning phenomena, is tempted to extend beyond the limits of experience to generate fallacious inferences. Kant claimed that the main act of understanding is judgment and called it a faculty of judgment. He claimed that there is an a priori concept or category corresponding to each kind of judgment as its logical function and that understanding is constituted by twelve categories. Hence understanding is also a faculty of concepts. Understanding gives the synthetic unity of appearance through the categories. It thus brings together intuitions and concepts and makes experience possible. It is a lawgiver of nature. Herder criticized Kant for separating sensibility and understanding. Fichte and Hegel criticized him for separating understanding and reason. Some neo-Kantians criticized him for deriving the structure of understanding from the act of judgment. “Now we can reduce all acts of the understanding to judgements, and the understanding may therefore be represented as a faculty of judgement.” Kant, Critique of Pure Reason Intellectus -- dianoia, Grecian term for the faculty of thought, specifically of drawing conclusions from assumptions and of constructing and following arguments. The term may also designate the thought that results from using this faculty. We would use dianoia to construct a mathematical proof; in contrast, a being  if there is such a being it would be a god  that could simply intuit the truth of the theorem would use the faculty of intellectual intuition, noûs. In contrast with noûs, dianoia is the distinctly human faculty of reason. Plato uses noûs and dianoia to designate, respectively, the highest and second levels of the faculties represented on the divided line Republic 511de.  PLATO. E.C.H. dialectical argument dianoia 233   233 dichotomy paradox. Refs: Grice, “The criteria of intelligence.”

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

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

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

intervention -- intervening variable, in Grice’s philosophical psychology, a state of an organism, person or, as Grice prefers, a ‘pirot,’ (vide his ‘pirotology’) or ‘creature,’ postulated to explain the pirot’s behaviour and defined in ‘functioanlist,’ Aristotelian terms of its cause (perceptual input) and effect (the behavioural output to be explained by attribution of a state of the ‘soul’) rather than its intrinsic properties. A food drive or need for nuts, in a squarrel (as Grice calls his ‘Toby’) conceived as an intervening variable, is defined in terms of the number of hours without food (the cause) and the strength or robustness of efforts to secure it (effect).. The squarrel’s feeling hungry (‘needing a nut), is no longer an intrinsic property – the theoretical term ‘need’ is introduced in a ramseyified sentence by describing – and it need not be co-related to a state in the brain – since there is room for variable realisability. Grice sees at least three reasons for postulating an intervening variable (like the hours without nut-hobbling). First, time lapse between stimulus (perceptual input) and behavioural output may be large, as when an animal – even a squirrel -- eats food found hours earlier. Why did not the animal hobble the nut when it first found it? Perhaps at the time of discovery, the squarrel had already eaten, so food drive (the squarrel’s need) is reduced. Second, Toby may act differently in the same sort of situation, as when Toby hobbles a nut at noon one day but delay until sunset the next. Again, this may be because of variation in food drive or the squarrel’s need. Third, behaviour may occur in the absence of external stimulation or perceptual input, as when Toby forages for nut for the winter. This, too, may be explained by the strength of the food drive or squarrel’s need. An intervening variables has been viewed, as Grice notes reviewing Oxonian philosophical psychology from Stout to Ryle via Prichard) depending on the background theory, as a convenient ‘fiction’ (as Ramsey, qua theoretical construct) or as a psychologically real state, or as a physically real state with multiple realisability conditions. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “Method in philosophical psychology: from the banal to the bizarre,” in “The Conception of value.”

intuitum: Grice: “At Oxford, the tutor teaches to trust your ‘intuition’ – and will point to the cognateness of ‘tutor’ and ‘in-tuition’!” – tŭĕor , tuĭtus, 2 (  I.perf. only post-Aug., Quint. 5, 13, 35; Plin. Ep. 6, 29, 10; collat. form tūtus, in the part., rare, Sall. J. 74, 3; Front. Strat. 2, 12, 13; but constantly in the P. a.; inf. parag. tuerier, Plaut. Rud. 1, 4, 35; collat. form acc. to the 3d conj. tŭor , Cat. 20, 5; Stat. Th. 3, 151: “tuĕris,” Plaut. Trin. 3, 2, 82: “tuimur,” Lucr. 1, 300; 4, 224; 4, 449; “6, 934: tuamur,” id. 4, 361: “tuantur,” id. 4, 1004; imper. tuĕre, id. 5, 318), v. dep. a. [etym. dub.], orig., to see, to look or gaze upon, to watch, view; hence, pregn., to see or look to, to defend, protect, etc.: tueri duo significat; unum ab aspectu, unde est Ennii illud: tueor te senex? pro Juppiter! (Trag. v. 225 Vahl.); “alterum a curando ac tutela, ut cum dicimus bellum tueor et tueri villam,” Varr. L. L. 7, § 12 Müll. sq.—Accordingly, I. To look at, gaze at, behold, watch, view, regard, consider, examine, etc. (only poet.; syn.: specto, adspicio, intueor): quam te post multis tueor tempestatibus, Pac. ap. Non. 407, 32; 414, 3: “e tenebris, quae sunt in luce, tuemur,” Lucr. 4, 312: “ubi nil aliud nisi aquam caelumque tuentur,” id. 4, 434: “caeli templa,” id. 6, 1228 al.: “tuendo Terribiles oculos, vultum, etc.,” Verg. A. 8, 265; cf. id. ib. 1, 713: “talia dicentem jam dudum aversa tuetur,” id. ib. 4, 362: “transversa tuentibus hircis,” id. E. 3, 8: “acerba tuens,” looking fiercely, Lucr. 5, 33; cf. Verg. A. 9, 794: “torva,” id. ib. 6, 467.— (β). With object-clause: “quod multa in terris fieri caeloque tuentur (homines), etc.,” Lucr. 1, 152; 6, 50; 6, 1163.— II. Pregn., to look to, care for, keep up, uphold, maintain, support, guard, preserve, defend, protect, etc. (the predom. class. signif. of the word; cf.: “curo, conservo, tutor, protego, defendo): videte, ne ... vobis turpissimum sit, id, quod accepistis, tueri et conservare non posse,” Cic. Imp. Pomp. 5, 12: “ut quisque eis rebus tuendis conservandisque praefuerat,” Cic. Verr. 2, 4, 63, 140: “omnia,” id. N. D. 2, 23, 60: “mores et instituta vitae resque domesticas ac familiares,” id. Tusc. 1, 1, 2: “societatem conjunctionis humanae munifice et aeque,” id. Fin. 5, 23, 65: “concordiam,” id. Att. 1, 17, 10: rem et gratiam et auctoritatem suam, id. Fam. 13, 49, 1: “dignitatem,” id. Tusc. 2, 21, 48: “L. Paulus personam principis civis facile dicendo tuebatur,” id. Brut. 20, 80: “personam in re publicā,” id. Phil. 8, 10, 29; cf.: tuum munus, Planc. ap. Cic. Fam. 10, 11, 1: “tueri et sustinere simulacrum pristinae dignitatis,” Cic. Rab. Post. 15, 41: “aedem Castoris P. Junius habuit tuendam,” to keep in good order, Cic. Verr. 2, 1, 50, § 130; cf. Plin. Pan. 51, 1: “Bassum ut incustoditum nimis et incautum,” id. Ep. 6, 29, 10: “libertatem,” Tac. A. 3, 27; 14, 60: “se, vitam corpusque tueri,” to keep, preserve, Cic. Off. 1, 4, 11: “antea majores copias alere poterat, nunc exiguas vix tueri potest,” id. Deiot. 8, 22: “se ac suos tueri,” Liv. 5, 4, 5: “sex legiones (re suā),” Cic. Par. 6, 1, 45: “armentum paleis,” Col. 6, 3, 3: “se ceteris armis prudentiae tueri atque defendere,” to guard, protect, Cic. de Or. 1, 38, 172; cf.: “tuemini castra et defendite diligenter,” Caes. B. C. 3, 94: “suos fines,” id. B. G. 4, 8: “portus,” id. ib. 5, 8: “oppidum unius legionis praesidio,” id. B. C. 2, 23: “oram maritimam,” id. ib. 3, 34: “impedimenta,” to cover, protect, Hirt. B. G. 8, 2.—With ab and abl.: “fines suos ab excursionibus et latrociniis,” Cic. Deiot. 8, 22: “domum a furibus,” Phaedr. 3, 7, 10: mare ab hostibus, Auct. B. Afr. 8, 2.—With contra: “quos non parsimoniā tueri potuit contra illius audaciam,” Cic. Prov. Cons. 5, 11: “liberūm nostrorum pueritiam contra inprobitatem magistratuum,” Cic. Verr. 2, 1, 58, § 153; Quint. 5, 13, 35; Plin. 20, 14, 54, § 152; Tac. A. 6, 47 (41).—With adversus: “tueri se adversus Romanos,” Liv. 25, 11, 7: “nostra adversus vim atque injuriam,” id. 7, 31, 3: “adversus Philippum tueri Athenas,” id. 31, 9, 3; 42, 46, 9; 42, 23, 6: “arcem adversus tres cohortes tueri,” Tac. H. 3, 78; Just. 17, 3, 22; 43, 3, 4.—In part. perf.: “Verres fortiter et industrie tuitus contra piratas Siciliam dicitur,” Quint. 5, 13, 35 (al. tutatus): “Numidas in omnibus proeliis magis pedes quam arma tuta sunt,” Sall. J. 74, 3.!*? 1. Act. form tŭĕo , ēre: “censores vectigalia tuento,” Cic. Leg. 3, 3, 7: “ROGO PER SVPEROS, QVI ESTIS, OSSA MEA TVEATIS,” Inscr. Orell. 4788.— 2. tŭĕor , ēri, in pass. signif.: “majores nostri in pace a rusticis Romanis alebantur et in bello ab his tuebantur,” Varr. R. R. 3, 1, 4; Lucr. 4, 361: “consilio et operā curatoris tueri debet non solum patrimonium, sed et corpus et salus furiosi,” Dig. 27, 10, 7: “voluntas testatoris ex bono et aequo tuebitur,” ib. 28, 3, 17.—Hence, tūtus , a, um, P. a. (prop. well seen to or guarded; hence), safe, secure, out of danger (cf. securus, free from fear). A. Lit. (α). Absol.: “nullius res tuta, nullius domus clausa, nullius vita saepta ... contra tuam cupiditatem,” Cic. Verr. 2, 5, 15, § 39: “cum victis nihil tutum arbitrarentur,” Caes. B. G. 2, 28: “nec se satis tutum fore arbitratur,” Hirt. B. G. 8, 27; cf.: “me biremis praesidio scaphae Tutum per Aegaeos tumultus Aura feret,” Hor. C. 3, 29, 63; Ov. M. 8, 368: “tutus bos rura perambulat,” Hor. C. 4, 5, 17: “quis locus tam firmum habuit praesidium, ut tutus esset?” Cic. Imp. Pomp. 11, 31: “mare tutum praestare,” id. Fl. 13, 31: “sic existimabat tutissimam fore Galliam,” Hirt. B. G. 8, 54: “nemus,” Hor. C. 1, 17, 5: “via fugae,” Cic. Caecin. 15, 44; cf.: “commodior ac tutior receptus,” Caes. B. C. 1, 46: “perfugium,” Cic. Rep. 1, 4, 8: “tutum iter et patens,” Hor. C. 3, 16, 7: “tutissima custodia,” Liv. 31, 23, 9: “praesidio nostro pasci genus esseque tutum,” Lucr. 5, 874: “vitam consistere tutam,” id. 6, 11: “tutiorem et opulentiorem vitam hominum reddere,” Cic. Rep. 1, 2, 3: est et fideli tuta silentio Merces, secure, sure (diff. from certa, definite, certain), Hor. C. 3, 2, 25: “tutior at quanto merx est in classe secundā!” id. S. 1, 2, 47: “non est tua tuta voluntas,” not without danger, Ov. M. 2, 53: “in audaces non est audacia tuta,” id. ib. 10, 544: “externā vi non tutus modo rex, sed invictus,” Curt. 6, 7, 1: “vel tutioris audentiae est,” Quint. 12, prooem. § 4: “ cogitatio tutior,” id. 10, 7, 19: “fuit brevitas illa tutissima,” id. 10, 1, 39: “regnum et diadema tutum Deferens uni,” i. e. that cannot be taken away, Hor. C. 2, 2, 21: male tutae mentis Orestes, i. e. unsound, = male sanae, id. S. 2, 3, 137: quicquid habes, age, Depone tutis auribus, qs. carefully guarded, i. e. safe, faithful, id. C. 1, 27, 18 (cf. the opp.: auris rimosa, id. S. 2, 6, 46).—Poet., with gen.: “(pars ratium) tuta fugae,” Luc. 9, 346.— (β). With ab and abl.: tutus ab insidiis inimici, Asin. ap. Cic. Fam. 10, 31, 2: “ab insidiis,” Hor. S. 2, 6, 117: “a periculo,” Caes. B. G. 7, 14: “ab hoste,” Ov. H. 11, 44: “ab hospite,” id. M. 1, 144: “a conjuge,” id. ib. 8, 316: “a ferro,” id. ib. 13, 498: “a bello, id. H. (15) 16, 344: ab omni injuriā,” Phaedr. 1, 31, 9.— (γ). With ad and acc.: “turrim tuendam ad omnis repentinos casus tradidit,” Caes. B. C. 3, 39: “ad id, quod ne timeatur fortuna facit, minime tuti sunt homines,” Liv. 25, 38, 14: “testudinem tutam ad omnes ictus video esse,” id. 36, 32, 6.— (δ). With adversus: “adversus venenorum pericula tutum corpus suum reddere,” Cels. 5, 23, 3: “quo tutiores essent adversus ictus sagittarum,” Curt. 7, 9, 2: “loci beneficio adversus intemperiem anni tutus est,” Sen. Ira, 2, 12, 1: “per quem tutior adversus casus steti,” Val. Max. 4, 7, ext. 2: “quorum praesidio tutus adversus hostes esse debuerat,” Just. 10, 1, 7.—（ε) With abl.: incendio fere tuta est Alexandria, Auct. B. Alex. 1, 3.— b. Tutum est, with a subj. -clause, it is prudent or safe, it is the part of a prudent man: “si dicere palam parum tutum est,” Quint. 9, 2, 66; 8, 3, 47; 10, 3, 33: “o nullis tutum credere blanditiis,” Prop. 1, 15, 42: “tutius esse arbitrabantur, obsessis viis, commeatu intercluso sine ullo vulnere victoriā potiri,” Caes. B. G. 3, 24; Quint. 7, 1, 36; 11, 2, 48: “nobis tutissimum est, auctores plurimos sequi,” id. 3, 4, 11; 3, 6, 63.— 2. As subst.: tūtum , i, n., a place of safety, a shelter, safety, security: Tr. Circumspice dum, numquis est, Sermonem nostrum qui aucupet. Th. Tutum probe est, Plaut. Most. 2, 2, 42: “tuta et parvula laudo,” Hor. Ep. 1, 15, 42: “trepidum et tuta petentem Trux aper insequitur,” Ov. M. 10, 714: “in tuto ut collocetur,” Ter. Heaut. 4, 3, 11: “esse in tuto,” id. ib. 4, 3, 30: “ut sitis in tuto,” Cic. Fam. 12, 2, 3: “in tutum eduxi manipulares meos,” Plaut. Most. 5, 1, 7: “in tutum receptus est,” Liv. 2, 19, 6.— B. Transf., watchful, careful, cautious, prudent (rare and not ante-Aug.; “syn.: cautus, prudens): serpit humi tutus nimium timidusque procellae,” Hor. A. P. 28: “tutus et intra Spem veniae cautus,” id. ib. 266: “non nisi vicinas tutus ararit aquas,” Ov. Tr. 3, 12, 36: “id suā sponte, apparebat, tuta celeribus consiliis praepositurum,” Liv. 22, 38, 13: “celeriora quam tutiora consilia magis placuere ducibus,” id. 9, 32, 3.—Hence, adv. in two forms, tūtē and tūtō , safely, securely, in safety, without danger. a. Posit. (α). Form tute (very rare): “crede huic tute,” Plaut. Trin. 1, 2, 102: “eum tute vivere, qui honeste vivat,” Auct. Her. 3, 5, 9: “tute cauteque agere,” id. ib. 3, 7, 13.— (β). Form tuto (class. in prose and poetry): “pervenire,” Plaut. Mil. 2, 2, 70; Lucr. 1, 179: “dimicare,” Caes. B. G. 3, 24: “tuto et libere decernere,” id. B. C. 1, 2: “ut tuto sim,” in security, Cic. Fam. 14, 3, 3: “ut tuto ab repentino hostium incursu etiam singuli commeare possent,” Caes. B. G. 7, 36. — b. Comp.: “ut in vadis consisterent tutius,” Caes. B. G. 3, 13: “tutius et facilius receptus daretur,” id. B. C. 2, 30: “tutius ac facilius id tractatur,” Quint. 5, 5, 1: “usitatis tutius utimur,” id. 1, 5, 71: “ut ubivis tutius quam in meo regno essem,” Sall. J. 14, 11.— c. Sup. (α). Form tutissime: nam te hic tutissime puto fore, Pomp. ap. Cic. Att. 8, 11, A.— (β). Form tutissimo: “quaerere, ubi tutissimo essem,” Cic. Att. 8, 1, 2; cf. Charis. p. 173 P.: “tutissimo infunduntur oboli quattuor,” Plin. 20, 3, 8, § 14. Grice was especially interested in the misuses of intuition. He found that J. L. Austin (born in Lancaster) had “Northern intuitions.” “I myself have proper heart-of-England intuitions.” “Strawson has Cockney intuitions.” “I wonder how we conducted those conversations on Saturday mornings!” “Strictly, an intuition is a non-inferential knowledge or grasp, as of a proposition, concept, or entity, that is not based on perception, memory, or introspection; also, the capacity in virtue of which such cognition is possible. A person might know that 1 ! 1 % 2 intuitively, i.e., not on the basis of inferring it from other propositions. And one might know intuitively what yellow is, i.e., might understand the concept, even though ‘yellow’ is not definable. Or one might have intuitive awareness of God or some other entity. Certain mystics hold that there can be intuitive, or immediate, apprehension of God. Ethical intuitionists hold both that we can have intuitive knowledge of certain moral concepts that are indefinable, and that certain propositions, such as that pleasure is intrinsically good, are knowable through intuition. Self-evident propositions are those that can be seen (non-inferentially) to be true once one fully understands them. It is often held that all and only self-evident propositions are knowable through intuition, which is here identified with a certain kind of intellectual or rational insight. Intuitive knowledge of moral or other philosophical propositions or concepts has been compared to the intuitive knowledge of grammaticality possessed by competent users of a language. Such language users can know immediately whether certain sentences are grammatical or not without recourse to any conscious reasoning. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “My intutions.” BANC.

Ionian-sea-coast philosophy: Grice, “Or mar ionio, as the Italians have it!” -- the characteristically naturalist and rationalist thought of Grecian philosophers of the sixth and fifth centuries B.C. who were active in Ionia, the region of ancient Greek colonies on the coast of Asia Minor and adjacent islands. First of the Ionian philosophers were the three Milesians. Grice: “It always amused me that they called themselves Ionians, but then Williams, who founded Providence in the New World, called himself an Englishman!”. Refs.: H. P. Grice: “The relevance of Ionian philosophy today.”

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

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

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

esse:“est” (“Homo animale rationalis est” – Aristotle, cited by Grice in “Aristotle on the multiplicity of being”) – “is” is the third person singular form of the verb ‘be’, with at least three fundamental usages that philosophers distinguish according to the resources required for a proper semantic representation. First, there is the ‘is’ of existence, which Grice finds otiose – “Marmaduke Bloggs is a journalist who climbed Mt Everest on hands and knees – a typical invention by journalists”. (There is a unicorn in the garden: Dx (Ux8Gx)) uses the existential quantifier. Bellerophon’s dad: “There is a flying horse in the stable.” “That’s mine, dad.” – Then, second, there is the ‘is’ of identity (Hesperus is Phosphorus: j % k) employs the predicate of identity, or dyadic relation of “=,” as per Leibniz’s problem – “The king of France” – Kx = Ky. Then third there is the ‘is’ of predication, which can be essential (izzing) or accidentail (hazzing). (Samson is strong: Sj) merely juxtaposes predicate symbol and proper name. Some controversy attends the first usage. Some (notably that eccentric philosopher that went by the name of Meinong) maintain that ‘is’ applies more broadly than ‘exists.’ “Is” produces truths when combined with ‘deer’ and ‘unicorn.’ ‘Exists,’ rather than ‘is’, produces a truth when combined with ‘deer’ -- but not ‘unicorn’. Aquinas takes “esse” to denote some special activity that every existing thing necessarily performs, which would seem to imply that with ‘est’ they attribute more to an object than we do with ‘exists’. Other issues arise in connection with the second usage. Does, e.g. “Hesperus is Phosphorus,” attribute anything more to the heavenly body than its identity with itself? Consideration of such a question leads Frege, wrongly to conclude, in what Ryle calls the “Fido”-Fido theory of meaning that names (and other meaningful expressions) of ordinary language have a “sense” or “mode of presenting” the thing to which they refer that representations within our standard, extensional logical systems fail to expose. The distinction between the ‘is’ of identity and the ‘is’ of predication parallels Frege’s distinction between ‘objekt” and concept: words signifying objects stand to the right of the ‘is’ of identity and those signifying concepts stand to the right of the ‘is’ of predication. Although it seems remarkable that so many deep and difficult philosophical concepts should link to a single short and commonplace word, we should perhaps not read too much into that observation. Grecian and Roman indeed divide the various roles played by English’s compact copula among several constructions, but there are dialects, even within Oxford, that use the expression “is” for other purposes. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “Aristotle on the multiplicity of being.”

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

isocrates – Grice: “the chief rival of Plato.” A pupil of Socrates and also of Gorgias, Isocrates founds a play group or club in Athens – vide H. P. Grice, “Athenian dialectic” -- that attracts many aristocrats. Many of Isocrates’s philosophy touches on ‘dialectic.’ “Against the Sophists and On the Antidosis are most important in this respect. “On the antidosis” stands to Isocrates as the “Apology” of Plato stands to Socrates, a defense of Socrates against an attack not on his life, but on his property. The aim of Isocrates’s philosophy is good judgment in practical affairs, and he believes his contribution to Greece through education more valuable than legislation could possibly be. Isocrates repudiates instruction in theoretical (what he called ‘otiose’) philosophy, and insisted on distinguishing his teaching of rhetoric from the sophistry that gives clever speakers an unfair advantage. In politics Isocrates is a Panhellenic patriot, and urges the warring Greek city-states to unite under strong leadership and take arms against the Persian Empire. His most famous work, and the one in which he took the greatest pride, is the “Panegyricus,” a speech in praise of Athens. In general, Isocrates supports democracy in Athens, but toward the end of his life complained bitterly of abuses of the system.

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

izzing: Athenian and Oxonian dialectic.As Grice puts it, "Socrates, like us, was really trying to solve linguistic puzzles."This is especially true in the longer dialogues of Plato — the 'Republic' and the Laws'— where we learn quite a lot about Socrates' method and philosophy, filtered, of course, through his devoted pupil's mind.Some of the Pre-Socratics, who provide Plato and his master with many of their problems, were in difficulties about how one thing could be two things at once — say, a white horse. How could you say 'This is a horse and this is white' without saying 'This one thing is two things'? Socrates and Plato together solved this puzzle by saying that what was meant by saying 'The horse is white' is that the horse partakes of the eternal, and perfect, Form horseness, which was invisible but really more horselike than any worldly Dobbin; and ditto about the Form whiteness: it was whiter than any earthly white. The theory of Form covers our whole world of ships and shoes and humpty-dumptys, which, taken all in all, are shadows — approximations of those invisible, perfect Forms. Using the sharp tools in our new linguistic chest, we can whittle Plato down to size and say that he invented his metaphysical world of Forms to solve the problem of different kinds of 'is'es -- what Grice calls the 'izz' proper and the 'izz' improper ('strictly, a 'hazz').You see how Grice, an Oxford counterpart of Plato, uses a very simple grammatical tool in solving problems like this. Instead of conjuring up an imaginary edifice of Forms, he simply says there are two different types of 'is'es — one of predication and one of identity -- 'the izz' and the 'hazz not.' The first, the 'izz' (which is really a 'hazz' -- it is a 'hizz' for Socrates being 'rational') asserts a quality: this is white.' The second 'hazz' points to the object named: 'This is a horse.' By this simple grammatical analysis we clear away the rubble of what were Plato's Forms. That's why an Oxford philosopher loves Aristotle -- and his Athenian dialectic -- (Plato worked in suburbia, The Academy) -- who often, when defining a thing — for example, 'virtue' — asked himself, 'Does the definition square with the ordinary views (ta legomena) of men?' But while Grice does have this or that antecedent, he is surely an innovator in concentrating MOST (if not all) of his attention on what he calls 'the conversational implicaturum.'Grice has little patience with past philosophers.Why bother listening to men whose problems arose from bad grammar? (He excludes Ariskant here). At present, we are mostly preoccupied with language and grammar. Grice would never dream of telling his tutee what he ought to do, the kind of life he ought to lead.That was no longer an aim of philosophy, he explained, but even though philosophy has changed in its aims and methods, people have not, and that was the reason for the complaining tutees -- the few of them -- , for the bitter attacks of Times' correspondents, and even, perhaps, for his turning his back on philosophy. Grice came to feel that Oxford philosophy was a minor revolutionary movement — at least when it is seen through the eyes of past philosophers. I asked him about the fathers of the revolution. Again he was evasive. Strictly speaking, the minor revolution is fatherless, except that Bertrand Russell, G. E. Moore, and Vitters — all of them, as it happened, Cambridge University figures — "are responsible for the present state of things at Oxford." under ‘conjunctum,’ we see that there is an alternative vocabulary, of ‘copulatum.’ But Grice prefers to narrow the use of ‘copula’ to izzing’ and ‘hazzing.’ Oddly, Grice sees izzing as a ‘predicate,’ and symbolises it as Ixy. While he prefers ‘x izzes y,’ he also uses ‘x izz y.’ Under izzing comes Grice’s discussion of essential predicate, essence, and substance qua predicabilia (secondary substance). As opposed to ‘hazzing,’ which covers all the ‘ta sumbebeka,’ or ‘accidentia.’ Refs.: H. P. Grice, “Aristotle on the multiplicity of ‘being.’”

jacobi: man of letters, popular novelist, and author of several influential philosophical works. His “Ueber die Lehre des Spinoza” precipitates a dispute with Mendelssohn on Lessing’s alleged pantheism. The ensuing Pantheismusstreit (pantheism controversy) focused attention on the apparent conflict between human freedom and any systematic, philosophical interpretation of reality. In the appendix to his David Hume über den Glauben, oder Idealismus und Realismus (“David Hume on Belief, or Idealism and Realism,” 1787), Jacobi scrutinized the new transcendental philosophy of Kant, and subjected Kant’s remarks concerning “things-in-themselves” to devastating criticism, observing that, though one could not enter the critical philosophy without presupposing the existence of things-in-themselves, such a belief is incompatible with the tenets of that philosophy. This criticism deeply influenced the efforts of post-Kantians (e.g., Fichte) to improve transcendental idealism. In 1799, in an “open letter” to Fichte, Jacobi criticized philosophy in general and transcendental idealism in particular as “nihilism.” Jacobi espoused a fideistic variety of direct realism and characterized his own standpoint as one of “nonknowing.” Employing the arguments of “Humean skepticism,” he defended the necessity of a “leap of faith,” not merely in morality and religion, but in every area of human life. Jacobi’s criticisms of reason and of science profoundly influenced German Romanticism. Near the end of his career he entered bitter public controversies with Hegel and Schelling concerning the relationship between faith and knowledge.

james: w. New-World philosopher, psychologist, and one of the founders of pragmatism. He was born in New York, the oldest of five children and elder brother of the novelist Henry James and diarist Alice James. Their father, Henry James, Sr., was an unorthodox religious philosopher, deeply influenced by the thought of Swedenborg, some of which seeped into William’s later fascination with psychical research. The James family relocated to Cambridge, Massachusetts, but the father insisted on his children obtaining an Old-World education, and prolonged trips to England and the Continent were routine, a procedure that made William multilingual and extraordinarily cosmopolitan. In fact, a pervasive theme in James’s personal and creative life was his deep split between things New-World and Old-World Europe: he felt like a bigamist “coquetting with too many countries.” As a person, James is extraordinarily sensitive to psychological and bodily experiences. He could be described as “neurasthenic” – afflicted with constant psychosomatic symptoms such as dyspepsia, vision problems, and clinical depression. In 1868 he recorded a profound personal experience, a “horrible fear of my own existence.” In two 1870 diary entries, James first contemplates suicide and then pronounces his belief in free will and his resolve to act on that belief in “doing, suffering and creating.” Under the influence of the then burgeoning work in experimental psychology, James attempted to sustain, on empirical grounds, his belief in the self as Promethean, as self-making rather than as a playing out of inheritance or the influence of social context. This bold and extreme doctrine of individuality is bolstered by his attack on both the neo-Hegelian and associationist doctrines. He held that both approaches miss the empirical reality of relations as affectively experienced and the reality of consciousness as a “stream,” rather than an aspect of an Absolute or simply a box holding a chain of concepts corresponding to single sense impressions. In 1890, James published his masterpiece, The Principles of Psychology, which established him as the premier psychologist of the Euro-American world. It was a massive compendium and critique of virtually all of the psychology literature then extant, but it also claimed that the discipline was in its infancy. James believed that the problems he had unearthed could only be understood by a philosophical approach. James held only one academic degree, an M.D. from Harvard, and his early teaching at Harvard was in anatomy and physiology. He subsequently became a professor of psychology, but during the writing of the Principles, he began to teach philosophy as a colleague of Royce and Santayana. From 1890 forward James saw the fundamental issues as at bottom philosophical and he undertook an intense inquiry into matters epistemological and metaphysical; in particular, “the religious question” absorbed him. The Will to Believe and Other Essays in Popular Philosophy was published in 1897. The lead essay, “The Will to Believe,” had been widely misunderstood, partly because it rested on unpublished metaphysical assumptions and partly because it ran aggressively counter to the reigning dogmas of social Darwinism and neo-Hegelian absolutism, both of which denigrated the personal power of the individual. For James, one cannot draw a conclusion, fix a belief, or hold to a moral or religious maxim unless all suggestions of an alternative position are explored. Further, some alternatives will be revealed only if one steps beyond one’s frame of reference, seeks novelty, and “wills to believe” in possibilities beyond present sight. The risk taking in such an approach to human living is further detailed in James’s essays “The Dilemma of Determinism” and “The Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life,” both of which stress the irreducibility of ambiguity, the presence of chance, and the desirability of tentativeness in our judgments. After presenting the Gifford Lectures in 1901– 02, James published his classic work, The Varieties of Religious Experience, which coalesced his interest in psychic states both healthy and sick and afforded him the opportunity to present again his firm belief that human life is characterized by a vast array of personal, cultural, and religious approaches that cannot and should not be reduced one to the other. For James, the “actual peculiarities of the world” must be central to any philosophical discussion of truth. In his Hibbert Lectures of 1909, published as A Pluralistic Universe, James was to represent this sense of plurality, openness, and the variety of human experience on a wider canvas, the vast reach of consciousness, cosmologically understood. Unknown to all but a few philosophical correspondents, James had been assiduously filling notebooks with reflections on the mind–body problem and the relationship between meaning and truth and with a philosophical exploration and extension of his doctrine of relations as found earlier in the Principles. In 1904–05 James published a series of essays, gathered posthumously in 1912, on the meaning of experience and the problem of knowledge. In a letter to François Pillon in 1904, he writes: “My philosophy is what I call a radical empiricism, a pluralism, a ‘tychism,’ which represents order as being gradually won and always in the making.” Following his 1889 essay “On Some Omissions of Introspective Psychology” and his chapter on “The Stream of Thought” in the Principles, James takes as given that relations between things are equivalently experienced as the things themselves. Consequently, “the only meaning of essence is teleological, and that classification and conception are purely teleological weapons of the mind.” The description of consciousness as a stream having a fringe as well as a focus, and being selective all the while, enables him to take the next step, the formulation of his pragmatic epistemology, one that was influenced by, but is different from, that of Peirce. Published in 1907, Pragmatism generated a transatlantic furor, for in it James unabashedly states that “Truth happens to be an idea. It becomes true, is made true by events.” He also introduces the philosophically notorious claim that “theories” must be found that will “work.” Actually, he means that a proposition cannot be judged as true independently of its consequences as judged by experience. James’s prose, especially in Pragmatism, alternates between scintillating and limpid. This quality led to both obfuscation of his intention and a lulling of his reader into a false sense of simplicity. He does not deny the standard definition of truth as a propositional claim about an existent, for he writes “woe to him whose beliefs play fast and loose with the order which realities follow in his experience; they will lead him nowhere or else make false connexions.” Yet he regards this structure as but a prologue to the creative activity of the human mind. Also in Pragmatism, speaking of the world as “really malleable,” he argues that man engenders truths upon reality. This tension between James as a radical empiricist with the affirmation of the blunt, obdurate relational manifold given to us in our experience and James as a pragmatic idealist holding to the constructing, engendering power of the Promethean self to create its own personal world, courses throughout all of his work. James was chagrined and irritated by the quantity, quality, and ferocity of the criticism leveled at Pragmatism. He attempted to answer those critics in a book of disparate essays, The Meaning of Truth (1909). The book did little to persuade his critics; since most of them were unaware of his radically empirical metaphysics and certainly of his unpublished papers, James’s pragmatism remained misunderstood until the publication of Perry’s magisterial two-volume study, The Thought and Character of William James (1935). By 1910, James’s heart disease had worsened; he traveled to Europe in search of some remedy, knowing full well that it was a farewell journey. Shortly after returning to his summer home in Chocorua, New Hampshire, he died. One month earlier he had said of a manuscript (posthumously published in 1911 as Some Problems in Philosophy), “say that by it I hoped to round out my system, which is now too much like an arch only on one side.” Even if he had lived much longer, it is arguable that the other side of the arch would not have appeared, for his philosophy was ineluctably geared to seeking out the novel, the surprise, the tychistic, and the plural, and to denying the finality of all conclusions. He warned us that “experience itself, taken at large, can grow by its edges” and no matter how laudable or seductive our personal goal, “life is in the transitions.” The Works of William James, including his unpublished manuscripts, have been collected in a massive nineteen-volume critical edition by Harvard University Press (1975–88). His work can be seen as an imaginative vestibule into the twentieth century. His ideas resonate in the work of Royce, Unamuno, Niels Bohr, Husserl, M. Montessori, Dewey, and Wittgenstein. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “William James’s England and what he learned there!”