I
I:
PHILOSOPIHCAL SUBJECT INDEX
IN-, philosophical prefix. Notably
in “in plicaturum.” Antonym: ex-
INTER-, philosophical prefix
I: NAME INDEX – FILOSOFO ITALIANO
I: NAME INDEX – male ENGLISH OXONIAN
PHILOSOPHER
IN-LATUM: 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. When it came to rationality –
Grice was especially irritated by the adjective ‘theoretical’ as applied to
‘reason’. “Kant was cleverer when he used the metaphorical ‘pure’!” --
theoretical reason – Grice preferred ‘conversational reason.’ “There’s no need
to divide reason into pure and impure!’ -- in its traditional sense, a faculty
or capacity whose province is theoretical knowledge or inquiry; more broadly,
the faculty concerned with ascertaining truth of any kind also sometimes called
speculative reason. In Book 6 of his Metaphysics, Aristotle identifies
mathematics, physics, and theology as the subject matter of theoretical reason.
Theoretical reason is traditionally distinguished from practical reason, a
faculty exercised in determining guides to good conduct and in deliberating
about proper courses of action. Aristotle contrasts it, as well, with
productive reason, which is concerned with “making”: shipbuilding, sculpting,
healing, and the like. Kant distinguishes theoretical reason not only from
practical reason but also sometimes from the faculty of understanding, in which
the categories originate. Theoretical reason, possessed of its own a priori
concepts “ideas of reason”, regulates the activities of the understanding. It
presupposes a systematic unity in nature, sets the goal for scientific inquiry,
and determines the “criterion of empirical truth” Critique of Pure Reason.
Theoretical reason, on Kant’s conception, seeks an explanatory “completeness”
and an “unconditionedness” of being that transcend what is possible in
experience. Reason, as a faculty or capacity, may be regarded as a hybrid
composed of theoretical and practical reason broadly construed or as a unity
having both theoretical and practical functions. Some commentators take
Aristotle to embrace the former conception and Kant the latter. Reason is
contrasted sometimes with experience, sometimes with emotion and desire,
sometimes with faith. Its presence in human beings has often been regarded as
constituting the primary difference between human and non-human animals; and
reason is sometimes represented as a divine element in human nature. Socrates,
in Plato’s Philebus, portrays reason as “the king of heaven and earth.” Hobbes,
in his Leviathan, paints a more sobering picture, contending that reason, “when
we reckon it among the faculties of the mind, . . . is nothing but
reckoning that is, adding and
subtracting of the consequences of
general names agreed upon for the marking and signifying of our thoughts.”
IN-LUMINATUM:
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.
IN-LUSUM: in-nludo -- illusion: Grice: “The etymology of illusion is fascinating – lusion
is of course from ludo, game, so ‘inludo’ is the verb we must be look for – if
you have an illusion, you are ‘playing with yourself’ -- 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.
IMITATVM
– Imago -- imaginatum – imago – from “imago” – imago)
"copy, imitation, likeness; statue, picture," also "phantom,
ghost, apparition," figuratively "idea, appearance," from stem
of imitari "to copy, imitate" (from PIE root *aim- "to
copy").
The root of ‘imago’ is cognate with that
of ‘emulate,’ aemulatum – and the verb is under imitor -- Discussed by Grice in “Vacuous Names.” A population may imagine
that a certain expeditioner, Marmaduke Bloggs, climbed Mt. Everest on hands and
knees. He is the imaginatum. 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
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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.
IN-MANENS
-- anens,
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.
INTER-PRETATVM
-- interpretatum: h
“While ‘heremneia’ sounds poetic and sweet, ‘interpretatio’ sounds thomistic
and rough!” – H. P. Grice. “Plus ‘hermeneia is metaphorical.’ hermeneia:
hermeneutics, the art or theory of interpretation, as well as a type of
philosophy that starts with questions of interpretation. Originally concerned
more narrowly with interpreting sacred texts, the term acquired a much broader
significance in its historical development and finally became a philosophical
position in twentieth-century G. philosophy. There are two competing positions
in hermeneutics: whereas the first follows Dilthey and sees interpretation or
Verstehen as a method for the historical and human sciences, the second follows
Heidegger and sees it as an “ontological event,” an interaction between
interpreter and text that is part of the history of what is understood.
Providing rules or criteria for understanding what an author or native “really”
meant is a typical problem for the first approach. The interpretation of the
law provides an example for the second view, since the process of applying the
law inevitably transforms it. In general, hermeneutics is the analysis of this
process and its conditions of possibility. It has typically focused on the
interpretation of ancient texts and distant peoples, cases where the
unproblematic everyday understanding and communication cannot be assumed.
Schleiermacher’s analysis of understanding and expression related to texts and
speech marks the beginning of hermeneutics in the modern sense of a scientific
methodology. This emphasis on methodology continues in nineteenth-century
historicism and culminates in Dilthey’s attempt to ground the human sciences in
a theory of interpretation, understood as the imaginative but publicly
verifiable reenactment of the subjective experiences of others. Such a method
of interpretation reveals the possibility of an objective knowledge of human
beings not accessible to empiricist inquiry and thus of a distinct methodology
for the human sciences. One result of the analysis of interpretation in the
nineteenth century was the recognition of “the hermeneutic circle,” first
developed by Schleiermacher. The circularity of interpretation concerns the
relation of parts to the whole: the interpretation of each part is dependent on
the interpretation of the whole. But interpretation is circular in a stronger
sense: if every interpretation is itself based on interpretation, then the
circle of interpretation, even if it is not vicious, cannot be escaped.
Twentieth-century hermeneutics advanced by Heidegger and Gadamer radicalize
this notion of the hermeneutic circle, seeing it as a feature of all knowledge
and activity. Hermeneutics is then no longer the method of the human sciences
but “universal,” and interpretation is part of the finite and situated
character of all human knowing. “Philosophical hermeneutics” therefore
criticizes Cartesian foundationalism in epistemology and Enlightenment
universalism in ethics, seeing science as a cultural practice and prejudices or
prejudgments as ineliminable in all judgments. Positively, it emphasizes
understanding as continuing a historical tradition, as well as dialogical
openness, in which prejudices are challenged and horizons broadened.
IN-PERATVM -- 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.
IN-PLICATVM. Grice: “It is obvious that
the Romans used this creatively, ‘plico in,’ ‘in-plico.’ The assimilation of
the ‘n’ into ‘m’ before ‘p’ is only vugar!” -- IN-PLICATVRVM -- implicaturum: Grice, “Fortunately, philosophy’s
main verb, “to imply,” ‘implicare,’ is like amare, perfectly regular.. So we
have implicans, who is the utterer or his utterance, the implicaturum, which is
the utterance that implies in the future, and the impilicatum – By way of
nominalization, or what I call subjectification or category shift we do have
‘impliatura,’ qua noun – But surely ‘implicatura’ qua feminine noun should be
distinguished from the non-categorially shifted ‘implicatura’ as plural of
‘implicaturum.’ There is no category shift in thinking of an expression as a
vehicle of an ‘implicatum’. This vehicle is the implicaturum when seen as the
expression itself. The utterer is the implicans. And then there’s the
‘implicandtum.’ Similarly, in definition, we speak of definiens and definiendum
– definiturum – The definies is what defines. This applies strictly to the
‘definer’ – the human being. The definiturum if in plural applies to the
expression that defines, -- when in masculine, definiturus, it applies to the
definer. Similarly we may say that he who is implies is an IMPLIER, or an
IMPLICATURUS. We do speak of a professor as being ‘a great explicator.’ So we
shoud speak of myself as a great implicator. 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!” 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. Grice fought with this. It’s a
term of art, and he mainly wants to avoid, fastidiously, equivocation. “I say
fastidiously because at Oxford, few – Hare is one of them – followed suit --.
Most stuck with ‘implicatio.’ “So, if we
stick with Roman, we have ‘implicatio.’ This gives English ‘implication,’
because the Anglo-Norman nominative proceeded via the Roman accusative, i. e.
‘implicationem.’ The use of –ure is also Anglo-Norman, for Roman ‘-ura.’ So we
have ‘implicatura,’ and in Anglo-Norman, ‘implicature.’ ‘Implicatio’ is a
feminine noun, and so is ‘implicatura.’ ‘Implicatio’ is a ‘active voice’ noun;
so is ‘implicatura.’ The Roman allows for a correlative neuter to the past
participle, ‘implicatum,’ or ‘implicitum’ (there are vowel alternation here).
So, the two neuter correlative active forms for the two neuter passive perfect
forms, ‘implicatum’ and ‘implicitum’ are ‘implicaturum’ and ‘impliciturum.’
Kneale has expanded on the use of ‘implicans.’ If ‘implicans’ is the active
PRESENT participle for ‘implicare,’ ‘implicaturum’ is the active FUTURE
participle. There is no need to specify the vehicle, as per Kneale, ‘propositio
implicans,’ ‘propositio implicata’ – Since ‘implicatura’ is definitely
constructed out of the active-voice future participle, we should have in fact a
trio, where the two second items get two variants, each: the implicans, the
implicaturum/impliciturum, and the implicatum/implicitum. Note that in the
present participle, the vowel alternation does not apply: there’s ‘implicans’
(masculine, feminine, and neuter) only, which then yields, in the neuter forms,
the future, ‘implicaturum’/’impliciturum,’ and the perfect,
‘implicatum’/’implicitum.’ The same for ‘explicare’: explicatio, explicatura,
-- explicans, yielding explicaturum/expliciturm, explicatum/explciitum. Note
that when I speak of what is seen, ‘see’ being diaphanous, I refer to ‘visum,’
what is seen. – There is no need, and in fact it is best not to, spceficy the
vehicle. The Romans used the neuter, singular, for each case --.” “If I were serious about ‘implicature’ being
feminine, I would speak of the ‘implicata’ as a singular form, but I do not. I
use ‘implicatum,’ what is implied – and use ‘implicata’ as plural neuter. Since
an implicatum is usually indeterminate, it’s best to refer to the plural,
‘implicata’ – Ditto for the ‘implicaturum,’ which becomes, in the plural,
‘implicatura.’ – the vehicles are various in that stress, emphasis, context,
all change the vehicle, somehow --. Implicatio then is like ‘conceptio,’ it is
an abstract form (strictly feminine) that has a process-producti ambiguity that
the neuter family: implicans, implicaturum/impliciturm, implicatum/implicitum
avoids. Note that while –ure form in Anglo-Norman does not derive from the
accusative, as ‘implication,’ does hence no accusative nasal ‘n’ (of
‘implicatioN,’ but not ‘implicatio’) in ‘implicature.’ The fact that the
Anglo-Normans confused it all by turning this into ‘employ,’ and ‘imply’ should
not deter the Oxonian for his delightful coinages!” 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; implicā́tum. implicitura (Latin
Dictionary) lemma part voice mood tense
gender number case implicare verb active participle future feminine
singularnominative ablative vocative lemma part voice mood tense gender number
case implicare verb active participle future neuter plural nominative
accusative vocative INFLECTION Temporal inflection present – masculine
implicans future – masculine impliciturus / implicaturus present – feminine
implicans future – feminine implicitura / implicatura present – neuter
implicans future – neuter impliciturum / implicaturum. De camptgii , vel
eampacis dicemus inlra in vita Galheni apud TtebeUtum Pollionem, ratdeiorum
cajcci ISc imperatotum ita vocabantur , non "gamba," vel
"campa," qua pro crure pofteriores wfuipatunt, quod crure tenus
calcea xeniui: id k corrigiarum flexuris, & implicaturis , quibus
circumligabantur. lologiae et Mercurii
di Marziano Capella (I 68), e avanza una nuova ipotesi di ... naculis implicaturis in
retia sua praecipites implagabuntur, syllogismis tuae pro- ... miliae suae
longo ordine ac multis stemmatum inligata flexuris in
parte prima. It may be argued that when Grice compares ‘impicature’ to “the
‘implying,’ that’s a feminine form, cognate with German/Dutch, -ung. Cf. Grice,
“The conception of value” – The conceiving of value,” the concept of value, the
conceptus of value, the conceptum of value. Active
Nominal Forms Present participle: cōncipiēns; cōncipiéntis Future participle:
cōnceptúrus Passive Nominal Forms Perfect participle: cōnceptum. Since Grice
plays with this in “Conception of value,” let’s compare. “Grice: “It is worth
comparing ‘to conceive’ with ‘to employ’.” Active present participle: implicans
– concipiens, concipientis --. Active future participle:
implicaturum/impliciturm, concepturus --. Passive perfect participle:
implicatum/implicitum – conceptum. Hardie would ask, “what do you mean ‘of’?” –
The implication of implication. The conception of value. In an objective
(passive) interpretation: it’s the conceptum of ‘value’. In a subjective
(active) interpretion, it’s the ‘conceiving’ of ‘value.’ Cfr. “the love of
god,” “the fear of the enemy.” “The implication of implication.” For Grice,
it’s the SENDER who implicates, a rational agent – although he may allow for an
expression to ‘imply’ – via connotation --, and provided the sender does, or
would occasionally do. In terms of the subjective/active, and objective/passive
distinction, we would have, ‘implication,’ as in Strawson’s implication,
meaning Strawson’s ‘implying’ (originally a feminine noun), i. e. Strawson’s
‘implicatio’ and Strawson’s ‘implicatura’, and Strawson’s ‘implicature,’ and
Strawson’s ‘implicaturum’/’impliciturm.’ In terms of the passive/objective
realm, what is implied by Strawson – the implicatum, and the implicitum. There
passive interpretation allows for only one form (with two vowel alternates):
implicatum and implicitum. The active forms can be present: ‘implicans’ and
‘implicaturum’. If it’s Strawson the ‘implier’ – implicans is ‘masculine.’ If
it’s Strawson the one about to imply, it’s “Strawson implicaturus” --. By use
of the genitive – “Ciceronis” we would have, “implicatura Ciceronis” – Cicero’s
implicature --, Cicero the implier, Cicero implicans --. Surely Cicero did
something to imply. This ‘something’ is best conceived in the neuter,
‘implicans,’ as applied, say, to sententia, or propositio – ‘propositio
implicans – ‘sententia implicans’ – ‘implicatura’ would refer to the act of
implying – as the conceiving of value --. Since ‘implicatura’ is formed out of
the future participle, its corresponding form in the neuter would be
‘implicaturum.’ By his handwave (implicaturum/implicitum – qua vehicle of
Cicero’s implicature – or implicatura – his act of implying), Cicero
(implicans) implies (implicat) this or that ‘implicatum’ or ‘implicitum.’ 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 1Lyrics
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.
IN-POSITVM
–
Grice: “Again, the assimilation of the ‘n’ to ‘m’ before ‘p’ is only vulgar!”
-- impositum: “An apt term by Boezio,” Grice. There’s preposition, proposition,
supposition, and imposition! 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.’ The distinction between a terms of ‘prima
impositio’ and ‘secunda impositio’ belongs to the realm of the communicatum, while
the parallel distinction between terms of first and second ‘intentio’ belongs
to the realm of the animatum A ‘prima intentio’ (intentio re re), frst
intention is, broadly, thoughts about trees, stones, colours, etc. A ‘intentio
secunda,’ (intention de sensu), second intention, is a thought about a first
intention. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “De sensu implicaturum.”
IN-DUCTVM
-- 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. inductum -- 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.
IN-LATUM -- 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.
IN-FINITVM -- infinitum: Cantor, G. Grice
thought that “I know there are infinitely many stars” is a stupid thing to say
-- one of a number of late nineteenthcentury philosophers including Frege,
Dedekind, Peano, Russell, and Hilbert who transformed both mathematics and the
study of its philosophical foundations. The philosophical import of Cantor’s
work is threefold. First, it was primarily Cantor who turned arbitrary
collections into objects of mathematical study, sets. Second, he created a
coherent mathematical theory of the infinite, in particular a theory of
transfinite numbers. Third, linking these, he was the first to indicate that it
might be possible to present mathematics as nothing but the theory of sets,
thus making set theory foundational for mathematics. This contributed to the
Camus, Albert Cantor, Georg 116 116
view that the foundations of mathematics should itself become an object of
mathematical study. Cantor also held to a form of principle of plenitude, the
belief that all the infinities given in his theory of transfinite numbers are
represented not just in mathematical or “immanent” reality, but also in the
“transient” reality of God’s created world. Cantor’s main, direct achievement
is his theory of transfinite numbers and infinity. He characterized as did Frege
sameness of size in terms of one-to-one correspondence, thus accepting the
paradoxical results known to Galileo and others, e.g., that the collection of
all natural numbers has the same cardinality or size as that of all even
numbers. He added to these surprising results by showing 1874 that there is the
same number of algebraic and thus rational numbers as there are natural
numbers, but that there are more points on a continuous line than there are
natural or rational or algebraic numbers, thus revealing that there are at
least two different kinds of infinity present in ordinary mathematics, and
consequently demonstrating the need for a mathematical treatment of these
infinities. This latter result is often expressed by saying that the continuum
is uncountable. Cantor’s theorem of 2 is a generalization of part of this, for
it says that the set of all subsets the power-set of a given set must be
cardinally greater than that set, thus giving rise to the possibility of
indefinitely many different infinities. The collection of all real numbers has
the same size as the power-set of natural numbers. Cantor’s theory of
transfinite numbers 0 97 was his developed mathematical theory of infinity,
with the infinite cardinal numbers the F-, or aleph-, numbers based on the
infinite ordinal numbers that he introduced in 0 and 3. The F-numbers are in
effect the cardinalities of infinite well-ordered sets. The theory thus
generates two famous questions, whether all sets in particular the continuum
can be well ordered, and if so which of the F-numbers represents the
cardinality of the continuum. The former question was answered positively by
Zermelo in 4, though at the expense of postulating one of the most
controversial principles in the history of mathematics, the axiom of choice.
The latter question is the celebrated continuum problem. Cantor’s famous
continuum hypothesis CH is his conjecture that the cardinality of the continuum
is represented by F1, the second aleph. CH was shown to be independent of the
usual assumptions of set theory by Gödel 8 and Cohen 3. Extensions of Cohen’s
methods show that it is consistent to assume that the cardinality of the
continuum is given by almost any of the vast array of F-numbers. The continuum
problem is now widely considered insoluble. Cantor’s conception of set is often
taken to admit the whole universe of sets as a set, thus engendering
contradiction, in particular in the form of Cantor’s paradox. For Cantor’s
theorem would say that the power-set of the universe must be bigger than it, while,
since this powerset is a set of sets, it must be contained in the universal
set, and thus can be no bigger. However, it follows from Cantor’s early 3
considerations of what he called the “absolute infinite” that none of the
collections discovered later to be at the base of the paradoxes can be proper
sets. Moreover, correspondence with Hilbert in 7 and Dedekind in 9 see Cantor,
Gesammelte Abhandlungen mathematischen und philosophischen Inhalts, 2 shows
clearly that Cantor was well aware that contradictions will arise if such
collections are treated as ordinary sets.
“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 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.
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.
IN-SCRIPTVM -- 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.)
IN-SINUATUM -- 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. Merton school.
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.”
IN-STITUTUM
-- 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.”
INTER-LEGO: intellectum: The noun is ‘intellectus.’ But what is understood is ‘the
intellectum’ – cf. ‘implicatum’ -- 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.”
IN-TENSVM – EX-TENSVM -- 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.
IN-TENSVUM -- 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.
INTER-SUB-IAECTVM
-- 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.
INTER-VENTUM -- 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.”
IN-TUITUM -- 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.”
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!" iron-age physics: Grice on Russellian compresence,
an unanalyzable relation in terms of which Russell, in his later writings
especially in Human Knowledge: Its Scope and Limits, 8, took concrete
particular objects to be analyzable. Concrete particular objects are analyzable
in terms of complexes of qualities all of whose members are compresent.
Although this relation can be defined only ostensively, Russell states that it
appears in psychology as “simultaneity in one experience” and in physics as
“overlapping in space-time.” Complete complexes of compresence are complexes of
qualities having the following two properties: 1 all members of the complex are
compresent; 2 given anything not a member of the complex, there is at least one
member of the complex with which it is not compresent. He argues that there is
strong empirical evidence that no two complete complexes have all their
qualities in common. Finally, space-time pointinstants are analyzed as complete
complexes of compresence. Concrete particulars, on the other hand, are analyzed
as series of incomplete complexes of compresence related by certain causal
laws.
SEQUITVR/NON-SEQVITVR
-- 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.
Istituto italiano per gli studi
filosofici: the title is telling, This is an institute for philosophical
studies, aka ‘research.’ Cf. Witters, “Philosophische untersuchungen,”
translated as ‘investigations.’ Grice prefers ‘studio,’ as in ‘studi’ (Studies
in the way of words).
italicus -- italiano: Italian philosophy. Grice loved it and
could recite an Italian philosopher for each letter of the alphabet, including
the famous Alessandro Speranza, from Milano! Grice: “Of course there is a
longtitudinal unity between Graeco-Roman philosophy and Italian philosophy;
Italian after all IS Latin. I experienced the ‘inglese italianato, diavolo
incarnato’ at Oxford – especially with the ‘aesthetes.’!” Grice: “Short and Lewis have an entry for “Italicus,”
which unhelpfully render as “Italian”!” --. Grice: “In any case, Italians don’t
use ‘Italian’ much – they prefer ‘Roman,’ as in ‘Graeco-Roman.’” an evolution from Roman, or Latin. A
topic that fascinated Grice. Grice: “Most of Italian philosophical vocabulary,
if not all, is Roman in origin. There
are a few terms from Etrurian, and even fewer from Uscan. This is good, because
Anglo-Saxon, like Roman, are Aryan, so the roots have a bite with an Englishman
like me.” Grice: “Most Italians regard ‘Italian’ as a universal. There’s
Tuscan, and Ligurian, and Venetian. But no Italian!” Grice: “There is a continuity between Roman
and Italian (or vernacular, as the Italians prefer). Some Italian snobs call
Italian the ‘volgare,’ but then vulgus is Deutsche, the people!” --. Italian:
Grice: “Latin is a member of the Italic family of the Indo-European Languages.
Romantic is another.” -- H. P. Grice:
“It’s absurd the little Oxonians know about Italy – it’s all about the Grand
Tour! The only Oxonian seriously into things Italian, that I know of, are
Collingwood, Bosanquet, and the fashionable Hegelians!” “As a response, I
propose to lecture on Italian philosophy, with a view to implicature.” Italy over the ages has had a vast influence on
Western philosophy, beginning with the Greeks and Romans, and going onto
Renaissance humanism, the Age of Enlightenment and modern philosophy. Philosophy is brought to Italy by Pythagoras,
founder of the Italian school of philosophy in Crotone. Major Italian philosophers of the Grecian period
include: Xenophanes, Parmenides, Zeno, Empedocles, and, lastly, Gorgias, responsible for bringing philosophy to
Athens. There are several
formidable Roman philosophers, such as: Cicero, Lucretius, Seneca, Musonius Rufus, Plutarch, Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, Clement of Alexandria, Alcinous, Sextus Empiricus, Alexander of Aphrodisias, Ammonius Saccas, Plotinus, Porphyry, Iamblichus, Themistius, Augustine of Hippo, Proclus, Philoponus of Alexandria, Damascius, Boethius, and Simplicius of Cilicia. Roman philosophy is heavily influenced by that
of Greece. Italian mediaeval
philosophy is mainly Christian, and includes several important philosophers and
theologians such as Thomas Aquinas. Aquinas is a student of Albert the Great, a
brilliant Dominican experimentalist, much like the Franciscan Roger Bacon of
Oxford. Aquinas reintroduces
Aristotelian philosophy to Christianity. Aquinas believes that there is no contradiction
between faith and secular reason. Aquinas believes that Aristotle achieves the
pinnacle in the human striving for truth, and thus adopts Aristotle's
philosophy as a framework in constructing his theological and philosophical
outlook. Aquinas is a professor
at the prestigious University of Paris. The Renaissance is an essentially Italian
(Florentine) movement, and also a great period of the arts and philosophy. Among the distinctive elements of Renaissance
philosophy are: — the revival
(renaissance means "rebirth") of classical civilisation and learning. — a partial return to the authority of Plato
over Aristotle, who had come to dominate later medieval philosophy; and — among some philosophers, enthusiasm for the
occult and Hermeticism. As with all periods,
there is a wide drift of dates, reasons for categorization and boundaries. In particular, the Renaissance, more than later
periods, is thought to begin in Italy with the Italian Renaissance and roll
through Europe. Renaissance Humanism was
a European intellectual movement that was a crucial component of the
Renaissance, beginning in Florence, and affected most of Italy. The humanist movement develops from the
rediscovery by European scholars of Latin literary and Greek literary texts. Initially, a humanist was simply a scholar or
teacher of Latin literature. Humanism describes a curriculum – the “studia humanitatis” – consisting
of grammar, rhetoric, moral philosophy, poetry, and history, as studied via
Latin and Greek literary authors. Humanism offers the necessary intellectual and
philological tools for the first critical analysis of texts. An early triumph of textual criticism by Lorenzo
Valla reveals the Donation of Constantine to be an early medieval forgery
produced in the Curia. This textual criticism
creates sharper controversy when Erasmus follows Valla in criticising the
accuracy of the Vulgate translation of the New Testament, and promoting
readings from the original Greek manuscripts of the New Testament. Italian Renaissance humanists believe that the
liberal arts (art, music, grammar, rhetoric, oratory, history, poetry, using
classical texts, and the studies of all of the above) should be practiced by
all levels of "richness". Italian humanists also approve of self, human
worth and individual dignity. Italian humanists hold the belief that everything in life has a
determinate nature, but man's privilege is to be able to choose his own path. Pico della Mirandola writes the following
concerning the creation of the universe and man's place in it: “But when the work was finished, the Craftsman
kept wishing that there were someone to ponder the plan of so great a work, to
love its beauty, and to wonder at its vastness.” “Therefore, when everything was done, He finally
took thought concerning the creation of man.” “He therefore took man as a creature of
indeterminate nature and, assigning him a place in the middle of the world,
addressed him thus.” “”Neither a fixed abode
nor a form that is thine alone nor any function peculiar to thyself have we
given thee, Adam, to the end that according to thy longing and according to thy
judgement thou mayest have and possess what abode, what form and what functions
thou thyself shalt desire.”” “”The nature of all other beings is limited and constrained within
the bounds of law.”” “”Thou shalt have the
power to degenerate into the lower forms of life, which are brutish.”” “”Thou shalt have the power, out of thy soul's
judgement, to be born into the higher forms, which are divine."” Italy is also affected by a movement called
Neoplatonism, which is a movement which had a general revival of interest in
Classical antiquity. Interest in Platonism is
especially strong in Florence under the Medici. During the sessions at Florence of the Council
of Ferrara-Florence, during the failed attempts to heal the schism of the
Orthodox and Catholic churches, Cosimo de' Medici and his intellectual circle
make acquaintance with the Neoplatonic philosopher George Gemistos Plethon. Plethon’s discourses upon Plato and the
Alexandrian mystics so fascinate the learned society of Florence that they name
him the second Plato. John Argyropoulos is
lecturing on Greek language and literature at Florence, and Marsilio Ficino
becomes his pupil. When Cosimo de’ Medici
decides to refound Plato's Academy at Florence, his choice to head it is
Ficino, who makes the classic translation of Plato from Greek to Latin, as well
as a translation of a collection of Hellenistic Greek documents of the Hermetic
Corpus, and the writings of many of the Neoplatonists, for example Porphyry,
Iamblichus, Plotinus, et al.. Following suggestions laid out by Gemistos Plethon, Ficino tries
to synthesize Christianity and Platonism. Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli is an
Italian philosopher, and is considered one of the most influential Italian
Renaissance philosophers and one of the main founders of modern political
science. Machiavelli’s most
famous work is “The Prince.” “The Prince”’s contribution to the history of political thought is
the fundamental break between political realism and political idealism. Machiavelli’s best-known essay exposits and
describes the arts with which a ruling prince can maintain control of his
realm. The essay concentrates
on the "new prince", under the presumption that a hereditary prince
has an easier task in ruling, since the people are accustomed to him. To retain power, the hereditary prince must
carefully maintain the socio-political institutions to which the people are
accustomed; whereas a new prince has the more difficult task in ruling, since
he must first stabilize his new-found power in order to build an enduring
political structure. That requires the prince
being a public figure above reproach, whilst privately acting immorally to
maintain his state. The examples are those
princes who most successfully obtain and maintain power, drawn from
Machiavelli’s observations as a Florentine diplomat, and his ancient history
readings; thus, the Latin phrases and Classic examples. “The Prince” politically defines “virtu” as any
quality that helps a prince rule his state effectively. Machiavelli is aware of the irony of good
results coming from evil actions, and because of this, the Catholic Church
proscribes “The Prince,” registering it to the “Index Librorum Prohibitorum,”
moreover, the Humanists also viewed the essay negatively, among them, Erasmus
of Rotterdam. As a treatise, the
primary intellectual contribution of Machiavelli’s “Prince” to the history of
political thought is the fundamental break between political Realism and
political Idealism — thus, “The Prince” is a manual
to acquiring and keeping political power. In contrast with Plato and Aristotle, a Classical
ideal society is not the aim of the prince’s will to power. As a political philosopher, Machiavelli
emphasises necessary, methodical exercise of brute force and deception to
preserve the status quo. Between Machiavelli's
advice to ruthless and tyrannical princes in “The Prince” and his more
republican exhortations in “Discorsi,” some conclude that “The Prince” is
actually only a satire. Jean-Jacques Rousseau,
for instance, admires Machiavelli the republican and, consequently, argues that
“The Prince” is an essay for the republicans as it exposes the methods used by
princes. If “The Prince” is only
intended as a manual for tyrannical rulers, it contains a paradox: It is apparently more effective if the secrets
“The Prince” contains would *not* be made publicly available. Also Antonio Gramsci argues that Machiavelli's
audience is the common people because the rulers already know these methods
through their education. This interpretation is
supported by the fact that Machiavelli writes in the vernacular, Italian, not
in Latin (which would have been the language of the ruling elite). Although Machiavelli is supposed to be a
realist, many of his heroes in “The Prince” are in fact mythical or
semi-mythical, and his goal (i.e. the unification of Italy) essentially utopian
at the time of writing. Many of Machiavelli’s
contemporaries associate him with the political tracts offering the idea of
“Reason of State”, an idea proposed most notably in the writings of Jean Bodin
and Giovanni Botero. To this day, contemporary
usage of “Machiavellian” is an adjective describing someone who is "marked
by cunning, duplicty, or bad faith.” “The Prince” is the treatise that is most
responsible for the term being brought about. To this day, "Machiavellian" remains a
popular term used in casual and political contexts, while in psychology,
"Machiavellianism" denotes a personality type. Cesare Beccaria is one of the greatest writers
of the Italian Age of Enlightenment. Italy is also affected by the enlightenment, a
movement which is a consequence of the Renaissance and changes the road of
Italian philosophy. Followers of the group
often meet to discuss in private salons and coffeehouses, notably in the cities
of Milan, Rome and Venice. Cities with important
universities such as Padua, Bologna and Naples, however, also remain great
centres of scholarship and the intellect, with several philosophers, such as
Giambattista Vico (who is widely regarded as being the founder of modern
Italian philosophy) and Antonio Genovesi. Italian society also dramatically changes during
the Enlightenment, with rulers such as Leopold II of Tuscany abolishing the
death penalty. The church's power is
significantly reduced, and it is a period of great thought and invention, with
scientists such as Alessandro Volta and Luigi Galvani discovering new things
and greatly contributing to Western science. Beccaria is also one of the greatest Italian
Enlightenment writers, who is famous for his masterpiece “Of Crimes and
Punishments.” Italy also has a
renowned philosophical movement with Idealism, Sensism and Empiricism. The main Sensist Italian philosophers are Gioja
and Romagnosi. Criticism of the Sensist
movement comes from other philosophers such as Pasquale Galluppi, who affirms
that a priori relationships are synthetic. Antonio Rosmini, instead, is the founder of
Italian Idealism. The most comprehensive
view of Rosmini's philosophical standpoint is to be found in his “Sistema
filosofico,” in which he sets forth the conception of a complete encyclopaedia
of the human knowable, synthetically conjoined, according to the order of
ideas, in a perfectly harmonious whole. Contemplating the position of recent philosophy
from Locke to Hegel, and having his eye directed to the ancient and fundamental
problem of the origin, truth and certainty of our ideas, Rosmini writes: “If philosophy is to be restored to love and
respect, I think it will be necessary, in part, to return to the teachings of
the ancients, and in part to give those teachings the benefit of modern
methods.” — Theodicy, a. 148. Rosmini examines and analyses the fact of human knowledge, and
obtains the following results: — the notion or idea of being or existence in general enters into,
and is presupposed by, all our acquired cognitions, so that, without it, they
would be impossible. — this idea is
essentially objective, inasmuch as what is seen in it is as distinct from and
opposed to the mind that sees it as the light is from the eye that looks at it. — the idea is essentially true, because being
and truth are convertible terms, and because in the vision of it the mind
cannot err, since error could only be committed by a judgment, and here there
is no judgment, but a pure intuition affirming nothing and denying nothing. — by the application of this essentially objective
and true idea the human being intellectually perceives, first, the animal body
individually conjoined with him, and then, on occasion of the sensations
produced in him not by himself, the causes of those sensations, that is, from
the action felt he perceives and affirms an agent, a being, and therefore a
true thing, that acts on him, and he thus gets at the external world, these are
the true primitive judgments, containing the subsistence of the particular
being (subject), and its essence or species as determined by the quality of the
action felt from it (predicate) — reflection, by separating the essence or species from the
subsistence, obtains the full specific idea (universalization), and then from
this, by leaving aside some of its elements, the abstract specific idea
(abstraction). — the mind, having
reached this stage of development, can proceed to further and further
abstracts, including the first principles of reasoning, the principles of the
several sciences, complex ideas, groups of ideas, and so on without end, and,
finally, — the same most
universal idea of being, this generator and formal element of all acquired
cognitions, cannot itself be acquired, but must be innate in us, implanted by
God in our nature. Being, as naturally
shining to our mind, must therefore be what men call the light of reason. Hence the name Rosmini gives it of ideal being;
and this he lays down as the fundamental principle of all philosophy and the
supreme criterion of truth and certainty. This Rosmini believes to be the teaching of St
Augustine, as well as of St Thomas, of whom he was an ardent admirer and
defender. In the 19th century,
there are also several other movements which gain some form of popularity in
Italy, such as Ontologism. The main Italian son of this
philosophical movement is Vincenzo Gioberti, a metaphysician. Gioberti's writings are more important than his
political career. In the history of
Italian philosophy they stand apart. As the speculations of Rosmini-Serbati, against
which he wrote, have been called the last link added to medieval thought, so
the system of Gioberti, known as Ontologism, more especially in his greater and
earlier works, is unrelated to other modern schools of thought. It shows a harmony with the Roman Catholic faith
which caused Cousin to declare that Italian philosophy was still in the bonds
of theology, and that Gioberti was no philosopher. Method is with Gioberti a synthetic, subjective
and psychological instrument. Gioberti reconstructs, as he declares, ontology, and begins with
the ideal formula, the "Ens" creates ex nihilo the existent. God is the only being (Ens). All other things are merely existences. God is the origin of all human knowledge (called
lidea, thought), which is one and so to say identical with God himself. It is directly beheld (intuited) by reason, but
in order to be of use it has to be reflected on, and this by means of language. A knowledge of being and existences (concrete,
not abstract) and their mutual relations, is necessary as the beginning of philosophy. Gioberti is in some respects a Platonist. Gioberti identifies religion with civilization,
and in his treatise “Del primato morale e civile degli Italiani” he arrives at
the conclusion that the church is the axis on which the well-being of human life
revolves. In it Gioberti affirms
the idea of the supremacy of Italy, brought about by the restoration of the
papacy as a moral dominion, founded on religion and public opinion. In his later works, the “Rinnovamento” and the
“Protologia,” Gioberti is thought by some to have shifted his ground under the
influence of events. Gioberti’s first work
had a personal reason for its existence. A fellow-exile and friend, Paolo Pallia, having
many doubts and misgivings as to the reality of revelation and a future life,
Gioberti at once set to work with “La Teorica del sovrannaturale,” which was
his first publication. After this,
philosophical treatises follow in rapid succession. The “Teorica” is followed by “Introduzione allo
studio della filosofia.” In this work Gioberti
states his reasons for requiring a new method and new terminology. Here Gioberti brings out the doctrine that
religion is the direct expression of the idea in this life, and is one with
true civilization in history. Civilization is a conditioned mediate tendency to perfection, to
which religion is the final completion if carried out. It is the end of the second cycle expressed by
the second formula, the Ens redeems existences. Essays on the lighter and more popular subjects,
“Del bello” and “Del buono,” follow the “Introduzione.” “Del primato morale e civile degli Italiani” and
the “Prolegomeni” to the same, and soon afterwards his triumphant exposure of
the Jesuits, “Il Gesuita moderno,” no doubt hastens the transfer of rule from
clerical to civil hands. It is the popularity of
these semi-political works, increased by other occasional political articles,
and his “Rinnovamento civile d'Italia,” that causes Gioberti to be welcomed
with such enthusiasm on his return to his native country. All these works are perfectly orthodox, and aid
in drawing the liberal clergy into the movement which results since his time in
the unification of Italy. The Jesuits, however,
closed round the pope more firmly after his return to Rome, and in the end
Gioberti's writings are placed on the Index. The remainder of his works, especially “La
Filosofia della Rivelazione” and the “Prolologia,” give his mature views on
many points. Other Ontological
philosophers include Terenzio Mamiani, Luigi Ferri, and Ausonio Franchi. Augusto Vera is probably the greatest Italian
Hegelianist philosopher. It is during his
studies, with his cousin in Paris, that Vera comes to know about philosophy and
through them he acquires knowledge of Hegelianism and it culminates during the
events of the French Revolution. In England Vera continues his studies of Hegelian philosophy. During his years in Naples, Vera maintains
relationships with the Philosophical Society of Berlin, which originally
consists of Hegelians, and keeps up to date with both the German and the French
Hegelian literature. Vera undertakes a close
commentary of Hegel's “Introduzione alla filosofia.” Much of Vera’s work on neo-Hegelian theories are
undertaken with Bertrando Spaventa. Some see the Italian Hegelian doctrine as
leading to Italian Fascism. Some of the most prominent philosophies and ideologies in Italy
also include anarchism, communism, socialism, futurism, fascism, and Christian
democracy. Both futurism and
fascism (in its original form, now often distinguished as Italian fascism) are
developed in Italy at this time. Italian Fascism is the official philosophy and ideology of the
Italian government. Giovanni Gentile is one
of the greatest Italian Idealist/Fascist philosophers, who greatly supports
Benito Mussolini. Gentile has a great
number of developments within his thought and career which define his
philosophy: — the discovery of
Actual Idealism in his work “Theory of the Pure Act” — the political favour he felt for the invasion
of Libya and the entry of Italy into The Great War. — the dispute with Benedetto Croce over the
historic inevitability of Fascism. — his role as education minister. — Gentile’s belief that Fascism can be made to
be subservient to his thought and the gathering of influence through the work
of such students as Ugo Spirito. Benedetto Croce writes that Gentile "holds the honour of
being the most rigorous neo–Hegelian in the entire history of Western
philosophy and the dishonour of being the official philosopher of Fascism in
Italy." Gentile’s philosophical
basis for fascism is rooted in his understanding of ontology and epistemology,
in which he finds vindication for the rejection of individualism, acceptance of
collectivism, with the state as the ultimate location of authority and loyalty
to which the individual found in the conception of individuality no meaning
outside of the state (which in turn justifies totalitarianism). Ultimately, Gentile foresees a social order
wherein opposites of all kinds are not to be given sanction as existing
independently from each other; that 'publicness' and 'privateness' as broad
interpretations were currently false as imposed by all former kinds of
Government; capitalism, communism, and that only the reciprocal totalitarian
state of Corporative Syndicalism, a Fascist state, could defeat these problems
made from reifying as an external that which is in fact to Gentile only a
thinking reality. Whereas it was common in
the philosophy of the time to see conditional subject as abstract and object as
concrete, Gentile postulates the opposite, that subject is the concrete and
objectification is abstraction (or rather; that what was conventionally dubbed
"subject" is in fact only conditional object, and that true subject
is the 'act of' being or essence above any object). Gentile is a notable philosophical theorist of
his time throughout Europe, since having developed his 'Actual Idealism' system
of Idealism, sometimes called 'Actualism.' It is especially in which his ideas put subject
to the position of a transcending truth above positivism that garnered
attention; by way that all senses about the world only take the form of ideas
within one's mind in any real sense; to Gentile even the analogy between the
function and location of the physical brain with the functions of the physical
body were a consistent creation of the mind (and not brain; which was a
creation of the mind and not the other way around). An example of Actual Idealism in Theology is the
idea that although man may have invented the concept of God, it does not make God
any less real in any sense possible as far as it is not presupposed to exist as
abstraction and except in case qualities about what existence actually entails
(i.e. being invented apart from the thinking making it) are presupposed. Benedetto Croce objects that Gentile's
"pure act" is nothing other than Schopenhauer's will. Therefore, Gentile proposes a form of what he
calls 'absolute Immanentism' in which the divine is the present conception of
reality in the totality of one's individual thinking as an evolving, growing
and dynamic process. Many times accused of
Solipsism, Gentile maintains his philosophy to be a Humanism that senses the
possibility of nothing beyond what was contingent; the self's human thinking,
in order to communicate as immanence is to be human like oneself, makes a
cohesive empathy of the self-same, without an external division, and therefore
not modeled as objects to one's own thinking. Meanwhile, anarchism, communism, and socialism,
though not originating in Italy, take significant hold in Italy with the
country producing numerous significant figures in anarchist, socialist, and
communist thought. In addition,
anarcho-communism first fully forms into its modern strain within the Italian
section of the First International. Italian anarchists often adhere to forms of
anarcho-communism, illegalist or insurrectionary anarchism, collectivist
anarchism, anarcho-syndicalism, and platformism. Some of the most important figures in the
anarchist movement include Italians such as: Errico Malatesta, Giuseppe Fanelli, Carlo Cafiero, Alfredo M. Bonanno, Pietro Gori, Luigi Galleani, Severino Di Giovanni, Giuseppe Ciancabilla, Luigi Fabbri, Camillo Berneri, and Sacco and Vanzetti. Other Italian figures, influential in both the
anarchist and socialist movements, include Carlo Tresca and Andrea Costa, as
well as the author, director, and intellectual Pier Paolo Pasolini. Antonio Gramsci remains an important philosopher
within Marxist and communist theory, credited with creating the theory of
cultural hegemony. Italian philosophers are
also influential in the development of the non-Marxist liberal socialism
philosophy, including: Carlo Rosselli, Norberto Bobbio, Piero Gobetti, Aldo Capitini, and Guido Calogero. Many Italian left-wing activists adopt the anti-authoritarian
pro-working class leftist theories that become known as autonomism and
“operaismo.” Giuseppe Peano is one of
the founders of analytic philosophy and contemporary philosophy of mathematics. Recent analytic philosophers include: Mauro Dorato, Carlo Penco, Francesco Berto, Emiliano Boccardi, Alessandro Torza, Matteo Plebiani, Luciano Floridi, Luca Moretti, and, among the
Griceians, Anna Maria Ghersi and Luigi Speranza. See also: List of Italian philosophers References: See: Jerry Bentley, “Humanists and holy writ” Princeton University Pico Yates, Frances A. “Giordano
Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition” University of Chicago Press Moschovitis Group
Inc, Christian D. Von Dehsen and Scott L. Harris, “Philosophers and religious
leaders,” The Oryx Press, 117. Definition of MACHIAVELLIAN merriam-webster Skinner,
Quentin “Machiavelli: A Very Short Introduction.” OUP Oxford. Christie,
Richard; Geis, Florence L. “Studies in Machiavellianism.” Academic Press. “The Enlightenment throughout Europe"history-world “History of Philosophy 70". Maritain “Augusto Vera". Facoltà Lettere e Filosofia “La rinascita hegeliana a Napoli" Ex-Regno
delle Due Sicilie. “L'ESCATOLOGIA
PITAGORICA NELLA TRADIZIONE OCCIDENTALE". RITO SIMBOLICO ITALIANO. “Idealismo. Idealistas" Enciclopedia GER. Benedetto Croce, “Guide to Aesthetics,” Tr. by Patrick Romanell,
"Translator's Introduction," The Library of Liberal Arts, The Bobbs–Merrill
Co., Inc. Runes, Dagobert, ed.,
Treasure of Philosophy,” “Gentile, Giovanni" Nunzio Pernicone, "Italian Anarchism",
AK Press. RELATED ARTICLES: Giovanni Gentile, Italian neo-Hegelian Idealist
philosopher. Bertrando Spaventa,
Italian philosopher. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “Hegelians and Croceans in the Oxford
I knew.” Grice, “Speranza, our man in Itealian philosophy!” – “Surely he’ll be
offended if you say that!” – Anna Maria Ghersi e Luigi Speranza, “IMPLICATVRA.”
Luigi Speranza, “IMPLICATVRA,” The Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Grice, Liguria,
Italia. Luigi Speranza, “Grice, Gentile e la storiografia della filosofia
italiana.”
eredità – when a symposium on Grice
was organised at San Marino, this is the word chosen – Eredità. Oddly, Berkeley
preferred ‘legacy,’ as in “Legacy of Grice.” “Heritage” sounds perhaps more
pretentious than “l’eredità di Grice,’ where there is a pun on ‘heritage’ and
‘inheritance’! --.
DE-SCRIPTVM
-- 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.’”
ius -- jurisprudence: McEvoy. Hart, Grice’s favourite prudens, iurisprudens: jurisprudence,
the science or “knowledge” of law; thus, in its widest usage, the study of the
legal doctrines, rules, and principles of any legal system, especially that which
is valid at Oxford. More commonly, however, ‘prudens,’ or ‘iurisprudens’
designates the study not of the actual laws of particular legal systems, but of
the general concepts and principles that underlie a legal system or that are
common to every such system (general jurisprudence). Jurisprudence in this
usage, sometimes also called the philosophy of law – but Grice preferred,
“philosophical jurisprudence”) may be further subdivided according to the major
focus of a particular study. Examples include Roman and English historical
jurisprudence (a study of the development of legal principles over time, often
emphasizing the origin of law in custom or tradition rather than in enacted
rules), sociological jurisprudence (an examination of the relationship between
legal rules and the behavior of individuals, groups, or institutions),
functional jurisprudence (an inquiry into the relationship between legal norms
and underlying social interests or needs), and analytical jurisprudence (an
investigation into the connections among legal concepts). Within analytical
jurisprudence the most substantial body of thought focuses on the meaning of
the concept of law itself (legal theory) and the relationship between that
concept and the concept of the moral. Legal positivism, the view that there is
no necessary connection between legal (a legal right) and the moral (a moral
right), opposes the natural law view that no sharp distinction between these
concepts can be drawn. Legal positivism is sometimes thought to be a consequence
of positivism’s insistence that legal validity is determined ultimately by
reference to certain basic social facts: “the command of the sovereign” (Austin
– “the other Austin, the benevolent one!” -- Grice), the Grundnorm (Kelsen), or
“the rule of re-cognition” (Hart). These different positivist characterizations
of the basic, law-determining FACT yield different claims about the normative
character of law, with classical positivists (e.g., John Austin) insisting that
legal systems are essentially coercive, whereas modern positivists (e.g., Hans
Kelsen) maintain that they are normative. Disputes within legal theory often
generate or arise out of disputes about theories of adjudication, or how a
judge does or should decide a case. Mechanical jurisprudence, or formalism, the
theory that all cases can be decided solely by analyzing a legal concept, is
thought by many to have characterized judicial decisions and legal reasoning in
the nineteenth century; that theory became an easy target in the twentieth century
for various forms of legal ‘realism,’ the view (which Grice found pretentious)
that law is better determined by observing what a court and a citizen actually
does than by analyzing stated legal rules and concepts. Recent developments in
the natural law tradition also focus on the process of adjudication and the
normative claim that accompany the judicial declaration of legal rights and
obligations. These normative claim, the natural law theorist argues, show a
legal right is a species of a political right or a moral right. In consequence,
one must either revise prevailing theories of adjudication and abandon the
social-fact theory of law (New-World Dworkin), or explore the connection
between legal theory and the classical question of political theory. Under what
condition does a legal obligation, even if determined by an inter-subjetctive
fact, create a genuine political obligation (e.g., the meta-obligation to obey
the law)? Other jurisprudential notions that overlap topics in political theory
include rule of law, legal moralism, and civil disobedience. The disputes
within legal theory about the connection between law and morality should not be
confused with discussions of “natural law” within moral theory. In Grice’s
meta-ethics, so-called “natural law” denotes a particular view about the
objective status of a moral norm that has produced a considerable literature,
extending from ancient Grecian and Roman thought, through medieval theological
writings, to contemporary Oxonian ethical thought. Though the claim that one
cannot sharply separate law and morality is often made as part of a general
natural law moral theory, the referents of ‘natural law’ in legal and moral
theory do not share any obvious logical relationship. A moral theorist may
conclude that there is NO necessary connection between law and morality, thus
endorsing a positivist view of law, while consistently advocating a natural law
view of morality itself. Conversely, as Grice notes, a natural law legal
theorist, in accepting the view that there IS a connection (or priority)
between law and morality (a moral right being evaluational prior than a legal
right, even if not epistemically prior), might nonetheless endorse a
substantive moral theory different from that implied by a natural law moral theory.
Refs.: G. P. Baker, “Meaning and defeasibility,” in Festschrift for H. L. A.
Hart, G. P. Baker, “Alternative mind
styles,” in Festschrift for H. P. Grice, H. L. A. Hart, “Grice” in “The
nightmare,” H. P. Grice, “Moral right and legal right: three types of
conceptual priority.” Ius -- jury
nullification, a jury’s ability, or the exercise of that ability, to acquit a
criminal defendant despite finding facts that leave no reasonable doubt about
violation of a criminal statute. This ability is not a right, but an artifact
of criminal procedure. In the common law, the jury has sole authority to
determine the facts, and the judge to determine the law. The jury’s findings of
fact cannot be reviewed. The term ‘nullification’ suggests that jury
nullification is opposed to the rule of law. This thought would be sound only
if an extreme legal positivism were true – that the law is nothing but the
written law and the written law covers every possible fact situation. Jury
nullification is better conceived as a form of equity, a rectification of the
inherent limits of written law. In nullifying, juries make law. To make jury
nullification a right, then, raises problems of democratic legitimacy, such as
whether a small, randomly chosen group of citizens has authority to make law. Ius -- de jure: Or titular, as opposed
to ‘de facto.’ Each getting what he is due. Formal justice is the impartial and
consistent application of a Kantian principle, whether or not the principle
itself is just. Substantive justice is closely associated with rights, i.e., with
what individuals can legitimately demand of one another or what they can
legitimately demand of their government (e.g., with respect to the protection
of liberty or the promotion of equality). Retributive justice concerns when and
why punishment is justified. Debate continues over whether punishment is
justified as retribution for past wrongdoing or because it deters future
wrongdoing. Those who stress retribution as the justification for punishment
usually believe human beings have libertarian free will, while those who stress
deterrence usually accept determinism. At least since Aristotle, justice has
commonly been identified both with obeying law and with treating everyone with
fairness. But if law is, and justice is not, entirely a matter of convention,
then justice cannot be identified with obeying law. The literature on legal
positivism and natural law theory contains much debate about whether there are
moral limits on what conventions could count as law. Corrective justice
concerns the fairness of demands for civil damages. Commutative justice
concerns the fairness of wages, prices, and exchanges. Distributive justice
concerns the fairness of the distribution of resources. Commutative justice and
distributive justice are related, since people’s wages influence how much
resources they have. But the distinction is important because it may be just to
pay A more than B (because A is more productive than B) but just that B is left
with more after-tax resources (because B has more children to feed than A does).
In modern philosophy, however, the debate about just wages and prices has been
overshadowed by the larger question of what constitutes a just distribution of
resources. Some (e.g., Marx) have advocated distributing resources in
accordance with needs. Others have advocated their distribution in whatever way
maximizes utility in the long run. Others have argued that the fair
distribution is one that, in some sense, is to everyone’s advantage. Still
others have maintained that a just distribution is whatever results from the
free market. Some theorists combine these and other approaches. -- iustum – iustum-facere -- iustificatum: The
‘ius’ is cognate with ‘junctum,’ so the jus is a binding – from ius we derives
iustus, the just. “Late Latin; apparently neither the Grecians nor Cicero saw
the need for it!”– Grice. justification, a concept of broad scope that spans
epistemology and ethics and has as special cases the concepts of apt belief and
right action. The concept has, however, highly varied application. Many things,
of many different sorts, can be justified. Prominent among them are beliefs and
actions. To say that X is justified is to say something positive about X. Other
things being equal, it is better that X be justified than otherwise. However, not
all good entities are justified. The storm’s abating may be good since it
spares some lives, but it is not thereby justified. What we can view as
justified or unjustified is what we can relate appropriately to someone’s
faculties or choice. (Believers might hence view the storm’s abating as
justified after all, if they were inclined to judge divine providence.) Just as
in epistemology we need to distinguish justification from truth, since either
of these might apply to a belief in the absence of the other, so in ethics we
must distinguish justification from utility: an action might be optimific but
not justified, and justified but not optimific. What is distinctive of
justification is then the implied evaluation of an agent (thus the connection,
however remote, with faculties of choice). To say that a belief is
(epistemically) justified (apt) or to say that an action is (ethically)
justified (“right” – in one sense) is to make or imply a judgment on the
subject and how he or she has arrived at that action or belief. Often a much
narrower concept of justification is used, one according to which X is
justified only if X has been or at least can be justified through adducing
reasons. Such adducing of reasons can be viewed as the giving of an argument of
any of several sorts: e.g., conclusive, prima facie, inductive, or deductive. A
conclusive justification or argument adduces conclusive reasons for the
possible (object of) action or belief that figures in the conclusion. In turn,
such reasons are conclusive if and only if they raise the status of the
conclusion action or belief so high that the subject concerned would be well
advised to conclude deliberation or inquiry. A prima facie justification or
argument adduces a prima facie reason R (or more than one) in favor of the
possible (object of) action or belief O that figures in the conclusion. In
turn, R is a prima facie reason for O if and only if R specifies an advantage
or positive consideration in favor of O, one that puts O in a better light than
otherwise. Even if R is a prima facie reason for O, however, R can be
outweighed, overridden, or defeated by contrary considerations RH. Thus my
returning a knife that I promised to return to its rightful owner has in its
favor the prima facie reason that it is my legal obligation and the fulfillment
of a promise, but if the owner has gone raving mad, then there may be reasons
against returning the knife that override, outweigh, or defeat. (And there may
also be reasons that defeat a positive prima facie reason without amounting to
reasons for the opposite course. Thus it may emerge that the promise to return
the knife was extracted under duress.) A (valid) deductive argument for a
certain conclusion C is a sequence of thoughts or statements whose last member
is C (not necessarily last temporally, but last in the sequence) and each
member of which is either an assumption or premise of the argument or is based
on earlier members of the sequence in accordance with a sound principle of
necessary inference, such as simplification: from (P & Q) to P; or
addition: from P to (P or Q); or modus ponens: from P and (P only if Q) to Q.
Whereas the premises of a deductive argument necessarily entail the conclusion,
which cannot possibly fail to be true when the justice as fairness justification
457 4065h-l.qxd 08/02/1999 7:40 AM Page 457 premises are all true, the premises
of an inductive argument do not thus entail its conclusion but offer
considerations that only make the conclusion in some sense more probable than
it would be otherwise. From the premises that it rains and that if it rains the
streets are wet, one may deductively derive the conclusion that the streets are
wet. However, the premise that I have tried to start my car on many, many
winter mornings during the two years since I bought it and that it has always
started, right up to and including yesterday, does not deductively imply that
it will start when I try today. Here the conclusion does not follow
deductively. Though here the reason provided by the premise is only an
inductive reason for believing the conclusion, and indeed a prima facie and
defeasible reason, nevertheless it might well be in our sense a conclusive
reason. For it might enable us rightfully to conclude inquiry and/or
deliberation and proceed to (action or, in this case) belief, while turning our
attention to other matters (such as driving to our destination). ius ad bellum,
jus in bello: a set of conditions justifying the resort to war (jus ad bellum)
and prescribing how war may permissibly be conducted (jus in bello). The theory
is a Western approach to the moral assessment of war that grew out of the
Christian tradition beginning with Augustine, later taking both religious and
secular (including legalist) forms. Proposed conditions for a just war vary in
both number and interpretation. Accounts of jus ad bellum typically require:
(1) just cause: an actual or imminent wrong against the state, usually a
violation of rights, but sometimes provided by the need to protect innocents,
defend human rights, or safeguard the way of life of one’s own or other
peoples; (2) competent authority: limiting the undertaking of war to a state’s
legitimate rulers; (3) right intention: aiming only at peace and the ends of
the just cause (and not war’s attendant suffering, death, and destruction); (4)
proportionality: ensuring that anticipated good not be outweighed by bad; (5)
last resort: exhausting peaceful alternatives before going to war; and (6)
probability of success: a reasonable prospect that war will succeed. Jus in bellorequires:
(7) proportionality: ensuring that the means used in war befit the ends of the
just cause and that their resultant good and bad, when individuated, be
proportionate in the sense of (4); and (8) discrimination: prohibiting the
killing of noncombatants and/or innocents. Sometimes conditions (4), (5), and
(6) are included in (1). The conditions are usually considered individually
necessary and jointly sufficient for a fully just war. But sometimes strength
of just cause is taken to offset some lack of proportion in means, and
sometimes absence of right intention is taken to render a war evil though not
necessarily unjust. Most just war theorists take jus ad bellum to warrant only
defensive wars. But some follow earlier literature and allow for just offensive
wars. Early theorists deal primarily with jus ad bellum, later writers with
both jus ad bellum and jus in bello. Recent writers stress jus in bello, with
particular attention to deterrence: the attempt, by instilling fear of
retaliation, to induce an adversary to refrain from attack. Some believe that
even though large-scale use of nuclear weapons would violate requirements of
proportionality and discrimination, the threatened use of such weapons can
maintain peace, and hence justify a system of nuclear deterrence.
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