IMPLICATVRA -- in 16 volumes, vol. 4

burlæus: burley -- born in Burley-in-Whaferdale, Yorkshire. Burleigh’s donkey – Grice preferred the spelling “Gualterus Burlaeus.” “One would hardly realise it’s Irish to the backbone!” – Grice. Geach’s donkey: geach, Peter b.6, English philosopher and logician whose main work has been in logic and philosophy of language. A great admirer of McTaggart, he has published a sympathetic exposition of the latter’s work Truth, Love and Immortality, 9, and has always aimed to emulate what he sees as the clarity and rigor of the Scottish idealist’s thought. Greatly influenced by Frege and Vitters, Geach is particularly noted for his powerful use of what he calls “the Frege point,” better called “the Frege-Geach point,” that the same thought may occur as asserted or unasserted and yet retain the same truth-value. The point has been used by Geach to refute ascriptivist theories of responsibility, and can be employed against noncognitivist theories of ethics, which are said to face the Frege-Geach problem of accounting for the sense of moral ascriptions in contexts like ‘If he did wrong, he will be punished’. He is also noted for helping to bring Frege to the English-speaking world, through co-translations with Max Black 9 88. In logic he is known for proving, independently of Quine, a contradiction in Frege’s way out of Russell’s paradox Mind, 6, and for his defense of modern Fregean-Russellian logic against traditional Aristotelian-Scholastic logic. He also has a deep admiration for the Polish logicians. In metaphysics, Geach is known for his defense of relative identity, the thesis that an object a can be the same F where F is a kind-term as an object b while not being the same G, even though a and b are both G’s. His spirited defense of the thesis has been met by equally vigorous attacks, and it has not received wide acceptance. An obvious application of the thesis is to the defense of the doctrine of the Trinity e.g., the Father is the same god as the Son but not the same person, which has caught the attention of some philosophers of religion. Geach’s main works include Mental Acts 8, which attacks dispositional theories of mind, Reference and Generality 2, which contains much important work on logic, and the collection Logic Matters 2. A notable defender of Catholicism despite his animadversions against Scholastic logic, his religious views find their greatest exposure in God and the Soul 9, Providence and Evil 7, and The Virtues 7. He is married to the philosopher Elizabeth Anscombe.  burleigh: Grice: “Actually his name should be borough-leah, since this is what burley means in Yorkshire!” -- W. H. P. Grice preferred the spelling “Burleigh,” or “Burleighensis” if you must – Burlaeus -- “That’s how we called him at Oxford!” English philosopher who taught philosophy at Oxford and theology at Paris. An orthodox Aristotelian and a realist, he attacked Ockham’s logic and his interpretation of the Aristotelian categories. Burley commented on almost of all of Aristotle’s works in logic, natural philosophy, and moral philosophy. An early Oxford Calculator, Burley begins his work as a fellow of Merton  He later moved to  Paris. Burley – Grice adds – “was a tutee of Thomas Wilton, if you heard of him.” he was  incepted, and later a a fellow of the Sorbonne. His commentary on Peter Lombard’s Sentences has been lost. After leaving Paris, Burley is ssociated with the household of Richard of Bury and the court of Edward III, who sent him as an envoy to the papal curia. De vita et moribus philosophorum,” an influential, popular account of the lives of the philosophers, has often been attributed to Burley, but modern scholarship suggests that the attribution is incorrect. Many of Burley’s independent works dealt with problems in natural philosophy, notably De intensione et remissione formarum “De potentiis animae, and De substantia orbis. De primo et ultimo instanti discusses which temporal processes have intrinsic, which extrinsic limits. In his Tractatus de formis Burley attacks Ockham’s theory of quantity. Similarly, Burley’s theory of motion opposed Ockham’s views. Ockham restricts the account of motion to the thing moving, and the quality, quantity, and place acquired by motion. By contrast, Burley emphasizes the process of motion and the quantitative measurement of that process. Burley attacks the view that the forms successively acquired in motion are included in the form finally acquired. He ridicules the view that contrary qualities hot and cold could simultaneously inhere in the same subject producing intermediate qualities warmth. Burley emphasized the formal character of logic in his De puritate artis logicae “On the Purity of the Art of Logic”, one of the great medieval treatises on logic. Ockham attacked a preliminary version of De puritate in his Summa logicae; Burley called Ockham a beginner in logic. In De puritate artis logicae, Burley makes syllogistics a subdivision of consequences. His treatment of negation is particularly interesting for his views on double negation and the restrictions on the rule that notnot-p implies p. Burley distinguished between analogous words and analogous concepts and natures. His theory of analogy deserves detailed discussion. These views, like the views expressed in most of Burley’s works, have seldom been carefully studied. Luigi Speranza, “Grice and the Mertonians.”

butlerianism: J., cited by H. P. Grice, principle of conversational benevolence. English theologian and Anglican bishop who made important contributions to moral philosophy, to the understanding of moral agency, and to the development of deontological ethics. Better known in his own time for The Analogy of Religion 1736, a defense, along broadly empiricist lines, of orthodox, “revealed” Christian doctrine against deist criticism, Butler’s main philosophical legacy was a series of highly influential arguments and theses contained in a collection of Sermons 1725 and in two “Dissertations” appended to The Analogy  one on virtue and the other on personal identity. The analytical method of these essays “everything is what it is and not another thing” provided a model for much of English-speaking moral philosophy to follow. For example, Butler is often credited with refuting psychological hedonism, the view that all motives can be reduced to the desire for pleasure or happiness. The sources of human motivation are complex and structurally various, he argued. Appetites and passions seek their own peculiar objects, and pleasure must itself be understood as involving an intrinsic positive regard for a particular object. Other philosophers had maintained, like Butler, that we can desire, e.g., the happiness of others intrinsically, and not just as a means to our own happiness. And others had argued that the person who aims singlemindedly at his own happiness is unlikely to attain it. Butler’s distinctive contribution was to demonstrate that happiness and pleasure themselves require completion by specific objects for which we have an intrinsic positive regard. Self-love, the desire for our own happiness, is a reflective desire for, roughly, the satisfaction of our other desires. But self-love is not our only reflective desire; we also have “a settled reasonable principle of benevolence.” We can consider the goods of others and come on reflection to desire their welfare more or less independently of particular emotional involvement such as compassion. In morals, Butler equally opposed attempts to reduce virtue to benevolence, even of the most universal and impartial sort. Benevolence seeks the good or happiness of others, whereas the regulative principle of virtue is conscience, the faculty of moral approval or disapproval of conduct and character. Moral agency requires, he argued, the capacities to reflect disinterestedly on action, motive, and character, to judge these in distinctively moral terms and not just in terms of their relation to the non-moral good of happiness, and to guide conduct by such judgments. Butler’s views about the centrality of conscience in the moral life were important in the development of deontological ethics as well as in the working out of an associated account of moral agency. Along the first lines, he argued in the “Dissertation” that what it is right for a person to do depends, not just on the non-morally good or bad consequences of an action, but on such other morally relevant features as the relationships the agent bears to affected others e.g., friend or beneficiary, or whether fraud, injustice, treachery, or violence is involved. Butler thus distinguished analytically between distinctively moral evaluation of action and assessing an act’s relation to such non-moral values as happiness. And he provided succeeding deontological theorists with a litany of examples where the right thing to do is apparently not what would have the best consequences. Butler believed God instills a “principle of reflection” or conscience in us through which we intrinsically disapprove of such actions as fraud and injustice. But he also believed that God, being omniscient and benevolent, fitted us with these moral attitudes because “He foresaw this constitution of our nature would produce more happiness, than forming us with a temper of mere general benevolence.” This points, however, toward a kind of anti-deontological or consequentialist view, sometimes called indirect consequentialism, which readily acknowledges that what it is right to do does not depend on which act will have the best consequences. It is entirely appropriate, according to indirect consequentialism, that conscience approve or disapprove of acts on grounds other than a calculation of consequences precisely because its doing so has the best consequences. Here we have a version of the sort of view later to be found, for example, in Mill’s defense of utilitarianism against the objection that it conflicts with justice and rights. Morality is a system of social control that demands allegiance to considerations other than utility, e.g., justice and honesty. But it is justifiable only to the extent that the system itself has utility. This sets up something of a tension. From the conscientious perspective an agent must distinguish between the question of which action would have the best consequences and the question of what he should do. And from that perspective, Butler thinks, one will necessarily regard one’s answer to the second question as authoritative for conduct. Conscience necessarily implicitly asserts its own authority, Butler famously claimed. Thus, insofar as agents come to regard their conscience as simply a method of social control with good consequences, they will come to be alienated from the inherent authority their conscience implicitly claims. A similar issue arises concerning the relation between conscience and self-love. Butler says that both self-love and conscience are “superior principles in the nature of man” in that an action will be unsuitable to a person’s nature if it is contrary to either. This makes conscience’s authority conditional on its not conflicting with self-love and vice versa. Some scholars, moreover, read other passages as implying that no agent could reasonably follow conscience unless doing so was in the agent’s interest. But again, it would seem that an agent who internalized such a view would be alienated from the authority that, if Butler is right, conscience implicitly claims. For Butler, conscience or the principle of reflection is uniquely the faculty of practical judgment. Unlike either self-love or benevolence, even when these are added to the powers of inference and empirical cognition, only conscience makes moral agency possible. Only a creature with conscience can accord with or violate his own judgment of what he ought to do, and thereby be a “law to himself.” This suggests a view that, like Kant’s, seeks to link deontology to a conception of autonomous moral agency.

byzantine. This is important since it displays Grice’s disrespect for stupid traditions. There is Austin trying to lecture what he derogatorily called ‘philosophical hack’ (“I expect he was being ironic”) into learning through the Little Oxford Dictionary. HARDLY Grice’s cup of tea. Austiin, or the ‘master,’ as Grice ironically calls him, could patronize less patrician play group members, but not him! In any case, Austin grew so tiresome, that Grice grabbed the Little Dictionary. Austin had gave him license to go and refute Ryle on ‘feeling’. “So, go and check with the dictionary, to see howmany things you can feel.” Grice started with the A and got as far as the last relevant item under the ‘B,” he hoped. “And then I realised it was all hopeless. A waste. Language botany, indeed!” At a later stage, he grew more affectionate, especially when seeing that this was part of his armoury (as Gellner had noted): a temperament, surely not shared by Strawson, for subtleties and nuances. How Byzantine can Grice feel? Vide ‘agitation.’ Does feeling Byzantine entail a feeling of BEING Byzantine? originally used of the style of art and architecture developed there 4c.-5c. C.E.; later in reference to the complex, devious, and intriguing character of the royal court of Constantinople (1937). Bȳzantĭum , ii, n., = Βυζάντιον,I.a city in Thrace, on the Bosphorus, opposite the Asiatic Chalcedon, later Constantinopolis, now Constantinople; among the Turks, Istamboul or Stamboul (i.e. εις τὴν πόλιν), Mel. 2, 2, 6; Plin. 4, 11, 18, § 46; 9, 15, 20, § 50 sq.; Nep. Paus. 2, 2; Liv. 38, 16, 3 sq.; Tac. A. 12, 63 sq.; id. H. 2. 83; 3, 47 al.—II. Derivv.A. Bȳzantĭus , a, um, adj., of Byzantium, Byzantine: “litora,” the Strait of Constantinople, Ov. Tr. 1, 10, 31: “portus,” Plin. 9, 15, 20, § 51.—Subst.: Bȳ-zantĭi , ōrum, m., the inhabitants of Byzantium, Cic. Prov. Cons. 3, 5; 4, 6 sq.; Cic. Verr. 2, 2, 31, § 76; Nep. Timoth. 1, 2; Liv. 32, 33, 7.—B. Bȳzantĭăcus , a, um, adj., of Byzantium: “lacerti,” Stat. S. 4, 9, 13. — C. Bȳzantīnus , a, um, adj., the same (post-class.): “Lygos,” Aus. Clar. Urb. 2: “frigora,” Sid. Ep. 7, 17. Byzantine feeling -- Einfühlung G., ‘feeling into’, empathy. In contrast to sympathy, where one’s identity is preserved in feeling with or for the other, in empathy or Einfühlung one tends to lose oneself in the other. The concept of Einfühlung received its classical formulation in the work of Theodor Lipps, who characterized it as a process of involuntary, inner imitation whereby a subject identifies through feeling with the movement of another body, whether it be the real leap of a dancer or the illusory upward lift of an architectural column. Complete empathy is considered to be aesthetic, providing a non-representational access to beauty. Husserl used a phenomenologically purified concept of Einfühlung to account for the way the self directly recognizes the other. Husserl’s student Edith Stein described Einfühlung as a blind egoism Einfühlung 255   255 mode of knowledge that reaches the experience of the other without possessing it. Einfühlung is not to be equated with Verstehen or human understanding, which, as Dilthey pointed out, requires the use of all one’s mental powers, and cannot be reduced to a mere mode of feeling. To understand is not to apprehend something empathetically as the projected locus of an actual experience, but to apperceive the meaning of expressions of experience in relation to their context. Whereas understanding is reflective, empathy is prereflective. 

C

C: SUBJECT INDEX: CONCEPTVS

C: NAME INDEX: ITALIANO

CABEO
CACCIARI

CAMPANELLA

CASSIODORO

CATTANEO

CICERONE

COLONNA

CREMONINI

CROCE

C: NAME INDEX: ENGLISH
COLLINGWOOD

cæteris  paribus: Strawson and Wiggins: that the principle holds ceteris paribus is a necessary condition for the very existence of the activity in question. Central. Grice technically directs his attenetion to this in his “Method”. There, he tries to introduce “WILLING” as a predicate, i.e. a theoretical concept which is implicitly defined by the LAW in a THEORY that it occurs. This theory is ‘psychology,’ but understood as a ‘folk science.’ So the conditionals are ‘ceteris paribus.’ Schiffer and Cartwright were aware of this. Especially Cartwright who attended seminars on this with Grice on ‘as if.’ Schiffer was well aware of the topic via Loar and others. Griceians who were trying to come up with a theory of content without relying on semantic stuff would involve ‘caeteris paribus’ ‘laws.’ Grice in discussion with Davidson comes to the same conclusion, hence his “A T C,’ all things considered and prima facie. H. L. A. Hart, with his concept of ‘defeasibility’ relates. Vide Baker. And obviously those who regard ‘implicaturum’ as nonmonotonic. Caeteris paribus -- Levinon “generalised implicaturum as by default” default logic, a formal system for reasoning with defaults, developed by Raymond Reiter in 0. Reiter’s defaults have the form ‘P:MQ1 , . . . , MQn/R’, read ‘If P is believed and Q1 . . . Qn are consistent with one’s beliefs, then R may be believed’. Whether a proposition is consistent with one’s beliefs depends on what defaults have already been applied. Given the defaults P:MQ/Q and R:M-Q/-Q, and the facts P and R, applying the first default yields Q while applying the second default yields -Q. So applying either default blocks the other. Consequently, a default theory may have several default extensions. Normal defaults having the form P:MQ/Q, useful for representing simple cases of nonmonotonic reasoning, are inadequate for more complex cases. Reiter produces a reasonably clean proof theory for normal default theories and proves that every normal default theory has an extension. 

cabeo: essential Italian philosopher. Niccolò Cabeo (Ferrara, 26 febbraio 1586 – Genova, 30 giugno 1650) è stato un gesuita, filosofo e matematico italiano. Con il suo nome è stato chiamato il cratere lunare Cabeus.   Indice 1Vita 2Opere 3                Note 4Bibliografia 5Collegamenti esterni Vita Nel 1602 novizio della Compagnia di Gesù, ebbe Giuseppe Biancani come insegnante di matematica nel collegio gesuitico di Parma dove compiuti i suoi studi fu docente di filosofia per molti anni e ricevette gli ordini sacerdotali nel 1622[1]. Dopo il 1622 abbandonato l'insegnamento fu predicatore in varie città italiane mantenendo sempre stretti rapporti di familiarità con Ferdinando Gonzaga e Francesco d'Este. [2]  Cabeo prese parte alla contesa tra Bologna e Ferrara sull'introduzione del Reno nel Po Grande avvenuta negli anni 20 del seicento, prendendo le parti dei ferraresi e opponendosi alle teorie di Benedetto Castelli[3]  Nel 1632 si stabilì a Genova dove conobbe Giovanni Battista Baliani divenendone amico. Nel suo commento alle Meteore di Aristotele Cabeo sostenne e testimoniò la priorità della scoperta della legge di caduta dei gravi dello scienziato genovese rispetto a quella di Galilei.  Cabeo collaborò con vari fisici del suo tempo su argomenti che mettevano in discussione le ricerche di Galilei: con lo stesso Baliani a Genova, con il Renieri a Pisa, con il Riccioli, suo amico e allievo anche lui del Biancani, con il quale nel 1634 aveva condotto a Ferrara esperimenti sulla caduta dei gravi. Soggiornò a Roma nello stesso periodo in cui era presente nel 1645 e nel 1646 Marin Mersenne, il "segretario dell' Europa dotta" [4] che vi si trovava in occasione dell'elezione di Vincenzo Carafa a generale dei gesuiti.  Tornato a Genova per dedicarsi all'insegnamento nel collegio gesuitico, morì dopo due mesi nel 1650.  Opere Fin dal 1617 Cabeo aveva iniziato a comporre la Philosophia magnetica che stampata poi a Ferrara nel 1629 fu criticata negativamente dagli studiosi galileiani. Nell'introduzione Cabeo sosteneva l'imprescindibile necessità che ogni asserzione scientifica fosse sostenuta dall'esperienza e, sulla base degli studi di Pierre Pelerin de Maricourt, di Giovanni Battista Della Porta, e di William Gilbert, dell'opera inedita del gesuita Leonardo Garzoni, asseriva, dopo aver condotto accurati esperimenti, che la Terra possedeva una qualità magnetica che assieme alla gravità faceva sì che quella fosse stabile e immobile. Nella stessa opera definiva il fenomeno della repulsione elettrica.  Nel 1646 venivano pubblicati a Roma i quattro volumi di un commento alle Meteore di Aristotele con il titolo In quatuor libros Meteorologicorum Aristotelis commentaria,et quaestiones quatuor tomis compraehensa... poi modificato nella ristampa del 1686 in Philosophia experimentalis dove Cabeo si schierava a difesa della priorità del Baliani e, nel criticare in nome dell'osservazione e dell'esperimento la concezione metafisica aristotelica, introduceva la presentazione di questioni scientifiche attuali. L'opera era condotta in duri toni antigalileiani con un'aspra contestazione del fenomeno delle maree così com'era stato descritto da Galilei sostenendo invece che fosse dovuto «all'ebollizione, operata dalla Luna, di "spiriti sulfurei e salnitrosi" presenti sul fondo del mare.» [5]  Cabeo sostenne la validità scientifica dell'alchimia da lui ritenuta una "philosophia chimica" che, depurata da ogni aspetto esoterico , era degna di studio e osservazione.  Note ^ Mario Di Fidio, Claudio Gandolfi, Idraulici italiani (PDF), Fondazione BEIC, p. 57. ^ Alfonso Ingegno, Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, Vol. 15, (1972) alla voce corrispondente ^ Mario Di Fidio, Claudio Gandolfi, Idraulici italiani (PDF), Fondazione BEIC, p. 56. ^ Domenico Massaro SFI Archiviato il 13 giugno 2008 in Internet Archive. ^ A. Ingegno, Op. cit. Bibliografia Claudii Berigardi Circulus Pisanus... De veteri et peripatetica philosophia in Aristotelis libros de Coelo..., Utini 1647, pp. 82-85; Galileo Galilei, Opere (ediz. naz.), XIV, pp. 32-34, 35-37, 61, 77, 79, 300; XV, p. 273; XVI, p. 325; XVIII, pp. 87, 93-95, 99, 305, 310, 312; Le opere dei discepoli di Galileo Galilei, I, L'Accademia del Cimento, parte 1, Firenze 1942, pp. 51, 374 s., 411 s.; Fulvio Testi, Lettere, a cura di Maria Luisa Doglio, III, 1638-1646, Bari 1967, pp. 208, 236, 239, 504 s.; Opere di Evangelista Torricelli, Faenza 1919, I, 1, p. X; III, p. 415; Lorenzo Barotti, Memorie istoriche di letterati ferraresi, II, Ferrara 1793, pp. 262-269; Girolamo Tiraboschi, Storia della letteratura italiana, VIII, 1, Firenze 1812, pp. 249 s.; Timoteo Bertelli, Sopra Pietro Peregrino di Maricourt e la sua epistola "De Magnete", in Bull. di bibliogr. e di storia delle scienze mat. e fisiche pubbl. da B. Boncompagni, I (1868), pp. 1-32, 65-99, 101-139, 319-420; Pietro Riccardi, Biblioteca matematica italiana, Modena 1870, p. 206; Raffaello Caverni, Storia del metodo sperimentale in Italia, II, Firenze 1892, pp. 257, 265-271; IV, ibid. 1895, pp. 237 s., 279 58-, 315 ss., 391-400, 404, 413-416, 526, 570 s.; V, ibid. 1898, pp. 9 s., 27; Silvio Magrini, Il "De Magnete" del Gilbert e i primordi della magnotologia in Italia in rapporto alla lotta intorno ai massimi sistemi, in Archivio di storia della scienza, VIII (1927), n. 2, pp. 17-39; Jean Daujat, Origines et formation de la théorie des phénomènes électriques et magnétiques, Paris 1945, pp. 190-204; Lynn Thorndike, A History of magic and experimental Science, New York 1958, VII, pp. 61, 276-79, 422 ss., 685; VIII, pp. 204, 207, 430; Alexandre Koyré, Etudes d'histoire de la pensée scientifique, Paris 1966, pp. 198-201, 271; Serge Moscovici, L'expérience du mouvement. Jean Baptiste Baliani disciple et critique de Galilée, Paris 1967, pp. 49 53, 55, 58; Claudio Costantini, Baliani e i gesuiti. Annotazioni in margine alla corrispondenza del Baliani con Gio. Luigi Confalonieri e Orazio Grassi, Firenze 1969, pp. 5, 7, 52, 103; Maria Bellucci, La filosofia naturale di Claudio Berigardo, in Rivista Critica di Storia della Filosofia, vol. 26, n. 4, 1971, p. 389, JSTOR 44021645. Charles Coulston Gillispie, Dictionary of Scientific Biography Vol. 3. New York, Scribners, 1973. John Lewis Heilbron, Electricity in the 17th and 18th Centuries. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1979. Cesare Maffioli, Out of Galileo, The Science of Waters 1628–1718. Rotterdam: Erasmus Publishing, 1994. Peter Dear, Discipline and Experience: The Mathematical Way in the Scientific Revolution. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995. Maria Teresa Borgato, Niccolò Cabeo tra teoria ed esperimenti: le leggi del moto, in G.P. Brizzi and R. Greci (ed), Gesuiti e Università in Europa, Bologna: Clueb, 2002, pp. 361–385. Craig Martin, With Aristotelians Like These, Who Needs Anti-Aristotelians? Chymical Corpuscular Matter Theory in Niccolò Cabeo's "Meteorology", in Early Science and Medicine, vol. 11, n. 2, 2006, pp. 135-161, JSTOR 4130256. Carlos Sommervogel, Bibliothèque de la Compagnie de Jésus II, p. 483. Collegamenti esterni Niccolò Cabeo, su Treccani.it – Enciclopedie on line, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana. Modifica su Wikidata Niccolò Cabeo, su sapere.it, De Agostini. Modifica su Wikidata Alfonso Ingegno, Niccolò Cabeo, in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana. Modifica su Wikidata Opere di Niccolò Cabeo / Niccolò Cabeo (altra versione), su openMLOL, Horizons Unlimited srl. Modifica su Wikidata (EN) Niccolò Cabeo, in Galileo Project, Rice University. V · D · M Compagnia di Gesù V · D · M Galileo Galilei Controllo di autoritàVIAF (EN) 67405010 · ISNI (EN) 0000 0001 2027 7283 · LCCN (EN) no2011084262 · GND (DE) 124652794 · BNF (FR) cb124596318 (data) · BNE (ES) XX870995 (data) · CERL cnp00480040 · WorldCat Identities (EN) lccn-no2011084262 Biografie Portale Biografie Cattolicesimo Portale Cattolicesimo Fisica Portale Fisica Categorie: Gesuiti italianiFilosofi italiani del XVI secoloFilosofi italiani del XVII secoloMatematici italiani del XVI secoloMatematici italiani del XVII secoloNati nel 1586Morti nel 1650Nati il 26 febbraioMorti il 30 giugnoNati a FerraraMorti a Genova[altre]Niccolò Cabeo (26 febbraio 1586 - 30 Giugno, 1650), noto anche come Nicolaus Cabeo , è stato un italiano gesuita filosofo , teologo , ingegnere e matematico .  Biografia E 'nato a Ferrara nel 1586, ed è stato istruito nel collegio dei Gesuiti a Parma inizio nel 1602. Passò i prossimi due anni a Padova e ha trascorso 1606-07 studia in Piacenza prima di completare tre anni (1607-10) di studio in filosofia a Parma. Ha trascorso altri quattro anni (1612-1616) a studiare teologia a Parma e l'apprendistato di un altro anno di a Mantova . Ha poi insegnato teologia e la matematica a Parma , poi nel 1622 è diventato un predicatore. Per un certo periodo ha ricevuto il patrocinio dei Duchi di Mantova e del Este a Ferrara. Durante questo periodo è stato coinvolto in idraulica progetti. Egli avrebbe poi tornare a insegnare la matematica ancora una volta in Genova , la città dove sarebbe morto nel 1650.  Egli è noto per i suoi contributi alla fisica esperimenti e osservazioni. Egli ha osservato gli esperimenti di Giovanni Battista Baliani per quanto riguarda la caduta di oggetti, e ha scritto su questi esperimenti osservando che due oggetti diversi cadono nello stesso lasso di tempo, indipendentemente dal mezzo. Inoltre ha effettuato esperimenti con pendoli e osservato che una carica elettricamente corpo può ottenere oggetti non elettrificato. Egli ha anche notato che due oggetti carichi respinti a vicenda.  Le sue osservazioni sono state pubblicate nelle opere, Philosophia Magnetica (1629) e in quatuor libros Aristotelis meteorologicorum Commentaria (1646). La prima di queste opere esaminato la causa della Terra magnetismo ed è stata dedicata ad uno studio del lavoro di William Gilbert . Cabeo pensato alla Terra immobile, e quindi non ha accettato il suo movimento come la causa del campo magnetico . Cabeo descritto attrazione elettrica in termini di effluvi elettrici, rilasciato sfregando alcuni materiali insieme. Questi effluvi spinto nell'aria circostante spostarlo. Quando l'aria riportato nella sua posizione originale, portava corpi leggeri con essa facendole muovere verso il materiale attraente. Entrambi Accademia del Cimento e Robert Boyle eseguiti esperimenti con vuoti a tentativi di confermare o smentire le idee di Cabeo.  Seconda pubblicazione di Cabeo era un commento di Aristotele Meteorologia . In questo lavoro, ha esaminato attentamente una serie di idee proposte da Galileo Galilei , tra cui il movimento della terra e la legge di caduta dei gravi. Cabeo si è opposto alle teorie di Galileo. Cabeo anche discusso la teoria del flusso d'acqua proposta da allievo di Galileo, Benedetto Castelli . Lui e Castelli sono stati coinvolti per una disputa nel nord Italia circa il reinstradamento del fiume Reno . La gente di Ferrara erano su un lato della controversia e Cabeo era il loro avvocato. Castelli ha favorito l'altro lato della controversia e agiva come agente del Papa, Urbano VIII . Cabeo anche discusso alcune idee su alchimia in questo libro.  Il cratere Cabeus sulla Luna porta il suo nome. Il LCROSS progetto ha scoperto la prova di acqua nel cratere Cabeus nell'ottobre 2009.  Guarda anche Storia di Geomagnetismo Elenco dei cattolici-scienziati chierici Riferimenti Heilbron, JL, energia elettrica nei secoli 17 e 18 . Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1979. Maffioli, Cesare, Out of Galileo, The Science of Waters 1628-1718 . Rotterdam: Erasmus Publishing, 1994. Sommervogel (a cura di), Bibliothèque de la Compagnie de Jesus . Bruxelles: 1960. Gillispie, Charles Coulston (a cura di), Dizionario della biografia scientifica Vol. 3. New York: Scribners, 1973 Borgato, Maria Teresa, Niccolò Cabeo Tra Teoria ed Esperimenti: le leggi del moto , in GP Brizzi e R. Greci (a cura di), Gesuiti e Università in Europa, Bologna: Clueb, 2002, pp 361-385.. Caro Peter. Disciplina e Esperienza: Il modo matematico nella rivoluzione scientifica . Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995. This page is based on the copyrighted Wikipedia article "Niccol%C3%B2_Cabeo" (Authors); it is used under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. You may redistribute it, verbatim or modified, providing that you comply with the terms of the CC-BY-SA. Cookie-policy. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, "Grice e Cabeo," per Il Club Anglo-Italiano, The Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Grice, Liguria, Italia.

cacciari: essential Italian philosopher. Massimo Cacciari (Venezia, 5 giugno 1944) è un filosofo, politico, accademico e opinionista italiano, ex sindaco di Venezia.   Indice 1Biografia 1.1Studi e inizi 1.2Carriera accademica 1.3Carriera politica 1.3.1In Potere Operaio e nel PCI 1.3.2Sindaco di Venezia (1993-2000) 1.3.3Europarlamentare e consigliere regionale veneto 1.3.4Sindaco di Venezia (2005-2010) 2Pensiero 3Citazioni 4Opere 5Onorificenze 6Premi e riconoscimenti 7Note 8Bibliografia 9Altri progetti 10Collegamenti esterni Biografia Studi e inizi Di ascendenze emiliane per via paterna (il nonno Gino Cacciari, di Medicina, si era trasferito a Venezia per dirigere i cantieri navali della città), è figlio di Pietro, pediatra, e di una casalinga proveniente da una famiglia di artisti[2][3][4].  Dopo aver frequentato il Ginnasio Liceo Marco Polo di Venezia, si è laureato in Filosofia nel 1967 all'Università degli Studi di Padova, con una tesi sulla Critica del Giudizio di Immanuel Kant, con relatore Dino Formaggio. Ancora studente, fu collaboratore dei professori Carlo Diano, Sergio Bettini e Giuseppe Mazzariol[4].  Carriera accademica Nel 1980 diviene professore associato di Estetica presso l'Istituto di Architettura di Venezia, dove nel 1985 diventa professore ordinario[5]. Nel 2002 fonda la Facoltà di Filosofia dell'Università Vita-Salute San Raffaele[6] a Cesano Maderno, di cui è preside fino al 2005. È tra i fondatori di alcune riviste di filosofia politica, che hanno segnato il dibattito dagli anni sessanta agli anni ottanta, tra cui Angelus Novus, Contropiano, il Centauro, Laboratorio politico.  Al centro della sua riflessione filosofica si colloca la crisi della razionalità moderna, che si è rivelata incapace di cogliere il senso ultimo del reale, abbandonando la ricerca dei fondamenti del conoscere. La sua visione muove dal concetto di "pensiero negativo", ravvisato nelle filosofie di Friedrich Nietzsche, di Martin Heidegger e di Ludwig Wittgenstein, per risalire ai suoi presupposti in alcuni aspetti della tradizione religiosa e del pensiero filosofico occidentali.[7]  Ha pubblicato numerose opere e saggi, tra i quali meritano una particolare attenzione: Krisis (del 1976); Pensiero negativo e razionalizzazione; (1977), Dallo Steinhof (1980), Icone della legge (1985), L'angelo necessario (1986)[8], Dell'inizio (1990), Della cosa ultima (2004) vincitore del Premio Cimitile. Hamletica, Adelphi, Milano, 2009 è il suo lavoro più recente. I volumi Icone della legge e L'angelo necessario presentano, inoltre, alcune pagine dedicate alla filosofia dell'icona e agli esiti del pensiero del mistico russo Pavel Aleksandrovič Florenskij.  Tra i numerosi riconoscimenti sono da ricordare la laurea honoris causa in Architettura conferita dall'Università degli Studi di Genova nel 2003, la laurea honoris causa in Scienze politiche conferita dall'Università di Bucarest nel 2007 e la laurea honoris causa in "filologia, letteratura e tradizione classica" conferita dall'Università di Bologna nel 2014.  Attualmente è Presidente della fondazione Gianni Pellicani [9] e insegna Pensare filosofico e metafisica presso la Facoltà di Filosofia dell'Università Vita-Salute San Raffaele di Milano, di cui è stato anche prorettore vicario[10].  Suo fratello Paolo è stato deputato di Rifondazione Comunista tra il 2006 e il 2008.  Carriera politica In Potere Operaio e nel PCI Da giovane fu un politico militante e occupò con gli operai della Montedison la stazione di Mestre.[2] Collaborò negli anni sessanta alla rivista mensile Classe operaia e, dopo contrasti interni tra Mario Tronti, Alberto Asor Rosa e Toni Negri (il quale fu un incontro essenziale per la sua formazione), diresse insieme ad Asor Rosa la rivista, definita di "materiali marxisti", Contropiano con la quale si tentò la riunificazione del gruppo. Ma il tentativo fallì e il gruppo veneto trasformò la rivista nel giornale Potere Operaio "Giornale politico dagli operai di Porto Marghera" a cui Cacciari, deluso, non aderì.[11] In seguito entrò nel Partito Comunista Italiano[2], ricoprendo cariche apparentemente lontane dai suoi interessi filosofici: responsabile della Commissione Industria del PCI Veneto negli anni settanta, fu poi eletto alla Camera dei deputati dal 1976 al 1983, e fu membro della Commissione Industria della Camera.  Sindaco di Venezia (1993-2000) Fu sindaco di Venezia dal 1993 al 2000 schierato tra i principali sostenitori de I Democratici di Romano Prodi tanto che si parlò di lui come un probabile leader dell'Ulivo. Fin dall'inizio della sua attività politica vide nel federalismo una tradizione da recuperare per i progressisti italiani laddove buona parte dei dirigenti della sinistra vedevano in questa attenzione agli ideali federalisti un freno al consenso elettorale del centro-sud. In preparazione delle elezioni regionali del 2000, era convinto che per vincere in una regione tradizionalmente moderata, la sinistra avrebbe dovuto agganciare una parte dell'elettorato in fuga dalla ex DC e per questo scopo tentò di "aprire" ad un'alleanza con la Lega Nord (poi disapprovata dal centro-sinistra italiano), e mosse in questa direzione politica alcuni significativi passi, ma non riuscì a convincere fino in fondo l'elettorato autonomista[12][13].  Nel 1997 fu sua la volontà di realizzare il progetto per edificare il ponte di Calatrava, il quale ha portato continue polemiche con la Corte dei conti nel corso degli anni[14].  Europarlamentare e consigliere regionale veneto Alle europee del 1999 si candida con la lista de I Democratici risultando eletto in due circoscrizioni: lui ha optato per quella nord-occidentale.  La sua sconfitta alle Regionali del 2000, quando fu candidato per la presidenza della regione Veneto, fece tramontare l'ipotesi che potesse diventare il futuro leader dell'Ulivo. Cacciari ottenne in quella tornata il 38,2% dei voti, uscendo sconfitto dal rappresentante della Casa delle Libertà Giancarlo Galan, che ricevette il 54,9% dei consensi. In quella tornata elettorale Cacciari ottenne un seggio da consigliere regionale: per questo si dimise, per incompatibilità, da europarlamentare.  Sindaco di Venezia (2005-2010) Nel 2005 annunciò l'intenzione di ricandidarsi per la seconda volta a sindaco di Venezia. I partiti di sinistra dell'Ulivo, avevano però, già raggiunto l'accordo per la candidatura unitaria del magistrato Felice Casson, ma Cacciari dichiarò di non voler rinunciare alla propria candidatura, anche a costo di spaccare l'unità della coalizione, come effettivamente avvenne, con Cacciari sostenuto da UDEUR Popolari e La Margherita e Casson appoggiato da tutti gli altri partiti del centrosinistra.  Al primo turno delle votazioni Casson ebbe il 37,7% dei voti, mentre Cacciari si fermò al 23,2%; sfruttando le divisioni presenti in maniera ancora più acuta nel centrodestra a Venezia, furono proprio i due rappresentanti del centro-sinistra ad andare al ballottaggio. A sorpresa Cacciari, seppur sostenuto da liste più deboli, riuscì a far leva sull'elettorato moderato e vinse la sfida con 1 341 voti di vantaggio sul suo competitore (50,5% contro 49,5%).  L'inattesa vittoria del politico-filosofo causò malumori all'interno della coalizione (Casson commentò il risultato esclamando: "Ha vinto Cacciari? Allora ha vinto la destra!") e una particolare situazione nel consiglio comunale veneziano: la Margherita, con il 13,4% di voti, ebbe diritto a ben 26 seggi, (mentre i DS, che ottennero il 21,2%, si dovettero accontentare di 6 seggi) e l'UDEUR, nonostante un modesto 1,4%, si accaparrò 2 seggi (a differenza di Rifondazione Comunista che con il 6,8% si aggiudicò un solo seggio).  Nel complesso, quindi, la coalizione Cacciari, con il 14,8% dei suffragi, ebbe diritto a 28 seggi, mentre il raggruppamento di Casson, con il 41%, risultò possessore di 9 seggi. Ciò consentì a Cacciari, iscritto alla Margherita, di cui era esponente di punta in Veneto, di poter governare la città con una solida maggioranza consiliare.  In occasione delle successive elezioni regionali del 2005, delle elezioni politiche del 2006 e delle amministrative del 2007 Cacciari mise in evidenza quella che egli chiamava la questione settentrionale.  Il 2 novembre 2009, anche deluso dall'evoluzione del Partito Democratico, annunciò l'abbandono della politica attiva dopo la conclusione del mandato di sindaco, avvenuta nell'aprile 2010.[15]  Abbastanza accesa la politica condotta dalla sua giunta contro gli ambulanti abusivi[16] e molto contestate furono anche le ordinanze che, ai fini del decoro urbano, imponevano il divieto di vendere dei cibi da asporto presso la piazza San Marco, di girare a torso nudo, di sdraiarsi in terra ecc.[17] Nel 2007 inoltre, con la creazione del festival di Roma da parte dell'allora sindaco Walter Veltroni, espresse disappunto nel caso in cui quello di Venezia ne fosse stato oscurato.[18] Non pochi gli attriti con la Lega Nord in vista della sua intenzione di realizzare un campo Sinti, nella zona di Mestre.[19] Celebre poi la campagna che favoriva l'uso dell'acqua pubblica in contrapposizione all'acquisto di quella in bottiglia.[20] A lui si deve il restauro di Palazzo Grassi e di Punta della Dogana.[21]  Il 23 luglio 2010, a Mogliano Veneto, presentò il manifesto politico Verso Nord, un'Italia più vicina, diretto a chi non si riconosceva né nel PD, né nel PdL e voleva una politica per il Nord diversa da quella attuata dalla Lega. Il manifesto si è poi trasfuso in un partito politico chiamato appunto Verso Nord, nato ufficialmente il 12 ottobre 2010.[22][23]  Pensiero  Massimo Cacciari nel 1976 Nelle sue prime opere (Krisis, 1976, Pensiero negativo e razionalizzazione, 1977) Massimo Cacciari sviluppa la sua riflessione che, prendendo spunto da Friedrich Nietzsche, Ludwig Wittgenstein e Martin Heidegger, conferma «... la fine della razionalità classica e dialettica e l'emergere pieno, costruttivo, rifondativo e non distruttivo [...] del "pensiero negativo".»[24]  Dall'analisi della cultura viennese e mitteleuropea, che si forma sullo sfondo dei grandi mutamenti del sistema capitalistico tra l'800 e il '900, Cacciari identifica una società reazionaria incapace di aprirsi alla modernità e improntata al nihilismo, punto d'arrivo del fallimento del pensiero dialettico della scuola hegeliano-marxista. In quest'ambito si origina il pensiero negativo (Negatives Denken) che ad iniziare da Schopenhauer sembra collegarsi all'irrazionalismo ma che in realtà è la conseguenza ultima della tradizione metafisica occidentale che pretendeva di superare ogni contraddizione e la negatività dell'esistenza stessa tramite quella libera volontà, coerentemente negata da Nietzsche e ancora presente invece nell'ascesi schopenhaueriana, come strumento per la liberazione dal dolore di vivere[25].  La crisi della metafisica occidentale è anche dimostrata dalla fiducia nella tecnica, presuntuosa esaltazione di quella ragione che invece rivela il sostanziale fallimento dei valori ultimi che dovrebbero guidare il progresso umano: « ...la tecnica realizza la direzione implicita della metafisica moderna – ma nel realizzarla ne critica e liquida anche l'idea centrale [il fondamento originario]» che era la certezza dei valori. Da qui un'epoca caratterizzata dal nulla dei valori e dalla fine della filosofia ormai rivolta «tutta al passato, a prima della ratio»[26]  Con l'avvento del pensiero negativo finalmente ci si libera «da un ideale totalitario del sapere, per cui non si dipende più da un ordine naturale, fisso ed immutabile, di cui la ragione scopre le leggi, ma si interviene creativamente, dando ordine alle cose, in una molteplicità di saperi».[27]  Nelle sue ultime opere Cacciari intreccia la riflessione filosofica con quella teologica quasi risalendo ad una tradizione interpretativa platonica. Se ormai la filosofia si è specializzata e frantumata in una serie di campi specifici che cosa vorrà dire "pensare" al suo stesso inizio? Cacciari cerca la risposta in quella tradizione filosofico-teologica che pone il principio, l'"inizio" nella nozione di "Deus-Esse".[28]  Fin dal libro primo della sua opera filosofica, Dell’Inizio, Cacciari si colloca su un terreno complementare e diametralmente opposto a quello di Emanuele Severino: se il primo evidenzia la contingenza dell'originato, il secondo enfatizza l'unicità eterna dell'origine. Mentre per Cacciari l’originario è inizio a-logico, che conserva sempre inalterata la possibilità di non essere inizio di qualcosa che altro-da-sé, di negarsi come inizio e che quindi non esista originato alcuno, secondo Severino, invece, l’originario è la struttura logico-necessaria di significati il cui contenuto è tutto ciò che è, tale per cui non è mai potuto esistere, non è mai esistito e non potrà mai esistere alcun ente non originato da quell'unica totalità iniziale. Secondo Severino, la veracità di Dio e del Destino prevale sulla Sua onnipotenza, nel senso che è inevitabile e scontata in partenza la vittoria sul nemico, mentre è impossibile che Egli fugga davanti ad esso, finendo con il cadere nel nulla, il proprio contrario.[29]  Citazioni «Caro C., non possiamo proseguire la nostra via che attraverso lo straniero che ospitiamo - e che chiamiamo 'nostro' Io. Questo è il vero volto dell'altro, del prossimo ineludibile, appiccicato a noi come un incubo! Hospes / hostis, necessariamente. 'Assicurarcelo' è impossibile.»  (Massimo Cacciari, Della cosa ultima, Adelphi, Mi, 2004, pag. 135) «Pietà afferra il poeta — pericolosissima pietà, sul limite estremo della misericordia inordinata.»  (Massimo Cacciari, "Della cosa ultima", Adelphi, Mi, 2004, pag. 251) Opere Introduzione di Massimo Cacciari a Georg Simmel, Saggi di estetica, Padova, 1970 Qualificazione e composizione di classe, in Contropiano n. 2, 1970 Ciclo chimico e lotte operaie, con S. Potenza, in Contropiano, n. 2, 1971 Dopo l'autunno caldo: ristrutturazione e analisi di classe, Marsilio, Padova, 1973 Pensiero negativo e razionalizzazione. Problemi e funzione della critica del sistema dialettico, 1973 Metropolis, Roma, Officina, 1973 Piano economico e composizione di classe, Feltrinelli, 1975 Lavoro, valorizzazione, cervello sociale, in Aut Aut, n. 145-146, Milano, 1975 Note intorno a «sull'uso capitalistico delle macchine» di Raniero Panzieri, in Aut Aut, n. 149-150, Milano, settembre - dicembre 1975 Oikos. Da Loos a Wittgenstein, con Francesco Amendolagine, Roma, 1975 Krisis, Saggio sulla crisi del pensiero negativo da Nietzsche a Wittgenstein, Feltrinelli, 1976 (ottava edizione nel 1983) Pensiero negativo e razionalizzazione, Marsilio, Venezia, 1977 Il dispositivo Foucault, Venezia, Cluva, 1977 Dialettica e critica del politico. Saggio su Hegel, Feltrinelli, 1978 Walter Rathenau e il suo a mbiente, De Donato, 1979 Crucialità del tempo: saggi sulla concezione nietzscheana del tempo, et al, Liguori, 1980 Dallo Steinhof, Adelphi, 1980 (nuova edizione 2005) Adolf Loos e il suo angelo, Electa, 1981 Feuerbach contro Agostino d'Ippona, Adelphi, 1982 Il potere: saggi di filosofia sociale e politica, con G. Penzo, Roma, Città Nuova, 1985 Icone della legge, Adelphi, Milano, 1985 (nuova edizione 2002) Zeit ohne Kronos, Ritter Verlag, Klagenfurt, 1986 L'Angelo necessario, Adelphi, Milano, 1986 (nuova edizione 1992) Drama y duelo, Tecnos, Madrid, 1989 Le forme del fare, con Massimo Donà e Romano Gasparotti, Liguori, 1989 Dell'Inizio, Adelphi, 1990 (nuova edizione nel 2001) Dran, Méridiens de la décision dans la pensée contemporaine, Ediotions de L'Eclat, 1992 Architecture and Nihilism, Yale University Press, 1993 Desde Nietzsche: Tiempo, Arte, Politica, Biblios, Buenos Aires, 1994 Geofilosofia dell'Europa, Adelphi, Milano, 1994 (nuova edizione 2003) Großstadt, Baukunst, Nihilismus, Ritter, Klagenfurt, 1995 Migranten, Merve, Berlino, 1995 Introduzione a F. Bacone, Nuova Atlantide, Silvio Berlusconi Editore, Milano, 1995 L'Arcipelago, Adelphi, Milano, 1997 Emilio Vedova. Arbitrii luce, Catalogo della mostra, Skira, 1998 Arte, tragedia, tecnica, con Massimo Donà, Raffaello Cortina, 2000 El Dios que baila, Paidos, Buenos Aires, 2000 Duemilauno. Politica e futuro, Feltrinelli, Milano, 2001 Wohnen. Denken. Essays über Baukunst im Zeitalter der völligen Mobilmachung, Ritter Verlag, Klagenfurt und Wien, 2002 Della cosa ultima, Adelphi, Milano, 2004 La città, Pazzini, 2004 Il dolore dell'altro. Una lettura dell'Ecuba di Euripide e del libro di Giobbe, Saletta dell'Uva, 2004 Soledad acogedora. De Leopardi a Celan, Abada Editores, Madrid, 2004 Paraíso y naufragio. Musil y El hombre sin atributos, Abada Editores, Madrid, 2005 Magis Amicus Leopardi, Saletta dell'Uva, 2005 Maschere della tolleranza, Rizzoli, Milano, 2006 Introduzione a Max Weber, La politica come professione, La scienza come professione, Mondadori, Milano, 2006 Europa o Filosofia, Machado, Madrid, 2007 Tre icone, Adelphi, Milano, 2007 Anni decisivi, Saletta dell'Uva, Caserta, 2007 M. Cacciari-Mario Tronti, Teologia e politica al crocevia della storia, Milano, AlboVersorio, 2007, ISBN 978-88-975-5337-3. The Unpolitical. Essays on the Radical Critique of the Political Thought, Yale University Press, 2009 Hamletica, Milano, Adelphi, 2009, ISBN 978-88-459-2388-3. La città, Pazzini, 2009 Il dolore dell'altro. Una lettura dell'Ecuba di Euripide e del libro di Giobbe, Caserta, Saletta dell'Uva, 2010, ISBN 978-88-613-3035-1. M. Cacciari-Piero Coda, I comandamenti. Io sono il Signore Dio tuo, Bologna, Il Mulino, 2010, ISBN 978-88-151-3776-0. Enzo Bianchi-M. Cacciari, I comandamenti. Ama il prossimo tuo, Bologna, Il Mulino, 2011, ISBN 978-88-152-3377-6. Doppio ritratto. San Francesco in Dante e Giotto, Milano, Adelphi, 2012, ISBN 978-88-459-2672-3. Il potere che frena, Milano, Adelphi, 2013, ISBN 978-88-459-2765-2. Labirinto filosofico, Milano, Adelphi, 2014, ISBN 978-88-459-2876-5. Filologia e filosofia, Bologna, Bononia University Press, 2015, ISBN 978-88-692-3023-3. Re Lear. Padri, figli, eredi, Caserta, Saletta dell'Uva, 2015, ISBN 978-88-613-3082-5. M. Cacciari-Paolo Prodi, Occidente senza utopie, Bologna, Il Mulino, 2016, ISBN 978-88-152-6513-5. M. Cacciari-Bruno Forte, Dio nei doppi pensieri. Attualità di Italo Mancini, Brescia, Morcelliana, 2017. Generare Dio, Bologna, Il Mulino, 2017, ISBN 978-88-152-7368-0. La mente inquieta. Saggio sull'Umanesimo, Torino, Einaudi, 2019, ISBN 978-88-062-4085-1. Ha preparato anche i testi per l'opera Prometeo. Tragedia dell'ascolto di Luigi Nono (1984-1985).  Elogio del diritto (insieme a Natalino Irti, con un saggio di Werner Wilhelm Jaeger, Milano 2019) Onorificenze Grand'Ufficiale dell'Ordine pro Merito Melitensi (SMOM) - nastrino per uniforme ordinaria                               Grand'Ufficiale dell'Ordine pro Merito Melitensi (SMOM) — Venezia, 2 febbraio 2008[30] Laurea Honoris Causa in Architettura, conferita dall'Università degli Studi di Genova nel 2003[31] - nastrino per uniforme ordinariaLaurea Honoris Causa in Architettura, conferita dall'Università degli Studi di Genova nel 2003[31] Laurea Honoris Causa in Scienze politiche, conferita dall'Università degli Studi di Bucarest nel 2007 - nastrino per uniforme ordinariaLaurea Honoris Causa in Scienze politiche, conferita dall'Università degli Studi di Bucarest nel 2007 Laurea Honoris Causa in Filologia, Letteratura e Tradizione Classica, conferita dall'Alma Mater Studiorum - Università di Bologna nel 2014 - nastrino per uniforme ordinariaLaurea Honoris Causa in Filologia, Letteratura e Tradizione Classica, conferita dall'Alma Mater Studiorum - Università di Bologna nel 2014 Premi e riconoscimenti 2005 - Medaglia d'oro del Círculo de Bellas Artes di Madrid 2007 - Uomo per la pace 2016 - International Chair Jacques Derrida (Università di Torino) Note ^ Enciclopedia Treccani alla voce coripsondente  Barbara Romano, i panni sporchi si lavano in casa MA IL CAV., sul piano del gusto, è UNA catastrofe - CONTRO VERONICA: "Se io ho qualcosa da dire a mio marito gli scrivo privatamente" - "Evelina MANNA è un'amica" - "vengo SEMPRE paparazzato dA qualche testa di cazzo", in Dagospia, Libero, 5 maggio 2009. URL consultato il 21 giugno 2013. ^ Camillo Langone, Cari italiani vi invidio, Roma, Fazi, 2013, ISBN 978-88-7625-253-2.  Giorgio Dell'Arti, Biografia di Massimo Cacciari, cinquantamila.it. URL consultato il 6 giugno 2018 (archiviato il 19 luglio 2018). ^ Città di Venezia - Sindaco, su comune.venezia.it. URL consultato l'8 marzo 2010 (archiviato dall'url originale il 10 febbraio 2010). ^ Cacciari Massimo, Università Vita-Salute San Raffaele. URL consultato il 21 giugno 2013 (archiviato dall'url originale il 1º agosto 2014). ^ vedi l'intervista "La predestinazione del male" ^ F. Dal Bo, L'utopia dell'angelo. Note a L'angelo necessario di M. Cacciari, in G. Bertagni (a cura), Architetture utopiche, «arcipelago», n. 5, 2000, pp. 114-121. ^ sito istituzionale della Fondazione Gianni Pellicani, su fondazionegiannipellicani.it (archiviato il 10 giugno 2015). ^ Corriere, 23.7.2010 - Lettera firmata da Massimo Cacciari, su corriere.it. URL consultato il 1º aprile 2013 (archiviato il 17 luglio 2014). ^ Dolores Negrello, A pugno chiuso. Il Partito comunista padovano dal biennio rosso alla stagione dei movimenti, Milano, FrancoAngeli, 2000, pp.160 e 166-167, ISBN 88-464-2146-9. URL consultato il 1º maggio 2013. ^ Adnkronos, su www1.adnkronos.com. URL consultato il 25 agosto 2017 (archiviato il 25 agosto 2017). ^ Progetto Italia Federale, su progettoitaliafederale.it. URL consultato il 25 agosto 2017 (archiviato l'8 maggio 2006). ^ Copia archiviata, su ilpost.it, 11-02-13. URL consultato il 16 aprile 2018 (archiviato il 17 aprile 2018). ^ Cacciari: "Addio alla politica. Sconfitti i miei progetti", in Corriere della Sera, 2 novembre 2009. URL consultato il 21 gennaio 2010. ^ Copia archiviata, su codacons.it, 22 maggio 99. URL consultato il 16 aprile 2018 (archiviato il 16 aprile 2018). ^ Copia archiviata, su pressreader.com, 4 maggio 2007. URL consultato il 16 aprile 2018 (archiviato il 17 aprile 2018). ^ Copia archiviata, su Repubblica.it, 29 agosto 2006. URL consultato il 16 aprile 2018 (archiviato il 17 aprile 2018). ^ Copia archiviata, su lagazzettadelmezzogiorno.it, 27 dicembre 2009. URL consultato il 16 aprile 2018 (archiviato il 17 aprile 2018). ^ Copia archiviata, su nuova Venezia.gelocal.it, 11 giugno 2008. URL consultato il 16 aprile 2018 (archiviato il 17 aprile 2018). ^ Copia archiviata, su corriere.it, 14 maggio 2009. URL consultato il 16 aprile 2018 (archiviato l'8 luglio 2009). ^ Il manifesto politico  Archiviato l'11 maggio 2013 in Internet Archive. di Verso Nord ^ Cacciari lancia Verso nord Ma non siamo il terzo polo, in la Repubblica, 24 luglio 2010, p. 13. URL consultato il 5 dicembre 2010. ^ F. Restaino, Il dibattito filosofico in Italia (1925-1990), in N. Abbagnano, Storia della filosofia, vol. IV, t. II, Torino 1994 p.739 ^ F. Restaino, Op.cit. ibidem e sgg ^ In Maurizio Pancaldi, Mario Trombino, Maurizio Villani, Atlante della filosofia, Hoepli editore, 2006 p.153 ^ Giovanni Catapano, Coincidentia Oppositorum: Appunti sul pensiero di Massimo Cacciari a cura del Dipartimento di Filosofia, Università di Padova ^ Cfr. Massimo Cacciari in EMSF, su emsf.rai.it. URL consultato il 18 aprile 2013 (archiviato dall'url originale il 24 luglio 2011). ^ Davide Grossi, La differenza tra il discorso filosofico di Severino e quello di Cacciari (PDF), in Lo Sguardo - Rivista di Filosofia, II, n. 15, 2014, pp. 166, 177, ISSN 2036-6558 (WC · ACNP), OCLC 7179281251 (archiviato il 25 aprile 2018). Ospitato su archive.is. ^ Dal sito web del Sovrano Militare Ordine di Malta. Archiviato l'8 dicembre 2015 in Internet Archive. ^ architettura.unige.it/inf/documenti03/cacciari/cacciari.htm "facoltà di architettura di genova - Laurea Honoris Causa a Massimo Cacciari - aggiornato il 17 ottobre 2003" "La Facoltà di Architettura di Genova, il 15 ottobre u.s., ha conferito la laurea Honoris Causa a Massimo Cacciari. La motivazione della Facoltà sottolinea il contributo dato da Cacciari alla cultura architettonica internazionale nel corso di oltre un trentennio." Bibliografia F. Dal Bo, L'utopia dell'angelo. Note a L'angelo necessario di M. Cacciari, in G. Bertagni (a cura), Architetture utopiche, «arcipelago», n. 5, 2000, pp. 114–121. L. Tussi, La confusione dialogica Intervista con Massimo Cacciari Recensione di Geofilosofia dell'Europa, su ItaliaLibri Recensione di Hamletica, a cura di Andrea Fiamma Recensione di Il potere che frena, a cura di Andrea Fiamma Traduzione francese in versione integrale e gratuita di un libro inedito in italiano: Drân. Méridiens de la décision dans la pensée contemporaine (Drân. Meridiani della decisione nel pensiero contemporaneo) I. Bertoletti, Massimo Cacciari. Filosofia come a-teismo, Edizioni ETS, Pisa, 2008. D. Borso, Il giovane Cacciari, Mille lire stampa alternativa, Milano 1995. G. Cantarano, Immagini del nulla. La filosofia italiana contemporanea, Edizioni Bruno Mondadori, Milano, 1998. G. Catapano, Coincidentia oppositorum. Appunti sul pensiero di Massimo Cacciari, «Etica & Politica», III/2 (2001) G. Catapano, "Coincidentia oppositorum". Appunti sul pensiero di Massimo Cacciari, in Libertà, giustizia e bene in una società plurale, a cura di C. Vigna, Vita e Pensiero, Milano 2003, pp. 475–495. J. León, “Ontología de crisis: Aion y dialéctica negativa en la crítica marxista italiana[collegamento interrotto]”, VI Congreso de la Sociedad Académica de Filosofía: Experiencia de la crisis, crisis de la experiencia. Universidad Carlos III de Madrid, 22-24 Mayo 2013. N. Magliulo, Cacciari e Severino. Quaestiones disputatae, Mimesis, Milano-Udine, 2010. N. Magliulo, La luce oscura. Invito al pensiero di Massimo Cacciari, Saletta Dell’Uva, Caserta, 2005. N. Magliulo, Un pensiero tragico. L’itinerario filosofico di Massimo Cacciari, Città Del Sole, Napoli, 2000. L. Mauceri, La hybris originaria. Massimo Cacciari ed Emanuele Severino, Orthotes Editrice, Napoli-Salerno, 2017. Altri progetti Collabora a Wikiquote Wikiquote contiene citazioni di o su Massimo Cacciari Collabora a Wikimedia Commons Wikimedia Commons contiene immagini o altri file su Massimo Cacciari Collegamenti esterni Massimo Cacciari, su Treccani.it – Enciclopedie on line, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana. Modifica su Wikidata Opere di Massimo Cacciari / Massimo Cacciari (altra versione), su openMLOL, Horizons Unlimited srl. Modifica su Wikidata (EN) Opere di Massimo Cacciari, su Open Library, Internet Archive. Modifica su Wikidata Massimo Cacciari, su europarl.europa.eu, Parlamento europeo. Modifica su Wikidata Massimo Cacciari, su storia.camera.it, Camera dei deputati. Modifica su Wikidata Massimo Cacciari, su Openpolis, Associazione Openpolis. Modifica su Wikidata Registrazioni di Massimo Cacciari, su RadioRadicale.it, Radio Radicale. Modifica su Wikidata Cacciari: la necessità della libertà, su RAI Filosofia, su filosofia.rai.it.  PredecessoreSindaco di Venezia SuccessoreVenezia-Stemma.svg Ugo Bergamo5 dicembre 1993 - 28 febbraio 2000Paolo CostaI Paolo Costa17 aprile 2005 - 8 aprile 2010Giorgio OrsoniII V · D · M Vincitori del Premio Cesare Pavese Controllo di autoritàVIAF (EN) 56748130 · ISNI (EN) 0000 0001 2134 3107 · SBN IT\ICCU\CFIV\010155 · LCCN (EN) n79021065 · GND (DE) 119293803 · BNF (FR) cb12038336t (data) · BNE (ES) XX1016938 (data) · ULAN (EN) 500220227 · NDL (EN, JA) 00887569 · WorldCat Identities (EN) lccn-n79021065 Biografie Portale Biografie Filosofia Portale Filosofia Politica Portale Politica Categorie: Filosofi italiani del XX secoloFilosofi italiani del XXI secoloPolitici italiani del XX secoloPolitici italiani del XXI secoloAccademici italiani del XX secoloAccademici italiani del XXI secoloNati nel 1944Nati il 5 giugnoNati a VeneziaSindaci di VeneziaConsiglieri regionali del VenetoDeputati della VII legislatura della Repubblica ItalianaDeputati dell'VIII legislatura della Repubblica ItalianaDirettori di periodici italianiEuroparlamentari dell'Italia della V legislaturaFederalistiFondatori di riviste italianeMilitanti di Potere OperaioOpinionisti italianiPolitici de I DemocraticiPolitici della MargheritaPolitici del Partito Comunista ItalianoPolitici del Partito Democratico (Italia)Professori dell'Università IUAV di VeneziaStudenti dell'Università degli Studi di Padova[altre]. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, "Grice e Cacciari," per Il Club Anglo-Italiano, The Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Grice, Liguria, Italia.

CALCVULATVM: Grice: “We speak of the predicate calculus, but what did the Romans mean?” – account," originally "pebble used as a reckoning counter," diminutive of calx (genitive calcis) "limestone" – Grice, “On the roman meaning of calculus.”Grice speaks variously of calculus. One of the characteristics of implicature is CALCULABILITY -- - In the second William James, he uses CALCULATE variously.  Conventional implata are not calculable. Insofar as tl1e CALCULATION that a particular conversational implicature is present requires, besides contextual and background information, only a knowledge of what has been said (or of the conventional commitment of the utterance), and insofar as the manner of expression plays no role in the CALCULATION, it will not be possible to find another way of saying the same thing, which simply lacks the implicature in question, except where some special feature of the substituted version is itself relevant to the determination of an implicature (in virtue of one of the maxims of Manner). If we call this feature NONDETACIIAlliLITY, one may expect a generalized conversational implicature that is carried by a familiar, nonspecial locution to have a high degree of nondetachability. 3. To speak approximately, since the CALCULATION of the presence of a conversational implicature presupposes an initial knowledge of the conventional force of the expression the utterance of which carries the implicature, a conversational implicatum will be a condition that is not included in the original specification of the expression's conventional force. Though it may not be impossible for what starts life, so to speak, as a conversational implicature to become conventionalized, to suppose that this is so in a given case would require special justification. So, initially at least, conversational implicata are not part of the meaning of the expressions to the employment of which they attach. 4. ·Since the. truth of a conversational implicatum is not required by the truth of what is said (what is said may be true-what is implicated may be false), the implicature is not carried by what is said, but only by the saying of what is said, or by 'putting it that way.' 5. Since, to CALCULATE a conversational implicature is to CALCULATE what has to be supposed in order to preserve the supposition that the Cooperative Principle is being observed, and since there may be various possible specific explanations, a list of which may be open, the conversational implicatum in such cases will be disjunction of such specific explanations; and if the list of these is open, the implicatum will have just the kind of indeterminacy that many actual implicata do in fact seem to possess.  cf. calculation -- Hobbes uses ‘calculation – How latin is that? calcŭlo , āre, v. a. id.,  I.to calculate, compute, reckon (late Lat.). from diminutive of ‘calx,’ a stone usef for reckon --- I. Lit., Prud. στεφ. 3, 131.— II. Trop., to consider as, to esteem, Sid. Ep. 7, 9.Grice uses ‘calculus’ slightly different, in the phrase “first-order predicate calculus with time-relative identity” -- a central branch of mathematics, originally conceived in connection with the determination of the tangent or normal to a curve and of the area between it and some fixed axis; but it also embraced the calculation of volumes and of areas of curved surfaces, the lengths of curved lines, and so on. Mathematical analysis is a still broader branch that subsumed the calculus under its rubric see below, together with the theories of functions and of infinite series. Still more general and/or abstract versions of analysis have been developed during the twentieth century, with applications to other branches of mathematics, such as probability theory. The origins of the calculus go back to Grecian mathematics, usually in problems of determining the slope of a tangent to a curve and the area enclosed underneath it by some fixed axes or by a closed curve; sometimes related questions such as the length of an arc of a curve, or the area of a curved surface, were considered. The subject flourished in the seventeenth century when the analytical geometry of Descartes gave algebraic means to extend the procedures. It developed further when the problems of slope and area were seen to require the finding of new functions, and that the pertaining processes were seen to be inverse. Newton and Leibniz had these insights in the late seventeenth century, independently and in different forms. In the Leibnizian differential calculus the differential dx was proposed as an infinitesimal increment on x, and of the same dimension as x; the slope of the tangent to a curve with y as a function of x was the ratio dy/dx. The integral, ex, was infinitely large and of the dimension of x; thus for linear variables x and y the area ey dx was the sum of the areas of rectangles y high and dx wide. All these quantities were variable, and so could admit higher-order differentials and integrals ddx, eex, and so on. This theory was extended during the eighteenth century, especially by Euler, to functions of several independent variables, and with the creation of the calculus of variations. The chief motivation was to solve differential equations: they were motivated largely by problems in mechanics, which was then the single largest branch of mathematics. Newton’s less successful fluxional calculus used limits in its basic definitions, thereby changing dimensions for the defined terms. The fluxion was the rate of change of a variable quantity relative to “time”; conversely, that variable was the “fluent” of its fluxion. These quantities were also variable; fluxions and fluents of higher orders could be defined from them. A third tradition was developed during the late eighteenth century by J. L. Lagrange. For him the “derived functions” of a function fx were definable by purely algebraic means from its Taylorian power-series expansion about any value of x. By these means it was hoped to avoid the use of both infinitesimals and limits, which exhibited conceptual difficulties, the former due to their unclear ontology as values greater than zero but smaller than any orthodox quantity, the latter because of the naive theories of their deployment. In the early nineteenth century the Newtonian tradition died away, and Lagrange’s did not gain general conviction; however, the LeibnizEuler line kept some of its health, for its utility in physical applications. But all these theories gradually became eclipsed by the mathematical analysis of A. L. Cauchy. As with Newton’s calculus, the theory of limits was central, but they were handled in a much more sophisticated way. He replaced the usual practice of defining the integral as more or less automatically the inverse of the differential or fluxion or whatever by giving independent definitions of the derivative and the integral; thus for the first time the fundamental “theorem” of the calculus, stating their inverse relationship, became a genuine theorem, requiring sufficient conditions upon the function to ensure its truth. Indeed, Cauchy pioneered the routine specification of necessary and/or sufficient conditions for truth of theorems in analysis. His discipline also incorporated the theory of discontinuous functions and the convergence or divergence of infinite series. Again, general definitions were proffered and conditions sought for properties to hold. Cauchy’s discipline was refined and extended in the second half of the nineteenth century by K. Weierstrass and his followers at Berlin. The study of existence theorems as for irrational numbers, and also technical questions largely concerned with trigonometric series, led to the emergence of set topology. In addition, special attention was given to processes involving several variables changing in value together, and as a result the importance of quantifiers was recognized  for example, reversing their order from ‘there is a y such that for all x . . .’ to ‘for all x, there is a y . . .’. This developed later into general set theory, and then to mathematical logic: Cantor was the major figure in the first aspect, while G. Peano pioneered much for the second. Under this regime of “rigor,” infinitesimals such as dx became unacceptable as mathematical objects. However, they always kept an unofficial place because of their utility when applying the calculus, and since World War II theories have been put forward in which the established level of rigor and generality are preserved and even improved but in which infinitesimals are reinstated. The best-known of these theories, the non-standard analysis of A. Robinson, makes use of model theory by defining infinitesimals as arithmetical inverses of the transfinite integers generated by a “non-standard model” of Peano’s postulates for the natural numbers. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Hobbes’s calculatio and Grice’s calculability.”

campanella: one of the most important of the Italian philosophers.  H. P. Grice enjoyed his philosophical poems.-  15681639,  theologian, philosopher, and poet. He joined the Dominican order in 1582. Most of the years between 1592 and 1634 he spent in prison for heresy and for conspiring to replace  rule in southern Italy with a utopian republic. He fled to France in 1634 and spent his last years in freedom. Some of his best poetry was written while he was chained in a dungeon; and during less rigorous confinement he managed to write over a hundred books, not all of which survive. His best-known work, The City of the Sun 1602; published 1623, describes a community governed in accordance with astrological principles, with a priest as head of state. In later political writings, Campanella attacked Machiavelli and called for either a universal  monarchy with the pope as spiritual head or a universal theocracy with the pope as both spiritual and temporal leader. His first publication was Philosophy Demonstrated by the Senses 1591, which supported the theories of Telesio and initiated his lifelong attack on Aristotelianism. He hoped to found a new Christian philosophy based on the two books of nature and Scripture, both of which are manifestations of God. While he appealed to sense experience, he was not a straightforward empiricist, for he saw the natural world as alive and sentient, and he thought of magic as a tool for utilizing natural processes. In this he was strongly influenced by Ficino. Despite his own difficulties with Rome, he wrote in support of Galileo. Tommaso Campanella, al secolo chiamato Giovan Domenico Campanella, noto anche con lo pseudonimo di Settimontano Squilla[1] (Stilo, 5 settembre 1568 – Parigi, 21 maggio 1639), è stato un filosofo, teologo, poeta e frate domenicano italiano. Giovan Domenico Campanella nacque a Stilo[2], un piccolo borgo della Calabria Ulteriore, al tempo parte del Regno di Napoli (attualmente in provincia di Reggio Calabria), il 5 settembre del 1568, come egli stesso più volte afferma nei suoi scritti e come dichiarò il 23 novembre del 1599 nel carcere di Castel Nuovo a Napoli, al giudice Antonio Peri: «son di una terra chiamata Stilo in Calabria Ultra, mio padre si domanda Geronimo Campanella e mia madre Caterina Basile».[3] Fino al 1806 si conservava anche l'atto di battesimo nella parrocchia di San Biagio, borgo di Stilo, così redatto: «A dì 12 settembre 1568, battezzato Giovan Domenico Campanella figlio di Geronimo e Catarinella Martello, nato il giorno 5, da me D. Terentio Romano, parroco di S. Biaggio [sic] nel Borgo».[4] Il padre era un ciabattino povero e analfabeta che non poteva permettersi di mandare i figli a scuola e Giovan Domenico ascoltava dalla finestra le lezioni del maestro del paese, segno precoce di quella voglia di conoscenza che non l'abbandonò per tutta la vita.  Nel 1581 la famiglia si trasferì nella vicina Stignano e nella primavera del 1582 il padre pensò di mandare il figlio presso un fratello, a Napoli, perché vi studiasse diritto, ma il giovane Campanella, per il desiderio di seguire corsi regolari di studi e abbandonare un destino di miseria, più che per una reale vocazione religiosa, decise di entrare nell'Ordine domenicano. Novizio nel convento della vicina Placanica, vi fece i primi studi e pronunciò i voti a quindici anni nel convento di San Giorgio Morgeto, assumendo il nome di Tommaso (in onore di san Tommaso d'Aquino)[5], continuando gli studi superiori a Nicastro dal 1585 al 1587 e poi, a vent'anni, a Cosenza, dove affrontò lo studio della teologia.  L'istruzione ricevuta dai domenicani non lo soddisfaceva e non gli era sufficiente: «essendo inquieto, perché mi sembrava una verità non sincera, o piuttosto falsità in luogo della verità rimanere nel Peripato, esaminai tutti i commentatori d'Aristotele, i greci, i latini e gli arabi; e cominciai a dubitare ancor più dei loro dogmi, e perciò volli indagare se le cose ch'essi dicevano fossero nella natura, che io avevo imparato dalle dottrine dei sapienti essere il vero codice di Dio. E poiché i miei maestri non potevano rispondere alle miei obiezioni contro i loro insegnamenti, decisi di leggere da me tutti i libri di Platone, di Plinio, di Galeno, degli stoici, dei seguaci di Democrito e principalmente i Telesiani, e metterli a confronto con il primo codice del mondo per sapere, attraverso l'originale e autografo, quanto le copie contenessero di vero o di falso».[6]  Fu in particolare il De rerum natura iuxta propria principia di Bernardino Telesio una rivelazione e una liberazione insieme: scoprì che non esisteva soltanto la filosofia scolastica e che la natura poteva essere osservata per quello che è[7], e poteva e doveva essere indagata con i mezzi concreti posseduti dall'uomo, con i sensi e con la ragione, prima osservando e poi ragionando, senza schemi precostituiti e senza mandare a memoria quanto altri credevano di aver già scoperto e di conoscere su di essa. Era il 1588 e Telesio, che da anni era tornato a vivere nella nativa Cosenza, vi moriva ottantenne proprio in quei giorni. Il neofita frate entusiasta non poté sottrarsi a deporre sulla bara, nel duomo, versi latini di ringraziamento devoto. Quelle che dai suoi superiori furono considerate intemperanze gli costarono il trasferimento nel piccolo convento di Altomonte, dove tuttavia il Campanella non rimase inattivo: la segnalazione di alcuni amici, che gli mostrarono il libro di un certo Jacopo Antonio Marta, napoletano,[8] scritto contro l'amato Telesio, lo spinse a replicare e nell'agosto del 1589 concluse quella che è la sua prima opera, la Philosophia sensibus demonstrata, pubblicata a Napoli due anni dopo.[9]  In essa Campanella ribadì la sua adesione al naturalismo di Telesio, inquadrato però in una cornice neoplatonica, di derivazione ficiniana, per la quale le leggi della natura non mantengono più la loro autonomia, come in Telesio, ma sono spiegate dall'azione creatrice di Dio, dal quale deriva anche l'ordine provvidenziale che governa l'universo: «chi regola la natura è quel glorioso Iddio, sapientissimo artefice, che ha provveduto in modo da non reprimere le forze della natura, nella quale tuttavia agisce con misura».  Campanella non poteva rimanere a lungo ad Altomonte: alla fine del 1589 abbandonò il convento calabrese e se ne andò a Napoli, ospite dei marchesi del Tufo. Nella capitale del viceregno, pur non abbandonando l'abito di frate, fu tutto inteso ad approfondire i suoi interessi neoplatonici e scientifici, che allora erano connessi strettamente con gli studi alchemici e magici: «scrissi due opere, l'una del senso, l'altra della investigazione delle cose. A scrivere il libro De sensu rerum mi spinse una disputa avuta prima in pubblico, poi in privato con Giovanni Battista Della Porta, lo stesso che scrisse la Fisiognomica, il quale sosteneva che della simpatia e dell'antipatia non si può rendere ragione; disputa con lui avuta appunto quando esaminavamo insieme il suo libro già stampato. Scrissi poi il De investigatione rerum,[10] perché mi pareva che i peripatetici ed i platonici portassero i giovani per una via larga ma non diritta alla ricerca della verità».[11] Il De sensu rerum et magia, iniziato a scrivere in latino nel 1590, fu completato e dedicato al granduca di Toscana Ferdinando I de' Medici nel 1592; sequestratogli il manoscritto a Bologna dal Sant'Uffizio, fu riscritto in italiano nel 1604, tradotto in latino nel 1609 e pubblicato finalmente nel 1620 a Francoforte. Campanella vi persegue una sintesi di naturalismo telesiano e di platonismo: a Democrito e ai materialisti rimprovera di voler far derivare l'ordine del mondo all'azione degli atomi, che non hanno sensibilità, e agli aristotelici la mancata iniziativa di Dio nella costituzione della natura. D'altra parte egli non intende nemmeno sacrificare l'autonomia delle forze che agiscono nella natura[12], pur se la spiegazione ultima delle cose va ricercata nella primitiva azione divina.  Secondo Campanella, i tre principi, materia, caldo e freddo, di cui è composta la natura, sono frutto della creazione divina: «Dio prima fece lo spazio, composto pure di Potenza, Sapienza e Amore [...] e dentro a quello pose la materia, che è la mole corporea [...] Nella materia poi Dio seminò due principi maschi, cioè attivi, il caldo e il freddo, perché la materia e lo spazio sono femmine, principi passivi. E questi maschi, da codesta materia divisa, combattendo, formano due elementi, cielo e terra, che combattendo tra loro, dalla loro virtù fatta languida nascono i secondi enti, avendo per guida della generazione le tre influenze, la Necessità, il Fato e l'Armonia, che portano l'Idea».  Le tre primalità (primalitates) - che corrispondono alle tre nature divine - costituiscono il triplice carattere di ogni essere: Dio «ha dato a tutte le cose potenza di vivere, sapienza e amore quanto basti alla loro conservazione [...] Dunque il calore può, sente e ama essere, e così ogni cosa, e desidera eternarsi come Dio e attraverso Dio nessuna cosa muore ma si muta soltanto, anche se ogni cosa pare morta all'altra e in verità è morta, così come il fuoco pare cattivo al freddo ed è veramente cattivo per lui, ma per Dio ogni cosa è viva e buona». Se si considera ogni cosa nel tutto ci si rende conto che nulla muore veramente: «muore il pane e si fa chilo, questo muore e si fa sangue, poi il sangue muore e si fa carne, nervi, ossa, spirito, seme e patisce varie morti e vite, dolori e piaceri».[13]  Dalla Potenza le cose sono solo perché possono essere e hanno una determinata natura; Dio attraverso questa potenza dona la Necessità alle cose, la Sapienza permette alle cose di conoscere il Fato, ossia il saper vedere la successione di causa-effetto nei processi naturali e infine l'Amore permette l'Armonia fra gli esseri, perché questi amano essere così e non diversamente: «tutti gli enti si compongono di Potenza, Sapienza e Amore e ognuno è perché può essere, sa essere e ama essere, combatte contro il non essere e, quando gli manca il potere o il sapere o l'amore dell'essere, muore e si trasmuta in chi ne ha di più».  Tutte le cose hanno sensibilità: «Tanta sciocchezza è negare il senso alle cose perché non hanno occhi, né bocca, né orecchie, quanto è negare il moto al vento perché non ha gambe, e il mangiare al fuoco perché non ha denti, e il vedere a chi sta in campagna perché non ha finestre da cui affacciarsi e all'aquila perché non ha occhiali. La medesima sciocchezza indusse altri a credere che Dio abbia certo corpo e occhi e mani».  Inoltre Campanella ci parla anche delle primalità del non-essere, presenti inevitabilmente nel mondo finito, che sono l’Impotenza, l’Insipienza e l’Odio: solo in Dio, che è infinito, le primalità dell'essere non sono contrastate dalle primalità del non-essere. A queste tre primalità si contrappongono le potenze negative, che possono variamente combinarsi alle primalità nell'ambito delle varie forme della magia, che è l'insieme delle regole che vanno osservate per intervenire nella natura. Il mago è il sapiente che scopre le relazioni esistenti tra le cose: «beato chi legge nel libro della natura, e impara quello che le cose sono, da esso e non dal proprio capriccio, e impara così l'arte e il governo divino, facendosi di conseguenza, con la magia naturale, simile e unanime a Dio».  La magia si manifesta attraverso le sensazioni, che possono essere negative o positive: sensazioni che l'uomo coglie, e che gli fanno capire di essere parte integrante di un ordine universale; tuttavia, nonostante sia parte di questo ordine, può opporsi a tale ordine, e se si oppone all'ordine universale la magia è negativa, se invece si armonizza, ovvero cerca di seguire l'ordine universale, allora la magia è positiva.  La pubblicazione della Philosophia sensibus demonstrata provocò scandalo nel convento di San Domenico: un domenicano che non frequenta il convento e che rifiuta Aristotele e San Tommaso per Telesio non può essere un buon cattolico. Anche se nessuna affermazione eretica è contenuta nel libro, in un giorno imprecisato del 1591 Campanella fu arrestato dalle guardie del nunzio apostolico con l'accusa di pratiche demoniache. Non si conoscono gli atti del processo ma è conservato il testo della sentenza,[14] emessa in San Domenico il 28 agosto 1592, contro «frater Thomas Campanella de Stilo provinciae Calabriae» dal padre provinciale di Napoli, fra Erasmo Tizzano e da altri giudici domenicani. L'accusa di praticare con il demonio e di aver pronunciato una frase irriverente contro l'uso delle scomuniche vengono a cadere, ma resta quella di essere un telesiano, di non tener conto dell'ortodossia filosofica di Tommaso d'Aquino e di essere stato per mesi «in domibus saecolarium extra religionem»: dopo quasi un anno di carcere già scontato, è allora sufficiente che reciti dei salmi e torni, entro otto giorni, nel suo convento di Altomonte.  Campanella si guardò bene dall'ubbidire all'ordine del tribunale, che lo avrebbe costretto a rinunciare, a soli 24 anni, a un mondo di cultura nel quale egli era convinto di poter offrire un contributo fondamentale. Così, munito di una lusinghiera lettera di presentazione al granduca di Toscana, rilasciatagli dall'amico ed estimatore, il padre provinciale di Calabria fra Giovanni Battista da Polistena, il 5 settembre 1592 fra Tommaso partì da Napoli alla volta di Firenze, con il suo carico di libri e manoscritti, contando su di un posto di insegnante a Pisa o a Siena.  La prudente diffidenza di Ferdinando I, che non mancò di chiedere informazioni sul suo conto al cardinale Del Monte, ottenendo una risposta negativa,[15] spinse il 16 ottobre Campanella a lasciare Firenze per Bologna, dove l'Inquisizione, che lo sorvegliava, per mezzo di due falsi frati gli rubò gli scritti che si portava appresso, per poterli esaminare in cerca di prove a suo danno.[16] Ai primi del 1593 Campanella fu a Padova, ospite del convento di Sant'Agostino. Qui, tre giorni dopo il suo arrivo, il Padre generale del convento venne nottetempo sodomizzato da alcuni frati, senza che egli potesse identificarli, e perciò, fra i tanti sospettati del grave abuso, anche il Campanella fu messo sotto inchiesta. Non si sa se dall'inchiesta si passò a un processo[17] che abbia visto imputato, tra gli altri frati, anche Campanella: in ogni caso egli ne uscì innocente.  Rimase a Padova, probabilmente con la speranza di trovarvi lavoro; vi incontrò Galileo e conobbe il medico e filosofo veneziano Andrea Chiocco. Ma il Sant'Uffizio lo teneva ormai sotto osservazione: alla fine del 1593 o all'inizio del 1594 fu nuovamente arrestato. Fu accusato di:  aver scritto l'opuscolo De tribus impostoribus - Mosè, Gesù e Maometto - diretto contro le tre religioni monoteiste,[18] un libro della cui esistenza allora si favoleggiava, ma che nessuno aveva mai letto;[19] sostenere le opinioni atee di Democrito,[20] evidentemente un'accusa tratta dall'esame del suo scritto De sensu rerum et magia, rubatogli a Bologna; essere oppositore della dottrina e dell'istituzione della Chiesa;[21] essere eretico;[22] aver disputato su questioni di fede con un giudaizzante, forse condividendone le tesi, e di non averlo comunque denunciato;[23] aver scritto un sonetto contro Cristo,[24] il cui autore sarebbe stato però, secondo Campanella, Pietro Aretino; possedere un libro di geomanzia, che in effetti gli fu sequestrato al momento dell'arresto. A Padova, in un primo tempo gli furono contestate solo le ultime tre accuse: per estorcere le confessioni, Campanella e due imputati presunti «giudaizzanti», Ottavio Longo, originario di Barletta, e Giovanni Battista Clario, di Udine, medico dell'arciduca Carlo d'Asburgo, furono sottoposti a tortura. Nel frattempo, dall'esame del suo De sensu rerum, fatto a Roma, dovettero trarsi nuove imputazioni, che richiesero lo spostamento del processo da Padova a Roma, dove infatti Campanella fu condotto e rinchiuso nel carcere dell'Inquisizione l'11 ottobre 1594.  Per difendersi dalle nuove accuse di essere oppositore della Chiesa, Campanella scrisse già nel carcere padovano un De monarchia Christianorum, perduto, e il De regimine ecclesiae, ai quali fece seguito, nel 1595, per contestare l'accusa di intelligenza con i protestanti, il Dialogum contra haereticos nostri temporis et cuisque saeculi e, a difesa dell'ortodossia di Telesio e dei suoi seguaci, la Defensio Telesianorum ad Sanctum Officium. La tortura cui fu sottoposto nell'aprile del 1595 segnò la pratica conclusione del processo: il 16 maggio Campanella abiurava nella chiesa di Santa Maria sopra Minerva e veniva confinato nel convento domenicano di Santa Sabina, sul colle Aventino. Le disavventure giudiziarie di Campanella non finirono però qui. Il 31 dicembre 1596 era stato liberato dal confino di Santa Sabina e assegnato al convento di Santa Maria sopra Minerva; intanto, a Napoli, un concittadino di Campanella, condannato a morte per reati comuni, Scipione Prestinace, prima di essere giustiziato il 17 febbraio 1597, forse per ritardare l'esecuzione, denunciava diversi suoi conterranei e il Campanella in particolare, accusandolo di essere eretico: così, il 5 marzo, Campanella fu nuovamente arrestato.[25]  Non si conoscono i precisi contenuti della deposizione del Prestinace né i dettagli del nuovo processo, che si concluse il 17 dicembre 1597: nella sentenza, Campanella fu assolto dalle imputazioni e, diffidato dallo scrivere, liberato «sub cautione iuratoria de se representando toties quoties», finché, consegnato ai suoi superiori, questi lo confinino in qualche convento «senza pericolo e scandalo».  In tutto questo periodo di tempo, il Campanella non era certamente rimasto inoperoso nemmeno sotto l'aspetto della produzione speculativa e letteraria: oltre agli scritti difensivi del De monarchia, del Dialogo contro i Luterani e del De regimine, e ai Discorsi ai prìncipi d'Italia, che è un tentativo di captatio benevolentiae all'indirizzo della Spagna, giustificato dalla difficile situazione giudiziaria, scrisse l'Epilogo magno, destinato a essere integrato nella successiva Philosophia realis, con il Prodromus philosophiae instaurandae, pubblicato nel 1617, l'Arte metrica, dedicata al compagno di sventura Giovan Battista Clario, la Poetica, dedicata al cardinale Cinzio Aldobrandini, e i perduti Consultazione della repubblica Veneta, Syntagma de rei equestris praestantia, De modo sciendi e Physiologia.  Ai primi del 1598 Campanella prese la via di Napoli, dove si fermò diversi mesi, dando lezioni di geografia, scrivendo le perdute Cosmographia e Encyclopaedia facilis e terminando l'Epilogo Magno. In luglio s'imbarcò per la Calabria: sbarcato a Piana di Sant'Eufemia, raggiunse Nicastro e di qui, il 15 agosto, Stilo, ospite del convento domenicano di Santa Maria di Gesù.  Per poco tempo il Campanella rimase tranquillo in convento, dove scrisse il piccolo trattato De predestinatione et reprobatione et auxiliis divinae gratiae, nel quale affermò la dottrina cattolica del libero arbitrio. In un abbozzo dei suoi Articuli prophetales, appare già l'attesa del nuovo secolo che gli sembra annunciato da fenomeni straordinari: inondazioni del Po e del Tevere, allagamenti e terremoti in Calabria, il passaggio di una cometa, profezie e coincidenze astrologiche. Un nuovo mondo sembra alle porte, a sostituire il vecchio che in Calabria, ma non solo, vedeva «i soprusi dei nobili, la depravazione del clero, le violenze d'ogni specie [...] la Santa Sede [...] sanciva i soprusi e proteggeva i prepotenti. Il clero minore, corrottissimo nei costumi, abusava ogni giorno più delle immunità ecclesiastiche, e profanava in ogni modo il suo ufficio. Fazioni avverse contendevano talvolta aspramente tra loro, e non poche lotte erano coronate da omicidi e delitti d'ogni specie. Gruppi di frati si davano alla campagna, e, forniti di comitive armate, agivano come banditi, senza che il governo riuscisse a colpirli [...] I nobili e le famiglie private, dilaniate da inimicizie ereditarie, tenevano agitato il paese con combattimenti incessanti tra fazioni [...] l'estrema severità delle leggi, che comminavano la pena di morte per moltissimi delitti anche minimi [...] la frequenza delle liti e delle contese, aumentavano in maniera preoccupante il numero dei banditi».[26]  In tale situazione di degrado e nell'illusione di un rivolgimento già scritto nelle stelle, Campanella progettò, senza preoccuparsi di valutare realisticamente le possibilità di realizzazione, la costituzione in Calabria di una repubblica ideale, comunistica e insieme teocratica. Era necessario per questo cacciare gli Spagnoli, ricorrendo anche all'aiuto dei Turchi: cominciò a predicare dai primi mesi del 1599 l'imminente ed epocale rivolgimento, intessendo nell'estate una fitta trama di contatti con le poche decine di congiurati che aderirono a quella fantastica impresa. Le autorità ebbero ben presto sentore del tentativo di insurrezione e in agosto truppe spagnole intervennero a rafforzare i presidi. Il 17 agosto Campanella fuggì dal convento di Stilo, nascondendosi prima a Stignano, poi nel convento di Santa Maria di Titi; infine, nascosto in casa di un amico, progettò di imbarcarsi da Roccella, ma venne tradito e consegnato il 6 settembre agli spagnoli. Incarcerato a Castelvetere, il 10 settembre firmò una confessione nella quale faceva i nomi dei principali congiurati, negando ogni sua partecipazione all'impresa. Ma le testimonianze dei suoi complici erano concordi nell'indicarlo come capo della cospirazione.  Trasferito a Napoli insieme ai suoi compagni di avventura, Campanella fu rinchiuso in Castel Nuovo. Il 23 novembre 1599 avvenne il riconoscimento formale dell'accusato, descritto come «giovane con barba nera, vestito di abiti civili, con cappello nero, casacca nera, calzoni di cuoio e mantello di lana». Il Santo Uffizio non ottenne dall'autorità spagnola che i religiosi imputati - Campanella e altri sette frati domenicani - fossero trasferiti a Roma e papa Clemente VIII, l'11 gennaio 1600, nominò il nunzio a Napoli, Jacopo Aldobrandini e don Pedro de Vera, che fu fatto ecclesiastico per l'occasione, giudici nel processo che si sarebbe tenuto a Napoli. Ad essi venne aggiunto il 19 aprile il domenicano Alberto Tragagliolo, vescovo di Termoli, già consultore nel primo processo, scelto dal papa per trattare in modo favorevole Campanella, poiché Clemente VIII era, anche se prudentemente, antispagnolo.  Campanella era passato sotto la giurisdizione del Sant'Uffizio, che nessun tribunale statale poteva violare, nemmeno nei casi di lesa maestà. Ciò permise di ritardare la prevedibile condanna a morte del frate. Durante il processo presieduto dal vescovo Benedetto Mandina, Campanella, sotto tortura, riconobbe le proprie eresie e, in quanto relapso, diventò passibile della pena capitale. La sua strategia di difesa, disperata e rischiosissima, fu quella di fingersi pazzo, poiché un eretico insano di mente non poteva essere messo a morte dal Sant'Uffizio.  I giudici, dubbiosi, lo sottoposero il 18 luglio, per un'ora, al supplizio della corda per fargli confessare la simulazione, ma egli resistette, rispondendo alle domande cantando o dicendo cose senza senso. L'accettazione da parte dei giudici della pazzia avvenne il 4 e 5 giugno 1601, durante una terribile seduta di tortura denominata "la veglia", che consistette in 40 ore di corda alternata al cavalletto, con tre brevi interruzioni. La resistenza morale e fisica di Campanella gli permise di superare la prova, anche se rimase poi tra la vita e la morte per sei mesi.   Frontespizio della Metaphysica Trascorse 27 anni in prigione a Napoli. Durante la prigionia scrisse le sue opere più importanti: La Monarchia di Spagna (1600), Aforismi Politici (1601), Atheismus triumphatus (1605-1607), Quod reminiscetur (1606?), Metaphysica (1609-1623), Theologia (1613-1624), e la sua opera più famosa, La città del Sole (1602), in cui vagheggiava l'instaurazione di una felice e pacifica repubblica universale retta su principi di giustizia naturale. Egli addirittura intervenne sul cosiddetto “primo processo a Galileo Galilei” con la sua coraggiosa Apologia di Galileo (scritta nel 1616 e pubblicata nel 1622).  Fu infine scarcerato nel 1626, grazie a Maffeo Barberini, arcivescovo di Nazareth a Barletta, poi papa col nome di Urbano VIII, che personalmente intercedette presso Filippo IV di Spagna. Campanella fu portato a Roma e tenuto per qualche tempo presso il Sant'Uffizio; fu liberato definitivamente nel 1629. Visse per cinque anni a Roma, dove fu il consigliere di Urbano VIII per le questioni astrologiche, avendo con successo, secondo il Papa, impedito il verificarsi di profezie che preannunciavano la sua morte imminente in occasione di due eclissi del 1628 e 1630.  Nel 1634, però, una nuova cospirazione in Calabria, portata avanti da uno dei suoi seguaci, gli procurò nuovi problemi. Con l'aiuto del cardinale Barberini e dell'ambasciatore francese de Noailles, fuggì in Francia, dove fu benevolmente ricevuto alla corte di Luigi XIII. Protetto dal cardinale Richelieu e finanziato dal re, passò il resto dei suoi giorni al convento parigino di Saint-Honoré. Il suo ultimo lavoro fu un poema che celebrava la nascita del futuro Luigi XIV (Ecloga in portentosam Delphini nativitatem).  Gli è stato dedicato un asteroide, 4653 Tommaso.  Il pensiero di Campanella prende le mosse, in età giovanile, dalle conclusioni cui era giunto Bernardino Telesio; egli si riallaccia quindi al naturalismo telesiano, sostenendo che la natura vada conosciuta nei suoi propri principi, che sono tre: caldo, freddo e materia. Essendo tutti gli esseri formati da questi tre elementi, allora gli esseri della natura sono tutti dotati di sensibilità, in quanto la struttura della natura è comune a tutti gli enti; quindi mentre Telesio aveva affermato che anche i sassi possono conoscere, Campanella porta all'esasperazione questo naturalismo, e sostiene che anche i sassi conoscono, perché nei sassi noi ritroviamo questi tre principi, ovvero caldo, freddo e massa corporea (materia).  Il problema della conoscenza (e la rivalutazione dell'uomo) Il naturalismo di Campanella, in conseguenza di ciò, comporta una teoria della conoscenza essenzialmente sensistica: egli sosteneva infatti che tutta la conoscenza è possibile solo grazie all'azione diretta o indiretta dei sensi, e che Cristoforo Colombo aveva potuto scoprire l'America perché si era rifatto alla sensazione, non di certo alla razionalità. La razionalità deriva dalla sensazione: non esiste una conoscenza razionale intellettiva che non derivi da quella sensitiva. Tuttavia Campanella, a differenza di Telesio, cerca di rivalutare l'uomo e pertanto afferma l'esistenza di due tipi di conoscenze: una innata, una sorta di coscienza interiore, e una conoscenza esteriore, che si avvale dei sensi. La prima è definita ‘sensus inditus', che è la conoscenza di sé, la seconda ‘sensus additus' che è la conoscenza del mondo esterno. La conoscenza del mondo esterno appartiene a tutti, anche agli animali; la conoscenza di sé, invece, appartiene solo all'uomo, ed è la coscienza di essere un essere pensante. Campanella si rifà ad Agostino d'Ippona, poiché afferma che noi possiamo dubitare della conoscenza del mondo esterno, mentre non possiamo dubitare della conoscenza di sé. Questo ‘sensus inditus' sarà poi il punto essenziale della filosofia cartesiana, che si basa sul ‘cogito': io penso quindi esisto (cogito ergo sum).  La religione e la politica In base a queste premesse, Campanella si sofferma sulla religione che egli distingue in due tipologie: una religione naturale e religioni positive. La religione naturale è una religione che rispetta l'ordine universale dell'universo stesso; le religioni positive sono invece religioni che vengono imposte dallo stato. Campanella afferma però che il cristianesimo è l'unica religione positiva, poiché è imposto dallo stato, ma al contempo coincide con l'ordine naturale (cui però aggiunge il valore della rivelazione). Tuttavia anche questa teoria della religione razionale contrastava con i dogmi della Chiesa della Controriforma. Egli sostenne, del resto, la superiorità del potere temporale su quello spirituale, individuando poi il potere supremo, di volta in volta, nella Spagna e poi nella Francia, a seconda di convenienze politiche e personali.  La città del Sole Magnifying glass icon mgx2.svgLo stesso argomento in dettaglio: La città del Sole.  Civitas Solis Campanella fu autore anche di un'importante opera di carattere utopico, ovvero La città del Sole. Nella Città del Sole egli descrive una città ideale, utopica, governata dal Metafisico, un re-sacerdote volto al culto del Dio Sole, un dio laico proprio di una religione naturale, di cui Campanella stesso è sostenitore, pur presupponendo razionalmente che coincida con la religione cristiana. Questo re-sacerdote si avvale di tre assistenti, rappresentanti le tre primalità su cui si incentra la metafisica campanelliana: Potenza, Sapienza e Amore. In questa città vige la comunione dei beni e la comunione delle donne. Nel delineare la sua concezione collettivista della società, Campanella si rifà a Platone (V secolo a.C.) e all'Utopia di Tommaso Moro (1517); fra gli antecedenti dell'utopismo campanelliano è da annoverare anche La nuova Atlantide di Francesco Bacone. L'utopismo partiva dal presupposto che, poiché non si poteva realizzare un modello di Stato che rispecchiasse la giustizia e l'uguaglianza, allora questo Stato si ipotizzava, come aveva fatto a suo tempo Platone. È però importante sottolineare che, mentre Campanella tratta una realtà utopistica, Niccolò Machiavelli rappresenta la realtà concretamente, e la sua concezione dello Stato non è affatto utopistica, ma assume una valenza di metodo di governo, finalizzato ad ottenere e mantenere stabilmente il potere.  Interpretazioni storiografiche del pensiero politico L'incertezza è già evidente nell'interpretazione della critica idealistica, che, nei limiti di una conoscenza ancora incompleta dell'opera, coglie nel pensiero campanelliano un deciso orientamento in direzione del moderno immanentismo, contaminato tuttavia da residui del passato e della tradizione cristiana e medioevale.  Per Silvio Spaventa, Campanella è il "filosofo della restaurazione cattolica", in quanto la stessa proposizione che la ragione domina il mondo, è inficiata dalla convinzione che essa risieda unicamente nel papato. Non molto dissimile la lettura di Francesco de Sanctis: "Il quadro è vecchio, ma lo spirito è nuovo. Perché Campanella è un riformatore, vuole il papa sovrano, ma vuole che il sovrano sia ragione non solo di nome ma di fatto, perché la ragione governa il mondo". È la ragione che determina e giustifica i mutamenti politici, e questi ultimi "sono vani se non hanno per base l'istruzione e la felicità delle classi più numerose". Tutto ciò conduce Campanella, secondo il pensiero idealista, alla concezione di un moderno immanentismo. Opere Aforismi politici, a cura di A. Cesaro, Guida, Napoli 1997 An monarchia Hispanorum sit in augmento, vel in statu, vel in decremento, a cura di L. Amabile, Morano, Napoli 1887 Antiveneti, a cura di L. Firpo, Olschki, Firenze 1944 Apologeticum ad Bellarminum, a cura di G. Ernst, in «Rivista di storia della filosofia», XLVII, 1992 Apologeticus ad libellum ‘De siderali fato vitando’, a cura di L. Amabile, Morano, Napoli 1887 Apologeticus in controversia de concepitone beatae Virginis, a cura di A. Langella, L'Epos, Palermo 2004 Apologia pro Galileo, a cura di Michel-Pierre Lerner. Pisa, Scuola Normale Superiore, 2006 Apologia pro Scholis Piis, a cura di L. Volpicelli, Giuntine-Sansoni, Firenze 1960 Articoli prophetales, a cura di G. Ernst, La Nuova Italia, Firenze 1977 Astrologicorum libri VII, Francofurti 1630 L'ateismo trionfato, ovvero riconoscimento filosofico della religione universale contra l'antichristianesimo macchiavellesco, a cura di G. Ernst, Edizioni della Normale, Pisa 2004 ISBN 88-7642-125-4 De aulichorum technis, a cura di G. Ernst, in «Bruniana e Campanelliana», II, 1996 Avvertimento al re di Francia, al re di Spagna e al sommo pontefice, a cura di L. Amabile, Morano, Napoli 1887 Calculus nativitatis domini Philiberti Vernati, a cura di L. Firpo, in Atti della R. Accademia delle Scienze di Torino, 74, 1938-1939 Censure sopra il libro del Padre Mostro [Niccolò Riccardi]. Proemio e Tavola delle censure, a cura di L. Amabile, Morano, Napoli 1887 Censure sopra il libro del Padre Mostro: «Ragionamenti sopra le litanie di nostra Signora», a cura di A. Terminelli, Edizioni Monfortane, Roma 1998 Chiroscopia, a cura di G. Ernst, in «Bruniana e Campanelliana», I, 1995 La città del Sole, a cura di L. Firpo, Laterza, Roma-Bari 2008 ISBN 88-420-5330-9 Commentaria super poematibus Urbani VIII, codd. Barb. Lat. 1918, 2037, 2048, Biblioteca Vaticana Compendiolum physiologiae tyronibus recitandum, cod. Barb. Lat. 217, Biblioteca Vaticana Compendium de rerum natura o Prodromus philosophiae instaurandae, Francofurti 1617 Compendium veritatis catholicae de praedestinatione, a cura di L. Firpo, Olschki, Firenze 1951 Consultationes aphoristicae gerendae rei praesentis temporis cum Austriacis ac Italis, a cura di L. Firpo, Olschki, Firenze 1951 Defensio libri sui 'De sensu rerum', apud L. Boullanget, Parisiis 1636 Dialogo politico contro Luterani, Calvinisti e altri eretici, a cura di D. Ciampoli, Carabba, Lanciano 1911 Dialogo politico tra un Veneziano, Spagnolo e Francese, a cura di L. Amabile, Morano, Napoli 1887 Discorsi ai principi d'Italia, a cura di L. Firpo, Chiantore, Torino 1945 Discorsi della libertà e della felice soggezione allo Stato ecclesiastico, a cura di L. Firpo, s.e., Torino 1960 Discorsi universali del governo ecclesiastico, a cura di L. Firpo, UTET, Torino 1949 Disputatio contra murmurantes in bullas ss. Pontificum adversus iudiciarios, apud T. Dubray, Parisiis 1636 Disputatio in prologum instauratarum scientiarum, a cura di R. Amerio, SEI, Torino 1953 Documenta ad Gallorum nationem, a cura di L. Firpo, Olschki, Firenze 1951 Epilogo Magno, a cura di C. Ottaviano, R. Accademia d'Italia, Roma 1939 Expositio super cap. IX epistulae sancti Pauli ad Romanos, apud T. Dubray, Parisiis 1636 Index commentariorum Fr. T. Campanellae, a cura di L. Firpo, in «Rivista di storia della filosofia», II, 1947 Lettere 1595-1638, a cura di G. Ernst, Istituti Editoriali e Poligrafici Internazionali, Pisa-Roma 2000 Lista dell'opere di fra T. Campanella distinte in tomi nove, a cura di L. Firpo, in «Rivista di storia della filosofia», II, 1947 Medicinalium libri VII, ex officina I. Phillehotte, sumptibus I. Caffinet F. Plaignard, Lugduni 1635 Metafisica, A cura di Giovanni Di Napoli, (brani scelti del testo latino e traduzione italiana, 3 volumi), Bologna, Zanichelli 1967 Metafisica. Universalis philosophiae seu metaphysicarum rerum iuxta propria dogmata. Liber 1º, a cura di P. Ponzio, Levante, Bari 1994 Metafisica. Universalis philosophiae seu metaphysicarum rerum iuxta propria dogmata. Liber 14º, a cura di T. Rinaldi, Levante, Bari 2000 Monarchia Messiae, a cura di L. Firpo, Bottega d'Erasmo, Torino 1960 Philosophia rationalis, apud I. Dubray, Parisiis 1638 (comprende Logicorum libri tres) Philosophia realis, ex typographia D. Houssaye, Parisiis 1637 Philosophia sensibus demonstrata, a cura di L. De Franco, Vivarium, Napoli 1992 Le poesie, a cura di F. Giancotti, Einaudi, Torino 1998 Poetica, a cura di L. Firpo, Mondatori, Milano 1954 De praecedentia, presertim religiosorum, a cura di M. Miele, in «Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum», LII, 1982 De praedestinatione et reprobatione et auxiliis divinae gratiae cento Thomisticus, apud I. Dubray, Parisiis 1636 Quod reminiscentur et convertentur ad Dominum universi fines terrae, a cura di R. Amerio, CEDAM, Padova 1939 (L. I-II), Olschki, Firenze 1955-1960 (L. III-IV) Del senso delle cose e della magia, Rubbettino, Soveria Mannelli 2003 De libris propriis et recta ratione. Studendi syntagma, a cura di A. Brissoni, Rubbettino, Soveria Mannelli 1996 Theologia, L. I-XXX, Libro Primo, Edizione a cura di Romano Amerio, Vita e Pensiero, Milano, 1936. Scelta di alcune poesie filosofiche - Choix de quelques poésies philosophiques, Edizione a cura di Marco Albertazzi, Traduzione francese di Franc Ducros, La Finestra editrice, Lavis 2016 ISBN 978-88-95925-70-7. Campanella nel cinema La città del sole, regia di Gianni Amelio (1973) Note ^ A. Casadei, M. Santagati, Manuale di letteratura italiana medievale e moderna, Laterza, Roma-Bari 2014, p. 249. ^ Luigi Firpo, Campanella Tommaso, «Dizionario biografico degli Italiani», Roma 1974: «Non hanno fondamento le asserzioni ricorrenti, attizzate da un patetico campanilismo, che lo vorrebbero nato nel vicino comune di Stignano». Nel Novecento nacque una disputa campanilistica tra il comune di Stilo e quello di Stignano, che rivendica di aver dato i natali al filosofo calabrese e indica nel proprio territorio la presunta casa natale di Campanella ^ In Luigi Firpo, I processi di Tommaso Campanella, Roma 1998, p. 117 ^ In Opere di Tommaso Campanella, a cura di Alessandro d'Ancona, Torino 1854, p. 12. Un decreto del 16 maggio 1968 ad opera del Ministero della Pubblica Istruzione Caleffi fissa la casa natale di Tommaso Campanella nell'attuale Comune di Stignano, al tempo casale del vastissimo territorio di Stilo, adducendo a prova del fatto l'archivio provinciale di Napoli. La differente indicazione del cognome della madre, Basile e Martello, fa ritenere che quest'ultimo sia un soprannome ^ Massimo Baldini,Nota biobibliografica, in T. Campanella, La Città del Sole, Newton Compton, Roma 1995, p.16 ^ T. Campanella, Syntagma de libris propriis et recta ratione studendi, I ^ Germana Ernst, Tommaso Campanella: The Book and the Body of Nature [1 ed.], 9048131251, 9789048131259, Springer Netherlands, 2010. ^ Gli amici Giovanni Francesco Branca, medico di Castrovillari, e Rogliano da Rogiano, entrambi telesiani, gli segnalarono il libro dell'aristotelico Marta, il Propugnaculum Arìstotelis adversus principia B. Telesii, Roma 1587 ^ Philosophia sensibus demonstrata, impressum Neapoli per Horativm Salvianum 1591 ^ Il libro è andato perduto ^ T. Campanella, Syntagma de libris propris, p. 14 ^ John M. Headley, Tommaso Campanella and the Transformation of the World, 0691026793, 9780691026794, Princeton University Press, 1997. ^ T. Campanella, De sensu rerum et magia, II, 26 ^ Pubblicata da Vincenzo Spampanato in Vita di Giordano Bruno, Messina 1921, p. 572 ^ Il cardinale rispose che l'inquisitore fra Vincenzo da Montesanto gli aveva riferito che del Campanella «si rivedono molti libri pieni [...] di leggerezza e vanitade, e [...] ancora non sono chiari se vi sia cosa che appartenghi alla religione»; cfr: lettera del Del Monte a Ferdinando I del 25 settembre 1592 in Archivio di Stato di Firenze, Mediceo, f. 3759 ^ La vicenda di questo sequestro, simulato con il furto, è esaminata da Luigi Firpo, Appunti campanelliani, in «Giornale critico della filosofia italiana», XXI, 1940 ^ Non vi sono documenti relativi a quell'episodio, essendone unica fonte lo stesso Campanella in due sue tarde lettere, a papa Paolo V il 12 aprile 1607 e a Kaspar Schoppe il 1º giugno dello stesso anno, nelle quali Campanella sottolinea la sua innocenza senza entrare in dettagli. ^ Campanella, lettera a Kaspar Schoppe del 1º giugno 1607: «accusarunt me quod composuerim librum de tribus impostoribus, qui tamen invenitur typis excusis annos triginta ante ortum meum ex utero matri». ^ Due libri di simile contenuto furono scritti soltanto alla fine del Seicento e ai primi del Settecento. ^ Campanella, ivi: «quod sentirem cum Democrito, quando ego iam contra Democritum libros edideram». ^ Ibidem: «quod de ecclesiae republica et doctrina male sentirem». ^ Ibidem: «quod sim haereticus». ^ Campanella, lettera al papa del 12 aprile 1607: «Primo ex dicto unius judaizantis molestatus». Il giudaizzante dovrebbe essere un certo Ottavio Longo da Barletta, anch'egli arrestato a Padova e processato a Roma. ^ Ibidem: «secundo ob rythmum impium Aretini non meum». ^ «Lecta depositione Scipionis Prestinacis de Stylo, Squillacensis Diocesis, facta in Curia archiepiscopali Neapolitana, Illustrissimi et Reverendissimi Domini Cardinales generales Inquisitionis praefatae mandaverunt dictum fratrem Thomam reduci ad carceres dictae Sanctae Inquisitionis», in L. Firpo, I processi di Tommaso Campanella, p. 88 ^ C. Dentice di Accadia, Tommaso Campanella, 1921, pp. 43-44 Bibliografia Opere Tommaso Campanella, Apologia pro Galileo, Frankfurt am Main, Gottfried Tampach, 1622. Tommaso Campanella, Metaphysica, vol. 1, Paris, 1638. Tommaso Campanella, Metaphysica, vol. 2, Paris, 1638. Tommaso Campanella, Metaphysica, vol. 3, Paris, 1638. Tommaso Campanella, Poesie, Bari, Laterza, 1915. (LA) Tommaso Campanella, Medicinalium libri, Lugduni, ex officina Ioannis Pillehotte : sumptibus Ioannis Caffin, & Francisci Plaignard, 1635. Delle virtù e dei vizi in particolare, testo critico e traduzione a cura di Romano Amerio, Ed. Centro internazionale di studi umanistici, Roma, 1978 Studi Luigi Amabile, Fra Tommaso Campanella, la sua congiura, i suoi processi e la sua pazzia, 3 voll., Morano, Napoli 1882 (ristampa anastatica, Franco Pancallo Editore, Locri 2009). ID., L'andata di Fra Tommaso Campanella a Roma dopo la lunga prigionia di Napoli, Memoria letta all'Accademia Reale di Scienze Morali e Politiche, Tipografia della Regia Università, Napoli 1886 (ristampa anastatica, Franco Pancallo Editore, Locri 2009). ID., Fra Tommaso Campanella ne' castelli di Napoli, in Roma ed in Parigi, 2 voll., Morano, Napoli 1887. Giuliano F. Commito, IUXTA PROPRIA PRINCIPIA - Libertà e giustizia nell'assolutismo moderno. Tra realismo e utopia, Aracne, Roma, 2009, ISBN 978-88-548-2831-5. Luigi Cunsolo, Tommaso Campanella nella storia e nel pensiero moderno: la sua congiura giudicata dagli storici Pietro Giannone e Carlo Botta, Officina F.lli Passerini e C., Prato 1906. Rodolfo De Mattei, La politica di Campanella, ARE, Roma 1928. ID., Studi campanelliani, Sansoni, Firenze 1934. Francisco Elías de Tejada, Napoli spagnola, vol. IV, cap. II, Tommaso Campanella astrologo e filosofo, Controcorrente, Napoli 2012. Luigi Firpo, Ricerche campanelliane, Sansoni, Firenze 1947. ID., I processi di Tommaso Campanella, Salerno, Roma 1998. Antonio Corsano, Tommaso Campanella, Laterza, Bari 1961. Mario Squillace, Vita eroica di Tommaso Campanella, Roma, 1967. Pietro Pizzarelli, Tommaso Campanella (1568-1639), Nuove Edizioni Barbaro, Delianuova 1981. Donato Sperduto, L'imitazione dell'eterno. Implicazioni etiche della concezione del tempo immagine dell'eternità da Platone a Campanella, Schena, Fasano 1998. Nicola Badaloni, Germana Ernst, Tommaso Campanella, Istituto Poligrafico dello Stato, Roma 1999. Silvia Zoppi Garampi, Tommaso Campanella. Il progetto del sapere universale, Vivarium, Napoli 1999. Germana Ernst, Tommaso Campanella, Laterza, Roma-Bari 2002. ID., Il carcere, il politico, il profeta. Saggi su Tommaso Campanella, Istituti Editoriali e Poligrafici, Pisa-Roma 2002. Antimo Cesaro, La politica come scienza. Questioni di filosofia giuridica nel pensiero di Tommaso Campanella, Franco Angeli, Milano 2003. Vincenzo Rizzuto, L'avventura di Tommaso campanella tra vecchio e nuovo mondo, Brenner, Cosenza 2004. Arnaldo Di Benedetto, Notizie campanelliane: sul luogo di stampa della «Scelta d'alcune Poesie filosofiche», in Poesia e comportamento. Da Lorenzo il Magnifico a Campanella, Alessandria, Edizioni dell'Orso, 2005 (II edizione), pp. 185–89. Germana Ernst e Caterina Fiorani (a cura di), Laboratorio Campanella: biografia, contesti, iniziative in corso, Roma, L'Erma di Bretschneider, 2007. Ylenia Fiorenza, Quel folle d'un saggio, Tommaso Campanella, l'impeto di un filosofo poeta, Napoli, Città del Sole, 2009. Paola Gatti, Il gran libro del mondo nella filosofia di Tommaso Campanella, Roma, Gregoriana & Biblical Press, 2010. Sharo Gambino, Vita di Tommaso Campanella, Reggio Calabria, Città del Sole Edizioni, 2008, ISBN 978-88-7351-241-7. Saverio Ricci, Campanella (Apocalisse e governo universale), Roma, Salerno Editrice, 2018. Luca Addante, Tommaso Campanella. Il filosofo immaginato, interpretato, falsato, Roma-Bari, Laterza, 2018. Voci correlate Metafisica (Tommaso Campanella) Altri progetti Collabora a Wikisource Wikisource contiene una pagina dedicata a Tommaso Campanella Collabora a Wikiquote Wikiquote contiene citazioni di o su Tommaso Campanella Collabora a Wikimedia Commons Wikimedia Commons contiene immagini o altri file su Tommaso Campanella Collegamenti esterni Tommaso Campanella, su Treccani.it – Enciclopedie on line, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana. Modifica su Wikidata Tommaso Campanella, in Enciclopedia Italiana, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana. Modifica su Wikidata (EN) Tommaso Campanella, su Enciclopedia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc. Modifica su Wikidata (EN) Tommaso Campanella, su The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction. Modifica su Wikidata Tommaso Campanella, in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana. Modifica su Wikidata Opere di Tommaso Campanella, su Liber Liber. Modifica su Wikidata Opere di Tommaso Campanella, su openMLOL, Horizons Unlimited srl. Modifica su Wikidata (EN) Opere di Tommaso Campanella, su Open Library, Internet Archive. Modifica su Wikidata (EN) Opere di Tommaso Campanella, su Progetto Gutenberg. Modifica su Wikidata (EN) Audiolibri di Tommaso Campanella, su LibriVox. Modifica su Wikidata (EN) Bibliografia di Tommaso Campanella, su Internet Speculative Fiction Database, Al von Ruff. Modifica su Wikidata Bibliografia italiana di Tommaso Campanella, su Catalogo Vegetti della letteratura fantastica, Fantascienza.com. Modifica su Wikidata (EN) Tommaso Campanella, in Catholic Encyclopedia, Robert Appleton Company. Modifica su Wikidata Archivio Tommaso Campanella, su iliesi.cnr.it. Le opere di Campanella, su bivio.filosofia.sns.it. Historiographiae liber unus iuxta propria principia, su imagohistoriae.filosofia.sns.it. testo tratto da Tutte le opere di Tommaso Campanella, Milano, 1954. (EN) Germana Ernst, Tommaso Campanella, in Edward N. Zalta (a cura di), Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Center for the Study of Language and Information (CSLI), Università di Stanford. Controllo di autorità                  VIAF (EN) 7387920 · ISNI (EN) 0000 0001 2098 8843 · SBN IT\ICCU\CFIV\003037 · LCCN (EN) n79059383 · GND (DE) 11863819X · BNF (FR) cb11894959n (data) · BNE (ES) XX1165951 (data) · NLA (EN) 35025126 · BAV (EN) 495/20821 · CERL cnp01232338 · NDL (EN, JA) 00435159 · WorldCat Identities (EN) lccn-n79059383 Biografie Portale Biografie Cattolicesimo Portale Cattolicesimo Filosofia Portale Filosofia Letteratura Portale Letteratura Categorie: Filosofi italiani del XVII secoloTeologi italianiPoeti italiani del XVII secoloNati nel 1568Morti nel 1639Nati il 5 settembreMorti il 21 maggioNati a StiloMorti a ParigiDomenicani italianiLetteratura utopicaAccademia cosentinaVallata dello StilaroErmetisti italianiAforisti italianiItaliani emigrati in Francia[altre]. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, "Grice e Campanella," per Il Club Anglo-Italiano, The Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Grice, Liguria, Italia – Campanelliana.

campbell: n. r. – H. P. Grice drew some ideas on scientific laws from Campbell --  British physicist and philosopher of science. A successful experimental physicist, Campbell with A. Wood discovered the radioactivity of potassium. His analysis of science depended on a sharp distinction between experimental laws and theories. Experimental laws are generalizations established by observations. A theory has the following structure. First, it requires a largely arbitrary hypothesis, which in itself is untestable. To render it testable, the theory requires a “dictionary” of propositions linking the hypothesis to scientific laws, which can be established experimentally. But theories are not merely logical relations between hypotheses and experimental laws; they also require concrete analogies or models. Indeed, the models suggest the nature of the propositions in the dictionary. The analogies are essential components of the theory, and, for Campbell, are nearly always mechanical. His theory of science greatly influenced Nagel’s The Structure of Science 1. 

campus -- field theory, a theory that proceeds by assigning values of physical quantities to the points of space, or of space-time, and then lays down laws relating these values. For example, a field theory might suppose a value for matter density, or a temperature for each space-time point, and then relate these values, usually in terms of differential equations. In these examples there is at least the tacit assumption of a physical substance that fills the relevant region of space-time. But no such assumption need be made. For instance, in Ficino, Marsilio field theory 309   309 Maxwell’s theory of the electromagnetic field, each point of space-time carries a value for an electric and a magnetic field, and these values are then governed by Maxwell’s equations. In general relativity, the geometry e.g., the curvature of space-time is itself treated as a field, with lawlike connections with the distribution of energy and matter. Formulation in terms of a field theory resolves the problem of action at a distance that so exercised Newton and his contemporaries. We often take causal connection to require spatial contiguity. That is, for one entity to act causally on another, the two entities need to be contiguous. But in Newton’s description gravitational attraction acts across spatial distances. Similarly, in electrostatics the mutual repulsion of electric charges is described as acting across spatial distances. In the times of both Newton and Maxwell numerous efforts to understand such action at a distance in terms of some space-filling mediating substance produced no viable theory. Field theories resolve the perplexity. By attributing values of physical quantities directly to the space-time points one can describe gravitation, electrical and magnetic forces, and other interactions without action at a distance or any intervening physical medium. One describes the values of physical quantities, attributed directly to the space-time points, as influencing only the values at immediately neighboring points. In this way the influences propagate through space-time, rather than act instantaneously across distances or through a medium. Of course there is a metaphysical price: on such a description the space-time points themselves take on the role of a kind of dematerialized ether. Indeed, some have argued that the pervasive role of field theory in contemporary physics and the need for space-time points for a field-theoretic description constitute a strong argument for the existence of the space-time points. This conclusion contradicts “relationalism,” which claims that there are only spatiotemporal relations, but no space-time points or regions thought of as particulars. Quantum field theory appears to take on a particularly abstract form of field theory, since it associates a quantum mechanical operator with each space-time point. However, since operators correspond to physical magnitudes rather than to values of such magnitudes, it is better to think of the field-theoretic aspect of quantum field theory in terms of the quantum mechanical amplitudes that it also associates with the space-time points. 

captainship. Strawson calls Grice his captain. In the inaugural lecture. . A struggle on what seems to be such a From Meaning and Truth (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1970) TRUTH AND MEANING central issue in philosophy should have something of a Homeric quality; and a Homeric struggle calls for gods and heroes. I can at least, though tentatively, name some living captains and benevolent shades: on the one side, say, Grice, Austin, and the later Wittgenstein; on the other, Chomsky, Frege, and the earlier Wittgenstein.

cardinal -- H. P. Grice and The cardinal virtues, prudence prudential (in ratione) practical wisdom, courage (fortitude in irascibili), temperance (temperantia in concuspicibili), and justice (iustitia in voluntate). Grice thought them oxymoronic: “Virtue is entire, surely!” -- Medievals deemed them cardinal from Latin cardo, ‘hinge’ because of their important or pivotal role in human flourishing. In Plato’s Republic, Socrates explains them through a doctrine of the three parts of the soul, suggesting that a person is prudent when knowledge of how to live wisdom informs her reason, courageous when informed reason governs her capacity for wrath, temperate when it also governs her appetites, and just when each part performs its proper task with informed reason in control. Development of thought on the cardinal virtues was closely tied to the doctrine of the unity of the virtues, i.e., that a person possessing one virtue will have them all. 

carlyleianim:, T.: When Grice was feeling that his mode operators made for poor prose he would wonder, “what Carlyle might think of this!” -- Scottish-born essayist, historian, and social critic, one of the most popular writers and lecturers in nineteenth-century Britain. His works include literary criticism, history, and cultural criticism. With respect to philosophy, his views on the theory of history are his most significant contributions. According to Carlyle, great personages are the most important causal factor in history. On Heroes, Hero-Worship and the Heroic in History 1841 asserts, “Universal History, the history of what man has accomplished in this world, is at bottom the History of the Great Men who have worked here. They were the leaders of men, these great ones; the modellers, patterns, and in a wide sense creators, of whatsoever the general mass of men contrived to do or to attain; all things that we see standing accomplished in the world are properly the outer material result, the practical realisation and embodiment, of Thoughts that dwelt in the Great Men sent into the world: the soul of the whole world’s history, it may justly be considered, were the history of these.” Carlyle’s doctrine has been challenged from many different directions. Hegelian and Marxist philosophers maintain that the so-called great men of history are not really the engine of history, but merely reflections of deeper forces, such as economic ones, while contemporary historians emphasize the priority of “history from below”  the social history of everyday people  as far more representative of the historical process.

Grice, in “Gli atti linguistici: aspetti e problemi di filosofia del lignuaggio.” Campi del sapere/Feltrinelli.  

levi: filosofo italiano – Italian philosopher of Jewish descent. Author of “Storia della filosofia romana.”

giornale critico della filosofia italiana.

giovanni, p. d. “Positivismo italiano.”

cassiodoro: noble Italian philosopher. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, "Grice e Cassiodoro," per Il Club Anglo-Italiano, The Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Grice, Liguria, Italia

casalegno, paolo. Italian philosopher – author of “H. P. Grice” in “Filosofia del linguaggio.”

categoria -- categorical theory:  kategoria "accusation, prediction, category," verbal noun from kategorein "to speak against; to accuse, assert, predicate," from kata "down to" (or perhaps "against;" see cata-) + agoreuein "to harangue, to declaim (in the assembly)," from agora "public assembly" (from PIE root *ger- "to gather"). H. P. Grice lectured at Oxford on Aristotle’s Categories in joint seminars with J. L. Austin and P. F. Strawson,  a theory all of whose models are isomorphic. Because of its weak expressive power, in first-order logic with identity only theories with a finite model can be categorical; without identity no theories are categorical. A more interesting property, therefore, is being categorical in power: a theory is categorical in power a when the theory has, up to isomorphism, only one model with a domain of cardinality a. Categoricity in power shows the capacity to characterize a structure completely, only limited by cardinality. For example, the first-order theory of dense order without endpoints is categorical in power w the cardinality of the natural numbers. The first-order theory of simple discrete orderings with initial element, the ordering of the natural numbers, is not categorical in power w. There are countable discrete orders, not isomorphic to the natural numbers, that are elementary equivalent to it, i.e., have the same elementary, first-order theory. In first-order logic categorical theories are complete. This is not necessarily true for extensions of first-order logic for which no completeness theorem holds. In such a logic a set of axioms may be categorical without providing an informative characterization of the theory of its unique model. The term ‘elementary equivalence’ was introduced around 6 by Tarski for the property of being indistinguishable by elementary means. According to Oswald Veblen, who first used the term ‘categorical’ in 4, in a discussion of the foundations of geometry, that term was suggested to him by the  pragmatist John Dewey.  categoricity: Grice distinguishes a meta-category, as categoricity, from category itself. He gave seminars on Aristotle’s categories at Oxford in joint seminars with J. L. Austin and P. F. Strawson. the semantic property belonging to a set of sentences, a “postulate set,” that implicitly defines completely describes, or characterizes up to isomorphism the structure of its intended interpretation or standard model. The best-known categorical set of sentences is the postulate set for number theory attributed to Peano, which completely characterizes the structure of an arithmetic progression. This structure is exemplified by the system of natural numbers with zero as distinguished element and successor addition of one as distinguished function. Other exemplifications of this structure are obtained by taking as distinguished element an arbitrary integer, taking as distinguished function the process of adding an arbitrary positive or negative integer and taking as universe of discourse or domain the result of repeated application of the distinguished function to the distinguished element. See, e.g., Russell’s Introduction to the Mathematical Philosophy, 8. More precisely, a postulate set is defined to be categorical if every two of its models satisfying interpretations or realizations are isomorphic to each other, where, of course, two interpretations are isomorphic if between their respective universes of discourse there exists a one-to-one correspondence by which the distinguished elements, functions, relations, etc., of the one are mapped exactly onto those of the other. The importance of the analytic geometry of Descartes involves the fact that the system of points of a geometrical line with the “left-of relation” distinguished is isomorphic to the system of real numbers with the “less-than” relation distinguished. Categoricity, the ideal limit of success for the axiomatic method considered as a method for characterizing subject matter rather than for reorganizing a science, is known to be impossible with respect to certain subject matters using certain formal languages. The concept of categoricity can be traced back at least as far as Dedekind; the word is due to Dewey.   category: H. P. Grice and J. L. Austin, “Categories.” H. P. Grice and P. F. Strawson, “Categories.” an ultimate class. Categories are the highest genera of entities in the world. They may contain species but are not themselves species of any higher genera. Aristotle, the first philosopher to discuss categories systematically, listed ten, including substance, quality, quantity, relation, place, and time. If a set of categories is complete, then each entity in the world will belong to a category and no entity will belong to more than one category. A prominent example of a set of categories is Descartes’s dualistic classification of mind and matter. This example brings out clearly another feature of categories: an attribute that can belong to entities in one category cannot be an attribute of entities in any other category. Thus, entities in the category of matter have extension and color while no entity in the category of mind can have extension or color.   category mistake. Grice’s example: You’re the cream in my coffee. Usually a metaphor is a conversational implicaturum due to a category mistake – But since obviously the mistake is intentional it is not really a mistake! Grice prefers to speak of ‘categorial falsity.’ What Ryle has in mind is different and he does mean ‘mistake.’ the placing of an entity in the wrong category. In one of Ryle’s examples, to place the activity of exhibiting team spirit in the same class with the activities of pitching, batting, and catching is to make a category mistake; exhibiting team spirit is not a special function like pitching or batting but instead a way those special functions are performed. A second use of ‘category mistake’ is to refer to the attribution to an entity of a property which that entity cannot have not merely does not happen to have, as in ‘This memory is violet’ or, to use an example from Carnap, ‘Caesar is a prime number’. These two kinds of category mistake may seem different, but both involve misunderstandings of the natures of the things being talked about. It is thought that they go beyond simple error or ordinary mistakes, as when one attributes a property to a thing which that thing could have but does not have, since category mistakes involve attributions of properties e.g., being a special function to things e.g., team spirit that those things cannot have. According to Ryle, the test for category differences depends on whether replacement of one expression for another in the same sentence results in a type of unintelligibility that he calls “absurdity.”  category theory, H. P. Grice lectured on Aristotle’s categories in joint seminars at Oxford with J. L. Austin and P. F. Strawson, a mathematical theory that studies the universal properties of structures via their relationships with one another. A category C consists of two collections Obc and Morc , the objects and the morphisms of C, satisfying the following conditions: i for each pair a, b of objects there is associated a collection Morc a, b of morphisms such that each member of Morc belongs to one of these collections; ii for each object a of Obc , there is a morphism ida , called the identity on a; iii a composition law associating with each morphism f: a P b and each morphism g: b P c a morphism gf:a P c, called the composite of f and g; iv for morphisms f: a P b, g: b P c, and h: c P d, the equation hgf % hgf holds; v for any morphism f: a P b, we have idbf % f and fida % f. Sets with specific structures together with a collection of mappings preserving these structures are categories. Examples: 1 sets with functions between them; 2 groups with group homomorphisms; 3 topological spaces with continuous functions; 4 sets with surjections instead of arbitrary maps constitute a different category. But a category need not be composed of sets and set-theoretical maps. Examples: 5 a collection of propositions linked by the relation of logical entailment is a category and so is any preordered set; 6 a monoid taken as the unique object and its elements as the morphisms is a category. The properties of an object of a category are determined by the morphisms that are coming out of and going in this object. Objects with a universal property occupy a key position. Thus, a terminal object a is characterized by the following universal property: for any object b there is a unique morphism from b to a. A singleton set is a terminal object in the category of sets. The Cartesian product of sets, the product of groups, and the conjunction of propositions are all terminal objects in appropriate categories. Thus category theory unifies concepts and sheds a new light on the notion of universality. 

cattaneo: essential Italian philosopher. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, "Grice e Cattaneo," per Il Club Anglo-Italiano, The Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Grice, Liguria, Italia.

causatum: aetiologicum: from aitia: while Grice would prefer ‘cause,’ he thought that the etymology of Grecian ‘aitia,’ in a legal context, was interesting. On top, he was dissatisfied that Foucault never realised that ‘les mots et les choses,’ etymologically, means, ‘motus et causae.’ Grecian, cause. Originally referring to responsibility for a crime, this Grecian term came to be used by philosophers to signify causality in a somewhat broader sense than the English ‘cause’  the traditional rendering of aitia  can convey. An aitia is any answer to a why-question. According to Aristotle, how such questions ought to be answered is a philosophical issue addressed differently by different philosophers. He himself distinguishes four types of answers, and thus four aitiai, by distinguishing different types of questions: 1 Why is the statue heavy? Because it is made of bronze material aitia. 2 Why did Persians invade Athens? Because the Athenians had raided their territory moving or efficient aitia. 3 Why are the angles of a triangle equal to two right angles? Because of the triangle’s nature formal aitia. 4 Why did someone walk after dinner? Because or for the sake of his health final aitia. Only the second of these would typically be called a cause in English. Though some render aitia as ‘explanatory principle’ or ‘reason’, these expressions inaptly suggest a merely mental existence; instead, an aitia is a thing or aspect of a thing. The study of the causatum in Grice is key. It appears in “Meaning,” because he starts discussing Stevenson whom Grice dubs a ‘causalist.’ It continues with Grice on ‘knowledge,’ and ‘willing’ in “Intention and Uncertainty.” Also in “Aspects of reasoning.” Is the causatum involved in the communicatum. Grice relies on this only in Meaning Revisited, where he presents a transcendental argument for the justification. This is what is referred in the literature as “H. P. Grice’s Triangle.” Borrowing from Aristotle in De Interpretatione, Grice speaks of three corners of the triangle and correspondences obtaining between them. There’s a psychophysical correspondence between the soul of the emissor, the soul of the emissee, and the shared experience of the denotata of the communication device the emissor employs. Then there’s the psychosemiotic correspondence between the communication device and the state of the soul in the emissor that is transferred, in a soul-to-soul transfer to the emissee. And finally, there is a semiophyiscal correspondence between the communication device and the world. When it comes to the causation, the belief that there is fire is caused by there being fire. The emissor wants to transfer his belief, and utters. “Smoke!”. The soul-to-soul transfer is effected. The fire that caused the smoke that caused the belief in the the emissor now causes a belief in the emissee. If that’s not a causal account of communication, I don’t know what it is. Grice is no expressionist in that a solipsistic telementational model is of no use if there is no ‘hookup’ as he puts it with the world that causes this ‘shared experience’ that is improved by the existence of a communication device.  Grice’s idea of ‘cause’ is his ‘bite’ on reality. He chooses ‘Phenomenalism’ as an enemy. Causal realism is at the heart of Grice’s programme. As an Oxonian, he was well aware that to trust a cause is to be anti-Cambridge, where they follow Hume’s and Kant’s scepticism. Grice uses ‘cause’ rather casually. His most serious joke is “Charles I’s decapitation willed his death” – but it is not easy to trace a philosopher who explicitly claim that ‘to cause’ is ‘to will.’ For in God the means and the end preexist in the cause as willed together. Causation figures large in Grice, notably re: the perceptum. The agent perceives that the pillar box is red. The cause is that the pillar box is red. Out of that, Grice constructs a whole theory of conversation. Why would someone just report what a THING SEEMS to him when he has no doubt that it was THE THING that caused the thing to SEEM red to him? Applying some sort of helpfulness, it works: the addressee is obviously more interested in what the thing IS, not what it seems. A sense-datum is not something you can eat. An apple is. So, the assumption is that a report of what a thing IS is more relevant than a report about what a thing SEEMS. So,  Grice needs to find a rationale that justifies, ceteris paribus, the utterance of “The thing seems phi.” Following helpfulness, U utters “The thing seems phi” when the U is not in a position to say what the thing IS phi. The denial, “The thing is not phi” is in the air, and also the doubt, “The thing may not be phi.” Most without a philosophical background who do not take Grice’s joke of echoing Kant’s categories (Kant had 12, not 4!) play with quantitas, qualitas, relatio and modus. Grice in “Causal” uses ‘weak’ and ‘strong’ but grants he won’t ‘determine’ in what way ‘the thing seems phi’ is ‘weaker’ than ‘the thing is phi.’ It might well be argued that it’s STRONGER: the thing SEEEMS TO BE phi.’ In the previous “Introduction to Logical Theory,” Strawson just refers to Grice’s idea of a ‘pragmatic rule’ to the effect that one utter the LOGICALLY stronger proposition. Let’s revise dates. Whereas Grice says that his confidence in the success of “Causal,” he ventured with Strawson’s “Intro,” Strawson is citing Grice already. Admittedly, Strawson adds, “in a different context.” But Grice seems pretty sure that “The thing seems phi” is WEAKER than “The thing is phi.” In 1961 he is VERY CLEAR that while what he may have said to Strawson that Strawson reported in that footnote was in terms of LOGICAL STRENGTH (in terms of entailment, for extensional contexts). In “Causal,” Grice is clear that he does not think LOGICAL STRENGTH applies to intensional contexts. In later revisions, it is not altogether clear how he deals with the ‘doubt or denial.’ He seems to have been more interested in refuting G. A. Paul (qua follower of Witters) than anything else. In his latest reformulation of the principle, now a conversational category, he is not specific about phenomenalist reports. A causal law is a statement describing a regular and invariant connection between types of events or states, where the connections involved are causal in some sense. When one speaks of causal laws as distinguished from laws that are not 123 category mistake causal law   123 causal, the intended distinction may vary. Sometimes, a law is said to be causal if it relates events or states occurring at successive times, also called a law of succession: e.g., ‘Ingestion of strychnine leads to death.’ A causal law in this sense contrasts with a law of coexistence, which connects events or states occurring at the same time e.g., the Wiedemann-Franz law relating thermal and electric conductivity in metals. One important kind of causal law is the deterministic law. Causal laws of this kind state exceptionless connections between events, while probabilistic or statistical laws specify probability relationships between events. For any system governed by a set of deterministic laws, given the state of a system at a time, as characterized by a set of state variables, these laws will yield a unique state of the system for any later time or, perhaps, at any time, earlier or later. Probabilistic laws will yield, for a given antecedent state of a system, only a probability value for the occurrence of a certain state at a later time. The laws of classical mechanics are often thought to be paradigmatic examples of causal laws in this sense, whereas the laws of quantum mechanics are claimed to be essentially probabilistic. Causal laws are sometimes taken to be laws that explicitly specify certain events as causes of certain other events. Simple laws of this kind will have the form ‘Events of kind F cause events of kind G’; e.g., ‘Heating causes metals to expand’. A weaker related concept is this: a causal law is one that states a regularity between events which in fact are related as cause to effect, although the statement of the law itself does not say so laws of motion expressed by differential equations are perhaps causal laws in this sense. These senses of ‘causal law’ presuppose a prior concept of causation. Finally, causal laws may be contrasted with teleological laws, laws that supposedly describe how certain systems, in particular biological organisms, behave so as to achieve certain “goals” or “end states.” Such laws are sometimes claimed to embody the idea that a future state that does not as yet exist can exert an influence on the present behavior of a system. Just what form such laws take and exactly how they differ from ordinary laws have not been made wholly clear, however.  Grice was not too happy with the causal theory of proper names, the view that proper names designate what they name by virtue of a kind of causal connection to it. Perhaps his antipathy was due to the fact that he was Herbert Grice, and so was his father. This led Grice to start using once at Clifton and Oxford, “H. P.” and eventually, dropping the “Herbert” altogether and become “Paul Grice.” This view is a special case, and in some instances an unwarranted interpretation, of a direct reference view of names. On this approach, proper names, e.g., ‘Machiavelli’, are, as J. S. Mill wrote, “purely denotative. . . . they denote the individuals who are called by them; but they do not indicate or imply any attributes as belonging to those individuals” A System of Logic, 1879. Proper names may suggest certain properties to many competent speakers, but any such associated information is no part of the definition of the name. Names, on this view, have no definitions. What connects a name to what it names is not the latter’s satisfying some condition specified in the name’s definition. Names, instead, are simply attached to things, applied as labels, as it were. A proper name, once attached, becomes a socially available device for making the relevant name bearer a subject of discourse. On the other leading view, the descriptivist view, a proper name is associated with something like a definition. ‘Aristotle’, on this view, applies by definition to whoever satisfies the relevant properties  e.g., is ‘the teacher of Alexander the Great, who wrote the Nicomachean Ethics’. Russell, e.g., maintained that ordinary proper names which he contrasted with logically proper or genuine names have definitions, that they are abbreviated definite descriptions. Frege held that names have sense, a view whose proper interpretation remains in dispute, but is often supposed to be closely related to Russell’s approach. Others, most notably Searle, have defended descendants of the descriptivist view. An important variant, sometimes attributed to Frege, denies that names have articulable definitions, but nevertheless associates them with senses. And the bearer will still be, by definition as it were, the unique thing to satisfy the relevant mode of presentation. causal overdetermination causal theory of proper names 124   124 The direct reference approach is sometimes misleadingly called the causal theory of names. But the key idea need have nothing to do with causation: a proper name functions as a tag or label for its bearer, not as a surrogate for a descriptive expression. Whence the allegedly misleading term ‘causal theory of names’? Contemporary defenders of Mill’s conception like Keith Donnellan and Kripke felt the need to expand upon Mill’s brief remarks. What connects a present use of a name with a referent? Here Donnellan and Kripke introduce the notion of a “historical chains of communication.” As Kripke tells the story, a baby is baptized with a proper name. The name is used, first by those present at the baptism, subsequently by those who pick up the name in conversation, reading, and so on. The name is thus propagated, spread by usage “from link to link as if by a chain” Naming and Necessity, 0. There emerges a historical chain of uses of the name that, according to Donnellan and Kripke, bridges the gap between a present use of the name and the individual so named. This “historical chain of communication” is occasionally referred to as a “casual chain of communication.” The idea is that one’s use of the name can be thought of as a causal factor in one’s listener’s ability to use the name to refer to the same individual. However, although Kripke in Naming and Necessity does occasionally refer to the chain of communication as causal, he more often simply speaks of the chain of communication, or of the fact that the name has been passed “by tradition from link to link” p. 106. The causal aspect is not one that Kripke underscores. In more recent writings on the topic, as well as in lectures, Kripke never mentions causation in this connection, and Donnellan questions whether the chain of communication should be thought of as a causal chain. This is not to suggest that there is no view properly called a “causal theory of names.” There is such a view, but it is not the view of Kripke and Donnellan. The causal theory of names is a view propounded by physicalistically minded philosophers who desire to “reduce” the notion of “reference” to something more physicalistically acceptable, such as the notion of a causal chain running from “baptism” to later use. This is a view whose motivation is explicitly rejected by Kripke, and should be sharply distinguished from the more popular anti-Fregean approach sketched above. Causation is the relation between cause and effect, or the act of bringing about an effect, which may be an event, a state, or an object say, a statue. The concept of causation has long been recognized as one of fundamental philosophical importance. Hume called it “the cement of the universe”: causation is the relation that connects events and objects of this world in significant relationships. The concept of causation seems pervasively present in human discourse. It is expressed by not only ‘cause’ and its cognates but by many other terms, such as ‘produce’, ‘bring about’, ‘issue’, ‘generate’, ‘result’, ‘effect’, ‘determine’, and countless others. Moreover, many common transitive verbs “causatives”, such as ‘kill’, ‘break’, and ‘move’, tacitly contain causal relations e.g., killing involves causing to die. The concept of action, or doing, involves the idea that the agent intentionally causes a change in some object or other; similarly, the concept of perception involves the idea that the object perceived causes in the perceiver an appropriate perceptual experience. The physical concept of force, too, appears to involve causation as an essential ingredient: force is the causal agent of changes in motion. Further, causation is intimately related to explanation: to ask for an explanation of an event is, often, to ask for its cause. It is sometimes thought that our ability to make predictions, and inductive inference in general, depends on our knowledge of causal connections or the assumption that such connections are present: the knowledge that water quenches thirst warrants the predictive inference from ‘X is swallowing water’ to ‘X’s thirst will be quenched’. More generally, the identification and systematic description of causal relations that hold in the natural world have been claimed to be the preeminent aim of science. Finally, causal concepts play a crucial role in moral and legal reasoning, e.g., in the assessment of responsibilities and liabilities. Event causation is the causation of one event by another. A sequence of causally connected events is called a causal chain. Agent causation refers to the act of an agent person, object in bringing about a change; thus, my opening the window i.e., my causing the window to open is an instance of agent causation. There is a controversy as to whether agent causation is reducible to event causation. My opening the window seems reducible to event causation since in reality a certain motion of my arms, an event, causes the window to open. Some philosophers, however, have claimed that not all cases of agent causation are so reducible. Substantival causation is the creation of a genuinely new substance, or object, rather than causing changes in preexisting substances, or merely rearranging them. The possibility of substantival causation, at least in the natural world, has been disputed by some philosophers. Event causation, however, has been the primary focus of philosophical discussion in the modern and contemporary period. The analysis of event causation has been controversial. The following four approaches have been prominent: the regularity analysis, the counterfactual analysis, the manipulation analysis, and the probabilistic analysis. The heart of the regularity or nomological analysis, associated with Hume and J. S. Mill, is the idea that causally connected events must instantiate a general regularity between like kinds of events. More precisely: if c is a cause of e, there must be types or kinds of events, F and G, such that c is of kind F, e is of kind G, and events of kind F are regularly followed by events of kind G. Some take the regularity involved to be merely de facto “constant conjunction” of the two event types involved; a more popular view is that the regularity must hold as a matter of “nomological necessity”  i.e., it must be a “law.” An even stronger view is that the regularity must represent a causal law. A law that does this job of subsuming causally connected events is called a “covering” or “subsumptive” law, and versions of the regularity analysis that call for such laws are often referred to as the “covering-law” or “nomic-subsumptive” model of causality. The regularity analysis appears to give a satisfactory account of some aspects of our causal concepts: for example, causal claims are often tested by re-creating the event or situation claimed to be a cause and then observing whether a similar effect occurs. In other respects, however, the regularity account does not seem to fare so well: e.g., it has difficulty explaining the apparent fact that we can have knowledge of causal relations without knowledge of general laws. It seems possible to know, for instance, that someone’s contraction of the flu was caused by her exposure to a patient with the disease, although we know of no regularity between such exposures and contraction of the disease it may well be that only a very small fraction of persons who have been exposed to flu patients contract the disease. Do I need to know general regularities about itchings and scratchings to know that the itchy sensation on my left elbow caused me to scratch it? Further, not all regularities seem to represent causal connections e.g., Reid’s example of the succession of day and night; two successive symptoms of a disease. Distinguishing causal from non-causal regularities is one of the main problems confronting the regularity theorist. According to the counterfactual analysis, what makes an event a cause of another is the fact that if the cause event had not occurred the effect event would not have. This accords with the idea that cause is a condition that is sine qua non for the occurrence of the effect. The view that a cause is a necessary condition for the effect is based on a similar idea. The precise form of the counterfactual account depends on how counterfactuals are understood e.g., if counterfactuals are explained in terms of laws, the counterfactual analysis may turn into a form of the regularity analysis. The counterfactual approach, too, seems to encounter various difficulties. It is true that on the basis of the fact that if Larry had watered my plants, as he had promised, my plants would not have died, I could claim that Larry’s not watering my plants caused them to die. But it is also true that if George Bush had watered my plants, they would not have died; but does that license the claim that Bush’s not watering my plants caused them to die? Also, there appear to be many cases of dependencies expressed by counterfactuals that, however, are not cases of causal dependence: e.g., if Socrates had not died, Xanthippe would not have become a widow; if I had not raised my hand, I would not have signaled. The question, then, is whether these non-causal counterfactuals can be distinguished from causal counterfactuals without the use of causal concepts. There are also questions about how we could verify counterfactuals  in particular, whether our knowledge of causal counterfactuals is ultimately dependent on knowledge of causal laws and regularities. Some have attempted to explain causation in terms of action, and this is the manipulation analysis: the cause is an event or state that we can produce at will, or otherwise manipulate, to produce a certain other event as an effect. Thus, an event is a cause of another provided that by bringing about the first event we can bring about the second. This account exploits the close connection noted earlier between the concepts of action and cause, and highlights the important role that knowledge of causal connections plays in our control of natural events. However, as an analysis of the concept of cause, it may well have things backward: the concept of action seems to be a richer and more complex concept that presupposes the concept of cause, and an analysis of cause in terms of action could be accused of circularity. The reason we think that someone’s exposure to a flu patient was the cause of her catching the disease, notwithstanding the absence of an appropriate regularity even one of high probability, may be this: exposure to flu patients increases the probability of contracting the disease. Thus, an event, X, may be said to be a probabilistic cause of an event, Y, provided that the probability of the occurrence of Y, given that X has occurred, is greater than the antecedent probability of Y. To meet certain obvious difficulties, this rough definition must be further elaborated e.g., to eliminate the possibility that X and Y are collateral effects of a common cause. There is also the question whether probabilistic causation is to be taken as an analysis of the general concept of causation, or as a special kind of causal relation, or perhaps only as evidence indicating the presence of a causal relationship. Probabilistic causation has of late been receiving increasing attention from philosophers. When an effect is brought about by two independent causes either of which alone would have sufficed, one speaks of causal overdetermination. Thus, a house fire might have been caused by both a short circuit and a simultaneous lightning strike; either event alone would have caused the fire, and the fire, therefore, was causally overdetermined. Whether there are actual instances of overdetermination has been questioned; one could argue that the fire that would have been caused by the short circuit alone would not have been the same fire, and similarly for the fire that would have been caused by the lightning alone. The steady buildup of pressure in a boiler would have caused it to explode but for the fact that a bomb was detonated seconds before, leading to a similar effect. In such a case, one speaks of preemptive, or superseding, cause. We are apt to speak of causes in regard to changes; however, “unchanges,” e.g., this table’s standing here through some period of time, can also have causes: the table continues to stand here because it is supported by a rigid floor. The presence of the floor, therefore, can be called a sustaining cause of the table’s continuing to stand. A cause is usually thought to precede its effect in time; however, some have argued that we must allow for the possibility of a cause that is temporally posterior to its effect  backward causation sometimes called retrocausation. And there is no universal agreement as to whether a cause can be simultaneous with its effect  concurrent causation. Nor is there a general agreement as to whether cause and effect must, as a matter of conceptual necessity, be “contiguous” in time and space, either directly or through a causal chain of contiguous events  contiguous causation. The attempt to “analyze” causation seems to have reached an impasse; the proposals on hand seem so widely divergent that one wonders whether they are all analyses of one and the same concept. But each of them seems to address some important aspect of the variegated notion that we express by the term ‘cause’, and it may be doubted whether there is a unitary concept of causation that can be captured in an enlightening philosophical analysis. On the other hand, the centrality of the concept, both to ordinary practical discourse and to the scientific description of the world, is difficult to deny. This has encouraged some philosophers to view causation as a primitive, one that cannot be further analyzed. There are others who advocate the extreme view causal nihilism that causal concepts play no role whatever in the advanced sciences, such as fundamental physical theories of space-time and matter, and that the very notion of cause is an anthropocentric projection deriving from our confused ideas of action and power. Causatum -- Dretske, Fred b.2,  philosopher best known for his externalistic representational naturalism about experience, belief, perception, and knowledge. Educated at Purdue  and the  of Minnesota, he has taught at the  of Wisconsin 088 and Stanford  898. In Seeing and Knowing 9 Dretske develops an account of non-epistemic seeing, denying that seeing is believing  that for a subject S to see a dog, say, S must apply a concept to it dog, animal, furry. The dog must look some way to S S must visually differentiate the dog, but need not conceptually categorize it. This contrasts with epistemic seeing, where for S to see that a dog is before him, S would have to believe that it is a dog. In Knowledge and the Flow of Information 1, a mind-independent objective sense of ‘information’ is applied to propositional knowledge and belief content. “Information” replaced Dretske’s earlier notion of a “conclusive reason” 1. Knowing that p requires having a true belief caused or causally sustained by an event that carries the information that p. Also, the semantic content of a belief is identified with the most specific digitally encoded piece of information to which it becomes selectively sensitive during a period of learning. In Explaining Behavior 8, Dretske’s account of representation and misrepresentation takes on a teleological flavor. The semantic meaning of a structure is now identified with its indicator function. A structure recruited for a causal role of indicating F’s, and sustained in that causal role by this ability, comes to mean F  thereby providing a causal role for the content of cognitive states, and avoiding epiphenomenalism about semantic content. In Naturalizing the Mind 5, Dretske’s theory of meaning is applied to the problems of consciousness and qualia. He argues that the empirically significant features of conscious experience are exhausted by their functional and hence representational roles of indicating external sensible properties. He rejects the views that consciousness is composed of a higher-order hierarchy of mental states and that qualia are due to intrinsic, non-representational features of the underlying physical systems. Dretske is also known for his contributions on the nature of contrastive statements, laws of nature, causation, and epistemic non-closure, among other topics.  CAUSATUM -- Ducasse, C. J., philosopher of mind and aesthetician. He arrived in the United States in 0, received his Ph.D. from Harvard 2, and taught at the  of Washington 226 and Brown  658. His most important work is Nature, Mind and Death 1. The key to his general theory is a non-Humean view of causation: the relation of causing is triadic, involving i an initial event, ii the set of conditions under which it occurs, and iii a resulting event; the initial event is the cause, the resulting event is the effect. On the basis of this view he constructed a theory of categories  an explication of such concepts as those of substance, property, mind, matter, and body. Among the theses he defended were that minds are substances, that they causally interact with bodies, and that human beings are free despite every event’s having a cause. In A Critical Examination of the Belief in a Life after Death 1, he concluded that “the balance of the evidence so far obtained is on the side of . . . survival.” Like Schopenhauer, whom he admired, Ducasse was receptive to the religious and philosophical writings of the Far East. He wrote with remarkable objectivity on the philosophical problems associated with so-called paranormal phenomena. Ducasse’s epistemological views are developed in Truth, Knowledge and Causation 8. He sets forth a realistic theory of perception he says, about sense-qualities, “Berkeley is right and the realists are wrong” and, of material things, “the realists are right and Berkeley is wrong”. He provides the classical formulation of the “adverbial theory” or sense-qualities, according to which such qualities are not objects of experience or awareness but ways of experiencing or of being aware. One does not perceive a red material object by sensing a red sense-datum; for then perceiving would involve three entities  i the perceiving subject, ii the red sense-datum, and iii the red material object. But one may perceive a red material object by sensing redly; then the only entities involved are i the perceiving subject and ii the material object. Ducasse observes that, analogously, although it may be natural to say “dancing a waltz,” it would be more accurate to speak of “dancing waltzily.”  causatum – causarum causare causaturus causatum causans – Grice: “The Romans never needed a verb, to cause – the monks did!” But the Romans had ‘causari, and causatum, surely. --  causa sui: an expression used by Grice’s mother, a High Church, as applied to God to mean in part that God owes his existence to nothing other than himself. It does not mean that God somehow brought himself into existence. The idea is that the very nature of God logically requires that he exists. What accounts for the existence of a being that is causa sui is its own nature. 

celsus: philosopher known only as the author of a work called “Alethes logos,” which is quoted extensively by Origen of Alexandria in his response, Against Celsus. “Alethes logos” is mainly important because it is the first anti-Christian polemic of which we have significant knowledge. Origen considers Celsus to be an Epicurean, but he is uncertain about this. There are no traces of Epicureanism in Origen’s quotations from Celsus, which indicate instead that he is a platonist, whose conception of an unnameable first deity transcending being and knowable only by “synthesis, analysis, or analogy” is based on Plato’s description of the Good in Rep. VI. In accordance with the Timaeus, Celsus believes that God created “immortal things” and turned the creation of “mortal things” over to them. According to him, the universe has a providential organization in which humans hold no special place, and its history is one of eternally repeating sequences of events separated by catastrophes.

centro per la filosofia italiana – the title is telling. A centro is like a a ‘centre,’ but Oxford would not have a ‘centre.’ – It’s more of a ‘new-world’ thing – Center for Advanced Studies, say. A centro is like a ‘circle,’ as in the Vienna Circcle. This ‘centro’ is not for philosophical research, but for Italian philosophy simpliciter.

certum: While Grice plays with ‘certum,’ he is happier with UNcertum. To be certain is to have dis-cerned. Oddly, Grice ‘evolved’ from an interest in the certainty and incorrigibility that ‘ordinary’ and the first-person gives to situations of ‘conversational improbability’ and indeterminate implicatura under conditions of ceteris paribus risk and uncertainty in survival. “To be certain that p” is for Grice one of those ‘diaphanous’ verbs. While it is best to improve Descartes’s fuzzy lexicon – and apply ‘certus’ to the emissor, if Grice is asked, “What are you certain of?,” “I have to answer, ‘p’”.  certum: certitude, from ecclesiastical medieval Roman “certitudo,” designating in particular Christian conviction, is heir to two meanings of “certum,” one objective and the other subjective: beyond doubt, fixed, positive, real, regarding a thing or knowledge, or firm in his resolutions, decided, sure, authentic, regarding an individual. Although certitudo has no Grecian equivalent, the Roman verb “cernere,” (cf. discern), from which “certum” is derived, has the concrete meaning of pass through a sieve, discern, like the Grecian “ϰρίνειν,” select, sieve, judge, which comes from the same root. Thus begins the relationship between certitude, judgment, and truth, which since Descartes has been connected with the problematics of the subject and of self-certainty. The whole terminological system of truth is thus involved, from unveiling and adequation to certitude and obviousness. Then there’s Certainty, Objectivity, Subjectivity, and Linguistic Systems  The objective aspect manifests itself first, “certitudo” translating e. g.  the determined nature of objects or known properties as the commentaries on Aristotle’s Met. translated into Roman, or the incontestably true nature of principles. With the revolution of the subject inaugurated by Cartesian Phil. , the second aspect comes to the fore: some reasons, ideas, or propositions are true and certain, or true and evident, but the most certain and the most evident of all, and thus in a sense the truest, is the certitude of my own existence, a certainty that the subject attributes to itself: The thematics of certainty precedes that of consciousness both historically and logically, but it ends up being incorporated and subordinated by it. Certainty thus becomes a quality or disposition of the subject that reproduces, in the field of rational knowledge, the security or assurance that the believer finds in religious faith, and that shields him from the wavering of the soul. It will be noted that Fr.  retains the possibility of reversing the perspective by exploiting the Roman etymology, as Descartes does in the Principles of Phil.  when he transforms the certitudo probabilis of the Scholastics Aquinas into moral certainty. On the other hand, Eng. tends to objectify “certainty” to the maximum in opposition to belief v. BELIEF, whereas G.  hears in “Gewissheit” the root “wissen,” to know, to have learned and situates it in a series with Bewusstsein and Gewissen, clearly marking the constitutive relationship to the subject in opposition to Glaube on the one hand, and to Wahrheit and Wahrscheinlichkeit lit., appearance of truth, i.e., probability on the other. Then there’s Knots of Problems  On the relations between certainty and belief, the modalities of subjective experience. On the relation between individual certainty and the wise man’s constancy. On the relations between certainty and truth, the confrontation between subjectivity and objectivity in the development of knowledge. On the relations between certainty and probability, the modalities of objective knowledge insofar as it is related to a subject’s experience.  uncertainty. This is Grice’s principle of uncertainty. One of Grice’s problem is with ‘know’ and ‘certainty.’ He grants that we only know that 2 + 2 = 4. He often identifies ‘knowledge’ with ‘certainty.’ He does not explore a cancellation like, “I am certain but I do not know.” The reason being that he defends common sense against the sceptic, and so his attitude towards certainty has to be very careful. The second problem is that he wants ‘certainty’ to deal within the desiderative realm. To do that, he divides an act of intending into two: an act of accepting and act of willing. The ‘certainty’ is found otiose if the intender is seen as ‘willing that p’ and accepting that the willing will be the cause for the desideratum to obtain.  n WoW:141, Grice proposes that ‘A is certain that p’ ENTAILS either ‘A is certain that he is certain that p, OR AT LEAST that it is not the case that A is UNCERTAIN that A is certain that p.” ‘Certainly,’ appears to apply to utterances in the credibility and the desirability realm. Grice sometimes uses ‘to be sure.’ He notoriously wants to distinguish it from ‘know.’ Grice explores the topic of incorrigibility and ends up with corrigibility which almost makes a Popperian out of him. In the end, its all about the converational implciata and conversation as rational co-operation. Why does P2 should judge that P1 is being more or less certain about what he is talking? Theres a rationale for that. Our conversation does not consist of idle remarks. Grices example: "The Chairman of the British Academy has a corkscrew in his pocket. Urmsons example: "The king is visiting Oxford tomorrow. Why? Oh, for no reason at all. As a philosophical psychologist, and an empiricist with realist tendencies, Grice was obsessed with what he called (in a nod to the Kiparskys) the factivity of know. Surely, Grices preferred collocation, unlike surely Ryles, is "Grice knows that p." Grice has no problem in seeing this as involving three clauses: First, p. Second, Grice believes that p, and third, p causes Grices belief. No mention of certainty. This is the neo-Prichardian in Grice, from having been a neo-Stoutian (Stout was obsessed, as a few Oxonians like Hampshire and Hart were, with certainty). If the three-prong analysis of know applies to the doxastic, Grices two-prong analysis of intending in ‘Intention and UNcertainty,’ again purposively avoiding certainty, covers the buletic realm. This does not mean that Grice, however proud he was of his ignorance of the history of philosophy (He held it as a badge of honour, his tuteee Strawson recalls), had read some of the philosophical classics to realise that certainty had been an obsession of what Ryle abusively (as he himself puts it) called Descartes and the Establishments "official doctrine"! While ps true in Grices analysis of know is harmless enough, there obviously is no correlate for ps truth in the buletic case. Grices example is Grice intending to scratch his head, via his willing that Grice scratches his head in t2. In this case, as he notes, the doxastic eleent involves the uniformity of nature, and ones more or less relying that if Grice had a head to be scratched in t1, he will have a head to be sratched in t2, when his intention actually GETS satisfied, or fulfilled. Grice was never worried about buletic satisfaction. As the intentionalist that Suppes showed us Grice was, Grice is very much happy to say that if Smith intends to give Joness a job, the facct as to whether Jones actually gets the job is totally irrelevant for most philosophical purposes. He gets more serious when he is happier with privileged access than incorrigibility in “Method.” But he is less strict than Austin. For Austin, "That is a finch implies that the utterer KNOWS its a finch. While Grice has a maxim, do not say that for which you lack adequate evidence (Gettiers analysandum)  and a super-maxim, try to make your contribution one that is true,  the very phrasing highlights Grices cavalier to this! Imagine Kant turning on his grave. "Try!?". Grice is very clever in having try in the super-maxim, and a prohibition as the maxim, involving falsehood avoidance, "Do not say what you believe to be false." Even here he is cavalier. "Cf. "Do not say what you KNOW to be false." If Gettier were wrong, the combo of maxims yields, "Say what you KNOW," say what you are certain about! Enough for Sextus Empiricus having one single maxim: "Either utter a phenomenalist utterance, a question or an order, or keep your mouth shut!." (cf. Grice, "My lips are sealed," as cooperative or helfpul in ways -- "At least he is not lying."). Hampshire, in the course of some recent remarks,l advances the view that self-prediction is (logically) impossible. When I say I know that I shall do X (as against, e.g., X will happen to me, or You will do X), I am not contemplating myself, as I might someone else, and giving tongue to a conjecture about myself and my future acts, as I might be doing about someone else or about the behaviour ofan animal -for that would be tantamount (if I understand him rightly) to looking upon myself from outside, as it were, and treating my own acts as mere caused events. In saying that I know that I shall do X, I am, on this view, saying that I have decided to do X: for to predict that I shall in certain circumstances in fact do X or decide to do X, with no reference to whether or not I have already decided to do it - to say I can tell you now that I shall in fact act in manner X, although I am, as a matter of fact, determined to do the very opposite - does not make sense. Any man who says I know myself too well to believe that, whatever I now decide, I shall do anything other than X when the circumstances actually arise is in fact, if I interpret Hampshires views correctly, saying that he does not really, i.e. seriously, propose to set himself against doing X, that he does not propose even to try to act otherwise, that he has in fact decided to let events take their course. For no man who has truly decided to try to avoid X can, in good faith, predict his own failure to act as he has decided. He may fail to avoid X, and he may predict this; but he cannot both decide to try to avoid X and predict that he will not even try to do this; for he can always try; and he knows this: he knows that this is what distinguishes him from non-human creatures in nature. To say that he will fail even to try is tantamount to saying that he has decided not to try. In this sense I know means I have decided and (Murdoch, Hampshire, Gardiner and Pears, Freedom and Knowledge, in Pears, Freedom and the Will) cannot in principle be predictive. That, if I have understood it, is Hampshires position, and I have a good deal of sympathy with it, for I can see that self-prediction is often an evasive way of disclaiming responsibility for difficult decisions, while deciding in fact to let events take their course, disguising this by attributing responsibility for what occurs to my own allegedly unalterable nature. But I agree with Hampshires critics in the debate, whom I take to be maintaining that, although the situation he describes may often occur, yet circumstances may exist in which it is possible for me both to say that I am, at this moment, resolved not to do X, and at the same time to predict that I shall do X, because I am not hopeful that, when the time comes, I shall in fact even so much as try to resist doing X. I can, in effect, say I know myself well. When the crisis comes, do not rely on me to help you. I may well run away; although I am at this moment genuinely resolved not to be cowardly and to do all I can to stay at your side. My prediction that my resolution will not in fact hold up is based on knowledge of my own character, and not on my present state of mind; my prophecy is not a symptom of bad faith (for I am not, at this moment, vacillating) but, on the contrary, of good faith, of a wish to face the facts. I assure you in all sincerity that my present intention is to be brave and resist. Yet you would run a great risk if you relied too much on my present decision; it would not be fair to conceal my past failures of nerve from you. I can say this about others, despite the most sincere resolutions on their part, for I can foretell how in fact they will behave; they can equally predict this about me. Despite Hampshires plausible and tempting argument, I believe that such objective self-knowledge is possible and occur. From Descartes to Stout and back. Stout indeed uses both intention and certainty, and in the same paragraph. Stout notes that, at the outset, performance falls far short of intention. Only a certain s. of contractions of certain muscles, in proper proportions and in a proper order, is capable of realising the end aimed at, with the maximum of rapidity and certainty, and the minimum of obstruction and failure, and corresponding effort. At the outset of the process of acquisition, muscles are contracted which are superfluous, and which therefore operate as disturbing conditions. Grices immediate trigger, however, is Ayer on sure that, and having the right to be sure, as his immediate trigger later will be Hampshire and Hart. Grice had high regard for Hampshires brilliant Thought and action.  He was also concerned with Stouts rather hasty UNphilosophical, but more scientifically psychologically-oriented remarks about assurance in practical concerns. He knew too that he was exploring an item of the philosophers lexicon (certus) that had been brought to the forum when Anscombe and von Wright translate Witters German expression Gewißheit in Über Gewißheit as Certainty. The Grecians were never sure about being sure. But the modernist turn brought by Descartes meant that Grice now had to deal with incorrigibility and privileged access to this or that P, notably himself (When I intend to go, I dont have to observe myself, Im on the stage, not in the audience, or Only I can say I will to London, expressing my intention to do so. If you say, you will go you are expressing yours! Grice found Descartes very funny ‒ in a French way. Grice is interested in contesting Ayer and other Oxford philosophers, on the topic of a criterion for certainty. In so doing, Grice choses Descartess time-honoured criterion of clarity and distinction, as applied to perception.  Grice does NOT quote Descartes in French! In the proceedings, Grice distinguishes between two kinds of certainty apparently ignored by Descartes: (a) objective certainty: Ordinary-language variant: It is certain that p, whatever it refers to, cf. Grice, it is an illusion; what is it? (b) Subjective certainty: Ordinary-language variant: I am certain that p. I being, of course, Grice, in my bestest days, of course! There are further items on Descartes in the Grice Collection, notably in the last s. of topics arranged alphabetically. Grice never cared to publish his views on Descartes until he found an opportunity to do so when compiling his WOW. Grice is not interested in an exegesis of Descartess thought. He doesnt care to give a reference to any edition of Descartess oeuvre. But he plays with certain. It is certain that p is objective certainty, apparently. I am certain that p is Subjectsive certainty, rather. Oddly, Grice will turn to UNcertainty as it connects with intention in his BA lecture. Grices interest in Descartes connects with Descartess search for a criterion of certainty in terms of clarity and distinction of this or that perception.  Having explored the philosophy of perception with Warnock, its only natural he wanted to give Descartess rambles a second and third look! Descartes on clear and distinct perception, in WOW, II semantics and metaphysics, essay, Descartes on clear and distinct perception and Malcom on dreaming, perception, Descartes, clear and distinct perception, Malcolm, dreaming. Descartes meets Malcolm, and vice versa.  Descartes on clear and distinct perception, in WOW, Descartes on clear and distinct perception, Descartes on clear and distinct perception, in WOW, part II, semantics and metaphysics, essay. Grice gives a short overview of Cartesian metaphysics for the BBC 3rd programme. The best example, Grice thinks, of a metaphysical snob is provided by Descartes, about whose idea of certainty Grice had philosophised quite a bit, since it is in total contrast with Moore’s. Descartes is a very scientifically minded philosopher, with very clear ideas about the proper direction for science.  Descartes, whose middle Names seems to have been Euclid, thinks that mathematics, and in particular geometry, provides the model for a scientific procedure, or method. And this determines all of Descartess thinking in two ways. First, Descartes thinks that the fundamental method in science is the axiomatic deductive method of geometry, and this Descartes conceives (as Spinoza morality more geometrico) of as rigorous reasoning from a self-evident axiom (Cogito, ergo sum.). Second, Descartes thinks that the Subjects matter of physical science, from mechanics to medicine, must be fundamentally the same as the Subjects matter of geometry! The only characteristics that the objects studied by geometry poses are spatial characteristics. So from the point of view of science in general, the only important features of things in the physical world were also their spatial characteristics, what he called extensio, res extensa. Physical science in general is a kind of dynamic, or kinetic, geometry.   Here we have an exclusive preference for a certain type of scientific method, and a certain type of scientific explanation: the method is deductive, the type of explanation mechanical. These beliefs about the right way to do science are exactly reflected in Descartess ontology, one of the two branches of metaphysics; the other is philosophical eschatology, or the study of categories), and it is reflected in his doctrine, that is, about what really exists.  Apart from God, the divine substance, Descartes recognises just two kinds of substance, two types of real entity. First, there is material substance, or matter; and the belief that the only scientifically important characteristics of things in the physical world are their spatial characteristics goes over, in the language of metaphysics, into the doctrine that these are their only characteristics. Second, and to Ryle’s horror, Descartes recognizes the mind or soul, or the mental substance, of which the essential characteristic is thinking; and thinking itself, in its pure form at least, is conceived of as simply the intuitive grasping of   this or that self-evident axiom and this or that of its deductive consequence. These restrictive doctrines about reality and knowledge naturally call for adjustments elsewhere in our ordinary scheme of things. With the help of the divine substance, these are duly provided.  It is not always obvious that the metaphysicians scheme involves this kind of ontological preference, or favoritism, or prejudice, or snobbery this tendency, that is, to promote one or two categories of entity to the rank of the real, or of the ultimately real, to the exclusion of others, Descartess entia realissima. One is taught at Oxford that epistemology begins with the Moderns such as Descartes, which is not true. Grice was concerned with “certain,” which was applied in Old Roman times to this or that utterer: the person who is made certain in reference to a thing, certain, sure. Lewis and Short have a few quotes: “certi sumus periisse omnia;” “num quid nunc es certior?,” “posteritatis, i. e. of posthumous fame,” “sententiæ,” “judicii,” “certus de suā geniturā;” “damnationis;” “exitii,” “spei,” “matrimonii,” “certi sumus;” in the phrase “certiorem facere aliquem;” “de aliquā re, alicujus rei, with a foll, acc. and inf., with a rel.-clause or absol.;” “to inform, apprise one of a thing: me certiorem face: “ut nos facias certiores,” “uti Cæsarem de his rebus certiorem faciant;” “qui certiorem me sui consilii fecit;” “Cæsarem certiorem faciunt, sese non facile ab oppidis vim hostium prohibere;” “faciam te certiorem quid egerim;” with subj. only, “milites certiores facit, paulisper intermitterent proelium,” pass., “quod crebro certior per me fias de omnibus rebus,” “Cæsar certior factus est, tres jam copiarum partes Helvetios id flumen transduxisse;” “factus certior, quæ res gererentur,” “non consulibus certioribus factis,” also in posit., though rarely; “fac me certum quid tibi est;” “lacrimæ suorum tam subitæ matrem certam fecere ruinæ,” uncertainty, Grice loved the OED, and its entry for will was his favourite. But he first had a look to shall. For Grice, "I shall climb Mt. Everest," is surely a prediction. And then Grice turns to the auxiliary he prefers, will. Davidson, Intending, R. Grandy and Warner, PGRICE. “Uncertainty,” “Aspects.” “Conception,” Davidson on intending, intending and trying, Brandeis.”Method,” in “Conception,” WOW . Hampshire and Hart. Decision, intention, and certainty, Mind, Harman, Willing and intending in PGRICE. Practical reasoning. Review of Met.  29. Thought, Princeton, for functionalist approach alla Grice’s “Method.” Principles of reasoning. Rational action and the extent of intention. Social theory and practice. Jeffrey, Probability kinematics, in The logic of decision, cited by Harman in PGRICE. Kahneman and Tversky, Judgement under uncertainty, Science, cited by Harman in PGRICE. Nisbet and Ross, Human inference, cited by Harman in PGRICE. Pears, Predicting and deciding. Prichard, Acting, willing, and desiring, in Moral obligations, Oxford ed. by Urmson  Speranza, The Grice Circle Wants You. Stout, Voluntary action. Mind 5, repr in Studies in philosophy and psychology, Macmillan, cited by Grice, “Uncertainty.” Urmson, ‘Introduction’ to Prichard’s ‘Moral obligations.’ I shant but Im not certain I wont – Grice. How uncertain can Grice be? This is the Henriette Herz BA lecture, and as such published in The Proceedings of the BA. Grice calls himself a neo-Prichardian (after the Oxford philosopher) and cares to quote from a few other philosophers  ‒ some of whom he was not necessarily associated with: such as Kenny and Anscombe, and some of whom he was, notably Pears. Grices motto: Where there is a neo-Prichardian willing, there is a palæo-Griceian way! Grice quotes Pears, of Christ Church, as the philosopher he found especially congenial to explore areas in what both called philosophical psychology, notably the tricky use of intending as displayed by a few philosophers even in their own circle, such as Hampshire and Hart in Intention, decision, and certainty. The title of Grices lecture is meant to provoke that pair of Oxonian philosophers Grice knew so well and who were too ready to bring in certainty in an area that requires deep philosophical exploration. This is the Henriette Herz Trust annual lecture. It means its delivered annually by different philosophers, not always Grice! Grice had been appointed a FBA earlier, but he took his time to deliver his lecture. With your lecture, you implicate, Hi! Grice, and indeed Pears, were motivated by Hampshires and Harts essay on intention and certainty in Mind. Grice knew Hampshire well, and had actually enjoyed his Thought and Action. He preferred Hampshires Thought and action to Anscombes Intention. Trust Oxford being what it is that TWO volumes on intending are published in the same year! Which one shall I read first? Eventually, neither ‒ immediately. Rather, Grice managed to unearth some sketchy notes by Prichard (he calls himself a neo-Prichardian) that Urmson had made available for the Clarendon Press ‒ notably Prichards essay on willing that. Only a Corpus-Christi genius like Prichard will distinguish will to, almost unnecessary, from will that, so crucial. For Grice, wills that , unlike  wills to, is properly generic, in that p, that follows the that-clause, need NOT refer to the Subjects of the sentence. Surely I can will that Smith wins the match! But Grice also quotes Anscombe (whom otherwise would not count, although they did share a discussion panel at the American Philosophical Association) and Kenny, besides Pears. Of Anscombe, Grice borrows (but never returns) the direction-of-fit term of art, actually Austinian. From Kenny, Grice borrows (and returns) the concept of voliting. His most congenial approach was Pearss. Grice had of course occasion to explore disposition and intention on earlier occasions. Grice is especially concerned with a dispositional analysis to intending. He will later reject it in “Uncertainty.” But that was Grice for you! Grice is especially interested in distinguishing his views from Ryles over-estimated dispositional account of intention, which Grice sees as reductionist, and indeed eliminationist, if not boringly behaviourist, even in analytic key. The logic of dispositions is tricky, as Grice will later explore in connection with rationality, rational propension or propensity, and metaphysics, the as if operator). While Grice focuses on uncertainty, he is trying to be funny. He knew that Oxonians like Hart and Hampshire were obsessed with certainty. I was so surprised that Hampshire and Hart were claiming decision and intention are psychological states about which the agent is certain, that I decided on the spot that that could certainly be a nice topic for my BA lecture! Grice granted that in some cases, a declaration of an intention can be authorative in a certain certain way, i. e. as implicating certainty. But Grice wants us to consider: Marmaduke Bloggs intends to climb Mt. Everest. Surely he cant be certain hell succeed. Grice used the same example at the APA, of all places. To amuse Grice, Davidson, who was present, said: Surely thats just an implicaturum! Just?! Grice was almost furious in his British guarded sort of way. Surely not just! Pears, who was also present, tried to reconcile: If I may, Davidson, I think Grice would take it that, if certainty is implicated, the whole thing becomes too social to be true.  They kept discussing implicaturum versus entailment. Is certainty entailed then? Cf. Urmson on certainly vs. knowingly, and believably. Davidson asked. No, disimplicated! is Grices curt reply. The next day, he explained to Davidson that he had invented the concept of disimplicaturum just to tease him, and just one night before, while musing in the hotel room! Talk of uncertainty was thus for Grice intimately associated with his concern about the misuse of know to mean certain, especially in the exegeses that Malcolm made popular about, of all people, Moore! V. Scepticism and common sense and Moore and philosophers paradoxes above, and Causal theory and Prolegomena for a summary of Malcoms misunderstanding Moore! Grice manages to quote from Stouts Voluntary action and Brecht. And he notes that not all speakers are as sensitive as they should be (e.g. distinguishing modes, as realised by shall vs. will). He emphasizes the fact that Prichard has to be given great credit for seeing that the accurate specification of willing should be willing that and not willing to. Grice is especially interested in proving Stoutians (like Hampshire and Hart) wrong by drawing from Aristotles prohairesis-doxa distinction, or in his parlance, the buletic-doxastic distinction. Grice quotes from Aristotle. Prohairesis cannot be opinion/doxa. For opinion is thought to relate to all kinds of things, no less to eternal things and impossible things than to things in our own power; and it is distinguished by its falsity or truth, not by its badness or goodness, while choice is distinguished rather by these. Now with opinion in general perhaps no one even says it is identical. But it is not identical even with any kind of opinion; for by choosing or deciding, or prohairesis, what is good or bad we are men of a certain character, which we are not by holding this or that opinion or doxa. And we choose to get or avoid something good or bad, but we have opinions about what a thing is or whom it is good for or how it is good for him; we can hardly be said to opine to get or avoid anything. And choice is praised for being related to the right object rather than for being rightly related to it, opinion for being truly related to its object. And we choose what we best know to be good, but we opine what we do not quite know; and it is not the same people that are thought to make the best choices and to have the best opinions, but some are thought to have fairly good opinions, but by reason of vice to choose what they should not. If opinion precedes choice or accompanies it, that makes no difference; for it is not this that we are considering, but whether it is identical with some kind of opinion. What, then, or what kind of thing is it, since it is none of the things we have mentioned? It seems to be voluntary, but not all that is voluntary to be an object of choice. Is it, then, what has been decided on by previous deliberation? At any rate choice involves a rational principle and thought. Even the Names seems to suggest that it is what is chosen before other things. His final analysis of G intends that p is in terms of, B1, a buletic condition, to the effect that G wills that p, and D2, an attending doxastic condition, to the effect that G judges that B1 causes p. Grice ends this essay with a nod to Pears and an open point about the justifiability (other than evidential) for the acceptability of the agents deciding and intending versus the evidential justifiability of the agents predicting that what he intends will be satisfied. It is important to note that in his earlier Disposition and intention, Grice dedicates the first part to counterfactual if general. This is a logical point. Then as an account for a psychological souly concept ψ. If G does A, sensory input, G does B, behavioural output. No ψ without the behavioural output that ψ is meant to explain. His problem is with the first person. The functionalist I does not need a black box. The  here would be both incorrigibility and privileged access. Pology only explains their evolutionary import. Certum -- Certainty: cf. H. P. Grice, “Intention and uncertainty.” the property of being certain, which is either a psychological property of persons or an epistemic feature of proposition-like objects e.g., beliefs, utterances, statements. We can say that a person, S, is psychologically certain that p where ‘p’ stands for a proposition provided S has no doubt whatsoever that p is true. Thus, a person can be certain regardless of the degree of epistemic warrant for a proposition. In general, philosophers have not found this an interesting property to explore. The exception is Peter Unger, who argued for skepticism, claiming that 1 psychological certainty is required for knowledge and 2 no person is ever certain of anything or hardly anything. As applied to propositions, ‘certain’ has no univocal use. For example, some authors e.g., Chisholm may hold that a proposition is epistemically certain provided no proposition is more warranted than it. Given that account, it is possible that a proposition is certain, yet there are legitimate reasons for doubting it just as long as there are equally good grounds for doubting every equally warranted proposition. Other philosophers have adopted a Cartesian account of certainty in which a proposition is epistemically certain provided it is warranted and there are no legitimate grounds whatsoever for doubting it. Both Chisholm’s and the Cartesian characterizations of epistemic certainty can be employed to provide a basis for skepticism. If knowledge entails certainty, then it can be argued that very little, if anything, is known. For, the argument continues, only tautologies or propositions like ‘I exist’ or ‘I have beliefs’ are such that either nothing is more warranted or there are absolutely no grounds for doubt. Thus, hardly anything is known. Most philosophers have responded either by denying that ‘certainty’ is an absolute term, i.e., admitting of no degrees, or by denying that knowledge requires certainty Dewey, Chisholm, Vitters, and Lehrer. Others have agreed that knowledge does entail absolute certainty, but have argued that absolute certainty is possible e.g., Moore. Sometimes ‘certain’ is modified by other expressions, as in ‘morally certain’ or ‘metaphysically certain’ or ‘logically certain’. Once again, there is no universally accepted account of these terms. Typically, however, they are used to indicate degrees of warrant for a proposition, and often that degree of warrant is taken to be a function of the type of proposition under consideration. For example, the proposition that smoking causes cancer is morally certain provided its warrant is sufficient to justify acting as though it were true. The evidence for such a proposition may, of necessity, depend upon recognizing particular features of the world. On the other hand, in order for a proposition, say that every event has a cause, to be metaphysically certain, the evidence for it must not depend upon recognizing particular features of the world but rather upon recognizing what must be true in order for our world to be the kind of world it is  i.e., one having causal connections. Finally, a proposition, say that every effect has a cause, may be logically certain if it is derivable from “truths of logic” that do not depend in any way upon recognizing anything about our world. Since other taxonomies for these terms are employed by philosophers, it is crucial to examine the use of the terms in their contexts.  Refs.: The main source is his BA lecture on ‘uncertainty,’ but using the keyword ‘certainty’ is useful too. His essay on Descartes in WoW is important, and sources elsehere in the Grice Papers, such as the predecessor to the “Uncertainty” lecture in “Disposition and intention,” also his discussion of avowal (vide references above), incorrigibility and privileged access in “Method,” repr. in “Conception,” BANC

character, mid-14c., carecter, "symbol marked or branded on the body;" mid-15c., "symbol or drawing used in sorcery;" late 15c., "alphabetic letter, graphic symbol standing for a sound or syllable;" from Old French caratere "feature, character" (13c., Modern French caractère), from Latin character, from Greek kharaktēr "engraved mark," also "symbol or imprint on the soul," properly "instrument for marking," from kharassein "to engrave," from kharax "pointed stake," a word of uncertain etymology which Beekes considers "most probably Pre-Greek."  The Latin ch- spelling was restored from 1500s.  The meaning of Greek kharaktēr was extended in Hellenistic times by metaphor to "a defining quality, individual feature." In English, the meaning "sum of qualities that define a person or thing and distinguish it from another" is from 1640s. That of "moral qualities assigned to a person by repute" is from 1712.  You remember Eponina, who kept her husband alive in an underground cavern so devotedly and heroically? The force of character she showed in keeping up his spirits would have been used to hide a lover from her husband if they had been living quietly in Rome. Strong characters need strong nourishment. [Stendhal "de l'Amour," 1822]  Sense of "person in a play or novel" is first attested 1660s, in reference to the "defining qualities" he or she is given by the author. Meaning "a person" in the abstract is from 1749; especially "eccentric person" (1773). Colloquial sense of "chap, fellow" is from 1931. Character-actor, one who specializes in characters with marked peculiarities, is attested from 1861; character-assassination is from 1888; character-building (n.) from 1886. -- the comprehensive set of ethical and intellectual dispositions of a person. Intellectual virtues  like carefulness in the evaluation of evidence  promote, for one, the practice of seeking truth. Moral or ethical virtues  including traits like courage and generosity  dispose persons not only to choices and actions but also to attitudes and emotions. Such dispositions are generally considered relatively stable and responsive to reasons. Appraisal of character transcends direct evaluation of particular actions in favor of examination of some set of virtues or the admirable human life as a whole. On some views this admirable life grounds the goodness of particular actions. This suggests seeking guidance from role models, and their practices, rather than relying exclusively on rules. Role models will, at times, simply perceive the salient features of a situation and act accordingly. Being guided by role models requires some recognition of just who should be a role model. One may act out of character, since dispositions do not automatically produce particular actions in specific cases. One may also have a conflicted character if the virtues one’s character comprises contain internal tensions between, say, tendencies to impartiality and to friendship. The importance of formative education to the building of character introduces some good fortune into the acquisition of character. One can have a good character with a disagreeable personality or have a fine personality with a bad character because personality is not typically a normative notion, whereas character is. 

chiliagon: referred to by Grice in “Some remarks about the senses.’ In geometry, a chiliagon, or 1000-gon is a polygon with 1,000 sides. Philosophers commonly refer to chiliagons to illustrate ideas about the nature and workings of thought, meaning, and mental representation. A chiliagon is a regular chiliagon Polygon 1000.svg A regular chiliagon Type Regular polygon Edges and vertices 1000 Schläfli symbol {1000}, t{500}, tt{250}, ttt{125} Coxeter diagram CDel node 1.pngCDel 10.pngCDel 0x.pngCDel 0x.pngCDel node.png CDel node 1.pngCDel 5.pngCDel 0x.pngCDel 0x.pngCDel node 1.png Symmetry group Dihedral (D1000), order 2×1000 Internal angle (degrees) 179.64° Dual polygon Self Properties Convex, cyclic, equilateral, isogonal, isotoxal  A whole regular chiliagon is not visually discernible from a circle. The lower section is a portion of a regular chiliagon, 200 times as large as the smaller one, with the vertices highlighted. In geometry, a chiliagon (/ˈkɪliəɡɒn/) or 1000-gon is a polygon with 1,000 sides. Philosophers commonly refer to chiliagons to illustrate ideas about the nature and workings of thought, meaning, and mental representation.   Contents 1 Regular chiliagon 2 Philosophical application 3 Symmetry 4 Chiliagram 5 See also 6 References Regular chiliagon A regular chiliagon is represented by Schläfli symbol {1,000} and can be constructed as a truncated 500-gon, t{500}, or a twice-truncated 250-gon, tt{250}, or a thrice-truncated 125-gon, ttt{125}.  The measure of each internal angle in a regular chiliagon is 179.64°. The area of a regular chiliagon with sides of length a is given by  {\displaystyle A=250a^{2}\cot {\frac {\pi }{1000}}\simeq 79577.2\,a^{2}}A=250a^{2}\cot {\frac  {\pi }{1000}}\simeq 79577.2\,a^{2} This result differs from the area of its circumscribed circle by less than 4 parts per million.  Because 1,000 = 23 × 53, the number of sides is neither a product of distinct Fermat primes nor a power of two. Thus the regular chiliagon is not a constructible polygon. Indeed, it is not even constructible with the use of neusis or an angle trisector, as the number of sides is neither a product of distinct Pierpont primes, nor a product of powers of two and three.  Philosophical application René Descartes uses the chiliagon as an example in his Sixth Meditation to demonstrate the difference between pure intellection and imagination. He says that, when one thinks of a chiliagon, he "does not imagine the thousand sides or see them as if they were present" before him – as he does when one imagines a triangle, for example. The imagination constructs a "confused representation," which is no different from that which it constructs of a myriagon (a polygon with ten thousand sides). However, he does clearly understand what a chiliagon is, just as he understands what a triangle is, and he is able to distinguish it from a myriagon. Therefore, the intellect is not dependent on imagination, Descartes claims, as it is able to entertain clear and distinct ideas when imagination is unable to. Philosopher Pierre Gassendi, a contemporary of Descartes, was critical of this interpretation, believing that while Descartes could imagine a chiliagon, he could not understand it: one could "perceive that the word 'chiliagon' signifies a figure with a thousand angles [but] that is just the meaning of the term, and it does not follow that you understand the thousand angles of the figure any better than you imagine them." The example of a chiliagon is also referenced by other philosophers, such as Immanuel Kant. David Hume points out that it is "impossible for the eye to determine the angles of a chiliagon to be equal to 1996 right angles, or make any conjecture, that approaches this proportion."[4] Gottfried Leibniz comments on a use of the chiliagon by John Locke, noting that one can have an idea of the polygon without having an image of it, and thus distinguishing ideas from images. Henri Poincaré uses the chiliagon as evidence that "intuition is not necessarily founded on the evidence of the senses" because "we can not represent to ourselves a chiliagon, and yet we reason by intuition on polygons in general, which include the chiliagon as a particular case."  Inspired by Descartes's chiliagon example, Grice, R. M. Chisholm and other 20th-century philosophers have used similar examples to make similar points. Chisholm's ‘speckled hen,’ which need not have a determinate number of speckles to be successfully imagined, is perhaps the most famous of these. Symmetry  The symmetries of a regular chiliagon. Light blue lines show subgroups of index 2. The 4 boxed subgraphs are positionally related by index 5 subgroups. The regular chiliagon has Dih1000 dihedral symmetry, order 2000, represented by 1,000 lines of reflection. Dih100 has 15 dihedral subgroups: Dih500, Dih250, Dih125, Dih200, Dih100, Dih50, Dih25, Dih40, Dih20, Dih10, Dih5, Dih8, Dih4, Dih2, and Dih1. It also has 16 more cyclic symmetries as subgroups: Z1000, Z500, Z250, Z125, Z200, Z100, Z50, Z25, Z40, Z20, Z10, Z5, Z8, Z4, Z2, and Z1, with Zn representing π/n radian rotational symmetry.  John Conway labels these lower symmetries with a letter and order of the symmetry follows the letter.[8] He gives d (diagonal) with mirror lines through vertices, p with mirror lines through edges (perpendicular), i with mirror lines through both vertices and edges, and g for rotational symmetry. a1 labels no symmetry.  These lower symmetries allow degrees of freedom in defining irregular chiliagons. Only the g1000 subgroup has no degrees of freedom but can be seen as directed edges.  Chiliagram A chiliagram is a 1,000-sided star polygon. There are 199 regular forms[9] given by Schläfli symbols of the form {1000/n}, where n is an integer between 2 and 500 that is coprime to 1,000. There are also 300 regular star figures in the remaining cases.  For example, the regular {1000/499} star polygon is constructed by 1000 nearly radial edges. Each star vertex has an internal angle of 0.36 degrees.[10]  {1000/499} Star polygon 1000-499.svg Star polygon 1000-499 center.png Central area with moiré patterns See also Myriagon Megagon Philosophy of Mind Philosophy of Language References  Meditation VI by Descartes (English translation).  Sepkoski, David (2005). "Nominalism and constructivism in seventeenth-century mathematical philosophy". Historia Mathematica. 32: 33–59. doi:10.1016/j.hm.2003.09.002.  Immanuel Kant, "On a Discovery," trans. Henry Allison, in Theoretical Philosophy After 1791, ed. Henry Allison and Peter Heath, Cambridge UP, 2002 [Akademie 8:121]. Kant does not actually use a chiliagon as his example, instead using a 96-sided figure, but he is responding to the same question raised by Descartes.  David Hume, The Philosophical Works of David Hume, Volume 1, Black and Tait, 1826, p. 101.  Jonathan Francis Bennett (2001), Learning from Six Philosophers: Descartes, Spinoza, Leibniz, Locke, Berkeley, Hume, Volume 2, Oxford University Press, ISBN 0198250924, p. 53.  Henri Poincaré (1900) "Intuition and Logic in Mathematics" in William Bragg Ewald (ed) From Kant to Hilbert: A Source Book in the Foundations of Mathematics, Volume 2, Oxford University Press, 2007, ISBN 0198505361, p. 1015.  Roderick Chisholm, "The Problem of the Speckled Hen", Mind 51 (1942): pp. 368–373. "These problems are all descendants of Descartes's 'chiliagon' argument in the sixth of his Meditations" (Joseph Heath, Following the Rules: Practical Reasoning and Deontic Constraint, Oxford: OUP, 2008, p. 305, note 15).  The Symmetries of Things, Chapter 20  199 = 500 cases − 1 (convex) − 100 (multiples of 5) − 250 (multiples of 2) + 50 (multiples of 2 and 5)  0.36 = 180 (1 - 2 /(1000 / 499) ) = 180 ( 1 – 998 / 1000 ) = 180 ( 2 / 1000 ) = 180 / 500 chiliagon vte Polygons (List) Triangles Acute Equilateral Ideal IsoscelesObtuseRight Quadrilaterals Antiparallelogram Bicentric CyclicEquidiagonalEx-tangentialHarmonic Isosceles trapezoidKiteLambertOrthodiagonal Parallelogram Rectangle Right kite Rhombus Saccheri SquareTangentialTangential trapezoidTrapezoid By number of sides Monogon (1) Digon (2) Triangle (3) Quadrilateral (4) Pentagon (5) Hexagon (6) Heptagon (7) Octagon (8) Nonagon (Enneagon, 9) Decagon (10) Hendecagon (11) Dodecagon (12) Tridecagon (13) Tetradecagon (14) Pentadecagon (15) Hexadecagon (16) Heptadecagon (17) Octadecagon (18) Enneadecagon (19)Icosagon (20)Icosihenagon [de] (21)Icosidigon (22) Icositetragon (24) Icosihexagon (26) Icosioctagon (28) Triacontagon (30) Triacontadigon (32) Triacontatetragon (34) Tetracontagon (40) Tetracontadigon (42)Tetracontaoctagon (48)Pentacontagon (50) Pentacontahenagon [de] (51) Hexacontagon (60) Hexacontatetragon (64) Heptacontagon (70)Octacontagon (80) Enneacontagon (90) Enneacontahexagon (96) Hectogon (100) 120-gon257-gon360-gonChiliagon (1000) Myriagon (10000) 65537-gonMegagon (1000000) 4294967295-gon [ru; de]Apeirogon (∞) Star polygons Pentagram Hexagram Heptagram Octagram Enneagram Decagram Hendecagram Dodecagram Classes Concave Convex Cyclic Equiangular Equilateral Isogonal Isotoxal Pseudotriangle Regular Simple SkewStar-shaped Tangential Categories: Polygons1000 (number).

ad- ad-rbiter – from ad-biter, where ‘bito,’ ‘betere’ is cognate with ‘vado’ and ‘baino’ -- arbitrium -- choose -- choice, v. rational choice. choice sequence, a variety of infinite sequence introduced by L. E. J. Brouwer to express the non-classical properties of the continuum the set of real numbers within intuitionism. A choice sequence is determined by a finite initial segment together with a “rule” for continuing the sequence. The rule, however, may allow some freedom in choosing each subsequent element. Thus the sequence might start with the rational numbers 0 and then ½, and the rule might require the n ! 1st element to be some rational number within ½n of the nth choice, without any further restriction. The sequence of rationals thus generated must converge to a real number, r. But r’s definition leaves open its exact location in the continuum. Speaking intuitionistically, r violates the classical law of trichotomy: given any pair of real numbers e.g., r and ½, the first is either less than, equal to, or greater than the second. From the 0s Brouwer got this non-classical effect without appealing to the apparently nonmathematical notion of free choice. Instead he used sequences generated by the activity of an idealized mathematician the creating subject, together with propositions that he took to be undecided. Given such a proposition, P  e.g. Fermat’s last theorem that for n  2 there is no general method of finding triplets of numbers with the property that the sum of each of the first two raised to the nth power is equal to the result of raising the third to the nth power or Goldbach’s conjecture that every even number is the sum of two prime numbers  we can modify the definition of r: The n ! 1st element is ½ if at the nth stage of research P remains undecided. That element and all its successors are ½ ! ½n if by that stage P is proved; they are ½ † ½n if P is refuted. Since he held that there is an endless supply of such propositions, Brouwer believed that we can always use this method to refute classical laws. In the early 0s Stephen Kleene and Richard Vesley reproduced some main parts of Brouwer’s theory of the continuum in a formal system based on Kleene’s earlier recursion-theoretic interpretation of intuitionism and of choice sequences. At about the same time  but in a different and occasionally incompatible vein  Saul Kripke formally captured the power of Brouwer’s counterexamples without recourse to recursive functions and without invoking either the creating subject or the notion of free choice. Subsequently Georg Kreisel, A. N. Troelstra, Dirk Van Dalen, and others produced formal systems that analyze Brouwer’s basic assumptions about open-futured objects like choice sequences. 

Ciceronian implicaturum: Marcus Tullius, Roman statesman, orator, essayist, and letter writer. He was important not so much for formulating individual philosophical arguments as for expositions of the doctrines of the major schools of Hellenistic philosophy, and for, as he put it, “teaching philosophy to speak Latin.” The significance of the latter can hardly be overestimated. Cicero’s coinages helped shape the philosophical vocabulary of the Latin-speaking West well into the early modern period. The most characteristic feature of Cicero’s thought is his attempt to unify philosophy and rhetoric. His first major trilogy, On the Orator, On the Republic, and On the Laws, presents a vision of wise statesmen-philosophers whose greatest achievement is guiding political affairs through rhetorical persuasion rather than violence. Philosophy, Cicero argues, needs rhetoric to effect its most important practical goals, while rhetoric is useless without the psychological, moral, and logical justification provided by philosophy. This combination of eloquence and philosophy constitutes what he calls humanitas  a coinage whose enduring influence is attested in later revivals of humanism  and it alone provides the foundation for constitutional governments; it is acquired, moreover, only through broad training in those subjects worthy of free citizens artes liberales. In philosophy of education, this Ciceronian conception of a humane education encompassing poetry, rhetoric, history, morals, and politics endured as an ideal, especially for those convinced that instruction in the liberal disciplines is essential for citizens if their rational autonomy is to be expressed in ways that are culturally and politically beneficial. A major aim of Cicero’s earlier works is to appropriate for Roman high culture one of Greece’s most distinctive products, philosophical theory, and to demonstrate Roman superiority. He thus insists that Rome’s laws and political institutions successfully embody the best in Grecian political theory, whereas the Grecians themselves were inadequate to the crucial task of putting their theories into practice. Taking over the Stoic conception of the universe as a rational whole, governed by divine reason, he argues that human societies must be grounded in natural law. For Cicero, nature’s law possesses the characteristics of a legal code; in particular, it is formulable in a comparatively extended set of rules against which existing societal institutions can be measured. Indeed, since they so closely mirror the requirements of nature, Roman laws and institutions furnish a nearly perfect paradigm for human societies. Cicero’s overall theory, if not its particular details, established a lasting framework for anti-positivist theories of law and morality, including those of Aquinas, Grotius, Suárez, and Locke. The final two years of his life saw the creation of a series of dialogue-treatises that provide an encyclopedic survey of Hellenistic philosophy. Cicero himself follows the moderate fallibilism of Philo of Larissa and the New Academy. Holding that philosophy is a method and not a set of dogmas, he endorses an attitude of systematic doubt. However, unlike Cartesian doubt, Cicero’s does not extend to the real world behind phenomena, since he does not envision the possibility of strict phenomenalism. Nor does he believe that systematic doubt leads to radical skepticism about knowledge. Although no infallible criterion for distinguishing true from false impressions is available, some impressions, he argues, are more “persuasive” probabile and can be relied on to guide action. In Academics he offers detailed accounts of Hellenistic epistemological debates, steering a middle course between dogmatism and radical skepticism. A similar strategy governs the rest of his later writings. Cicero presents the views of the major schools, submits them to criticism, and tentatively supports any positions he finds “persuasive.” Three connected works, On Divination, On Fate, and On the Nature of the Gods, survey Epicurean, Stoic, and Academic arguments about theology and natural philosophy. Much of the treatment of religious thought and practice is cool, witty, and skeptically detached  much in the manner of eighteenth-century philosophes who, along with Hume, found much in Cicero to emulate. However, he concedes that Stoic arguments for providence are “persuasive.” So too in ethics, he criticizes Epicurean, Stoic, and Peripatetic doctrines in On Ends 45 and their views on death, pain, irrational emotions, and happiChurch-Turing thesis Cicero, Marcus Tullius 143   143 ness in Tusculan Disputations 45. Yet, a final work, On Duties, offers a practical ethical system based on Stoic principles. Although sometimes dismissed as the eclecticism of an amateur, Cicero’s method of selectively choosing from what had become authoritative professional systems often displays considerable reflectiveness and originality. 

circulus – Grice: “I prefer ‘kreis,’ which I learned from Ayer – its etymology is so obscure!” -- Grice’s circle -- Grice’s circle -- circular reasoning, reasoning that, when traced backward from its conclusion, returns to that starting point, as one returns to a starting point when tracing a circle. The discussion of this topic by Richard Whatley in his Logic sets a high standard of clarity and penetration. Logic textbooks often quote the following example from Whatley: To allow every man an unbounded freedom of speech must always be, on the whole, advantageous to the State; for it is highly conducive to the interests of the Community, that each individual should enjoy a liberty perfectly unlimited, of expressing his sentiments. This passage illustrates how circular reasoning is less obvious in a language, such as English, that, in Whatley’s words, is “abounding in synonymous expressions, which have no resemblance in sound, and no connection in etymology.” The premise and conclusion do not consist of just the same words in the same order, nor can logical or grammatical principles transform one into the other. Rather, they have the same propositional content: they say the same thing in different words. That is why appealing to one of them to provide reason for believing the other amounts to giving something as a reason for itself. Circular reasoning is often said to beg the question. ‘Begging the question’ and petitio principii are translations of a phrase in Aristotle connected with a game of formal disputation played in antiquity but not in recent times. The meanings of ‘question’ and ‘begging’ do not in any clear way determine the meaning of ‘question begging’. There is no simple argument form that all and only circular arguments have. It is not logic, in Whatley’s example above, that determines the identity of content between the premise and the conclusion. Some theorists propose rather more complicated formal or syntactic accounts of circularity. Others believe that any account of circular reasoning must refer to the beliefs of those who reason. Whether or not the following argument about articles in this dictionary is circular depends on why the first premise should be accepted: 1 The article on inference contains no split infinitives. 2 The other articles contain no split infinitives. Therefore, 3 No article contains split infinitives. Consider two cases. Case I: Although 2 supports 1 inductively, both 1 and 2 have solid outside support independent of any prior acceptance of 3. This reasoning is not circular. Case II: Someone who advances the argument accepts 1 or 2 or both, only because he believes 3. Such reasoning is circular, even though neither premise expresses just the same proposition as the conclusion. The question remains controversial whether, in explaining circularity, we should refer to the beliefs of individual reasoners or only to the surrounding circumstances. One purpose of reasoning is to increase the degree of reasonable confidence that one has in the truth of a conclusion. Presuming the truth of a conclusion in support of a premise thwarts this purpose, because the initial degree of reasonable confidence in the premise cannot then exceed the initial degree of reasonable confidence in the conclusion. Circulus -- diallelon from ancient Grecian di allelon, ‘through one another’, a circular definition. A definition is circular provided either the definiendum occurs in the definiens, as in ‘Law is a lawful command’, or a first term is defined by means of a second term, which in turn is defined by the first term, as in ‘Law is the expressed wish of a ruler, and a ruler is one who establishes laws.’ A diallelus is a circular argument: an attempt to establish a conclusion by a premise that cannot be known unless the conclusion is known in the first place. Descartes, e.g., argued: I clearly and distinctly perceive that God exists, and what I clearly and distinctly perceive is true. Therefore, God exists. To justify the premise that clear and distinct perceptions are true, however, he appealed to his knowledge of God’s existence.

civil disobedience: explored by H. P. Grice in his analysis of moral vs. legal right -- a deliberate violation of the law, committed in order to draw attention to or rectify perceived injustices in the law or policies of a state. Illustrative questions raised by the topic include: how are such acts justified, how should the legal system respond to such acts when justified, and must such acts be done publicly, nonviolently, and/or with a willingness to accept attendant legal sanctions? 

clarke: s.  Grice analyses Clark’s proof of the existence of God in “Aspects of reasoning” -- English philosopher, preacher, and theologian. Born in Norwich, he was educated at Cambridge, where he came under the influence of Newton. Upon graduation Clarke entered the established church, serving for a time as chaplain to Queen Anne. He spent the last twenty years of his life as rector of St. James, Westminster. Clarke wrote extensively on controversial theological and philosophical issues  the nature of space and time, proofs of the existence of God, the doctrine of the Trinity, the incorporeality and natural immortality of the soul, freedom of the will, the nature of morality, etc. His most philosophical works are his Boyle lectures of 1704 and 1705, in which he developed a forceful version of the cosmological argument for the existence and nature of God and attacked the views of Hobbes, Spinoza, and some proponents of deism; his correspondence with Leibniz 171516, in which he defended Newton’s views of space and time and charged Leibniz with holding views inconsistent with free will; and his writings against Anthony Collins, in which he defended a libertarian view of the agent as the undetermined cause of free actions and attacked Collins’s arguments for a materialistic view of the mind. In these works Clarke maintains a position of extreme rationalism, contending that the existence and nature of God can be conclusively demonstrated, that the basic principles of morality are necessarily true and immediately knowable, and that the existence of a future state of rewards and punishments is assured by our knowledge that God will reward the morally just and punish the morally wicked. 

class: the class for those philosophers whose class have no members -- a term sometimes used as a synonym for ‘set’. When the two are distinguished, a class is understood as a collection in the logical sense, i.e., as the extension of a concept e.g. the class of red objects. By contrast, sets, i.e., collections in the mathematical sense, are understood as occurring in stages, where each stage consists of the sets that can be formed from the non-sets and the sets already formed at previous stages. When a set is formed at a given stage, only the non-sets and the previously formed sets are even candidates for membership, but absolutely anything can gain membership in a class simply by falling under the appropriate concept. Thus, it is classes, not sets, that figure in the inconsistent principle of unlimited comprehension. In set theory, proper classes are collections of sets that are never formed at any stage, e.g., the class of all sets since new sets are formed at each stage, there is no stage at which all sets are available to be collected into a set. 

clemens: formative teacher in the early Christian church who, as a “Christian gnostic,” combined enthusiasm for Grecian philosophy with a defense of the church’s faith. He espoused spiritual and intellectual ascent toward that complete but hidden knowledge or gnosis reserved for the truly enlightened. Clement’s school did not practice strict fidelity to the authorities, and possibly the teachings, of the institutional church, drawing upon the Hellenistic traditions of Alexandria, including Philo and Middle Platonism. As with the law among the Jews, so, for Clement, philosophy among the pagans was a pedagogical preparation for Christ, in whom logos, reason, had become enfleshed. Philosophers now should rise above their inferior understanding to the perfect knowledge revealed in Christ. Though hostile to gnosticism and its speculations, Clement was thoroughly Hellenized in outlook and sometimes guilty of Docetism, not least in his reluctance to concede the utter humanness of Jesus.

Clifford: Grice was attracted to Clifford’s idea of the ‘ethics of belief,’ -- philosopher. Educated at King’s , London, and Trinity , Cambridge, he began giving public lectures in 1868, when he was appointed a fellow of Trinity, and in 1870 became professor of applied mathematics at  , London. His academic career ended prematurely when he died of tuberculosis. Clifford is best known for his rigorous view on the relation between belief and evidence, which, in “The Ethics of Belief,” he summarized thus: “It is wrong always, everywhere, and for anyone, to believe anything on insufficient evidence.” He gives this example. Imagine a shipowner who sends to sea an emigrant ship, although the evidence raises strong suspicions as to the vessel’s seaworthiness. Ignoring this evidence, he convinces himself that the ship’s condition is good enough and, after it sinks and all the passengers die, collects his insurance money without a trace of guilt. Clifford maintains that the owner had no right to believe in the soundness of the ship. “He had acquired his belief not by honestly earning it in patient investigation, but by stifling his doubts.” The right Clifford is alluding to is moral, for what one believes is not a private but a public affair and may have grave consequences for others. He regards us as morally obliged to investigate the evidence thoroughly on any occasion, and to withhold belief if evidential support is lacking. This obligation must be fulfilled however trivial and insignificant a belief may seem, for a violation of it may “leave its stamp upon our character forever.” Clifford thus rejected Catholicism, to which he had subscribed originally, and became an agnostic. James’s famous essay “The Will to Believe” criticizes Clifford’s view. According to James, insufficient evidence need not stand in the way of religious belief, for we have a right to hold beliefs that go beyond the evidence provided they serve the pursuit of a legitimate goal. 

closure – Grice: The etymology is convoluted: claudere --- cfr. clausura. Griceian anti-sneak closure: a set of objects, O, is said to exhibit closure or to be closed under a given operation, R, provided that for every object, x, if x is a member of O and x is R-related to any object, y, then y is a member of O. For example, the set of propositions is closed under deduction, for if p is a proposition and p entails q, i.e., q is deducible from p, then q is a proposition simply because only propositions can be entailed by propositions. In addition, many subsets of the set of propositions are also closed under deduction. For example, the set of true propositions is closed under deduction or entailment. Others are not. Under most accounts of belief, we may fail to believe what is entailed by what we do, in fact, believe. Thus, if knowledge is some form of true, justified belief, knowledge is not closed under deduction, for we may fail to believe a proposition entailed by a known proposition. Nevertheless, there is a related issue that has been the subject of much debate, namely: Is the set of justified propositions closed under deduction? Aside from the obvious importance of the answer to that question in developing an account of justification, there are two important issues in epistemology that also depend on the answer. Subtleties aside, the so-called Gettier problem depends in large part upon an affirmative answer to that question. For, assuming that a proposition can be justified and false, it is possible to construct cases in which a proposition, say p, is justified, false, but believed. Now, consider a true proposition, q, which is believed and entailed by p. If justification is closed under deduction, then q is justified, true, and believed. But if the only basis for believing q is p, it is clear that q is not known. Thus, true, justified belief is not sufficient for knowledge. What response is appropriate to this problem has been a central issue in epistemology since E. Gettier’s publication of “Is Justified True Belief Knowledge?” Analysis, 3. Whether justification is closed under deduction is also crucial when evaluating a common, traditional argument for skepticism. Consider any person, S, and let p be any proposition ordinarily thought to be knowable, e.g., that there is a table before S. The argument for skepticism goes like this: 1 If p is justified for S, then, since p entails q, where q is ‘there is no evil genius making S falsely believe that p’, q is justified for S. 2 S is not justified in believing q. Therefore, S is not justified in believing p. The first premise depends upon justification being closed under deduction. 

cockburn: c. English philosopher and playwright who made a significant contribution to the debates on ethical rationalism sparked by Clarke’s Boyle lectures. The major theme of her writings is the nature of moral obligation. Cockburn displays a consistent, non-doctrinaire philosophical position, arguing that moral duty is to be rationally deduced from the “nature and fitness of things” Remarks, 1747 and is not founded primarily in externally imposed sanctions. Her writings, published anonymously, take the form of philosophical debates with others, including Samuel Rutherforth, William Warburton, Isaac Watts, Francis Hutcheson, and Lord Shaftesbury. Her best-known intervention in contemporary philosophical debate was her able defense of Locke’s Essay in 1702.

cogitatum -- cogito ergo sum – Example given by Grice of Descartes’s conventional implicaturum. “What Descartes said was, “je pense; donc, j’existe.” The ‘donc’ implicaturum is an interesting one to analyse. cited by Grice in “Descartes on clear and distinct perception.” ‘I think, therefore I am’, the starting point of Descartes’s system of knowledge. In his Discourse on the Method 1637, he observes that the proposition ‘I am thinking, therefore I exist’ je pense, donc je suis is “so firm and sure that the most extravagant suppositions of the skeptics were incapable of shaking it.” The celebrated phrase, in its better-known Latin version, also occurs in the Principles of Philosophy 1644, but is not to be found in the Meditations 1641, though the latter contains the fullest statement of the reasoning behind Descartes’s certainty of his own existence. 

cognitum – incognitum --

cohaesum- cohaerence – Grice: “All Roman words starting with co- are a trick. haerĕo , haesi, haesum, 2, v. n. etym. dub., I.to hang or hold fast, to hang, stick, cleave, cling, adhere, be fixed, sit fast, remain close to any thing or in any manner (class. and very freq., esp. in the trop. sense; cf. pendeo); usually constr. with in, the simple abl. or absol., less freq. with dat., with ad, sub, ex, etc. since H. P. Grice was a correspondentist, he hated Bradley. --  theory of truth, the view that either the nature of truth or the sole criterion for determining truth is constituted by a relation of coherence between the belief or judgment being assessed and other beliefs or judgments. As a view of the nature of truth, the coherence theory represents an alternative to the correspondence theory of truth. Whereas the correspondence theory holds that a belief is true provided it corresponds to independent reality, the coherence theory holds that it is true provided it stands in a suitably strong relation of coherence to other beliefs, so that the believer’s total system of beliefs forms a highly or perhaps perfectly coherent system. Since, on such a characterization, truth depends entirely on the internal relations within the system of beliefs, such a conception of truth seems to lead at once to idealism as regards the nature of reality, and its main advocates have been proponents of absolute idealism mainly Bradley, Bosanquet, and Brand Blanshard. A less explicitly metaphysical version of the coherence theory was also held by certain members of the school of logical positivism mainly Otto Neurath and Carl Hempel. The nature of the intended relation of coherence, often characterized metaphorically in terms of the beliefs in question fitting together or dovetailing with each other, has been and continues to be a matter of uncertainty and controversy. Despite occasional misconceptions to the contrary, it is clear that coherence is intended to be a substantially more demanding relation than mere consistency, involving such things as inferential and explanatory relations within the system of beliefs. Perfect or ideal coherence is sometimes described as requiring that every belief in the system of beliefs entails all the others though it must be remembered that those offering such a characterization do not restrict entailments to those that are formal or analytic in character. Since actual human systems of belief seem inevitably to fall short of perfect coherence, however that is understood, their truth is usually held to be only approximate at best, thus leading to the absolute idealist view that truth admits of degrees. As a view of the criterion of truth, the coherence theory of truth holds that the sole criterion or standard for determining whether a belief is true is its coherence with other beliefs or judgments, with the degree of justification varying with the degree of coherence. Such a view amounts to a coherence theory of epistemic justification. It was held by most of the proponents of the coherence theory of the nature of truth, though usually without distinguishing the two views very clearly. For philosophers who hold both of these views, the thesis that coherence is the sole criterion of truth is usually logically prior, and the coherence theory of the nature of truth is adopted as a consequence, the clearest argument being that only the view that perfect or ideal coherence is the nature of truth can make sense of the appeal to degrees of coherence as a criterion of truth.  -- coherentism, in epistemology, a theory of the structure of knowledge or justified beliefs according to which all beliefs representing knowledge are known or justified in virtue of their relations to other beliefs, specifically, in virtue of belonging to a coherent system of beliefs. Assuming that the orthodox account of knowledge is correct at least in maintaining that justified true belief is necessary for knowledge, we can identify two kinds of coherence theories of knowledge: those that are coherentist merely in virtue of incorporating a coherence theory of justification, and those that are doubly coherentist because they account for both justification and truth in terms of coherence. What follows will focus on coherence theories of justification. Historically, coherentism is the most significant alternative to foundationalism. The latter holds that some beliefs, basic or foundational beliefs, are justified apart from their relations to other beliefs, while all other beliefs derive their justification from that of foundational beliefs. Foundationalism portrays justification as having a structure like that of a building, with certain beliefs serving as the foundations and all other beliefs supported by them. Coherentism rejects this image and pictures justification as having the structure of a raft. Justified beliefs, like the planks that make up a raft, mutually support one another. This picture of the coherence theory is due to the positivist Otto Neurath. Among the positivists, Hempel shared Neurath’s sympathy for coherentism. Other defenders of coherentism from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were idealists, e.g., Bradley, Bosanquet, and Brand Blanshard. Idealists often held the sort of double coherence theory mentioned above. The contrast between foundationalism and coherentism is commonly developed in terms of the regress argument. If we are asked what justifies one of our beliefs, we characteristically answer by citing some other belief that supports it, e.g., logically or probabilistically. If we are asked about this second belief, we are likely to cite a third belief, and so on. There are three shapes such an evidential chain might have: it could go on forever, if could eventually end in some belief, or it could loop back upon itself, i.e., eventually contain again a belief that had occurred “higher up” on the chain. Assuming that infinite chains are not really possible, we are left with a choice between chains that end and circular chains. According to foundationalists, evidential chains must eventually end with a foundational belief that is justified, if the belief at the beginning of the chain is to be justified. Coherentists are then portrayed as holding that circular chains can yield justified beliefs. This portrayal is, in a way, correct. But it is also misleading since it suggests that the disagreement between coherentism and foundationalism is best understood as concerning only the structure of evidential chains. Talk of evidential chains in which beliefs that are further down on the chain are responsible for beliefs that are higher up naturally suggests the idea that just as real chains transfer forces, evidential chains transfer justification. Foundationalism then sounds like a real possibility. Foundational beliefs already have justification, and evidential chains serve to pass the justification along to other beliefs. But coherentism seems to be a nonstarter, for if no belief in the chain is justified to begin with, there is nothing to pass along. Altering the metaphor, we might say that coherentism seems about as likely to succeed as a bucket brigade that does not end at a well, but simply moves around in a circle. The coherentist seeks to dispel this appearance by pointing out that the primary function of evidential chains is not to transfer epistemic status, such as justification, from belief to belief. Indeed, beliefs are not the primary locus of justification. Rather, it is whole systems of belief that are justified or not in the primary sense; individual beliefs are justified in virtue of their membership in an appropriately structured system of beliefs. Accordingly, what the coherentist claims is that the appropriate sorts of evidential chains, which will be circular  indeed, will likely contain numerous circles  constitute justified systems of belief. The individual beliefs within such a system are themselves justified in virtue of their place in the entire system and not because this status is passed on to them from beliefs further down some evidential chain in which they figure. One can, therefore, view coherentism with considerable accuracy as a version of foundationalism that holds all beliefs to be foundational. From this perspective, the difference between coherentism and traditional foundationalism has to do with what accounts for the epistemic status of foundational beliefs, with traditional foundationalism holding that such beliefs can be justified in various ways, e.g., by perception or reason, while coherentism insists that the only way such beliefs can be justified is by being a member of an appropriately structured system of beliefs. One outstanding problem the coherentist faces is to specify exactly what constitutes a coherent system of beliefs. Coherence clearly must involve much more than mere absence of mutually contradictory beliefs. One way in which beliefs can be logically consistent is by concerning completely unrelated matters, but such a consistent system of beliefs would not embody the sort of mutual support that constitutes the core idea of coherentism. Moreover, one might question whether logical consistency is even necessary for coherence, e.g., on the basis of the preface paradox. Similar points can be made regarding efforts to begin an account of coherence with the idea that beliefs and degrees of belief must correspond to the probability calculus. So although it is difficult to avoid thinking that such formal features as logical and probabilistic consistency are significantly involved in coherence, it is not clear exactly how they are involved. An account of coherence can be drawn more directly from the following intuitive idea: a coherent system of belief is one in which each belief is epistemically supported by the others, where various types of epistemic support are recognized, e.g., deductive or inductive arguments, or inferences to the best explanation. There are, however, at least two problems this suggestion does not address. First, since very small sets of beliefs can be mutually supporting, the coherentist needs to say something about the scope a system of beliefs must have to exhibit the sort of coherence required for justification. Second, given the possibility of small sets of mutually supportive beliefs, it is apparently possible to build a system of very broad scope out of such small sets of mutually supportive beliefs by mere conjunction, i.e., without forging any significant support relations among them. Yet, since the interrelatedness of all truths does not seem discoverable by analyzing the concept of justification, the coherentist cannot rule out epistemically isolated subsystems of belief entirely. So the coherentist must say what sorts of isolated subsystems of belief are compatible with coherence. The difficulties involved in specifying a more precise concept of coherence should not be pressed too vigorously against the coherentist. For one thing, most foundationalists have been forced to grant coherence a significant role within their accounts of justification, so no dialectical advantage can be gained by pressing them. Moreover, only a little reflection is needed to see that nearly all the difficulties involved in specifying coherence are manifestations within a specific context of quite general philosophical problems concerning such matters as induction, explanation, theory choice, the nature of epistemic support, etc. They are, then, problems that are faced by logicians, philosophers of science, and epistemologists quite generally, regardless of whether they are sympathetic to coherentism. Coherentism faces a number of serious objections. Since according to coherentism justification is determined solely by the relations among beliefs, it does not seem to be capable of taking us outside the circle of our beliefs. This fact gives rise to complaints that coherentism cannot allow for any input from external reality, e.g., via perception, and that it can neither guarantee nor even claim that it is likely that coherent systems of belief will make contact with such reality or contain true beliefs. And while it is widely granted that justified false beliefs are possible, it is just as widely accepted that there is an important connection between justification and truth, a connection that rules out accounts according to which justification is not truth-conducive. These abstractly formulated complaints can be made more vivid, in the case of the former, by imagining a person with a coherent system of beliefs that becomes frozen, and fails to change in the face of ongoing sensory experience; and in the case of the latter, by pointing out that, barring an unexpected account of coherence, it seems that a wide variety of coherent systems of belief are possible, systems that are largely disjoint or even incompatible. 

collier: Grice found the Clavis Universalis quite fun (“to read”). -- English philosopher, a Wiltshire parish priest whose Clavis Universalis defends a version of immaterialism closely akin to Berkeley’s. Matter, Collier contends, “exists in, or in dependence on mind.” He emphatically affirms the existence of bodies, and, like Berkeley, defends immaterialCoimbra commentaries Collier, Arthur 155   155 ism as the only alternative to skepticism. Collier grants that bodies seem to be external, but their “quasi-externeity” is only the effect of God’s will. In Part I of the Clavis Collier argues as Berkeley had in his New Theory of Vision, 1709 that the visible world is not external. In Part II he argues as Berkeley had in the Principles, 1710, and Three Dialogues, 1713 that the external world “is a being utterly impossible.” Two of Collier’s arguments for the “intrinsic repugnancy” of the external world resemble Kant’s first and second antinomies. Collier argues, e.g., that the material world is both finite and infinite; the contradiction can be avoided, he suggests, only by denying its external existence. Some scholars suspect that Collier deliberately concealed his debt to Berkeley; most accept his report that he arrived at his views ten years before he published them. Collier first refers to Berkeley in letters written in 171415. In A Specimen of True Philosophy 1730, where he offers an immaterialist interpretation of the opening verse of Genesis, Collier writes that “except a single passage or two” in Berkeley’s Dialogues, there is no other book “which I ever heard of” on the same subject as the Clavis. This is a puzzling remark on several counts, one being that in the Preface to the Dialogues, Berkeley describes his earlier books. Collier’s biographer reports seeing among his papers now lost an outline, dated 1708, on “the question of the visible world being without us or not,” but he says no more about it. The biographer concludes that Collier’s independence cannot reasonably be doubted; perhaps the outline would, if unearthed, establish this. 

collingwood: r. g.— Grice: “The most Italian of English Oxonians! He loved Gentile, Croce, and de Ruggiero!” – Grice: “I would not count Collingwood as a philosopher, really, since his tutor was Carritt!” -- cited by H. P. Grice in “Metaphysics,” in D. F. Pears, “The nature of metaphysics.” – Like Grice, Collingwood was influenced by J. C. Wilson’s subordinate interrogation. English philosopher and historian. His father, W. G. Collingwood, John Ruskin’s friend, secretary, and biographer, at first educated him at home in Coniston and later sent him to Rugby School and then Oxford. Immediately upon graduating in 2, he was elected to a fellowship at Pembroke ; except for service with admiralty intelligence during World War I, he remained at Oxford until 1, when illness compelled him to retire. Although his Autobiography expresses strong disapproval of the lines on which, during his lifetime, philosophy at Oxford developed, he was a varsity “insider.” He was elected to the Waynflete Professorship, the first to become vacant after he had done enough work to be a serious candidate. He was also a leading archaeologist of Roman Britain. Although as a student Collingwood was deeply influenced by the “realist” teaching of John Cook Wilson, he studied not only the British idealists, but also Hegel and the contemporary  post-Hegelians. At twenty-three, he published a translation of Croce’s book on Vico’s philosophy. Religion and Philosophy 6, the first of his attempts to present orthodox Christianity as philosophically acceptable, has both idealist and Cook Wilsonian elements. Thereafter the Cook Wilsonian element steadily diminished. In Speculum Mentis4, he investigated the nature and ultimate unity of the four special ‘forms of experience’  art, religion, natural science, and history  and their relation to a fifth comprehensive form  philosophy. While all four, he contended, are necessary to a full human life now, each is a form of error that is corrected by its less erroneous successor. Philosophy is error-free but has no content of its own: “The truth is not some perfect system of philosophy: it is simply the way in which all systems, however perfect, collapse into nothingness on the discovery that they are only systems.” Some critics dismissed this enterprise as idealist a description Collingwood accepted when he wrote, but even those who favored it were disturbed by the apparent skepticism of its result. A year later, he amplified his views about art in Outlines of a Philosophy of Art. Since much of what Collingwood went on to write about philosophy has never been published, and some of it has been negligently destroyed, his thought after Speculum Mentis is hard to trace. It will not be definitively established until the more than 3,000 s of his surviving unpublished manuscripts deposited in the Bodleian Library in 8 have been thoroughly studied. They were not available to the scholars who published studies of his philosophy as a whole up to 0. Three trends in how his philosophy developed, however, are discernible. The first is that as he continued to investigate the four special forms of experience, he came to consider each valid in its own right, and not a form of error. As early as 8, he abandoned the conception of the historical past in Speculum Mentis as simply a spectacle, alien to the historian’s mind; he now proposed a theory of it as thoughts explaining past actions that, although occurring in the past, can be rethought in the present. Not only can the identical thought “enacted” at a definite time in the past be “reenacted” any number of times after, but it can be known to be so reenacted if colligation physical evidence survives that can be shown to be incompatible with other proposed reenactments. In 334 he wrote a series of lectures posthumously published as The Idea of Nature in which he renounced his skepticism about whether the quantitative material world can be known, and inquired why the three constructive periods he recognized in European scientific thought, the Grecian, the Renaissance, and the modern, could each advance our knowledge of it as they did. Finally, in 7, returning to the philosophy of art and taking full account of Croce’s later work, he showed that imagination expresses emotion and becomes false when it counterfeits emotion that is not felt; thus he transformed his earlier theory of art as purely imaginative. His later theories of art and of history remain alive; and his theory of nature, although corrected by research since his death, was an advance when published. The second trend was that his conception of philosophy changed as his treatment of the special forms of experience became less skeptical. In his beautifully written Essay on Philosophical Method 3, he argued that philosophy has an object  the ens realissimum as the one, the true, and the good  of which the objects of the special forms of experience are appearances; but that implies what he had ceased to believe, that the special forms of experience are forms of error. In his Principles of Art 8 and New Leviathan 2 he denounced the idealist principle of Speculum Mentis that to abstract is to falsify. Then, in his Essay on Metaphysics 0, he denied that metaphysics is the science of being qua being, and identified it with the investigation of the “absolute presuppositions” of the special forms of experience at definite historical periods. A third trend, which came to dominate his thought as World War II approached, was to see serious philosophy as practical, and so as having political implications. He had been, like Ruskin, a radical Tory, opposed less to liberal or even some socialist measures than to the bourgeois ethos from which they sprang. Recognizing European fascism as the barbarism it was, and detesting anti-Semitism, he advocated an antifascist foreign policy and intervention in the  civil war in support of the republic. His last major publication, The New Leviathan, impressively defends what he called civilization against what he called barbarism; and although it was neglected by political theorists after the war was won, the collapse of Communism and the rise of Islamic states are winning it new readers.   Grice: “Collingwood thought of language importantly enough to dedicate a full seminar at Oxford to it. He entitled it “Language.” The first section is on “symbol and expression.” Language comes into existence with imagination, as a feature of experience at the conscious level. . . ‘. . . It is an imaginative activity whose function is to express emotion. Intel- lectual language is this same thing intellectualized, or modified so as to express thought.’ A symbol is established by agreement; but this agreement is established in a language that already exists. In this way, intellectualized language ‘presupposes imaginative language or language proper. . . in the traditional theory of language these relations are reversed, with disastrous results.’ Children do not learn to speak by being shown things while their names are uttered; or if they do, it is because (unlike, say, cats) they already understand the language of pointing and naming. The child may be accustomed to hearing ‘Hatty off!’ when its bonnet is removed; then the child may exclaim ‘Hattiaw!’ when it removes its own bonnet and throws it out of the perambulator. The exclamation is not a symbol, but an expression of satisfaction at removing the bonnet. The second section is on “Psychical Expression.” More primitive than linguistic expression is psychical expression: ‘the doing of involuntary and perhaps even wholly unconscious bodily acts [such as grimac- ing], related in a peculiar way to the emotions [such as pain] they are said to express.’ A single experience can be analyzed: -- sensum (as an abdominal gripe), or the field of sensation containing this; ) the emotional charge on the sensum (as visceral pain); -- the psychical expression (as the grimace). We can observe and interpret psychical expressions intellectually. But there is the possibility of emotional contagion, or sympathy, whereby expressions can also be sensa for others, with their own emotional charges. Examples are the spread of panic through a crowd, or a dog’s urge to attack the person who is afraid of it (or the cat that runs from it). Psychical emotions can be expressed only psychically. But there are emotions of consciousness (as hatred, love, anger, shame): these are the emotional charges, not on sensa, but on modes of consciousness, which can be expressed in language or psychically. Expressed psychically, they have the same analysis as psychical emotions; for example, --  ‘consciousness of our own inferiority, ) ‘shame -- ) ‘blushing.’ Shame is not the emotional charge on the sensa associated with blushing. ‘The common-sense view [that we blush because we are ashamed] is right, and the James–Lange theory is wrong.’ Emotions of consciousness can be expressed in two different ways because, more generally, a ‘higher level [of experience] differs from the lower in having a new principle of organization; this does not supersede the old, it is superimposed on it. The lower type of experience is perpetuated in the higher type’ somewhat as matter is perpetuated, even with a new form. ‘A mode of consciousness like shame is thus, formally, a mode of consciousness and nothing else; materially, it is a constellation or synthesis of psychical expe- riences.’ But consciousness is ‘an activity by which those elements are combined in this particular way.’ It is not just a new arrangement of those elements— otherwise the sensa of which shame is the emotional charge would have been obvious, and the James–Lange theory would not have needed to arise. ‘[E]ach new level [of experience] must organize itself according to its own principles before a transition can be made to the next’. Therefore, to move beyond consciousness to intellect, ‘emotions of consciousness must be formally or linguistically expressed, not only materially or psychically expressed’. The third section is on “Imaginative Expression.” Psychical expression is uncontrollable. At the level of awareness, expressions are experienced ‘as activities belonging to ourselves and controlled in the same sense as the emotions they express. ‘Bodily actions expressing certain emotions, insofar as they come under our control and are conceived by us in our awareness of controlling them, as our way of expressing these emotions, are language.’ ‘[A]ny theory of language must begin here.’ The controlled act of expression is materially the same as psychical expression; the difference is just that it is done ‘on purpose’. ‘[T]he conversion of impression into idea by the work of consciousness im- mensely multiplies the emotions that demand expression.’ ‘There are no unexpressed emotions.’ What are so called are emotions, already expressed at one level, of which somebody is trying to become conscious. 5From Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James-Lange_theory, The theory states that within human beings, as a response to experiences in the world, the autonomic nervous system creates physiological events such as muscular tension, a rise in heart rate, perspiration, and dryness of the mouth. Emotions, then, are feelings which come about as a result of these physiological changes, rather than being their cause. Corresponding to the series of sensum, emotional charge, psychical expression (as in red color, fear, start), we have, say, -- ) bonnet removal, ) feeling of triumph, -- cry of ‘Hattiaw!’ The child imitates the speech of others only when it realizes that they are speaking. The fourth section is on “Language and Languages.” Language need not be spoken by the tongue. ‘[T]here is no way of expressing the same feeling in two different media.’ However, ‘each one of us, whenever he expresses himself, is doing so with his whole body’, in the ‘original language of total bodily gesture’—this is the ‘motor side’ of the ‘total imaginative experience’ identified as art proper in Book I. The sixth section is on “Speaker and Hearer.” A child’s first utterances are not addressed to anybody. But a speaker is always -- ness does not begin as a mere self-consciousness. . . the consciousness of our own existence is also consciousness of the existence of’ other persons. These persons could be cats or trees or shadows: as a form of thought, consciousness can make mistakes [§ .]. In speaking, we do not exactly communicate an emotion to a listener. To do this would be to cause the listener to have a similar emotion; but to compare the emotions, we would need language. The single experience of expressing emotion has two parts: the emotion, and the controlled bodily action expressing it. This union of idea with expression can be considered from two points of view: -- ) we can express what we feel only because we know it; -- ) we know what we feel because we can express it. ‘The person to whom speech is addressed is already familiar with this double situation’. He ‘takes what he hears exactly as if it were speech of his own. . . and this constructs in himself the idea which those words express.’ But he attributes the idea to the speaker. This does not presuppose community of language; it is community of language. If the hearer is to understand the speaker though, he must have enough expe- rience to have the impressions from which the ideas of the speaker are derived. (Collingwood’s footnote to the section title is ‘In this section, whatever is said of speech is meant of language in general.’) conscious of himself as speaking, so he is a also a listener. The origin of self-consciousness will not be discussed. However, ‘Conscious- However, misunderstanding may be the fault of the speaker, if his consciousness is corrupt. The seventh section is on Language and Thought: Language is an activity of thought; but if thought is taken in the narrower sense of intellect, then language expresses not thought, but emotions. However, these may be the emotions of a thinker. ‘Everything which imagination presents to itself is a here, a now’. This might be the song of a thrush in May. One may imagine, alongside this, the January song of the thrush; but at the level of imagination, the two songs coalesce into one. By thinking, one may analyze the song into parts—notes; or one may relate it to things not imagined, such as the January thrush song that one remembers having heard four months ago at dawn (though one may not remember the song -- to express any kind of thought (again, in the narrower sense), language must be adapted. The eighth section is on “The Grammatical Analysis of Language.” This adaptation of language to the expression of thought is the function or business of the grammarian. ‘I do not call it purpose, because he does not propose it to himself as a conscious aim’. The grammarian analyzes, not the activity of language, but ‘speech’ or ‘discourse’, the supposed product of speech. But this product ‘is a metaphysical fiction. It is supposed to exist only because the theory of language is approached from the standpoint of the philosophy of craft. . . what the grammarian is really doing is to think, not about a product of the activity of speaking, but about the activity itself, distorted in his thoughts about it by the assumption that it is not an activity, but a product or “thing”. ‘Next, this “thing” must be scientifically studied; and this involves a double process. The first stage of this process is to cut the “thing” up into parts. Some readers will object to this phrase on the ground that I have used a verb of acting when I ought to have used a verb of thinking. . . [but] philosophical controversies are not to be settled by a sort of police-regulation governing people’s choice of words. . . I meant cut. . àBird songs are wonderful to hear; but I am not sufficiently familiar with them, or I live in the wrong place, to be able to recognize seasonal variations in them. Looking for my own examples, I can remember that, last summer, I became drenched in sweat from walking at midday in the hills above the Aegean coast, before giving a mathematics lecture; but I need not remember the feeling of the heat.) itself ). Analyzing and relating are not the only kinds of thought. The point is that. -- ‘The final process is to devise a scheme of relations between the parts thus divided. . . a) ‘Lexicography. Every word, as it actually occurs in discourse, occurs once and once only. . . Thus we get a new fiction: the recurring word’. ‘Meanings’ of words are established in words, so we get another fiction: synonymity. b) Accidence. The rules whereby a single word is modified into dominus, domine, dominum are also ‘palpable fictions; for it is notorious that excep- tions to them occur’. c) Syntax. ‘A grammarian is not a kind of scientist studying the actual structure of lan- guage; he is a kind of butcher’. Idioms are another example of how language resists the grammarian’s efforts. The ninth section is on The Logical Analysis of Language. Logical technique aims ‘to make language into a perfect vehicle for the expression of thought.’ It asssumes ‘that the grammatical transformation of language has been successfully accomplished.’ It makes three further assumptions:) the propositional assumption that some ‘sentences’ make statements; ) the principle of homolingual translation whereby one sentence can mean exactly the same as another (or group of others) in the same language;) logical preferability: one sentence may be preferred to another that has the same meaning. The criterion is not ease of understanding (this is the stylist’s concern), but ease of manipulation by the logician’s technique to suit his aims. The logician’s modification of language can to some extent be carried out; but it tries to pull language apart into two things: language proper, and symbolism. ‘No serious writer or speaker ever utters a thought unless he thinks it worth uttering...Nor does he ever utter it except with a choice of words, and in a tone of voice, that express his sense of this importance.’ The problem is that written words do not show tone of voice. One is tempted to believe that scientific discourse is what is written; what is spoken is this and something else, emotional expression. Good logic would show that the logical structure of a proposition is not clear from its written form. Good literature is written so (8Collingwood imaginatively describes Dr. Richards, who writes of Tolstoy’s view of art, ‘This is plainly untrue’, as if he were a cat shaking a drop of water from its paw. Dr. Richards is Ivor Armstrong Richards, to whose Principles of Literary Criticism Collingwood refers; ac- cording to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I._A._Richards (accessed December , ), ‘Richards is regularly considered one of the founders of the contemporary study of literature in English’.) (In a footnote, Collingwood mentions an example of Cook Wilson: ‘That building is the Bodleian’ could mean ‘That building is the Bodleian’ or ‘That building is the Bodleian.’ that the reader cannot help but read it with the right tempo and tone. The proposition, as a form of words expressing thought and not emotion, is a fictitious entity. But ‘a second and more difficult thesis’ is that words do not express thought at all directly; they express the emotional charge on a thought, allowing the hearer to rediscover the thought ‘whose peculiar emotional tone the speaker has expressed.’The tenth section is on “Language and Symbolism.” Symbols and technical terms are invented for unemotional scientific purposes, but they always acquire emotional expressiveness. ‘Every mathematician knows this.’ Intellectualized language, • as language, expresses emotion, • as symbolism, has meaning; it points beyond emotion to a thought. ‘The progressive intellectualization of language, its progressive conversion by the work of grammar and logic into a scientific symbolism, thus represents not a progressive drying-up of emotion, but its progressive articulation and specializa- tion. We are not getting away from an emotional atmosphere into a dry, rational atmosphere; we are acquiring new emotions and new means of expressing them.’ Grice: “Collingwood improves on Croce – for one, he makes Croce understandable at Oxford. Collingwood wants to distinguish between emotion and expression of emotion. He also speaks of communication of emotion. The keyword is ‘expression.’ Collingwood distinguishes between uncontrolled manifestation and controlled manifestation. It is the latter that he dignifies with the term ‘expression.’ He makes an interesting point about the recipient. The recipient must be in some degree of familiarty with the emotion expressed by the utterer that the utterer is ‘communicating.’ To communicate is not really like ‘transfer.’ It is not THE SAME EMOTION that gets transferred.  Refs.: H. P. Grice, “Collingwood,” in “Metaphysics,” in D. F. Pears, The nature of metaphysics. Luigi Speranza, “A commentary on the language and conversation section of Collingwood’s “The idea of language.”

colonna – e. giles di roma, Rome, original name, a member of the order of the Hermits of St. Augustine, he studied arts at Augustinian house and theology at the varsity in Paris but was censured by the theology faculty and denied a license to teach as tutor. Owing to the intervention of Pope Honorius IV, he later returned from Italy to Paris to teach theology, was appointed general of his order, and became archbishop of Bourges. Colonna both defends and criticizes views of Aquinas. He held that essence and existence are really distinct in creatures, but described them as “things”; that prime matter cannot exist without some substantial form; and, early in his career, that an eternally created world is possible. He defended only one substantial form in composites, including man. Grice adds: “Colonna supported Pope Boniface VIII in his quarrel with Philip IV of France – and that was a bad choice.”

commitment: Grice’s commitment to the 39 Articles. An utterer is committed to those and only those entities to which the bound variables of his utterance must be capable of referring in order that the utterance made be true.” Cf. Grice on substitutional quantification for his feeling Byzantine, and ‘gap’ sign in the analysis.

common-ground status assignment: While Grice was invited to a symposium on ‘mutual knowledge,’ he never was for ‘regressive accounts’ of ‘know,’ perhaps because he had to be different, and the idea of the mutual or common knowledge was the obvious way to deal with his account of communication. He rejects it and opts for an anti-sneak clause. In the common-ground he uses the phrase, “What the eye no longer sees, the heart no longer grieves for.” What does he mean? He means that in the case of some recognizable divergence between the function of a communication device in a rational calculus and in the vernacular, one may have to assign ‘common ground status’ to certain features, e. g. [The king of France is] bald. By using the square brackets, or subscripts, in “Vacuous names and descriptions,” the material within their scope is ‘immune’ to refutation. It has some sort of conversational ‘inertia.’ So the divergence, for which Grice’s heart grieved, is no more to be seen by Grice’s eye. Strwson and Wiggins view that this is only tentative for Grice. the regulations for common-ground assignment have to do with general rational constraints on conversation. Grice is clear in “Causal,” and as Strawson lets us know, he was already clear in “Introduction” when talking of a ‘pragmatic rule.’ Strawson states the rule in terms of making your conversational contribution the logically strongest possible. If we abide by an imperative of conversational helpfulness, enjoining the maximally giving and receiving of information and the influencing and being influenced by others in the institution of a decisions, the sub-imperative follows to the effect, ‘Thou shalt NOT make a weak move compared to the stronger one that thou canst truthfully make, and with equal or greater economy of means.’“Causal” provides a more difficult version, because it deals with non-extensional contexts where ‘strong’ need not be interpreted as ‘logical strength’ in terms of entailment. Common ground status assignment springs from the principle of conversational helpfulness or conversational benevolence. What would be the benevolent point of ‘informing’ your addressee what you KNOW your addressee already knows? It is not even CONCEPTUALLY possible. You are not ‘informing’ him if you are aware that he knows it. So, what Strawson later calls the principle of presumption of ignorance and the principle of the presumption of knowledge are relevant. There is a balance between the two. If Strawson asks Grice, “Is the king of France bald?” Grice is entitled to assume that Strawson thinks two things Grice will perceive as having been assigned a ‘common-ground’ status as uncontroversial topic not worth conversing about. First, Strawson thinks that there is one king. (∃x)Fx. Second, Strawson thinks that there is at most one king. (x)(y)((Fx.Fy)⊃ x=y). That the king is bald is NOT assigned common-ground status, because Grice cannot expect that Strawson thinks that Grice KNOWS that. Grice symbolises the common-ground status by means of subscripts. He also uses square-bracekts, so that anything within the scope of the square brackets is immune to controversy, or as Grice also puts it, conversationally _inert_: things we don’t talk about.

communication device: Grice: “I shall frequently speak of a ‘device,’ because its etymology is fascinating.”  divisare, frequentative of Latin dividere – Grice: “So, ultimately, it’s a Platonic notion, since he was into division. The Romans did not quite need a frequentative for ‘dividere,’ but the Italians did, and this was passed to the Gallics, and then to the Brits.”Grice always has ‘or communication devices’ at the tip of his tongue. “Language or communication devices” (WoW: 284). A device is produced. A device can be misunderstood.

communicatum: With the linguistic turn, as Grice notes, it was all about ‘language.’ But at Oxford they took a cavalier attitude to language, that Grice felt like slightly rectifying, while keeping it cavalier as we like it at Oxford. The colloquialism of ‘mean’ does not translate well in the Graeco-Roman tradition Grice was educated via his Lit. Hum. (Philos.) and at Clifton. ‘Communicate’ might do. On top, Grice does use ‘communicate’ on various occasions in WoW.  By psi-transmission, something that belonged in the emissor becomes ‘common property,’ ‘communion’ has been achived. Now the recipient KNOWS that it is raining (shares the belief with the emissor) and IS GOING to bring that umbrella (has formed a desire). “Communication” is cognate with ‘communion,’ while conversation is cognate with ‘sex’! When Grice hightlights the ‘common ground’ in ‘communication’ he is being slightly rhetorical, so it is good when he weakens the claim from ‘common ground’ to ‘non-trivial.’ A: I’m going to the concert. My uncle’s brother went to that concert. The emissor cannot presume that his addressee KNEW that he had an unlce let alone that his uncle had a brother (the emissor’s father). But any expansion would trigger the wrong implicaturum. One who likes ‘communication’ is refined Strawson (I’m using refined as J. Barnes does it, “turn Plato into refined Strawson”). Both in his rat-infested example and at the inaugural lecture at Oxford. Grice, for one, has given us reason to think that, with sufficient care, and far greater refinement than I have indicated, it is possible to expound such a concept of communication-intention or, as he calls it, utterer's meaning, which is proof against objection.  it is a commonplace that Grice belongs, as most philosophers of the twentieth century, to the movement of the linguistic turn. Short and Lewis have “commūnĭcare,” earlier “conmunicare,” f. communis, and thus sharing the prefix with “conversare.” Now “communis” is an interesting lexeme that Grice uses quite centrally in his idea of the ‘common ground’ – when a feature of discourse is deemed to have been assigned ‘common-ground status.’ “Communis” features the “cum-” prefix, commūnis (comoinis); f. “con” and root “mu-,” to bind; Sanscr. mav-; cf.: immunis, munus, moenia. The ‘communicatum’ (as used by Tammelo in  social philosophy) may well cover what Grice would call the total ‘significatio,’ or ‘significatum.’ Grice takes this seriously. Let us start then by examining what we mean by ‘linguistic,’ or ‘communication.’ It is curious that while most Griceians overuse ‘communicative’ as applied to ‘intention,’ Grice does not. Communicator’s intention, at most. This is the Peirce in Grice’s soul. Meaning provides an excellent springboard for Grice to centre his analysis on psychological or soul-y verbs as involving the agent and the first person: smoke only figuratively means fire, and the expression smoke only figuratively (or metabolically) means that there is fire. It is this or that utterer (say, Grice) who means, say, by uttering Where theres smoke theres fire, or ubi fumus, ibi ignis, that where theres smoke theres fire. A means something by uttering x, an utterance-token is roughly equivalent to utterer U intends the utterance of x to produce some effect in his addressee A by means of the recognition of this intention; and we may add that to ask what U means is to ask for a specification of the intended effect - though, of course, it may not always be possible to get a straight answer involving a that-clause, for example, a belief that  He does provide a more specific example involving the that-clause at a later stage. By uttering x, U means that-ψ­_b-dp ≡ (Ǝφ)(Ǝf)(Ǝc) U utters x  intending x to be such that anyone who has φ think that x has f, f is correlated in way c with ψ-ing that p, and (Ǝφ') U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ' think, via thinking that x has f and that f is correlated in way c with ψ-ing that p, that U ψ-s that p, and in view of (Ǝφ') U intending x to be such that anyone who has φ' think, via thinking that x has f, and f is correlated in way c with ψ-ing that p, that U ψ-s that p, U ψ-s that p, and, for some substituends of ψ_b-d, U utters x intending that, should there actually be anyone who has φ, he will, via thinking in view of (Ǝφ') U intending x to be such that anyone who has φ' think, via thinking that x has f, and  f is correlated in way c with ψ-ing that p, that U ψ-s that p, U ψ-s that p himself ψ that p, and it is not the case that, for some inference element E, U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ both rely on E in coming to ψ, or think that U ψ-s, that p and  think that (Ǝφ) U intends x to be such that anyone who has φ come to ψ (or think that U ψ-s) that p without relying on E. Besides St. John The Baptist, and Salome, Grice cites few Namess in Meaning. But he makes a point about Stevenson! For Stevenson, smoke means fire. Meaning develops out of an interest by Grice on the philosophy of Peirce. In his essays on Peirce, Grice quotes from many other authors, including, besides Peirce himself (!), Ogden, Richards, and Ewing, or A. C. Virtue is not a fire-shovel Ewing, as Grice calls him, and this or that cricketer. In the characteristic Oxonian fashion of a Lit. Hum., Grice has no intention to submit Meaning to publication. Publishing is vulgar. Bennett, however, guesses that Grice decides to publish it just a year after his Defence of a dogma. Bennett’s argument is that Defence of a dogma pre-supposes some notion of meaning. However, a different story may be told, not necessarily contradicting Bennetts. It is Strawson who submits the essay by Grice to The Philosophical Review (henceforth, PR) Strawson attends Grices talk on Meaning for The Oxford Philosophical Society, and likes it. Since In defence of a dogma was co-written with Strawson, the intention Bennett ascribes to Grice is Strawsons. Oddly, Strawson later provides a famous alleged counter-example to Grice on meaning in Intention and convention in speech acts, following J. O. Urmson’s earlier attack to the sufficiency of Grices analysans -- which has Grice dedicating a full James lecture (No. 5) to it. there is Strawsons rat-infested house for which it is insufficient. An interesting fact, that confused a few, is that Hart quotes from Grices Meaning in his critical review of Holloway for The Philosophical Quarterly. Hart quotes Grice pre-dating the publication of Meaning. Harts point is that Holloway should have gone to Oxford! In Meaning, Grice may be seen as a practitioner of ordinary-language philosophy: witness his explorations of the factivity (alla know, remember, or see) or lack thereof of various uses of to mean. The second part of the essay, for which he became philosophically especially popular, takes up an intention-based approach to semantic notions. The only authority Grice cites, in typical Oxonian fashion, is, via Ogden and Barnes, Stevenson, who, from The New World (and via Yale, too!) defends an emotivist theory of ethics, and making a few remarks on how to mean is used, with scare quotes, in something like a causal account (Smoke means fire.). After its publication Grices account received almost as many alleged counterexamples as rule-utilitarianism (Harrison), but mostly outside Oxford, and in The New World. New-World philosophers seem to have seen Grices attempt as reductionist and as oversimplifying. At Oxford, the sort of counterexample Grice received, before Strawson, was of the Urmson-type: refined, and subtle. I think your account leaves bribery behind. On the other hand, in the New World ‒ in what Grice calls the Latter-Day School of Nominalism, Quine is having troubles with empiricism. Meaning was repr. in various collections, notably in Philosophical Logic, ed. by Strawson. It should be remembered that it is Strawson who has the thing typed and submitted for publication. Why Meaning should be repr. in a collection on Philosophical Logic only Strawson knows. But Grice does say that his account may help clarify the meaning of entails! It may be Strawsons implicaturum that Parkinson should have repr. (and not merely credited) Meaning by Grice in his series for Oxford on The theory of meaning. The preferred quotation for Griceians is of course The Oxford Philosophical Society quote, seeing that Grice recalled the exact year when he gave the talk for the Philosophical Society at Oxford! It is however, the publication in The Philosophi, rather than the quieter evening at the Oxford Philosophical Society, that occasioned a tirade of alleged counter-examples by New-World philosophers. Granted, one or two Oxonians ‒ Urmson and Strawson ‒ fell in! Urmson criticises the sufficiency of Grices account, by introducing an alleged counter-example involving bribery. Grice will consider a way out of Urmsons alleged counter-example in his fifth Wiliam James Lecture, rightly crediting and thanking Urmson for this! Strawsons alleged counter-example was perhaps slightly more serious, if regressive. It also involves the sufficiency of Grices analysis. Strawsons rat-infested house alleged counter-example started a chain which required Grice to avoid, ultimately, any sneaky intention by way of a recursive clause to the effect that, for utterer U to have meant that p, all meaning-constitutive intentions should be above board. But why this obsession by Grice with mean? He is being funny. Spots surely dont mean, only mean.They dont have a mind. Yet Grice opens with a specific sample. Those spots mean, to the doctor, that you, dear, have measles. Mean? Yes, dear, mean, doctors orders. Those spots mean measles. But how does the doctor know? Cannot he be in the wrong? Not really, mean is factive, dear! Or so Peirce thought. Grice is amazed that Peirce thought that some meaning is factive. The hole in this piece of cloth means that a bullet went through is is one of Peirce’s examples. Surely, as Grice notes, this is an unhappy example. The hole in the cloth may well have caused by something else, or fabricated. (Or the postmark means that the letter went through the post.) Yet, Grice was having Oxonian tutees aware that Peirce was krypto-technical. Grice chose for one of his pre-Meaning seminars on Peirce’s general theory of signs, with emphasis on general, and the correspondence of Peirce and Welby. Peirce, rather than the Vienna circle, becomes, in vein with Grices dissenting irreverent rationalism, important as a source for Grices attempt to English Peirce. Grices implicaturum seems to be that Peirce, rather than Ayer, cared for the subtleties of meaning and sign, never mind a verificationist theory about them! Peirce ultra-Latinate-cum-Greek taxonomies have Grice very nervous, though. He knew that his students were proficient in the classics, but still. Grice thus proposes to reduce all of Peirceian divisions and sub-divisions (one sub-division too many) to mean. In the proceedings, he quotes from Ogden, Richards, and Ewing. In particular, Grice was fascinated by the correspondence of Peirce with Lady Viola Welby, as repr. by Ogden/Richards in, well, their study on the meaning of meaning. Grice thought the science of symbolism pretentious, but then he almost thought Lady Viola Welby slightly pretentious, too, if youve seen her; beautiful lady. It is via Peirce that Grice explores examples such as those spots meaning measles. Peirce’s obsession is with weathercocks almost as Ockham was with circles on wine-barrels. Old-World Grices use of New-World Peirce is illustrative, thus, of the Oxonian linguistic turn focused on ordinary language. While Peirce’s background was not philosophical, Grice thought it comical enough. He would say that Peirce is an amateur, but then he said the same thing about Mill, whom Grice had to study by heart to get his B. A. Lit. Hum.! Plus, as Watson commented, what is wrong with amateur? Give me an amateur philosopher ANY day, if I have to choose from professional Hegel! In finding Peirce krypo-technical, Grice is ensuing that his tutees, and indeed any Oxonian philosophy student (he was university lecturer) be aware that to mean should be more of a priority than this or that jargon by this or that (New World?) philosopher!? Partly! Grice wanted his students to think on their own, and draw their own conclusions! Grice cites Ewing, Ogden/Richards, and many others. Ewing, while Oxford-educated, had ended up at Cambridge (Scruton almost had him as his tutor) and written some points on Meaninglessness! Those spots mean measles. Grice finds Peirce krypto-technical and proposes to English him into an ordinary-language philosopher. Surely it is not important whether we consider a measles spot a sign, a symbol, or an icon. One might just as well find a doctor in London who thinks those spots symbolic. If Grice feels like Englishing Peirce, he does not altogether fail! meaning, reprints, of Meaning and other essays, a collection of reprints and offprints of Grices essays. Meaning becomes a central topic of at least two strands in Retrospective epilogue. The first strand concerns the idea of the centrality of the utterer. What Grice there calls meaning BY (versus meaning TO), i.e. as he also puts it, active or agents meaning. Surely he is right in defending an agent-based account to meaning. Peirce need not, but Grice must, because he is working with an English root, mean, that is only figurative applicable to non-agentive items (Smoke means rain). On top, Grice wants to conclude that only a rational creature (a person) can meanNN properly. Non-human animals may have a correlate. This is a truly important point for Grice since he surely is seen as promoting a NON-convention-based approach to meaning, and also defending from the charge of circularity in the non-semantic account of propositional attitudes. His final picture is a rationalist one. P₁ G wants to communicate about a danger to P₂. This presupposes there IS a danger (item of reality). Then P₁ G believes there is a danger, and communicates to P₂ G2 that there is a danger. This simple view of conversation as rational co-operation underlies Grices account of meaning too, now seen as an offshoot of philosophical psychology, and indeed biology, as he puts it. Meaning as yet another survival mechanism. While he would never use a cognate like significance in his Oxford Philosophical Society talk, Grice eventually starts to use such Latinate cognates at a later stage of his development. In Meaning, Grice does not explain his goal. By sticking with a root that the Oxford curriculum did not necessarily recognised as philosophical (amateur Peirce did!), Grice is implicating that he is starting an ordinary-language botanising on his own repertoire! Grice was amused by the reliance by Ewing on very Oxonian examples contra Ayer: Surely Virtue aint a fire-shovel is perfectly meaningful, and if fact true, if, Ill admit, somewhat misleading and practically purposeless at Cambridge. Again, the dismissal by Grice of natural meaning is due to the fact that natural meaning prohibits its use in the first person and followed by a that-clause. ‘I mean-n that p’ sounds absurd, no communication-function seems in the offing, there is no ‘sign for,’ as Woozley would have it. Grice found, with Suppes, all types of primacy (ontological, axiological, psychological) in utterers meaning. In Retrospective epilogue, he goes back to the topic, as he reminisces that it is his suggestion that there are two allegedly distinguishable meaning concepts, even if one is meta-bolical, which may be called natural meaning and non-natural meaning. There is this or that test (notably factivity-entailment vs. cancelation, but also scare quotes) which may be brought to bear to distinguish one concept from the other. We may, for example, inquire whether a particular occurrence of the predicate mean is factive or non-factive, i. e., whether for it to be true that [so and so] means that p, it does or does not have to be the case that it is true that p. Again, one may ask whether the use of quotation marks to enclose the specification of what is meant would be inappropriate or appropriate. If factivity, as in know, remember, and see, is present and quotation marks, oratio recta, are be inappropriate, we have a case of natural meaning. Otherwise the meaning involved is non-natural meaning. We may now ask whether there is a single overarching idea which lies behind both members of this dichotomy of uses to which the predicate meaning that seems to be Subjects. If there is such a central idea it might help to indicate to us which of the two concepts is in greater need of further analysis and elucidation and in what direction such elucidation should proceed. Grice confesses that he has only fairly recently come to believe that there is such an overarching idea and that it is indeed of some service in the proposed inquiry. The idea behind both uses of mean is that of consequence, or consequentia, as Hobbes has it. If x means that p, something which includes p or the idea of p, is a consequence of x. In the metabolic natural use of meaning that p, p, this or that consequence, is this or that state of affairs. In the literal, non-metabolic, basic, non-natural use of meaning that p, (as in Smith means that his neighbour’s three-year child is an adult), p, this or that consequence is this or that conception or complexus which involves some other conception. This perhaps suggests that of the two concepts it is, as it should, non-natural meaning which is more in need of further elucidation. It seems to be the more specialised of the pair, and it also seems to be the less determinate. We may, e. g., ask how this or that conception enters the picture. Or we may ask whether what enters the picture is the conception itself or its justifiability. On these counts Grice should look favorably on the idea that, if further analysis should be required for one of the pair, the notion of non-natural meaning would be first in line. There are factors which support the suitability of further analysis for the concept of non-natural meaning. Meaning_NN that p (non-natural meaning) does not look as if it Namess an original feature of items in the world, for two reasons which are possibly not mutually independent. One reason is that, given suitable background conditions, meaning, can be changed by fiat. The second reason is that the presence of meaning_NN is dependent on a framework provided by communication, if that is not too circular.  Communication is in the philosophical lexicon. Lewis and Short have “commūnĭcātĭo,” f. communicare,"(several times in Cicero, elsewhere rare), and as they did with negatio and they will with significatio, Short and Lewis render, unhelpfully, as a making common, imparting, communicating. largitio et communicatio civitatis;” “quaedam societas et communicatio utilitatum,” “consilii communicatio, “communicatio sermonis,” criminis cum pluribus; “communicatio nominum, i. e. the like appellation of several objects; “juris; “damni; In rhetorics, communicatio, trading on the communis, a figure, translating Grecian ἀνακοίνωσις, in accordance with which the utterer turns to his addressee, and, as it were, allows him to take part in the inquiry. It seems to Grice, then, at least reasonable and possibly even emphatically mandatory, to treat the claim that a communication vehicle, such as this and that expression means that p, in this transferred, metaphoric, or meta-bolic use of means that as being reductively analysable in terms of this or that feature of this or that utterer, communicator, or user of this or that expression. The use of meaning that as applied to this or that expression is posterior to and explicable through the utterer-oriented, or utterer-relativised use, i.e. involving a reference to this or that communicator or user of this or that expression. More specifically, one should license a metaphorical use of mean, where one allows the claim that this or that expression means that p, provided that this or that utterer, in this or that standard fashion, means that p, i.e. in terms of this or that souly statee toward this or that propositional complexus this or that utterer ntends, in a standardly fashion, to produce by his uttering this or that utterance. That this or that expression means (in this metaphorical use) that p is thus explicable either in terms of this or that souly state which is standardly intended to produce in this or that addressee A by this or that utterer of this or that expression, or in this or that souly staken up by this or that utterer toward this or that activity or action of this or that utterer of this or that expression. Meaning was in the air in Oxfords linguistic turn. Everybody was talking meaning. Grice manages to quote from Hares early “Mind” essay on the difference between imperatives and indicatives, also Duncan-Jones on the fugitive proposition,  and of course his beloved Strawson. Grice was also concerned by the fact that in the manoeuvre of the typical ordinary-language philosopher, there is a constant abuse of mean. Surely Grice wants to stick with the utterers meaning as the primary use. Expressions mean only derivatively. To do that, he chose Peirce to see if he could clarify it with meaning that. Grice knew that the polemic was even stronger in London, with Ogden and Lady Viola Welby. In the more academic Oxford milieu, Grice knew that a proper examination of meaning, would lead him, via Kneale and his researches on the history of semantics, to the topic of signification that obsessed the modistae (and their modus significandi). For what does L and S say about about this? This is Grice’s reply to popular Ogden. They want to know what the meaning of meaning is? Here is the Oxononian response by Grice, with a vengeance. Grice is not an animist nor a mentalist, even modest.  While he allows for natural phenomena to mean (smoke means fire), meaning is best ascribed to some utterer, where this meaning is nothing but the intentions behind his utterance. This is the fifth James lecture. Grice was careful enough to submit it to PR, since it is a strictly philosophical development of the views expressed in Meaning which Strawson had submitted on Grice’s behalf to the same Review and which had had a series of responses by various philosophers. Among these philosophers is Strawson himself in Intention and convention in the the theory of speech acts, also in PR. Grice quotes from very many other philosophers in this essay, including: Urmson, Stampe, Strawson, Schiffer, and Searle. Strawson is especially relevant since he started a series of alleged counter-examples with his infamous example of the rat-infested house. Grice particularly treasured Stampes alleged counter-example involving his beloved bridge! Avramides earns a D. Phil Oxon. on that, under Strawson! This is Grices occasion to address some of the criticisms ‒ in the form of alleged counter-examples, typically, as his later reflections on epagoge versus diagoge note  ‒ by Urmson, Strawson, and other philosophers associated with Oxford, such as Searle, Stampe, and Schiffer. The final analysandum is pretty complex (of the type that he did find his analysis of I am hearing a sound complex in Personal identity  ‒ hardly an obstacle for adopting it), it became yet another target of attack by especially New-World philosophers in the pages of Mind, Nous, and other journals, This is officially the fifth James lecture. Grice takes up the analysis of meaning he had presented way back at the Oxford Philosophical Society. Motivated mainly by the attack by Urmson and by Strawson in Intention and convention in speech acts, that offered an alleged counter-example to the sufficiency of Grices analysis, Grice ends up introducing so many intention that he almost trembled. He ends up seeing meaning as a value-paradeigmatic concept, perhaps never realisable in a sublunary way. But it is the analysis in this particular essay where he is at his formal best. He distinguishes between protreptic and exhibitive utterances, and also modes of correlation (iconic, conventional). He symbolises the utterer and the addressee, and generalises over the type of psychological state, attitude, or stance, meaning seems to range (notably indicative vs. imperative). He formalises the reflexive intention, and more importantly, the overtness of communication in terms of a self-referential recursive intention that disallows any sneaky intention to be brought into the picture of meaning-constitutive intentions. Grice thought he had dealt with Logic and conversation enough! So he feels of revising his Meaning. After all, Strawson had had the cheek to publish Meaning by Grice and then go on to criticize it in Intention and convention in speech acts. So this is Grices revenge, and he wins! He ends with the most elaborate theory of mean that an Oxonian could ever hope for. And to provoke the informalists such as Strawson (and his disciples at Oxford – led by Strawson) he pours existential quantifiers like the plague! He manages to quote from Urmson, whom he loved! No word on Peirce, though, who had originated all this! His implicaturum: Im not going to be reprimanted in informal discussion about my misreading Peirce at Harvard! The concluding note is about artificial substitutes for iconic representation, and meaning as a human institution. Very grand. This is Grices metabolical projection of utterers meaning to apply to anything OTHER than utterers meaning, notably a token of the utterers expression and a TYPE of the utterers expression, wholly or in part. Its not like he WANTS to do it, he NEEDS it to give an account of implicaturum. The phrase utterer is meant to provoke. Grice thinks that speaker is too narrow. Surely you can mean by just uttering stuff! This is the sixth James lecture, as published in “Foundations of Language” (henceforth, “FL”), or “The foundations of language,” as he preferred. As it happens, it became a popular lecture, seeing that Searle selected this from the whole set for his Oxford reading in philosophy on the philosophy of language. It is also the essay cited by Chomsky in his influential Locke lectures. Chomsky takes Grice to be a behaviourist, even along Skinners lines, which provoked a reply by Suppes, repr. in PGRICE. In The New World, the H. P. is often given in a more simplified form. Grice wants to keep on playing. In Meaning, he had said x means that p is surely reducible to utterer U means that p. In this lecture, he lectures us as to how to proceed. In so doing he invents this or that procedure: some basic, some resultant. When Chomsky reads the reprint in Searles Philosophy of Language, he cries: Behaviourist! Skinnerian! It was Suppes who comes to Grices defence. Surely the way Grice uses expressions like resultant procedure are never meant in the strict behaviourist way. Suppes concludes that it is much fairer to characterise Grice as an intentionalist. Published in FL, ed. by Staal, Repr.in Searle, The Philosophy of Language, Oxford, the sixth James Lecture, FL, resultant procedure, basic procedure. Staal asked Grice to publish the sixth James lecture for a newish periodical publication of whose editorial board he was a member. The fun thing is Grice complied! This is Grices shaggy-dog story. He does not seem too concerned about resultant procedures. As he will ll later say, surely I can create Deutero-Esperanto and become its master! For Grice, the primacy is the idiosyncratic, particularized utterer in this or that occasion. He knows a philosopher craves for generality, so he provokes the generality-searcher with divisions and sub-divisions of mean. But his heart does not seem to be there, and he is just being overformalistic and technical for the sake of it. I am glad that Putnam, of all people, told me in an aside, you are being too formal, Grice. I stopped with symbolism since! Communication. This is Grice’s clearest anti-animist attack by Grice. He had joins Hume in mocking causing and willing: The decapitation of Charles I as willing Charles Is death. Language semantics alla Tarski. Grice know sees his former self. If he was obsessed, after Ayer, with mean, he now wants to see if his explanation of it (then based on his pre-theoretic intuition) is theoretically advisable in terms other than dealing with those pre-theoretical facts, i.e. how he deals with a lexeme like mean. This is a bit like Grice: implicaturum, revisited. An axiological approach to meaning. Strictly a reprint of Grice, which should be the preferred citation. The date is given by Grice himself, and he knew! Grice also composed some notes on Remnants on meaning, by Schiffer. This is a bit like Grices meaning re-revisited. Schiffer had been Strawsons tutee at Oxford as a Rhode Scholar in the completion of his D. Phil. on Meaning, Clarendon. Eventually, Schiffer grew sceptic, and let Grice know about it! Grice did not find Schiffers arguments totally destructive, but saw the positive side to them. Schiffers arguments should remind any philosopher that the issues he is dealing are profound and bound to involve much elucidation before they are solved. This is a bit like Grice: implicaturum, revisited. Meaning revisited (an ovious nod to Evelyn Waughs Yorkshire-set novel) is the title Grice chose for a contribution to a symposium at Brighton organised by Smith. Meaning revisited (although Grice has earlier drafts entitled Meaning and philosophical psychology) comprises three sections. In the first section, Grice is concerned with the application of his modified Occam’s razor now to the very lexeme, mean. Cf. How many senses does sense have? Cohen: The Senses of Senses. In the second part, Grice explores an evolutionary model of creature construction reaching a stage of non-iconic representation. Finally, in the third section, motivated to solve what he calls a major problem ‒ versus the minor problem concerning the transition from the meaning by the utterer to the meaning by the expression. Grice attempts to construct meaning as a value-paradeigmatic notion. A version was indeed published in the proceedings of the Brighton symposium, by Croom Helm, London. Grice has a couple of other drafts with variants on this title: philosophical psychology and meaning, psychology and meaning. He keeps, meaningfully, changing the order. It is not arbitrary that the fascinating exploration by Grice is in three parts. In the first, where he applies his Modified Occams razor to mean, he is revisiting Stevenson. Smoke means fire and I mean love, dont need different senses of mean. Stevenson is right when using scare quotes for smoke ‘meaning’ fire utterance. Grice is very much aware that that, the rather obtuse terminology of senses, was exactly the terminology he had adopted in both Meaning and the relevant James lectures (V and VI) at Harvard! Now, its time to revisit and to echo Graves, say, goodbye to all that! In the second part he applies Pology. While he knows his audience is not philosophical ‒ it is not Oxford ‒ he thinks they still may get some entertainment! We have a P feeling pain, simulating it, and finally uttering, I am in pain. In the concluding section, Grice becomes Plato. He sees meaning as an optimum, i.e. a value-paradeigmatic notion introducing value in its guise of optimality. Much like Plato thought circle works in his idiolect. Grice played with various titles, in the Grice Collection. Theres philosophical psychology and meaning. The reason is obvious. The lecture is strictly divided in sections, and it is only natural that Grice kept drafts of this or that section in his collection. In WOW Grice notes that he re-visited his Meaning re-visited at a later stage, too! And he meant it! Surely, there is no way to understand the stages of Grice’s development of his ideas about meaning without Peirce! It is obvious here that Grice thought that mean two figurative or metabolical extensions of use. Smoke means fire and Smoke means smoke. The latter is a transferred use in that impenetrability means lets change the topic if Humpty-Dumpty m-intends that it and Alice are to change the topic. Why did Grice feel the need to add a retrospective epilogue? He loved to say that what the “way of words” contains is neither his first, nor his last word. So trust him to have some intermediate words to drop. He is at his most casual in the very last section of the epilogue. The first section is more of a very systematic justification for any mistake the reader may identify in the offer. The words in the epilogue are thus very guarded and qualificatory. Just one example about our focus: conversational implicate and conversation as rational co-operation. He goes back to Essay 2, but as he notes, this was hardly the first word on the principle of conversational helpfulness, nor indeed the first occasion where he actually used implicaturum. As regards co-operation, the retrospective epilogue allows him to expand on a causal phrasing in Essay 2, “purposive, indeed rational.” Seeing in retrospect how the idea of rationality was the one that appealed philosophers most – since it provides a rationale and justification for what is otherwise an arbitrary semantic proliferation. Grice then distinguishes between the thesis that conversation is purposive, and the thesis that conversation is rational. And, whats more, and in excellent Griceian phrasing, there are two theses here, too. One thing is to see conversation as rational, and another, to use his very phrasing, as rational co-operation! Therefore, when one discusses the secondary literature, one should be attentive to whether the author is referring to Grices qualifications in the Retrospective epilogue. Grice is careful to date some items. However, since he kept rewriting, one has to be careful. These seven folder contain the material for the compilation. Grice takes the opportunity of the compilation by Harvard of his WOW, representative of the mid-60s, i. e. past the heyday of ordinary-language philosophy, to review the idea of philosophical progress in terms of eight different strands which display, however, a consistent and distinctive unity. Grice keeps playing with valediction, valedictory, prospective and retrospective, and the different drafts are all kept in The Grice Papers. The Retrospective epilogue, is divided into two sections. In the first section, he provides input for his eight strands, which cover not just meaning, and the assertion-implication distinction to which he alludes to in the preface, but for more substantial philosophical issues like the philosophy of perception, and the defense of common sense realism versus the sceptial idealist. The concluding section tackles more directly a second theme he had idenfitied in the preface, which is a methodological one, and his long-standing defence of ordinary-language philosophy. The section involves a fine distinction between the Athenian dialectic and the Oxonian dialectic, and tells the tale about his fairy godmother, G*. As he notes, Grice had dropped a few words in the preface explaining the ordering of essays in the compilation. He mentions that he hesitated to follow a suggestion by Bennett that the ordering of the essays be thematic and chronological. Rather, Grice chooses to publish the whole set of seven James lectures, what he calls the centerpiece, as part I. II, the explorations in semantics and metaphysics, is organised more or less thematically, though. In the Retrospective epilogue, Grice takes up this observation in the preface that two ideas or themes underlie his Studies: that of meaning, and assertion vs. implication, and philosophical methodology. The Retrospective epilogue is thus an exploration on eight strands he identifies in his own philosophy. Grices choice of strand is careful. For Grice, philosophy, like virtue, is entire. All the strands belong to the same knit, and therefore display some latitudinal, and, he hopes, longitudinal unity, the latter made evidence by his drawing on the Athenian dialectic as a foreshadow of the Oxonian dialectic to come, in the heyday of the Oxford school of analysis, when an interest in the serious study of ordinary language had never been since and will never be seen again. By these two types of unity, Grice means the obvious fact that all branches of philosophy (philosophy of language, or semantics, philosophy of perception, philosophical psychology, metaphysics, axiology, etc.) interact and overlap, and that a historical regard for ones philosophical predecessors is a must, especially at Oxford. Why is Grice obsessed with asserting? He is more interested, technically, in the phrastic, or dictor. Grice sees a unity, indeed, equi-vocality, in the buletic-doxastic continuum. Asserting is usually associated with the doxastic. Since Grice is always ready to generalise his points to cover the buletic (recall his Meaning, “theres by now no reason to stick to informative cases,”), it is best to re-define his asserting in terms of the phrastic. This is enough of a strong point. As Hare would agree, for emotivists like Barnes, say, an utterance of buletic force may not have any content whatsoever. For Grice, there is always a content, the proposition which becomes true when the action is done and the desire is fulfilled or satisfied. Grice quotes from Bennett. Importantly, Grice focuses on the assertion/non-assertion distinction. He overlooks the fact that for this or that of his beloved imperative utterance, asserting is out of the question, but explicitly conveying that p is not.  He needs a dummy to stand for a psychological or souly state, stance, or attitude of either boule or doxa, to cover the field of the utterer mode-neutrally conveying explicitly that his addressee A is to entertain that p. The explicatum or explicitum sometimes does the trick, but sometimes it does not. It is interesting to review the Names index to the volume, as well as the Subjects index. This is a huge collection, comprising 14 folders. By contract, Grice was engaged with Harvard, since it is the President of the College that holds the copyrights for the James lectures. The title Grice eventually chooses for his compilation of essays, which goes far beyond the James, although keeping them as the centerpiece, is a tribute to Locke, who, although obsessed with his idealist and empiricist new way of ideas, leaves room for both the laymans and scientists realist way of things, and, more to the point, for this or that philosophical semiotician to offer this or that study in the way of words. Early in the linguistic turn minor revolution, the expression the new way of words, had been used derogatorily. WOW is organised in two parts: Logic and conversation and the somewhat pretentiously titled Explorations in semantics and metaphysics, which offers commentary around the centerpiece. It also includes a Preface and a very rich and inspired Retrospective epilogue. From part I, the James lectures, only three had not been previously published. The first unpublished lecture is Prolegomena, which really sets the scene, and makes one wonder what the few philosophers who quote from The logic of grammar could have made from the second James lecture taken in isolation. Grice explores Aristotle’s “to alethes”: “For the true and the false exist with respect to synthesis and division (peri gar synthesin kai diaireisin esti to pseudos kai to alethes).” Aristotle insists upon the com-positional form of truth in several texts: cf. De anima, 430b3 ff.: “in truth and falsity, there is a certain composition (en hois de kai to pseudos kai to alethes, synthesis tis)”; cf. also Met. 1027b19 ff.: the true and the false are with respect to (peri) composition and decomposition (synthesis kai diaresis).” It also shows that Grices style is meant for public delivery, rather than reading. The second unpublished lecture is Indicative conditionals. This had been used by a few philosophers, such as Gazdar, noting that there were many mistakes in the typescript, for which Grice is not to be blamed. The third is on some models for implicaturum. Since this Grice acknowledges is revised, a comparison with the original handwritten version of the final James lecture retrieves a few differences From Part II, a few essays had not been published before, but Grice, nodding to the longitudinal unity of philosophy, is very careful and proud to date them. Commentary on the individual essays is made under the appropriate dates. Philosophical correspondence is quite a genre. Hare would express in a letter to the Librarian for the Oxford Union, “Wiggins does not want to be understood,” or in a letter to Bennett that Williams is the worse offender of Kantianism! It was different with Grice. He did not type. And he wrote only very occasionally! These are four folders with general correspondence, mainly of the academic kind. At Oxford, Grice would hardly keep a correspondence, but it was different with the New World, where academia turns towards the bureaucracy. Grice is not precisely a good, or reliable, as The BA puts it, correspondent. In the Oxford manner, Grice prefers a face-to-face interaction, any day. He treasures his Saturday mornings under Austins guidance, and he himself leads the Play Group after Austins demise, which, as Owen reminisced, attained a kind of cult status. Oxford is different. As a tutorial fellow in philosophy, Grice was meant to tutor his students; as a University Lecturer he was supposed to lecture sometimes other fellowss tutees! Nothing about this reads: publish or perish! This is just one f. containing Grices own favourite Griceian references. To the historian of analytic philosophy, it is of particular interest. It shows which philosophers Grice respected the most, and which ones the least. As one might expect, even on the cold shores of Oxford, as one of Grices tutees put it, Grice is cited by various Oxford philosophers. Perhaps the first to cite Grice in print is his tutee Strawson, in “Logical Theory.” Early on, Hart quotes Grice on meaning in his review in The Philosophical Quarterly of Holloways Language and Intelligence before Meaning had been published. Obviously, once Grice and Strawson, In defense of a dogma and Grice, Meaning are published by The Philosophical Review, Grice is discussed profusely. References to the implicaturum start to appear in the literature at Oxford in the mid-1960s, within the playgroup, as in Hare and Pears. It is particularly intriguing to explore those philosophers Grice picks up for dialogue, too, and perhaps arrange them alphabetically, from Austin to Warnock, say. And Griceian philosophical references, Oxonian or other, as they should, keep counting! The way to search the Grice Papers here is using alternate keywords, notably “meaning.” “Meaning” s. II, “Utterer’s meaning and intentions,” s. II, “Utterer’s meaning, sentence-meaning, and word meaning,” s. II, “Meaning revisited,” s. II. – but also “Meaning and psychology,” s. V, c.7-ff.  24-25. While Grice uses “signification,” and lectured on Peirce’s “signs,” “Peirce’s general theory of signs,” (s. V, c. 8-f. 29), he would avoid such pretentiously sounding expressions. Searching under ‘semantic’ and ‘semantics’ (“Grammar and semantics,” c. 7-f. 5; “Language semantics,” c. 7-f.20, “Basic Pirotese, sentence semantics and syntax,” c. 8-f. 30, “Semantics of children’s language,” c. 9-f. 10, “Sentence semantics” (c. 9-f. 11); “Sentence semantics and propositional complexes,” c. 9-f.12, “Syntax and semantics,” c. 9-ff. 17-18) may help, too. Folder on Schiffer (“Schiffer,” c. 9-f. 9), too.

compactum: Grice: “One should distinguish between Grice’s compact and the compact.” G. R. Grice, the Welsh philosopher, speaks of a contract as a compact. Grice on the compactness theorem, a theorem for first-order logic: if every finite subset of a given infinite theory T is consistent, then the whole theory is consistent. The result is an immediate consequence of the completeness theorem, for if the theory were not consistent, a contradiction, say ‘P and not-P’, would be provable from it. But the proof, being a finitary object, would use only finitely many axioms from T, so this finite subset of T would be inconsistent. This proof of the compactness theorem is very general, showing that any language that has a sound and complete system of inference, where each rule allows only finitely many premises, satisfies the theorem. This is important because the theorem immediately implies that many familiar mathematical notions are not expressible in the language in question, notions like those of a finite set or a well-ordering relation. The compactness theorem is important for other reasons as well. It is the most frequently applied result in the study of first-order model theory and has inspired interesting developments within set theory and its foundations by generating a search for infinitary languages that obey some analog of the theorem. 

completum: incompletum: Grice on completeness, a property that something  typically, a set of axioms, a logic, a theory, a set of well-formed formulas, a language, or a set of connectives  has when it is strong enough in some desirable respect. 1 A set of axioms is complete for the logic L if every theorem of L is provable using those axioms. 2 A logic L has weak semantical completeness if every valid sentence of the language of L is a theorem of L. L has strong semantical completeness or is deductively complete if for every set G of sentences, every logical consequence of G is deducible from G using L. A propositional logic L is Halldén-complete if whenever A 7 B is a theorem of L, where A and B share no variables, either A or B is a theorem of L. And L is Post-complete if L is consistent but no stronger logic for the same language is consistent. Reference to the “completeness” of a logic, without further qualification, is almost invariably to either weak or strong semantical completeness. One curious exception: second-order logic is often said to be “incomplete,” where what is meant is that it is not axiomatizable. 3 A theory T is negation-complete often simply complete if for every sentence A of the lancommon notions completeness 162   162 guage of T, either A or its negation is provable in T. And T is omega-complete if whenever it is provable in T that a property f / holds of each natural number 0, 1, . . . , it is also provable that every number has f. Generalizing on this, any set G of well-formed formulas might be called omega complete if vA[v] is deducible from G whenever A[t] is deducible from G for all terms t, where A[t] is the result of replacing all free occurrences of v in A[v] by t. 4 A language L is expressively complete if each of a given class of items is expressible in L. Usually, the class in question is the class of twovalued truth-functions. The propositional language whose sole connectives are - and 7 is thus said to be expressively or functionally complete, while that built up using 7 alone is not, since classical negation is not expressible therein. Here one might also say that the set {-,7} is expressively or functionally complete, while {7} is not.  completum – “The idea of the completum is transformational; i. e. that there are components in a meaningful string – The unstructured utterance is complete – To speak of an incomplete segment is quite a step in compositionality.” Grice: “All Roman words starting with con- are a trick, since they mean togetherness. In this case, plere is to fill.  plĕo , ēre, v. n., I.to fill, to fulfil, the root of plenus, q. v., compleo, expleo, suppleo: “plentur antiqui etiam sine praepositionibus dicebant,” Fest. p. 230 Müll. And then there’s completion. Grice speaks of ‘complete’ and ‘incomplete. Consider “Fido is shaggy.” That’s complete. “Fido” is incomplete – like pig. “is shaggy” is incomplete. This is Grice’s Platonism, hardly the nominalism that Bennett abuses Grice with! For the rational pirot (not the parrot) has access to a theory of complete --. When lecturing on Peirce, Grice referred to Russell’s excellent idea of improving on Peirce. “Don’t ask for the meaning of ‘red,’ ask for the meaning of ‘x is red.” Cf. Plato, “Don’t try to see horseness, try to see ‘x is a horse. Don’t be stupid.” Now “x is red” is a bit incomplete. Surely it can be rendered by the complete, “Something, je-ne-sais-quoi, to use Hume’s vulgarism, is red.” So, to have an act of referring without an act of predicating is incomplete. But still useful for philosophical analysis.

complexum: Grive: “All Roman words starting with con- are a trick, since they mean an agreement, in this case, the plexum. -- versus the ‘simplex.’ Grice starts with the simplex. All he needs is a handwave to ascribe ‘the emissor communicates that he knows the route.’ The proposition which is being transmitted HAS to be complex: Subject, “The emissor”, copula, “is,” ‘predicate: “a knower of the route.”Grice allows for the syntactically unstructured handwave to be ‘ambiguous’ so that the intention on the emissor’s part involves his belief that the emissee will take this rather than that proposition as being transmitted: Second complex: “Subject: Emissor, copula: is, predicate: about to leave the emissee.”Vide the altogether nice girl, and the one-at-a-time sailor. The topic is essential in seeing Grice within the British empiricist tradition. Empiricists always loved a simplex, like ‘red.’ In his notes on ‘Meaning’ and “Peirce,’ Grice notes that for a ‘simplex’ like “red,” the best way to deal with it is via a Russellian function, ‘x is red.’ The opposite of ‘simplex’ is of course a ‘complexum.’ hile Grice does have an essay on the ‘complexum,’ he is mostly being jocular. His dissection of the proposition proceds by considering ‘the a,’ and its denotatum, or reference, and ‘is the b,’ which involves then the predication. This is Grice’s shaggy-dog story. Once we have ‘the dog is shaggy,’ we have a ‘complexum,’ and we can say that the utterer means, by uttering ‘Fido is shaggy,’ that the dog is hairy-coated. Simple, right? It’s the jocular in Grice. He is joking on philosophers who look at those representative of the linguistic turn, and ask, “So what do you have to say about reference and predication,’ and Grice comes up with an extra-ordinary analysis of what is to believe that the dog is hairy-coat, and communicating it. In fact, the ‘communicating’ is secondary. Once Grice has gone to metabolitical extension of ‘mean’ to apply to the expression, communication becomes secondary in that it has to be understood in what Grice calls the ‘atenuated’ usage involving this or that ‘readiness’ to have this or that procedure, basic or resultant, in one’s repertoire! Bealer is one of Grices most brilliant tutees in the New World. The Grice collection contains a full f. of correspondence with Bealer. Bealer refers to Grice in his influential Clarendon essay on content. Bealer is concerned with how pragmatic inference may intrude in the ascription of a psychological, or souly, state, attitude, or stance. Bealer loves to quote from Grice on definite descriptions in Russell and in the vernacular, the implicaturum being that Russell is impenetrable! Bealers mentor is Grices close collaborator Myro, so he knows what he is talking about. Grice explored the matter of subperception at Oxford only with G. J. Warnock.

conceptus: Grice: “The etymology of ‘conceptus’ is a fascinating one. For one, all Roman words staring with ‘cum-‘ mean a sort of agreement – In this case it’s cum-  plus capio, as in captus, capture. Grice obviously uses Frege’s notion of a ‘concept.’ One of Grice’s metaphysical routines is meant to produce a logical construction of a concept or generate a new concept. Aware of the act/product distinction, Grice distinguishes between the conceptum, or concept, and the conception, or conceptio. Grice allows that ‘not’ may be a ‘concept,’ so he is not tied to the ‘equine’ idea by Frege of the ‘horse.’ Since an agent can fail to conceive that his neighbour’s three-year old is an adult, Grice accepts that ‘conceives’ may take a ‘that’-clause. In ‘ordinary’ language, one does not seem to refer, say, to the concept that e = mc2, but that may be a failure or ‘ordinary’ language. In the canonical cat-on-the-mat, we have Grice conceiving that the cat is on the mat, and also having at least four concepts: the concept of ‘cat,’ the concept of ‘mat,’ the concept of ‘being on,’ and the concept of the cat being on the mat. Griceian Meinongianism -- conceivability, capability of being conceived or imagined. Thus, golden mountains are conceivable; round squares, inconceivable. As Descartes pointed out, the sort of imaginability required is not the ability to form mental images. Chiliagons, Cartesian minds, and God are all conceivable, though none of these can be pictured “in the mind’s eye.” Historical references include Anselm’s definition of God as “a being than which none greater can be conceived” and Descartes’s argument for dualism from the conceivability of disembodied existence. Several of Hume’s arguments rest upon the maxim that whatever is conceivable is possible. He argued, e.g., that an event can occur without a cause, since this is conceivable, and his critique of induction relies on the inference from the conceivability of a change in the course of nature to its possibility. In response, Reid maintained that to conceive is merely to understand the meaning of a proposition. Reid argued that impossibilities are conceivable, since we must be able to understand falsehoods. Many simply equate conceivability with possibility, so that to say something is conceivable or inconceivable just is to say that it is possible or impossible. Such usage is controversial, since conceivability is broadly an epistemological notion concerning what can be thought, whereas possibility is a metaphysical notion concerning how things can be. The same controversy can arise regarding the compossible, or co-possible, where two states of affairs are compossible provided it is possible that they both obtain, and two propositions are compossible provided their conjunction is possible. Alternatively, two things are compossible if and only if there is a possible world containing both. Leibniz held that two things are compossible provided they can be ascribed to the same possible world without contradiction. “There are many possible universes, each collection of compossibles making one of them.” Others have argued that non-contradiction is sufficient for neither possibility nor compossibility. The claim that something is inconceivable is usually meant to suggest more than merely an inability to conceive. It is to say that trying to conceive results in a phenomenally distinctive mental repugnance, e.g. when one attempts to conceive of an object that is red and green all over at once. On this usage the inconceivable might be equated with what one can “just see” to be impossible. There are two related usages of ‘conceivable’: 1 not inconceivable in the sense just described; and 2 such that one can “just see” that the thing in question is possible. Goldbach’s conjecture would seem a clear example of something conceivable in the first sense, but not the second. Grice was also interested in conceptualism as an answer to the problem of the universale. conceptualism, the view that there are no universals and that the supposed classificatory function of universals is actually served by particular concepts in the mind. A universal is a property that can be instantiated by more than one individual thing or particular at the same time; e.g., the shape of this , if identical with the shape of the next , will be one property instantiated by two distinct individual things at the same time. If viewed as located where the s are, then it would be immanent. If viewed as not having spatiotemporal location itself, but only bearing a connection, usually called instantiation or exemplification, to things that have such location, then the shape of this  would be transcendent and presumably would exist even if exemplified by nothing, as Plato seems to have held. The conceptualist rejects both views by holding that universals are merely concepts. Most generally, a concept may be understood as a principle of classification, something that can guide us in determining whether an entity belongs in a given class or does not. Of course, properties understood as universals satisfy, trivially, this definition and thus may be called concepts, as indeed they were by Frege. But the conceptualistic substantive views of concepts are that concepts are 1 mental representations, often called ideas, serving their classificatory function presumably by resembling the entities to be classified; or 2 brain states that serve the same function but presumably not by resemblance; or 3 general words adjectives, common nouns, verbs or uses of such words, an entity’s belonging to a certain class being determined by the applicability to the entity of the appropriate word; or 4 abilities to classify correctly, whether or not with the aid of an item belonging under 1, 2, or 3. The traditional conceptualist holds 1. Defenders of 3 would be more properly called nominalists. In whichever way concepts are understood, and regardless of whether conceptualism is true, they are obviously essential to our understanding and knowledge of anything, even at the most basic level of cognition, namely, recognition. The classic work on the topic is Thinking and Experience 4 by H. H. Price, who held 4. 

conditionalis: Grice: “The etymology of ‘conditionale’ is fascinating. I wish I knew it.” – It is strictly from conditio "a making," from conditus, past participle of condere "to put together,” i.e. cum- plus dare. dāre (do I.obsol., found only in the compounds, abdo, “condo,” – which gives ‘conditio,” confused with ‘con-dicio,” a putting together taken as a ‘speaking-together,” abscondo, indo, etc.), 1, v. a. Sanscr. root dhā-, da-dhāmi, set, put, place; Gr. θε-, τίθημι; Ger. thun, thue, that; indeed cognate with English “do,” “deed,” etc.. The root “dare” in “conditio” is distinct from 1. do, Sanscr. dā, in most of the Arian langg.; cf. Pott. Etym. Forsch. 2, 484; Corss. Ausspr. 2, 410, “but in Italy the two *seem* to have been confounded – or lumped -- at least in compounds,” Georg Curtius Gr. Etym. p. 254 sq.; cf. Max Müller, Science of Lang. Ser. 2, p. 220, N. Y. ed.; Fick, Vergl. Wört. p. 100. The conditional is of special interest to Grice because his ‘impilcature’ has a conditional form. In other words, ‘implicaturum’ is a variant on ‘implication,’ and the conditionalis has been called ‘implication’ – ‘even a material one, versus a formal one by Whitehead and Russell. So it is of special philosophical interest. Since Grice’s overarching interest is rationality, ‘conditionalis’ features in the passage from premise to conclusion, deemed tautological: the ‘associated conditional” of a valid piece of reasoning. “This is an interesting Latinism,” as Grice puts it. For those in the know, it’s supposed to translate ‘hypothetical,’ that Grice also uses. But literally, the transliteration of ‘hypothetica’ is ‘sub-positio,’ i.e. ‘suppositio,’ so infamous in the Dark Ages! So one has to be careful. For some reason, Boethius disliked ‘suppositio,’ and preferred to add to the Latinate philosophical vocabulary, with ‘conditionalis,’ the hypothetical, versus the categoric, become the ‘conditionale.’ And the standard was not the Diodoran, but the Philonian, also known, after Whitehead, as the ‘implicatio materialis.’ While this sounds scholastic, it isn’t. Cicero may have used ‘implicatio materialis.’ But Whitehead’s and Russell’s motivation is a different one. They start with the ‘material’, by which they mean a proposition WITH A TRUTH VALUE. For implication that does not have this restriction, they introduce ‘implicatio formalis,’ or ‘formal implication.’ In their adverbial ways, it goes p formally implies q.  trictly, propositio conditionalis: vel substitutive, versus propositio praedicativa in Apuleius.  Classical Latin condicio was confused in Late Latin with conditio "a making," from conditus, past participle of condere "to put together." The sense evolution in Latin apparently was from "stipulation" to "situation, mode of being." Grice lists ‘if’ as the third binary functor in his response to Strawson. The relations between “if” and “⊃” have already, but only in part, been discussed. 1 The sign “⊃” is called the Material Implication sign a name I shall consider later. 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 (1 Ch. 2, S. 7) of its falsity. The standard or primary -- the importance of this qualifying phrase can scarcely be overemphasized. There are uses of “if … then … ”  which do not answer to the description given here,, or to any other descriptions given in this chapter -- use of an  “if … then …” sentence, on the other hand, we saw 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 first clause of the hypothetical is true or not, or believing it to be false, we nevertheless consider that a step in reasoning from that statement to a statement related in a similar way to the second clause would be a sound or reasonable step ; the second statement also being one of whose truth we are in doubt, or which we believe to be false. Even in such circumstances as these we may sometimes hesitate to apply the word ‘true’ to hypothetical statements (i.e., statements which could be made by the use of “if ... then …,” in its standard significance), preferring to call them reasonable or well-founded ; but if we apply ‘true’ to them at all, it will be in such circumstances as these. Now one of the sufficient conditions of the truth of a statement of material implication may very well be fulfilled without the conditions for the truth, or reasonableness, of the corresponding hypothetical statement being fulfilled ; i.e., a statement of the form ‘p⊃q’ does not entail the corresponding statement of the form “if p then q.” But if we are prepared to accept the hypothetical statement, we must in consistency be prepared to deny the conjunction of the statement corresponding to the first clause of the sentence used to make the hypothetical statement with the negation of the statement corresponding to its second clause ; i.e., a statement of the form “if p then q” does entail the corresponding statement of the form ‘p⊃q.’ The force of “corresponding” needs elucidation. Consider the three following very ordinary specimens of hypothetical sentences. If the Germans had invaded England in 1940, they would have won the war. If Jones were in charge, half the staff would have been dismissed. If it rains, the match will be cancelled. The sentences which could be used to make statements corresponding in the required sense to the subordinate clauses can be ascertained by considering what it is that the speaker of each hypothetical sentence must (in general) be assumed either to be in doubt about or to believe to be not the case. Thus, for (1) to (8), the corresponding pairs of sentences are as follows. The Germans invaded England in 1940; they won the war. Jones is in charge; half the staff has been dismissed. It will rain; the match will be cancelled. Sentences which could be used to make the statements of material implication corresponding to the hypothetical statements made by these sentences can now be framed from these pairs of sentences as follows. The Germans invaded England in 1940 ⊃ they won the war. Jones is in charge ⊃ half the staff has been, dismissed. It will rain ⊃ the match will be cancelled. The very fact that these verbal modifications are necessary, 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 hypothetical statements and truth-functional statements. Some detailed differences are also evident from these examples. The falsity of a statement made by the use of ‘The Germans invaded England in 1940’ or ‘Jones is in charge’ is a sufficient condition of the truth of the corresponding statements made by the use of (Ml) and (M2) ; but not, of course, of the corresponding statements made by the use of (1) and (2). Otherwise, there would normally be no point in using sentences like (1) and (2) at all; for these sentences 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 mood of the verb, an implication of the utterer's belief in the falsity of the statements corresponding to the clauses of the hypothetical. It is not raining is sufficient to verify a statement made by the use of (MS), but not a statementmade by the use of (3). Its not raining Is also sufficient to verify a statement made by the use of “It will rain ⊃ the match will not be cancelled.” The formulae ‘p revise ⊃q’ and ‘q revise⊃ q' are consistent with one another, and the joint assertion of corresponding statements of these forms is equivalent to the assertion of the corresponding statement of the form * *-~p. But “If it rains, the match will be cancelled” is inconsistent with “If it rains, the match will not be cancelled,” and their joint assertion in the same context is self-contradictory. Suppose we call the statement corresponding to the first clause of a sentence used to make a hypothetical statement the antecedent of the hypothetical statement; and the statement corresponding to the second clause, its consequent. It is sometimes fancied that whereas the futility of identifying conditional statements with material implications is obvious in those cases where the implication of the falsity of the antecedent is normally carried by the mood or tense of the verb (e.g., (I) or (2)), 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 (e.g., (3). In cases of the first kind (‘unfulfilled’ or ‘subjunctive’ conditionals) our attention is directed only to the last two lines of the truth-tables for * p ⊃ q ', where the antecedent has the truth-value, falsity; and the suggestion that ‘~p’ entails ‘if p, then q’ is felt to be obviously wrong. But in cases of the second kind we may inspect also the first two lines, for the possibility of the antecedent's being fulfilled is left open; and the suggestion that ‘p . q’ entails ‘if p, then q’ is not felt to be obviously wrong. This is an illusion, though 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 was right; for the consequent might be fulfilled as a result of factors unconnected with, or in spite of, rather than because of, the fulfilment of the antecedent. We should be prepared to say that the man who made the hypothetical statement was right only if we were also prepared to say that the fulfilment of the antecedent was, at least in part, the explanation of the fulfilment of the consequent. The reality behind the illusion is complex : en. 3 it is, partly, the fact that, in many cases, the fulfilment of both antecedent and consequent may provide confirmation for the view that the existence of states of affairs like those described by the antecedent is a good reason for expecting states of affairs like those described by the consequent ; and it is, partly, the fact that a man whosays, for example, 4 If it rains, the match will be cancelled * makes a prediction (viz.. that the match will be cancelled) under a proviso (viz., that it rains), 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 a statement of the form “p⊃q” does not entail the corresponding statement of the form ' if p, then q ' (in its standard employment), we shall expect to find, and have found, a divergence between the rules for '⊃' and the rules for ' if J (in its standard employment). Because ‘if p, then q’ does entail ‘p⊃q,’ we shall also expect to find some degree of parallelism between the rules; for whatever is entailed by ‘p "3 q’ will be entailed by ‘if p, then q,’ though not everything which entails ‘p⊃q’ will entail ‘if p, then q.’ Indeed, we find further parallels than those which follow simply from the facts that ‘if p, then q’ entails ‘p⊃q’ and that entailment is transitive. To laws (19)-(23) inclusive we find no parallels for ‘if.’ But for (15) (p⊃j).JJ⊃? (16) (P ⊃q).~qZ)~p (17) p'⊃q s ~q1)~p (18) (?⊃j).(? ⊃r) ⊃ (p⊃r) we find that, with certain reservations, 1 the following parallel laws hold good : (1 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. But formal logic gives us no 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 are scarcely English. If we preserve as nearly as possible the tense-mood structure, in the simplest way consistent with grammatical requirements, we obtain the sentences : If the Germans had not won the war, they would not have invaded England in 1940.) If half the staff had not been dismissed, Jones would not be in charge. If the match is not cancelled, it will not rain. But these sentences, so far from being logically equivalent to the originals, have in each case a quite different sense. It is possible, at least in some such cases, to frame sentences of more or less the appropriate pattern for which one can imagine a use and which do stand in the required logical relationship to the original sentences (e.g., ‘If it is not the case that half the staff has been dismissed, then Jones can't be in charge;’ or ‘If the Germans did not win the war, it's only because they did not invade England in 1940;’ or even (should historical evidence become improbably scanty), ‘If the Germans did not win the war, it can't be true that they invaded England in 1940’). These changes reflect differences in the circumstances in which one might use these, as opposed to the original, sentences. Thus the sentence beginning ‘If Jones were in charge …’ would normally, though not necessarily, be used by a man who antecedently knows that Jones is not in charge : the sentence beginning ‘If it's not the case that half the staff has been dismissed …’ by a man who is working towards the conclusion that Jones is not in charge. To say that the sentences are nevertheless logically equivalent is to point to the fact that the grounds for accepting either, would, in different circumstances, have been grounds for accepting the soundness of the move from ‘Jones is in charge’ to ‘Half the staff has been dismissed.’)  (i) (if p, then q; and p)^q (ii) (if p, then qt and not-g) Dnot-j? (iii) (if p, then f) ⊃ (if not-0, then not-j?) (iv) (if p, then f ; and iff, then r) ⊃(if j>, then r) (One must remember that calling the formulae (i)-(iv) is the same as saying that, e.g., in the case of (iii), c if p, then q ' entails 4 if not-g, then not-j> '.) And similarly we find that, for some steps which would be invalid for 4 if ', there are corresponding steps that would be invalid for “⊃,”  e. g.  (p^q).q :. p are invalid inference-patterns, and so are if p, then q ; and q /. p if p, then ; and not-j? /. not-f .The formal analogy here may be described by saying that neither * p 13 q ' nor * if j?, then q * is a simply convertible formula. We have found many laws (e.g., (19)-(23)) which hold for “⊃” and not for “if.” As an example of a law which holds for “if,”  but not for “⊃,” we may give the analytic formula “ ~[(if p, then q) * (if p, then not-g)]’. The corresponding formula 4 ~[(P 3 ?) * (j? 3 ~?}]’ is not analytic, but (el (28)) is equivalent to the contingent formula ‘~~p.’ The rules to the effect that formulae such as (19)-{23) are analytic are sometimes referred to as ‘paradoxes of implication.’ This is a misnomer. If ‘⊃’ is taken as identical either with ‘entails’ or, more widely, with ‘if  ... then …’ in its standard use, the rules are not paradoxical, but simply incorrect. If ‘⊃’ is given the meaning it has in the system of truth functions, the rules are not paradoxical, but simple and platitudinous consequences of the meaning given to the symbol. Throughout this section, I have spoken of 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 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. (1 Not all uses of * if ', however, exhibit all these characteristics. In particular, there is a use which has an equal claim to rank as standard 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. I have in mind what are sometimes called 'variable' or 'general’ hypothetical : e.g., ‘lf ice is left in the sun, it melts,’ ‘If the side of a triangle is produced, the exterior angle is equal to the sum of the two interior and opposite angles ' ; ' If a child is very strictly disciplined in the nursery, it will develop aggressive tendencies in adult life,’ and so on. 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 1 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 hand, for every such statement there is an indefinite number of non-general 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 will melt.’ To the subject of variable hypothetical I may return later. 1 Two relatively uncommon uses of ‘if’ may be illustrated respectively by the sentences ‘If he felt embarrassed, he showed no signs of it’ and ‘If he has passed his exam, I’m a Dutchman (I'll eat my hat, &c.)’ The sufficient and necessary condition of the truth of a statement made by the first is that the man referred to showed no sign of embarrassment. Consequently, such a statement cannot be treated either as a standard hypothetical or as a material implication. Examples of the second kind are sometimes erroneously treated as evidence that ‘if’ does, after all, behave somewhat as ‘⊃’ behaves. The evidence for this is, presumably, the facts (i) that there is no connexion between antecedent and consequent; (ii) that the consequent is obviously not (or not to be) fulfilled ; (iii) that the intention of the speaker is plainly to give emphatic expression to the conviction that the antecedent is not fulfilled either ; and (iv) the fact that “(p ⊃ q) . ~q” entails “~p.” But this is a strange piece of logic. For, on any possible interpretation, “if p then q” has, in respect of (iv), the same logical powers as ‘p⊃q;’ and it is just these logical powers that we are jokingly (or fantastically) exploiting. It is the absence of connexion referred to in (i) that makes it a quirk, a verbal flourish, an odd use of ‘if.’ If hypothetical statements were material implications, the statements would be not a quirkish oddity, but a linguistic sobriety and a simple truth. Finally, we may note that ‘if’  can be employed not simply in making statements, but in, e.g., making provisional announcements of intention (e.g., ‘If it rains, I shall stay at home’) which, like unconditional announcements of intention, we do not call true or false but describe in some other way. 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. There are further uses of ‘if’ which I shall not discuss. 1 v. ch. 7, I. The safest way to read the material implication sign is, perhaps, ‘not both … and not …’ The material equivalence sign ‘≡’ has the meaning given by the following definition : p q =df=⊃/'(p⊃ff).(sOj)' and the phrase with which it is sometimes identified, viz., ‘if and only if,’ has the meaning given by the following definition: ‘p if and only if q’ =df ‘if p then g, and if q then p.’ Consequently, the objections which hold against the identification of ‘p⊃q” with ‘if p then q’ hold with double force against the identification of “p≡q’ with ‘p if and only if q.’ ‘If’ is of particular interest to Grice. The interest in the ‘if’ is double in Grice. In doxastic contexts, he needs it for his analysis of ‘intending’ against an ‘if’-based dispositional (i.e. subjective-conditional) analysis. He is of course, later interested in how Strawson misinterpreted the ‘indicative’ conditional! It is later when he starts to focus on the ‘buletic’ mode marker, that he wants to reach to Paton’s categorical (i.e. non-hypothetical) imperative. And in so doing, he has to face the criticism of those Oxonian philosophers who were sceptical about the very idea of a conditional buletic (‘conditional command – what kind of a command is that?’. Grice would refere to the protasis, or antecedent, as a relativiser – where we go again to the ‘absolutum’-‘relativum’ distinction. The conditional is also paramount in Grice’s criticism of Ryle, where the keyword would rather be ‘disposition.’ Then ther eis the conditional and disposition. Grice is a philosophical psychologist. Does that make sense? So are Austin (Other Minds), Hampshire (Dispositions), Pears (Problems in philosophical psychology) and Urmson (Parentheticals). They are ALL against Ryle’s silly analysis in terms of single-track disposition" vs. "many-track disposition," and "semi-disposition." If I hum and walk, I can either hum or walk. But if I heed mindfully, while an IN-direct sensing may guide me to YOUR soul, a DIRECT sensing guides me to MY soul. When Ogden consider attacks to meaning, theres what he calls the psychological, which he ascribes to Locke Grices attitude towards Ryle is difficult to assess. His most favourable assessment comes from Retrospective epilogue, but then he is referring to Ryle’s fairy godmother. Initially, he mentions Ryle as a philosopher engaged in, and possibly dedicated to the practice of the prevailing Oxonian methodology, i.e. ordinary-language philosophy. Initially, then, Grice enlists Ryle in the regiment of ordinary-language philosophers. After introducing Athenian dialectic and Oxonian dialectic, Grice traces some parallelisms, which should not surprise. It is tempting to suppose that Oxonian dialectic reproduces some ideas of Athenian dialectic.  It would actually be surprising if there were no parallels. Ryle was, after all, a skilled and enthusiastic student of Grecian philosophy. Interestingly, Grice then has Ryles fairy godmother as proposing the idea that, far from being a basis for rejecting the analytic-synthetic distinction, opposition that there are initially two distinct bundles of statements, bearing the labels analytic and synthetic, lying around in the world of thought waiting to be noticed, provides us with the key to making the analytic-synthetic distinction acceptable. The essay has a verificationist ring to it. Recall Ayer and the verificationists trying to hold water with concepts like fragile and the problem of counterfactual conditionals vis-a-vis observational and theoretical concepts. Grices essay has two parts: one on disposition as such, and the second, the application to a type of psychological disposition, which would be phenomenalist in a way, or verificationist, in that it derives from introspection of, shall we say, empirical phenomena. Grice is going to analyse, I want a sandwich. One person wrote in his manuscript, there is something with the way Grice goes to work. Still. Grice says that I want a sandwich (or I will that I eat a sandwich) is problematic, for analysis, in that it seems to refer to experience that is essentially private and unverifiable. An analysis of intending that p in terms of being disposed that p is satisfied solves this. Smith wants a sandwich, or he wills that he eats a sandwich, much as Toby needs nuts, if Smith opens the fridge and gets one. Smith is disposed to act such that p is satisfied. This Grice opposes to the ‘special-episode’ analysis of intending that p. An utterance like I want a sandwich iff by uttering the utterance, the utterer is describing this or that private experience, this or that private sensation. This or that sensation may take the form of a highly specific souly sate, like what Grice calls a sandwich-wanting-feeling. But then, if he is not happy with the privacy special-episode analysis, Grice is also dismissive of Ryles behaviourism in The concept of mind, fresh from the press, which would describe the utterance in terms purely of this or that observable response, or behavioural output, provided this or that sensory input. Grice became friendlier with functionalism after Lewis taught him how.  The problem or crunch is with the first person. Surely, Grice claims, one does not need to wait to observe oneself heading for the fridge before one is in a position to know that he is hungry.  Grice poses a problem for the protocol-reporter. You see or observe someone else, Smith, that Smith wants a sandwich, or wills that he eats a sandwich. You ask for evidence. But when it is the agent himself who wants the sandwich, or wills that he eats a sandwich, Grice melodramatically puts it, I am not in the audience, not even in the front row of the stalls; I am on the stage. Genial, as you will agree. Grice then goes on to offer an analysis of intend, his basic and target attitude, which he has just used to analyse and rephrase Peirces mean and which does relies on this or that piece of dispositional evidence, without divorcing itself completely from the privileged status or access of first-person introspective knowledge. In “Uncertainty,” Grice weakens his reductive analysis of intending that, from neo-Stoutian, based on certainty, or assurance, to neo-Prichardian, based on predicting. All very Oxonian: Stout was the sometime Wilde reader in mental philosophy (a post usually held by a psychologist, rather than a philosopher ‒ Stouts favourite philosopher is psychologist James! ‒ and Prichard was Cliftonian and the proper White chair of moral philosophy. And while in “Uncertainty” he allows that willing that may receive a physicalist treatment, qua state, hell later turn a functionalist, discussed under ‘soul, below, in his “Method in philosophical psychology (from the banal to the bizarre” (henceforth, “Method”), in the Proceedings and Addresses of the American Philosophical Association, repr. in “Conception.” Grice can easily relate to Hamsphires "Thought and Action," a most influential essay in the Oxonian scene. Rather than Ryle! And Grice actually addresses further topics on intention drawing on Hampshire, Hart, and his joint collaboration with Pears. Refs.: The main reference is Grice’s early essay on disposition and intention, The H. P. Grice. Refs.: The main published source is Essay 4 in WOW, but there are essays on ‘ifs and cans,’ so ‘if’ is a good keyword, on ‘entailment,’ and for the connection with ‘intending,’ ‘disposition and intention,’ BANC.

confirmatum – cf. infirmatum, firmatum -- disconfirmatum -- confirmation, an evidential relation between evidence and any statement especially a scientific hypothesis that this evidence supports. It is essential to distinguish two distinct, and fundamentally different, meanings of the term: 1 the incremental sense, in which a piece of evidence contributes at least some degree of support to the hypothesis in question  e.g., finding a fingerprint of the suspect at the scene of the crime lends some weight to the hypothesis that the suspect is guilty; and 2 the absolute sense, in which a body of evidence provides strong support for the hypothesis in question  e.g., a case presented by a prosecutor making it practically certain that the suspect is guilty. If one thinks of confirmation in terms of probability, then evidence that increases the probability of a hypothesis confirms it incrementally, whereas evidence that renders a hypothesis highly probable confirms it absolutely. In each of the two foregoing senses one can distinguish three types of confirmation: i qualitative, ii quantitative, and iii comparative. i Both examples in the preceding paragraph illustrate qualitative confirmation, for no numerical values of the degree of confirmation were mentioned. ii If a gambler, upon learning that an opponent holds a certain card, asserts that her chance of winning has increased from 2 /3 to ¾, the claim is an instance of quantitative incremental confirmation. If a physician states that, on the basis of an X-ray, the probability that the patient has tuberculosis is .95, that claim exemplifies quantitative absolute confirmation. In the incremental sense, any case of quantitative confirmation involves a difference between two probability values; in the absolute sense, any case of quantitative confirmation involves only one probability value. iii Comparative confirmation in the incremental sense would be illustrated if an investigator said that possession of the murder weapon weighs more heavily against the suspect than does the fingerprint found at the scene of the crime. Comparative confirmation in the absolute sense would occur if a prosecutor claimed to have strong cases against two suspects thought to be involved in a crime, but that the case against one is stronger than that against the other. Even given recognition of the foregoing six varieties of confirmation, there is still considerable controversy regarding its analysis. Some authors claim that quantitative confirmation does not exist; only qualitative and/or comparative confirmation are possible. Some authors maintain that confirmation has nothing to do with probability, whereas others  known as Bayesians  analyze confirmation explicitly in terms of Bayes’s theorem in the mathematical calculus of probability. Among those who offer probabilistic analyses there are differences as to which interpretation of probability is suitable in this context. Popper advocates a concept of corroboration that differs fundamentally from confirmation. Many real or apparent paradoxes of confirmation have been posed; the most famous is the paradox of the ravens. It is plausible to suppose that ‘All ravens are black’ can be incrementally confirmed by the observation of one of its instances, namely, a black crow. However, ‘All ravens are black’ is logically equivalent to ‘All non-black things are non-ravens.’ By parity of reasoning, an instance of this statement, namely, any nonblack non-raven e.g., a white shoe, should incrementally confirm it. Moreover, the equivalence condition  whatever confirms a hypothesis must equally confirm any statement logically equivalent to it  seems eminently reasonable. The result appears to facilitate indoor ornithology, for the observation of a white shoe would seem to confirm incrementally the hypothesis that all ravens are black. Many attempted resolutions of this paradox can be found in the literature.

conjunctum: There is the conjunctum, Grice notes, and the disjunctum, and the adjunctum, as Myro was (adjunct professor). One has to be careful because the scholastic vocabulary also misleadingly has ‘copulatum’ for this. The ‘copulatum’ should be restricted to other usages, which Grice elaborates on ‘izzing’ and hazing. traditional parlance, one ‘pars orationis.’  Aulus Gellius writes; “What the Greeks call “sympleplegmenon” we call conjunctum or copulatum, copulative sentence. For example. The Stoic copulative sentence — sumpleplegmenon axioma — is translated by “conjunctum” or “copulatum,” for example: „P. Scipio, son of Paulus, was a consul twice and was given the honour of triumph and also performed the function of censor and was the colleague of L. Mummius during his censorship”. Here, Aulus Gellius made a noteworthy remark, referring to the value of truth of the composing propositions ■ (a Stoic problem). In keeping with the Stoics, he wrote: “If one element of the copulative sentence is false, even if all the other elements are true, the copulative sentence is false” (“in omni aiitem conjuncto si unum est mendacium etiamsi, caetera vera sunt, totum esse mendacium dicitur”). In the identification of ‘and’ with ‘Λ’ there is already a considerable distortion of the facts. ‘And’ can perform many jobs which ‘Λ’ cannot perform. It can, for instance, be used to couple nouns (“Tom and William arrived”), or adjectives (“He was hungry and thirsty”), or adverbs (“He walked slowly and painfully”); while ' . ' can be used only to couple expressions which could appear as separate sentences. One might be tempted to say that sentences in which “and” coupled words or phrases, were short for sentences in which “and” couples clauses; e.g., that “He was hungry and thirsty” was short for “He was hungry and he was thirsty.” But this is simply false. We do not say, of anyone who uses sentences like “Tom and William arrived,” that he is speaking elliptically, or using abbreviations. On the contrary, it is one of the functions of “and,” to which there is no counterpart In the case of “.,” to form plural subjects or compound predicates. Of course it is true of many statements of the forms “x and y” are/* or ' x is /and g \ that they are logically equivalent to corresponding statements of the" form * x Is /and yisf'oT^x is /and x is g \ But, first, this is a fact about the use, in certain contexts, of  “and,” to which there corresponds no rule for the use of * . '. And, second, there are countless contexts for which such an equivalence does not hold; e.g. “Tom and Mary made friends” is not equivalent to “Tom made friends and Mary made friends.” They mean, usually, quite different things. But notice that one could say “Tom and Mary made friends; but not with one another.” The implication of mutuality in the first phrase is not so strong but that it can be rejected without self-contradiction; but it is strong enough to make the rejection a slight shock, a literary effect. Nor does such an equivalence hold if we replace “made friends” by “met yesterday,” “were conversing,” “got married,” or “were playing chess.” Even “Tom and William arrived” does not mean the same as “Tom arrived and William arrived;” for the first suggests “together” and the second an order of arrival. It might be conceded that “and” has functions which “ .” has not (e.g., may carry in certain contexts an implication of mutuality which ‘.’  does not), and yet claimed that the rules which hold for “and,” where it is used to couple clauses, are the same as the rules which hold for “.” Even this is not true. By law (11), " p , q ' is logically equivalent to * q . p ' ; but “They got married and had a child” or “He set to work and found a job” are by no means logically equivalent to “They had a child and got married” or “He found a job and set to work.” One might try to avoid these difficulties by regarding ‘.’ as having the function, not of ' and ', but of what it looks like, namely a full stop. We should then have to desist from talking of statements of the forms ' p .q\ * p . J . r * &CM and talk of sets-of-statements of these forms instead. But this would not avoid all, though it would avoid some, of the difficulties. Even in a passage of prose consisting of several indicative sentences, the order of the sentences may be in general vital to the sense, and in particular, relevant (in a way ruled out by law (II)) to the truth-conditions of a set-of-statements made by such a passage. The fact is that, in general, in ordinary speech and writing, clauses and sentences do not contribute to the truthconditions of things said by the use of sentences and paragraphs in which they occur, in any such simple way as that pictured by the truth-tables for the binary connectives (' D ' * . ', 4 v ', 35 ') of the system, but in far more subtle, various, and complex ways. But it is precisely the simplicity of the way in which, by the definition of a truth-function, clauses joined by these connectives contribute to the truth-conditions of sentences resulting from the junctions, which makes possible the stylized, mechanical neatness of the logical system. It will not do to reproach the logician for his divorce from linguistic realities, any more than it will do to reproach the abstract painter for not being a representational artist; but one may justly reproach him if he claims to be a representational artist. An abstract painting may be, recognizably, a painting of something. And the identification of “.” with ‘and,’ or with a full stop, is not a simple mistake. There is a great deal of point in comparing them. The interpretation of, and rules for, “.”define a minimal linguistic operation, which we might call ‘simple conjunction’ and roughly describe as the joining together of two (or more) statements in the process of asserting them both (or all). And this is a part of what we often do with ' and ', and with the full stop. But we do not string together at random any assertions we consider true; we bring them together, in spoken or written sentences or paragraphs, only when there is some further reason for the rapprochement, e.g., when they record successive episodes in a single narrative. And that for the sake of which we conjoin may confer upon the sentences embodying the conjunction logical features at variance with the rules for “.” Thus we have seen that a statement of the form “p and q” may carry an implication of temporal order incompatible with that carried by the corresponding statement of the form “q and p.” This is not to deny that statements corresponding to these, but of the forms ‘pΛq’ and ‘qΛp’would be, if made, logically equivalent; for such statements would carry no implications, and therefore no incompatible implications, of temporal order. Nor is it to deny the point, and merit, of the comparison; the statement of the form ‘pΛq’ means at least a part of what is meant by the corresponding statement of the form ‘p and q.’ We might say:  the form ‘p q’ is an abstraction from the different uses of the form ‘p and q.’  Simple conjunction is a minimal element in colloquial conjunction. We may speak of ‘. ‘ as the conjunctive sign; and read it, for simplicity's sake, as “and” or “both … and … “I have already remarked that the divergence between the meanings given to the truth-functional constants and the meanings of the ordinary conjunctions with which they are commonly identified is at a minimum in the cases of ' ~ ' and ‘.’ We have seen, as well, that the remaining constants of the system can be defined in terms of these two. Other interdefinitions are equally possible. But since ^’ and ‘.’  are more nearly identifiable with ‘not’ and ‘and’ than any other constant with any other English word, I prefer to emphasize the definability of the remaining constants in terms of ‘ .’ and ‘~.’ It is useful to remember that every rule or law of the system can be expressed in terms of negation and simple conjunction. The system might, indeed, be called the System of Negation and Conjunction. Grice lists ‘and’ as the first binary functor in his response to Strawson. Grice’s conversationalist hypothesis applies to this central ‘connective.’ Interestingly, in his essay on Aristotle, and discussing, “French poet,” Grice distinguishes between conjunction and adjunction. “French” is adjuncted to ‘poet,’ unlike ‘fat’ in ‘fat philosopher.’  And Grice:substructural logics, metainference, implicaturum. Grice explores some of the issues regarding pragmatic enrichment and substructural logics with a special focus on the first dyadic truth-functor, ‘and.’ In particular, attention is given to a sub-structural “rule” pertaining to the commutativeness of conjunction, applying a framework that sees Grice as clarifying the extra material that must be taken into account, and which will referred to as the ‘implicaturum.’ Grice is thus presented as defending a “classical-logical” rule that assigns commutativeness to conjunction while accounting for Strawson-type alleged counterexamples to the effect that some utterances of the schema “p and q” hardly allow for a ‘commutative’ “inference” (“Therefore, q and p”). How to proceed conservatively while allowing room for pluralism? Embracing the “classical-logical” syntactic introduction-cum-elimination and semantic interpretation of “and,” the approach by Cook Wilson in “Statement and inference” to the inferential métier of “and” is assessed. If Grice grants that there is some degree of artificiality in speaking of the meaning or sense of “and,” the polemic brings us to the realm of ‘pragmatic inference,’ now contrasted to a ‘logical inference.’ The endorsement by Grice of an ‘impoverished’ reading of conjunction appears conservative vis-à-vis not just Strawson’s ‘informalist’ picture but indeed the formalist frameworks of relevant, linear, and ordered logic. An external practical decision à la Carnap is in order, that allows for an enriched, stronger, reading, if not in terms of a conventional implicaturum, as Strawson suggests. A ‘classical-logic’ reading in terms of a conversational implicaturum agrees with Grice’s ‘Bootstrap,’ a methodological principle constraining the meta-language/object-language divide. Keywords: conjunction, pragmatic enrichment, H. Paul Grice, Bootstrap. “[I]n recent years, my disposition to resort to formalism has markedly diminished. This retreat may well have been accelerated when, of all people, Hilary Putnam remarked to me that I was too formal!”H.P. Grice, ‘Prejudices and predilections; which become, the life and opinions of Paul Grice,’ in Grandy & Warner, 1986:61 Keywords: metainference, substructural logics, classical logic, conjunction, H. Paul Grice, pragmatic inference; Rudolf Carnap, bootstrap, modernism, formalism, neotraditionalism, informalism, pragmatics, inference, implicaturum, extensional conjunction, intensional conjunction, multiplicative conjunction, additive conjunction. Grice’s approach consistent with Rudolf Carnap’s logical pluralism that allows room for the account put forward by H. Paul Grice in connection with a specific meta-inference (or second-order “… yields …”) as it may help us take an ‘external’ practical decision as to how to recapture a structural ‘rule’ of classical logic. The attempt involves a reconsideration, with a special focus on the sub-structural classical logic rules for conjunction of Grice’s ultimately metaphilosophical motivation in the opening paragraphs to “Logic and Conversation.” Grice explores stick  the first dyadic truth-functor Grice lists. In fact, it’s the first alleged divergence, between “p and q” and “p. . q” that Grice had quotes in “Prolegomena” to motivate his audience, and the example he brings up vis-à-vis an ‘alleged’ “linguistic offence” (a paradox?) that an utterer may incur by uttering “He got into bed and took his clothes off, but I don’t mean to suggest he did it in that order” (Grice 1981:186). Implicatura are cancellable. In the present scheme, which justifies substructural logics, this amounts to any ‘intensional’ reading of a connective (e. g. ‘and’) being susceptible of being turned or ‘trans-formed’ into the correlative extensional one in light of the cancelling clause, which brings new information to the addressee A. This is hardly problematic if we consider that sub-structural logics do not aim to capture the ‘semantics’ of a logical constant, and that the sub-structural logical ‘enrichment’ is relevant, rather, for the constant’s ‘inferential role.’Neither is it problematic that the fact that the ‘inferential role’ of a logical constant (such as ‘and’) may change (allowing this ‘trans-formation’ from classical-logical extensional to sub-structural logical intension, given new information which will be used by the addressee A to ‘work out’ the utterer U’s meaning. The obvious, but worthemphasizing, entailment in Grice’s assertion about the “mistake” shared by Formalism and Informalism is that FORMALISM (as per the standard presentations of ‘classical logic’) does commit a mistake! Re-capturing the FORMALISM of classical logic is hardly as direct in the Griceian programme as one would assume. Grice’s ultimate meta-philosophical motivation, though, seems to be more in agreement with FORMALISM. Formalism can repair the mistake, Grice thinks, not by allowing a change in the assigning of an ‘interpretation’ rule of an empoverished “and” (““p and q” is 1 iff both p and q are 1, 0 otherwise.” (Cfr. Pap: “Obviously, I cannot prove that “(p and q) ≡ (q and p)” is tautologous (and that therefore “He got into bed and took off his clothes’ iff ‘he took of his clothes and got into bed,’) unless I first construct an adequate truth-table defining the use of “and.” But surely one of the points of constructing such a table is to ‘reproduce’ or capture’ the meaning of ‘and’ in a natural language! The proposal seems circular!) and a deductive ‘syntactics’ rule, involving the Gentzen-type elimination of ‘and’ (“ “p and q” yields “p”; and its reciprocal, “ “p and q” yields “q”.” To avoid commiting the mistake, formalism must recognise the conversational implicaturum ceteris paribus derived from some constraint of rational co-operation (in particular, the desideratum or conversational maxim, “be orderly!”) and allow for some syntactical scope device to make the implicaturum obvious, an ‘explicatum,’ almost (without the need to reinforce “and” into “and then”). In Grice’s examples, it may not even be a VIOLATION, but a FLOUT, of a conversational maxim or desideratum, within the observance of an overarching co-operation principle (A violation goes unnoticed; a flout is a rhetorical device. Cfr. Quintilian’s observation that Homer would often use “p & q” with the implicaturum “but not in that order” left to the bard’s audience to work out). Grice’s attempt is to recapture “classical-logic” “and,” however pragmatically ‘enriched,’ shares some features with other sub-structural logics, since we have allowed for a syntactical tweak of the ‘inference’ rules; which we do via the pragmatist (rather than pragmatic) ‘implicatural’ approach to logic, highlighting one pragmatic aspect of a logic without CUT.  Grice grants that “p and q” should read “p . q” “when [“p . q” is] interpreted in the classical two-valued way.” His wording is thus consistent with OTHER ways (notably relevant logic, linear and ordered logic). Grice seems to have as one of his ‘unspeakable truths’ things like “He got into bed and took his clothes off,” “said of a man who proceeds otherwise.” After mentioning “and” “interpreted in the classical two-valued way,” Grice dedicates a full  paragraph to explore the classical logic’s manifesto. The idea is to provide a SYSTEM that will give us an algorithm to decide which formulae are theorems. The ‘logical consequence’ (or “… yields …”) relation is given a precise definition.Grice notes that “some logicians [whom he does not mention] may at some time have wanted to claim that there are in fact no such divergences [between “p and q” and “p . q”]; but such claims, if made at all, have been somewhat rashly made, and those suspected of making them have been subjected to some pretty rough handling.” “Those who concede that such divergences [do] exist” are the formalists. “An outline of a not uncharacteristic FORMALIST position may be given as follows,” Grice notes. We proceed to number the thesis since it sheds light on what makes a sub-structural logic sub-structural“Insofar as logicians are concerned with the formulation of very general patterns of VALID INFERENCE (“… yields…”) the formal device (“p . q”) possesses a decisive advantage over their natural counterpart (“p and q.”) For it will be possible to construct in terms of the formal device (“p . q”) a system of very general formulas, a considerable number of which can be regarded as, or are closely related to, a pattern of inferences the expression of which involves the device.”“Such a system may consist of a certain set of simple formulas that MUST BE ACCEPTABLE if the device has the MEANING (or sense) that has been ASSIGNED to it, and an indefinite number of further formulas, many of them less obviously acceptable (“q . p”), each of which can be shown to be acceptable if the members of the original set are acceptable.”“We have, thus, a way of handling dubiously acceptable patterns of inference (“q. p,” therefore, “p. q”) and if, as is sometimes possible, we can apply A DECISION PROCEDURE, we have an even better way.”“Furthermore, from a PHILOSOPHICAL point of view, the possession by the natural counterpart (“p and q”) of that element in their meaning (or sense), which they do NOT share with the corresponding formal device, is to be regarded as an IMPERFECTION; the element in question is an undesirable excrescence. For the presence of this element has the result that the CONCEPT within which it appears cannot be precisely/clearly defined, and that at least SOME statements involving it cannot, in some circumstances, be assigned a definite TRUTH VALUE; and the indefiniteness of this concept is not only objectionable in itself but leaves open the way to METAPHYSICS: we cannot be certain that the natural-language expression (“p and q”) is METAPHYSICALLY ‘LOADED.’”“For these reasons, the expression, as used in natural speech (“p and q”), CANNOT be regarded as finally acceptable, and may tum out to be, finally, not fully intelligible.” “The proper course is to conceive and begin to construct an IDEAL language, incorporating the formal device (“p . q”), the sentences of which will be clear, determinate in TRUTH-VALUE, and certifiably FREE FROM METAPHYSICAL IMPLICATIONS.”“The foundations of SCIENCE will now be PHILOSOPHICALLY SECURE, since the statements of the scientist will be EXPRESSIBLE (though not necessarily actually expressed) within this ideal language.”What kind of enrichment are we talking about? It may be understood as a third conjunct p_tn-l & q_tn & (t_n > t_n-l) FIRST CONJUNCT + SECOND CONJUNCT + “TEMPORAL SUCCESSION” p AND THEN q To buttress the buttressing of ‘and,’ Grice uses ‘weak’ and ‘strong’ for other operators like ‘disjunction – and his rationale for the Modified Occam’s razor would be: “A STRONGER SENSE for a truth-functional dyadic operator SHOULD NOT BE POSTULATED when A WEAK (or minimal) SENSE does, provided we add the CANCELLABLE IMPLICATURUM.” Grice SIMPLIFIES semantics, but there’s no free lunch, since he now has to explain how the IMPLICATURUM arises. Let’s revise the way “and,” the first ‘dyadic’ device in “Logic and Conversation,” is invoked by Grice in “Prolegomena.” “He got into bed and took his clothes off,” “said of a someone who took his clothes off and got into bed.”  Cfr. theorems ∧I = ` ∀ φ ψ• [φ; ψ] |= φ ∧ ψ  ∧E = ` ∀ φ ψ• ([φ ∧ ψ] |= φ) ∧ ([φ ∧ ψ] |= ψ)We have: He got into bed and took his clothes off (Grice, 1989:9). He took his clothes off and got into bed (Grice, 1989:9). He got into bed and took his clothes off but I don’t want to suggest that he did those things in that order (Grice, 1981:186). He first took his clothes off and then got into bed (Grice 1989:9). In invoking Strawson’s Introduction to Logical Theory, is Grice being fair? Strawson had noted, provocatively: “[The formula] “p . q’ is logically equivalent to ‘q . p’; but [the English] ‘They got married and had a child’ or ‘He set to work and found a job’ are by no means logically equivalent to ‘They had a child and got married’ or ‘He found a job and set to work.’”How easier things would have gone should Strawson have used the adjective ‘pragmatic’ that he mentions later in his treatise in connection with Grice. Strawson is sticking with the truth-functionality and thinking of ‘equivalence’ in terms of ‘iff’ – but his remark may be rephrased as involving a notion of ‘inference.’ In terms of LOGICAL INFERENCE, the premise “He got into bed and took his clothes off” YIELDS “He took off his clothes and got into bed,” even if that does NOT ‘yield’ in terms of ceteris paribus PRAGMATIC inference. It would  have pleased Grice to read the above as: “[The formula] “p . q’ is equivalent_L to ‘q . p’; but [the English] ‘They got married and had a child’ or ‘He set to work and found a job’ are by no means equivalent_P to ‘They had a child and got married’ or ‘He found a job and set to work.’” By appealing to a desideratum of rational co-operative discourse, “be orderly,” Grice thinks he can restore “and” to its truth-functional sense, while granting that the re-inforced “then” (or an alleged extra sense of “temporal succession,” as he has it in “Prolegomena”) is merely and naturally (if cancellable on occasion) conversationally implicated (even if under a generalised way) under the assumption that the addressee A will recognise that the utterer U is observing the desideratum, and is being orderly. But witness variants to the cancellation (3) above. There is an indifferent, indeterminate form: He got into bed and took off his clothes, though I don’t mean to imply that he did that in that order.versus the less indeterminate He got into bed and took his clothes off, but not in that order. +> i.e. in the reverse one.Postulating a pragmatic desideratum allows Grice to keep any standard sub-structural classical rule for “and” and “&” (as s he does when he goes more formalist in “Vacuous Names,” his tribute to Quine).How are to interpret the Grice/Strawson ‘rivalry’ in meta-inference? Using Frege’s assertion “⊦_LK” as our operator to read “… yields…” we have:p & q ⊦_LK q & p and q & p ⊦_LK p & q. In “Prolegomena,” then, Grice introduces:“B. Examples involve an area of special interest to me [since he was appointed logic tutor at St. John’s], namely that of expressions which are candidates for being natural analogues to logical constants and which may, or may not, ‘diverge’ in meaning [not use] from the related constants (considered as elements in a classical logic, standardly interpreted). It has, for example, been suggested that because it would be incorrect or inappropriate [or misleading, even false?] to say “He got into bed and took off his clothes” of [someone] who first took off his clothes and then got into bed, it is part of the meaning [or sense] or part of one meaning [sub-sense] of “and” to convey temporal succession” (Grice 1989:8). The explanation in terms of a reference to “be orderly” is mentioned in “Presupposition and conversational implicaturum” (Grice 1981:186). Grice notes: “It has been suggested by [an informalist like] Strawson, in [An] Introduction to Logical Theory [by changing the title of Strawson’s essay, Grice seems to be implicating that Strawson need not sound pretentious] that there is a divergence between the ordinary use or meaning of ‘and’ and the conjunction sign [“.”] of propositional or predicate calculus because “He took off his clothes and got into to bed” does not seem to have the same meaning as “He got into bed and took off his clothes.”” Grice goes on: “[Strawson’s] suggestion here is, of course, that, in order properly to represent the ordinary use of [the word] “and,” one would have to allow a special sense (or sub-sense) for [the word] “and” which contained some reference to the idea that what was mentioned before [the word] “and” was temporally prior to what was mentioned after it, and that, on that supposition, one could deal with this case.”Grice goes on: “[Contra Strawson,] I want to suggest in reply that it is not necessary [call him an Occamist, minimalist] if one operates on some general principle [such as M. O. R., or Modified Occam’s Razor] of keeping down, as far as possible, the number of special sense [sic] of words that one has to invoke, to give countenance to the alleged divergence of meaning.” The constraint is not an arbitrary assignation of sense, but a rational one derived from the nature of conversation:“It is just that there is a general supposition [which would be sub-sidiary to the general maxim of Manner or ‘Modus’ (‘be perspicuous! [sic]’) that one presents one's material in an orderly manner and, if what one is engaged upon is a narration (if one is talking about events), then the most orderly manner for a narration of events is an order that corresponds to the order in which they took place.”Grice concludes: “So, the meaning of the expression ‘He took off his clothes and he got into bed” and the corresponding expression with a [classical] logician's constant "&" [when given a standard two-valued interpretation] (i.e. “He took his clothes off & he got into bed") would be exactly the same.”Grice’s indifference with what type of formalism to adopt is obvious: “And, indeed, if anybody actually used in ordinary speech the "&" as a piece of vocabulary instead of as a formal(ist) device, and used it to connect together sentences of this type, they would collect just the same [generalised conversational] implicatura as the ordinary English sentences have without any extra explanation of the meaning of the word ‘and’.” It is then that Grice goes on to test the ‘cancellability,’ producing the typical Gricean idiom,  above:He took his clothes off and got into bed but I don't mean to suggest that he did those things in that order.  Grice goes on: “I should say that I did suggest, in [my essay] on implicaturum, two sorts of  tests by which  one might hope to identify a conversational implicaturum. [...] I did not mean to suggest that these tests were final, only that they were useful. One test was the possibility of cancellation; that is to say, could one without [classical] logical absurdity [when we have a standard two-valued interpretation], attach a cancellation clause. For instance, could I say (9)?” Grice: “If that is not a linguistic offense [and ‘false’], or does not seem to be, then, so far as it goes, it is an indication that what one has here is a conversational implicaturum, and that the original [alleged meaning, sense, or] suggestion of temporal succession [is] not part of the conventional meaning of the sentence.” Grice (1981, p. 186). Formalising the temporal succession is never enough but it may help, and (9) becomes (10):p & q and p_tn-l & q_tn where “tn-l” is a temporal index for a time prior to “tn”. It is interesting to note that Chomsky, of all people, in 1966, a year before Grice’s William James lectures, in Aspects of the theory of syntax refers to “A [sic] P. Grice” as propounding that temporal succession be considered implicaturum (Since this pre-dates the William James lectures by a year, it was via the seminars at Oxford that reached Chomsky at MIT via some of Grice’s tutees).Let us revise Urmson’s wording in his treatment of the ‘clothes’ example, to check if Grice is being influenced by Urmson’s presentation of the problem to attack Strawson. Urmson notes: “In formal[ist] logic, the connective[…] ‘and’ [is] always given a minimum [empoverished] meaning, as [I] have done above, such that any complex [molecular sentence] formed by the use of [it] alone is [always] a truth-function of its constituents.”Urmson goes on to sound almost like Strawson, whose Introduction to Logical Theory he credits. Urmson notes: “In ordinary discourse the connective[… ‘and]] often [has] a *richer* meaning.”Urmson must be credited, with this use of ‘richer’ as the father of pragmatic enRICHment!Urmson goes on: “Thus ‘He took his clothes off and got into bed’ implies temporal succession and has a different meaning from [the impoverished, unreinforced] ‘He got into bed and took off his clothes.’” Urmson does not play with Grice’s reinforcement: “He first got into bed and then took his clothes off.’ Urmson goes on, however, in his concluding remark, to side with Grice versus Strawson, as he should! Urmson notes: “[Formal(ist) l]ogicians would justify their use of the minimum [impoverished, unreinforced, weak] meaning by pointing out that it is the common element in all our uses [or every use] of ‘and.’” (Urmson, 1956:9-10). The commutativeness of ‘and’ in the examples he gives is rejected by Strawson.  How does Strawson reflect this in his sub-structural rule for ‘and’? As Humberstone puts it, “It is possible to define a version of the calculus, which defines most of the syntax of the logical operators by means of axioms, and which uses only one inference rule.”Axioms: Let φ, χ and ψ stand for well-formed formulae. The wff's themselves would not contain any Greek letters, but only capital Roman letters, connective operators, and parentheses. The axioms include:AND_{FIRST-CONJUNCT}: φ ∧ χ → φ and AND_{SECOND-CONJUNCT}: φ ∧ χ → χ. Our (13) and (14) correspond to Gentzen’s “conjunction elimination” (or (& -), as Grice has it in “Vacuous Names.”).  The relation between (13) and (14) reflects the commutativity of the conjunction operator. Cfr. Cohen 1971: “Another conversational maxim of Grice's, “be orderly”, is intended to govern such matters as the formalist can show that it was not appropriate to postulate a special non-commutative temporal conjunction.”“The locus classicus for complaints of this nature being Strawson (1952).” Note that the commutative “and” is derived from Grice’s elimination of conjunction, “p & q ⊦ p” and “p & q ⊦ q -- as used by Grice in his system Q.Also note that the truth-evaluation would be for Grice ‘semantic,’ rather than ‘syntactic’ as the commutative (understood as part of elimination). Grice has it as: If phi and psi are formulae, “φ and ” is 1 iff both φ and ψ are true, 0 otherwise. Grice grants that however “baffling” (or misleading) would be to utter or assert (7) if no one has doubts about the temporal order of the reported the events, due to the expectation that the utterer is observing the conversational maxim “be orderly” subsumed under the conversational category of ‘Modus’ (‘be perspicuous! [sic]” – cfr. his earlier desideratum of conversational clarity). Relevant logic (which was emerging by the time Grice was delivering his William James lectures) introduces two different formal signs for ‘conjunction’: the truth-functional conjunction relevant logicians call ‘extensional’ conjunction, and they represent by (13). Non-truth-functional conjunction is represented by ‘X’ and termed fusion or ‘intensional’ conjunction: p  ^ q  versus p X q. The truth-table for Strawson’s enriched uses of “and” is not the standard one, since we require the additional condition that “p predates q,” or that one conjunct predates the other. Playing with structural and substructural logical rules is something Carnap would love perhaps more than Grice, and why not, Strawson? They liked to play with ‘deviant’ logics. For Carnap, the choice of a logic is a pragmatic ‘external’ decision – vide his principle of tolerance and the rather extensive bibliography on Carnap as a logic pluralist. For Grice, classical logic is a choice guided by his respect for ordinary language, WHILE attempting to PROVOKE the Oxonian establishment by rallying to the defense of an under-dogma and play the ‘skilful heretic’ (turning a heterodoxy into dogma). Strawson is usually more difficult to classify! In his contribution to Grandy & Warner (1986), he grants that Grice’s theory may be ‘more beautiful,’ and more importantly, seems to suggest that his view be seen as endorsing Grice’s account of a CONVENTIONAL implicaturum (For Strawson, ‘if’ (used for unasserted antecedent and consequence) conventionally implicates the same inferrability condition that ‘so’ does for asserted equivalents. The aim is to allow for a logically pluralist thesis, almost alla Carnap about the ‘inferential role’ of a logical constant such as ‘and’, which embraces ‘classical,’ (or ‘formalist,’ or ‘modernist’), relevant, linear and ordered logic. PLURALISM (versus MONISM) has it that, for any logical constant c (such as “and”), “c” has more than one *correct* inferential “role.” The pluralist thesis depends on a specific interpretation of the vocabulary of sub-structural logics. According to this specific interpretation, a classical logic captures the literal, or EXPLICIT, explicatum, or truth-functional or truth-conditonal meaning, or what Grice would have as ‘dictiveness’ of a logical constant. A sub-structural logic (relevant logic, linear and ordered logic), on the other hand, encodes a pragmatically,” i.e. not SEMANTICALLY, “-enriched sense” of a logical constant such as “and.” Is this against the spirit of Grice’s overall thesis as formulated in his “M. O. R.,” Modified Occam’s Razor, “Senses [of ‘and’] are not to be multiplied beyond necessity”? But it’s precisely Grice’s Occamism (as Neale calls it) that is being put into question.  At Oxford, at the time, EVERYBODY (except Grice!) was an informalist. He is coming to the defense of Russell, Oxford’s underdog! (underdogma!). Plus, it’s important to understand the INFORMALISM that Grice is attacking – Oxford’s ORTHO-doxy – seriously. Grice is being the ‘skilful HERETIC,’ in the words of his successor as Tutorial Fellow at Oxford, G. P. Baker. We may proceed by four stages.  First, introduce the philosophical motivation for the pluralist thesis. It sounds good to be a PLURALIST. Strawson was not. He was an informalist. Grice was not, he was a post-modernist. But surely we not assuming that one would want to eat the cake and have it! Second, introduce the calculus for the different (or ‘deviant,’ as Haack prefers) logics endorsed in the pluralist thesis – classical itself, relevant, linear and ordered logic. Third, shows how the different “behaviours” of an item of logical vocabulary (such as “and”) of each of these logics (and they all have variants for ‘conjunction.’ In the case of ‘relevant’ logic, beyond Grice’s “&,” or classical conjunction, there is “extensional conjunction,” FORMALISED as “p X q”, or fusion, and “INTENSIONAL conjunction,” formalized by “p O q”. These can be, not semantically (truth-functionally, or truth-conditional, or at the level of the EXPLICATUM), but pragmatically interpreted (at the level of the IMPLICATURUM). Fourth, shows how the *different* (or ‘deviant,’ or pluralist), or alternative inferential “roles” (that justifies PLURALISM) that *two* sub-structural logics (say, Grice’s classical “&” the Strawson’s informalist “and”) attribute to a logical constant “c” can co-exist – hence pluralism. A particular version of logical “pluralism” can be argued from the plurality of at least *two* alterative equally legitimate formalisations of the logical vocabulary, such as the first dyadic truth-functor, or connective, “and,” which is symbolized by Grice as “&,” NOT formalized by Strawson (he sticks with “and”) and FORMALISED by relevant logicians as ‘extensional’ truth-functional conjunction (fision, p X a) and intentional non-truth-functional conjunction (p O q).  In particular, it can be argued that the apparent “rivalry” between classical logic (what Grice has as Modernism, but he himself is a post-modernist) and relevant logic (but consider Grice on Strawson’s “Neo-Traditionalism,” first called INFORMALISM by Grice) can be resolved, given that both logics capture and formalise normative and legitimate alternative senses of ‘logical consequence.’  A revision of the second paragraph to “Logic and Conversation” should do here. We can distinguish between two operators for “… yields …”: ├ and ├: “A1, A2, … An├_{MODERNISM/FORMALISM-PAUL} B” and “A1, A2, … An├_{NEO-TRADITIONALISM/INFORMALISM-PETER} B. As Paoli has it: “[U]pholding weakening amounts to failing to take at face value the [slightly Griceian] expression ‘assertable on the basis of’.’”Paoli goes on:“If I am in a position to assert [the conclusion q, “He took his clothes off and got into bed”] on the basis of the information provided by [the premise p, “He got into bed and took his clothes off”], I need NOT be in a position to assert the conclusion P [“He took his clothes off and got into bed”] on the basis of both p (“He got into bed and took off his clothes” and an extra premise C - where C is just an idle assumption (“The events took place in the order reported”) , irrelevant to my conclusion.”Can we regard Strawson as holding that UNFORMALISED “and” is an INTENSIONAL CONJUNCTION? Another option is to see Strawson as holding that the UNFORMALISED “and” can be BOTH truth-functional and NON-truth-functional (for which case, the use of a different expression, “and THEN,” is preferred). The Gricean theory of implicaturum is capable of explaining this mismatch (bewtween “and” and “&”).Grice argues that the [truth-conditional, truth-functional] semantics [DICTUM or EXPLICATUM, not IMPLICATURUM – cfr. his retrospective epilogue for his view on DICTIVENESS] of “and” corresponds [or is identical, hence the name of ‘identity’ thesis versus ‘divergence’ thesis] to the classical “∧,” & of Russell/Whitehead, and Quine, and Suppes, and that the [truth-functional semantics of “if [p,] [q]” corresponds to the classical p ⊃ q.” There is scope for any theory capable of resolving or [as Grice would have it] denying the apparent disagreement [or ‘rivalry’] among two or more logics.” What Grice does is DENY THE APPARENT DISAGREEMENT.  It’s best to keep ‘rivalry’ for the fight of two ‘warring camps’ like FORMALISM and INFORMALISM, and stick with ‘disagreement’ or ‘divergence’ with reference to specific constants. For Strawson, being a thorough-bred Oxonian, who perhaps never read the Iliad in Greek – he was Grice’s PPE student – the RIVALRY is not between TWO different formalisations, but between the ‘brusque’ formalisation of the FORMALISTS (that murder his English!) and NO FORMALISATION at all. Grice calls this ‘neo-traditionalist,’ perhaps implicating that the ‘neo-traditionalists’ WOULD accept some level of formalisation (Aristotle did!) ONLY ONE FORMALISATION, the Modernism. INFORMALISM or Neo-Traditionalism aims to do WITHOUT formalisation, if that means using anything, but, say, “and” and “and then”. Talk of SENSES helps. Strawson may say that “and” has a SENSE which differs from “&,” seeing that he would find “He drank the poison and died, though I do not mean to imply in that order” is a CONTRADICTION. That is why Strawson is an ‘ordinary-LANGUAGE philosopher,” and not a logician! (Or should we say, an ‘ordinary-language logician’? His “Introduction to Logical Theory” was the mandatory reading vademecum for GENERATIONS of Oxonians that had to undergo a logic course to get their M. A. Lit. Hum.Then there’s what we can call “the Gricean picture,” only it’s not too clear who painted it!We may agree that there is an apparent “mismatch,” as opposed to a perfect “match” that Grice would love! Grice thought with Russell that grammar is a pretty good guide to logical form. If the utterer says “and” and NOT “and then,” there is no need to postulate a further SENSE to ‘and.’Russell would criticize Strawson’s attempt to reject modernist “&” as a surrogate for “and” as Strawson’s attempt to regress to a stone-age metaphysics. Grice actually at this point, defended Strawson: “stone-age PHYSICS!”  And this relates to “… yields…” and Frege’s assertion “/-“ as ‘Conclusion follows from Premise’ where ‘Premise yields Conclusion’ seems more natural in that we preserve the order from premise to conclusion. We shouldn’t underestimate one crucial feature of an implicaturum: its cancellability, on which Grice expands quite a bit in 1981: “He got into bed and took his clothes off, although I don’t intend to suggest, in any shape or form, that he proceed to do those things in the order I’ve just reported!”The lack of any [fixed, rigid, intolerant] structural rule implies that AN INSTANCE I1 of the a logical constant (such as “and”) that *violate* any of Grice’s conversational maxim (here “be orderly!”) associated with the relevant structural rule [here we may think of ADDITION AND SIMPLIFICATION as two axioms derived from the Gentzen-type elimination of “and”, or the ‘interpretation’ of ‘p & q’ as 1 iff both p and q are 1, but 0 otherwise] and for which the derived conversational implicaturum is false [“He went to bed and took his clothes off, but not in that order!”] should be distinguished from ANY INSTANCE I2 that does NOT violate the relevant maxim (“be orderly”) and for which the conversational IMPLICATURUM (“tn > tn-l”) is true.” We may nitpick here.Grice would rather prefer, ‘when the IMPLICATURUM applies.” An implicaturum is by definition cancellable (This is clear when Grice expands in the excursus “A causal theory of perception.” “I would hardly be said to have IMPLIED that Smith is hopeless in philosophy should I utter, “He has beautiful handwriting; I don’t mean to imply he is hopeless in philosophy,” “even if that is precisely what my addressee ends up thinking!”When it comes to “and,” we are on clearer ground. The kinds of “and”-implicaturums may be captured by a distinction of two ‘uses’ of conjunctions in a single substructural system S that does WITHOUT a ‘structural rule’ such as exchange, contraction or both. Read, relies, very UNLIKE Strawson, on wo FORMALISATIONS besides “and” (for surely English “and” does have a ‘form,’ too, pace Strawson) in Relevant Logic: “p ^ q” and “p X q.”  “p ^ q” and “p X q” have each a different inferential role. If the reason the UTTERER has to assert it – via the DICTUM or EXPLICATUM [we avoid ‘assert’ seeing that we want logical constants to trade on ‘imperative contexts,’ too – Grice, “touch the beast and it will bite you!” -- is the utterer’s belief that Smith took his clothes AND THEN got into bed, it would be illegitimate, unwarranted, stupid, otiose, incorrect, inappropriate, to infer that Smith did not do these two things in that order upon discovering that he in fact DID those things in the order reported.  The very discovery that Smith did the things in the order reported would “just spoil” or unwarrant the derivation that would justify our use of “… yields …” (¬A ¬(A u B) A ¬B”). As Read notes, we have ADJUNCTION ‘p and q’ follows from p and q – or p and q yields ‘p and q.’  And we have SIMPLIFICATION: p and q follow from ‘p and q,’ or ‘p and q’ yields p, and ‘p and q’ yields q.” Stephen Read: “From adjunction and simplification we can infer, by transitivity, that q follows from p and q, and so by the Deduction Equivalence, ‘if p, q’ follows from q.’” “However, […] this has the unacceptable consequence that ‘if’ is truth-functional.”  “How can this consequence be avoided?” “Many options are open.” “We can reject the transitivity of entailment, the deduction equivalence, adjunction, or simplification. Each has been tried; and each seems contrary to intuition.” “We are again in the paradoxical situation that each of these conceptions seems intuitively soundly based; yet their combination appears to lead to something unacceptable.” “Are we nonetheless forced to reject one of these plausible principles?” “Fortunately, there is a fifth option.” Read: “There is a familiar truth-functional conjunction, expressed by ‘p and q’, which entails each of p and q, and so for the falsity (Grice’s 0) of which the falsity of either conjunct suffices, and the truth of both for the truth of the whole.” “But there is also a NON-truth-functional conjunction, a SENSE of ‘p and q’ whose falsity supports the inference from p to ‘~q’.” “These two SENSES of ‘conjunction’ cannot be the same, for, if the ground for asserting ‘not-(p and q)’ (e.g. “It is not the case that he got into bed and took off his clothes”) is simply that ‘p’ is false, to learn that p is true, far from enabling one to proceed to ‘~q’, undercuts the warrant for asserting ‘~(p & q)’ in the first place.” “In this sense, ‘~(p & q)’ is weaker than both ‘~p’ and ‘~q’, and does not, even with the addition of p, entail ‘~q’, even though one possible ground for asserting ‘~(p & q))’, viz ‘~q’, clearly does.” Stephen Read: “The intensional sense of ‘and’ is often referred to as fusion; I will use the symbol ‘×’ for it. Others write ‘◦.’”We add some relevant observations by a palaeo-Griceian: Ryle. Ryle often felt himself to be an outsider. His remarks on “and” are however illuminating in the context of our discussion of meta-inference in substructural logic.Ryle writes: “I have spoken as if our ordinary ‘and’ […] [is] identical with the logical constant with which the formal logician operates.”“But this is not true.”“The logician’s ‘and’ […] [is] not our familiar civilian term[…].”“It is [a] conscript term, in uniform and under military discipline, with memories, indeed, of [its] previous more free and easy civilian life, though it is not leaving that life now.”“If you hear on good authority that she took arsenic and fell ill you will reject the rumour that she fell ill and took arsenic.”“This familiar use of ‘and’ carries with it the temporal notion expressed by ‘and subsequently’ and even the causal notion expressed by ‘and in consequence.’”“The logician’s conscript ‘and’ does only its appointed duty – a duty in which ‘she took arsenic and fell ill’ is an absolute paraphrase of ‘she fell ill and took arsenic.’ This might be call the minimal force of ‘and.’” (Ryle,, 1954:118). When we speaks of PRAGMATIC enrichment, we obviously don’t mean SEMANTIC enrichment. There is a distinction, obviously, between the ‘pragmatic enrichment’ dimension, as to whether the ‘enriched’ content is IMPLICATED or, to use a neologism, ‘EX-plicated.’ Or cf. as Kent Bach would prefer, “IMPLICITATED” (vide his “Implciture.”) Commutative law: p & q iff q & p. “Axiom AND-1” and “Axiom AND-2” correspond to "conjunction elimination". The relation between “AND-1” and “AND-2” reflects the commutativity of the conjunction operator. A VERY IMPORTANT POINT to consider is Grice’s distinction between ‘logical inference’ and ‘pragmatic inference.’ He does so in “Retrospective Epilogue” in 1987. “A few years after the appearance of […] Introduction to Logical Theory, I was devoting much attention to what might be loosely called the distinction between logical and pragmatic inferences. … represented as being a matter not of logical but of pragmatic import.” (Grice 1987:374).Could he be jocular? He is emphasizing the historical role of his research. He mentions FORMALISM and INFORMALISM and notes that his own interest in maxims or desiderata of rational discourse arose from his interest to distinguish between matters of “logical inference” from those of “pragmatic inference.” Is Grice multiplying ‘inference’ beyond necessity? It would seem so. So it’s best to try to reformulate his proposal, in agreement with logical pluralism.By ‘logical inference’ Grice must mean ‘practical/alethic satisfactoriness-based inference,’ notably the syntactics and semantics (‘interpretative’) modules of his own System Q. By ‘pragmatic inference’ he must mean a third module, the pragmatic module, with his desiderata. We may say that for Grice ‘logical inference’ is deductive (and inductive), while ‘pragmatic inference’ is abductive. Let us apply this to the ‘clothes off’ exampleThe Utterer said: “Smith got into bed and took his clothes off, but I’m reporting the events in no particular order.” The ‘logical inference’ allows to treat ‘and’ as “&.” The ‘pragmatic inference’ allows the addressee to wonder what the utterer is meaning! Cf. Terres on “⊢_k” for “logical inference” and “⊢_r,” “⊢_l,” and “⊢_o,” for pragmatic inference, and where the subscripts “k,” “r,” “l” and “o” stand for ‘classical,’ ‘relevant,’ ‘linear’ and ‘ordered’ logic respectively, with each of the three sub-structural notions of “follows from” or “… yields …”  require the pragmatic enrichment of a logical constant, that ‘classical logical’ inference may retain the ‘impoverished’ version (Terres, 2019, Inquiry, p. 13). Grice himself mentions this normative dimension: “I would like to be able to think of the standard type of conversational practice not merely as something that all or most do IN FACT follow but as something that it is REASONABLE for us to follow, that we SHOULD NOT abandon.”Grice, 1989a, p.48]However, the fact that we should observe the conversational maxims may not yet be a reason for endorsing the allegedly ‘deviant’ inferential role of a logical constant in the three sub-structural logics under examination.The legitimacy of the ‘deviant’ ‘inferential role’ of each constant in each sub-structural logic emerges, rather from at least two sources.A first source is a requirement for logic (or reasoning) to be normative: that its truth-bearers [or satisfactoriness-bearers, to allow for ‘imperative’-mode inferences) are related to what Grice calls ‘psychological attitudes’ of ‘belief’ (indicative-mode inference) and ‘desire’ (imperative-mode inference) (Grice, 1975, cfr. Terres, Inquiry, 2019, p. 13). As Steinberg puts it:“Presumably, if logic is normative for thinking or reasoning, its normative force will stem, at least in part, from the fact that truth bearers which act as the relata of our consequence relation and the bearers of other logical properties are identical to (or at least are very closely related in some other way) to the objects of thinking or reasoning: the contents of one’s mental states or acts such as the content of one’s beliefs or inferences, for example.”[Steinberger, 2017a – and cf. Loar’s similar approach when construing Grice’s maxims as ‘empirical generalisations’ of ‘functional states’ for a less committed view of the embedding of logical and pragmatic inference within the scope of psychological-attitude ascriptions). A second source for the legitimacy of the ‘deviant’ inferential role is the fact that the pragmatic enrichment of the logical vocabulary (both a constant and ‘… yields …) is part, or a ‘rational-construction,’ of our psychological representation of certain utterances involving the natural counterparts of those constants.  This may NOT involve a new sense of ‘and’ which is with what Grice is fighting. While the relevant literature emphasizes “reasons to assert” (vide Table on p. 9, Terres, 2019), it is worth pointing out that the model should be applicable to what we might broadly construe as ‘deontic’ reasoning (e.g. Grice on “Arrest the intruder!” in Grice 1989, and more generally his practical syllogisms in Grice 2001). We seem to associate “assert” with ‘indicative-mode’ versions only of premise and conclusion. “Reasons to express” or “reasons to make it explicit” may serve as a generalization to cover both “indicative-mode” and “imperative-mode” versions of the inferences to hand. When Grice says that, contra Strawson, he wants to see things in terms of ‘pragmatic inference,’ not ‘logical inference,’ is he pulling himself up by his own bootstraps? Let us clarify.When thinking of what META-language need be used to formulate both Grice’s final account vis-à-vis Strawson’s, it is relevant to mention that Grice once invoked what he called the “Bootstrap” principle. In the course of considering a ‘fine distinction’ in various levels of conceptual priority, slightly out of the blue, he adds – this is from “Prejudices and predilections, which become, the life and opinions of Paul Grice,” so expect some informality, and willingness to amuse: “It is perhaps reasonable to regard such fine distinctions as indispensable if we are to succeed in the business of pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps,” Grice writes. And then trust him to add: “In this connection, it will be relevant for me to say that I once invented (though I did not establish its validity) a principle which I labelled as ‘Bootstrap.’” Trust him to call with a good title. “The principle,” Grice goes on, “laid down that, when one is introducing some primitive concept [such as conjunction] of a theory [or calculus or system] formulated in an object-language [G₁], one has freedom to use any concept from a battery of concepts expressible in the meta-language [System G₂], subject to the condition that a *counterpart* of such a concept [say, ‘conjunction’] is sub-sequently definable, or otherwise derivable, in the object-language [System G₁].”Grice concludes by emphasizing the point of the manoeuvre:  “So, the more economically one introduces a primitive object-language concept, the less of a task one leaves oneself for the morrow.” [Grice 1986]. With uncharacteristic humbleness, Grice notes that while he was able to formulate and label “Bootstrap,” he never cared to establish its ‘validity.’ We hope we have! “Q. E. D.,” as they say! Cf. Terres, 2019, Inquiry, p. 17: In conclusion, the pragmatic interpretation of substructural logics may be a new and interesting research field for the logical pluralist who wishes to endorse classical and/or substructural logics, but also for the logical monist who aims to interpret their divergence with a pluralist logician. The possibility is also open of an interesting dialogue between philosophical logicians and philosophers of language as they explore the pragmatic contributions of a logical constant to the meaning of a complete utterance, given that a substructural logic encodes what has been discussed by philosophers of language, the enriched ‘explicatum’ of the logical constant. 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Analysis, 2006.Robert van Rooij. 2010. ‘Conversational implicaturums,’Gilbert Ryle. 1954. ‘Formal and Informal logic,’ in Dilemmas, The Tarner Lectures 1953. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, Chapter 8. Florian Steinberger. The normative status of logic. In Edward N. Zalta, editor, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Metaphysics Research Lab, Stanford University, spring 2017 edition, 2017.P. F. Strawson (1952). Introduction to Logical Theory. London: Methuen.P. F. Strawson (1986). ‘‘If’ and ‘⊃’’ R. Grandy and R. O. Warner, Philosophical Grounds of Rationality, Intentions, Categories, Ends, repr. in his “Entity and Identity, and Other Essays. Oxford: Clarendon PressJ.O. Urmson. Philosophical analysis: its development between the two world wars. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1956. R. C. S. Walker. “Conversational implicaturum,” in S. W. Blackburn, Meaning, reference, and necessity. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1975, pp. 133-81A. N. Whitehead and B. A. W. Russell, 1913. Principia Mathematica. Cambridge University Press. Conjunctum -- conjunction, the logical operation on a pair of propositions that is typically indicated by the coordinating conjunction ‘and’. The truth table for conjunction is Besides ‘and’, other coordinating conjunctions, including ‘but’, ‘however’, ‘moreover’, and ‘although’, can indicate logical conjunction, as can the semicolon ‘;’ and the comma ‘,’.  conjunction elimination. 1 The argument form ‘A and B; therefore, A or B’ and arguments of this form. 2 The rule of inference that permits one to infer either conjunct from a conjunction. This is also known as the rule of simplification or 8-elimination.  conjunction introduction. 1 The argument form ‘A, B; therefore, A and B’ and arguments of this form. 2 The rule of inference that permits one to infer a conjunction from its two conjuncts. This is also known as the rule of conjunction introduction, 8-introduction, or adjunction. Conjunctum -- Why Grice used inverse V as symbol for “and” Conjunctum -- De Morgan, A. prolific British mathematician, logician, and philosopher of mathematics and logic. He is remembered chiefly for several lasting contributions to logic and philosophy of logic, including discovery and deployment of the concept of universe of discourse, the cofounding of relational logic, adaptation of what are now known as De Morgan’s laws, and several terminological innovations including the expression ‘mathematical induction’. His main logical works, the monograph Formal Logic 1847 and the series of articles “On the Syllogism” 184662, demonstrate wide historical and philosophical learning, synoptic vision, penetrating originality, and disarming objectivity. His relational logic treated a wide variety of inferences involving propositions whose logical forms were significantly more complex than those treated in the traditional framework stemming from Aristotle, e.g. ‘If every doctor is a teacher, then every ancestor of a doctor is an ancestor of a teacher’. De Morgan’s conception of the infinite variety of logical forms of propositions vastly widens that of his predecessors and even that of his able contemporaries such as Boole, Hamilton, Mill, and Whately. De Morgan did as much as any of his contemporaries toward the creation of modern mathematical logic.  -- De Morgan’s laws, the logical principles - A 8 B S - A 7 - B, - A 7 B S - A 8 - B, - -A 8 - B S A 7 B, and - - A 7 - B S A 8 B, though the term is occasionally used to cover only the first two. Refs.The main published source is “Studies in the Way of Words” (henceforth, “WOW”), I (especially Essays 1 and 4), “Presupposition and conversational implicaturum,” in P. Cole, and the two sets on ‘Logic and conversation,’ in The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

connectum – from con-nexus – nexus is the key – connection – syntagma –syncategoremata – categoremata -- connected, said of a relation R where, for any two distinct elements x and y of the domain, either xRy or yRx. R is said to be strongly connected if, for any two elements x and y, either xRy or yRx, even if x and y are identical. Given the domain of positive integers, for instance, the relation ‹ is connected, since for any two distinct numbers a and b, either a ‹ b or b ‹ a. ‹ is not strongly connected, however, since if a % b we do not have either a ‹ b or b ‹ a. The relation o, however, is Confucius connected 174   174 strongly connected, since either a o b or b o a for any two numbers, including the case where a % b. An example of a relation that is not connected is the subset relation 0, since it is not true that for any two sets A and B, either A 0 B or B 0 A.  connectionism, an approach to modeling cognitive systems which utilizes networks of simple processing units that are inspired by the basic structure of the nervous system. Other names for this approach are neural network modeling and parallel distributed processing. Connectionism was pioneered in the period 065 by researchers such as Frank Rosenblatt and Oliver Selfridge. Interest in using such networks diminished during the 0s because of limitations encountered by existing networks and the growing attractiveness of the computer model of the mind according to which the mind stores symbols in memory and registers and performs computations upon them. Connectionist models enjoyed a renaissance in the 0s, partly as the result of the discovery of means of overcoming earlier limitations e.g., development of the back-propagation learning algorithm by David Rumelhart, Geoffrey Hinton, and Ronald Williams, and of the Boltzmann-machine learning algorithm by David Ackley, Geoffrey Hinton, and Terrence Sejnowski, and partly as limitations encountered with the computer model rekindled interest in alternatives. Researchers employing connectionist-type nets are found in a variety of disciplines including psychology, artificial intelligence, neuroscience, and physics. There are often major differences in the endeavors of these researchers: psychologists and artificial intelligence researchers are interested in using these nets to model cognitive behavior, whereas neuroscientists often use them to model processing in particular neural systems. A connectionist system consists of a set of processing units that can take on activation values. These units are connected so that particular units can excite or inhibit others. The activation of any particular unit will be determined by one or more of the following: inputs from outside the system, the excitations or inhibitions supplied by other units, and the previous activation of the unit. There are a variety of different architectures invoked in connectionist systems. In feedforward nets units are clustered into layers and connections pass activations in a unidirectional manner from a layer of input units to a layer of output units, possibly passing through one or more layers of hidden units along the way. In these systems processing requires one pass of processing through the network. Interactive nets exhibit no directionality of processing: a given unit may excite or inhibit another unit, and it, or another unit influenced by it, might excite or inhibit the first unit. A number of processing cycles will ensue after an input has been given to some or all of the units until eventually the network settles into one state, or cycles through a small set of such states. One of the most attractive features of connectionist networks is their ability to learn. This is accomplished by adjusting the weights connecting the various units of the system, thereby altering the manner in which the network responds to inputs. To illustrate the basic process of connectionist learning, consider a feedforward network with just two layers of units and one layer of connections. One learning procedure commonly referred to as the delta rule first requires the network to respond, using current weights, to an input. The activations on the units of the second layer are then compared to a set of target activations, and detected differences are used to adjust the weights coming from active input units. Such a procedure gradually reduces the difference between the actual response and the target response. In order to construe such networks as cognitive models it is necessary to interpret the input and output units. Localist interpretations treat individual input and output units as representing concepts such as those found in natural language. Distributed interpretations correlate only patterns of activation of a number of units with ordinary language concepts. Sometimes but not always distributed models will interpret individual units as corresponding to microfeatures. In one interesting variation on distributed representation, known as coarse coding, each symbol will be assigned to a different subset of the units of the system, and the symbol will be viewed as active only if a predefined number of the assigned units are active. A number of features of connectionist nets make them particularly attractive for modeling cognitive phenomena in addition to their ability to learn from experience. They are extremely efficient at pattern-recognition tasks and often generalize very well from training inputs to similar test inputs. They can often recover complete patterns from partial inputs, making them good models for content-addressable memory. Interactive networks are particularly useful in modeling cognitive tasks in which multiple constraints must be satisfied simultaneously, or in which the goal is to satisfy competing constraints as well as possible. In a natural manner they can override some constraints on a problem when it is not possible to satisfy all, thus treating the constraints as soft. While the cognitive connectionist models are not intended to model actual neural processing, they suggest how cognitive processes can be realized in neural hardware. They also exhibit a feature demonstrated by the brain but difficult to achieve in symbolic systems: their performance degrades gracefully as units or connections are disabled or the capacity of the network is exceeded, rather than crashing. Serious challenges have been raised to the usefulness of connectionism as a tool for modeling cognition. Many of these challenges have come from theorists who have focused on the complexities of language, especially the systematicity exhibited in language. Jerry Fodor and Zenon Pylyshyn, for example, have emphasized the manner in which the meaning of complex sentences is built up compositionally from the meaning of components, and argue both that compositionality applies to thought generally and that it requires a symbolic system. Therefore, they maintain, while cognitive systems might be implemented in connectionist nets, these nets do not characterize the architecture of the cognitive system itself, which must have capacities for symbol storage and manipulation. Connectionists have developed a variety of responses to these objections, including emphasizing the importance of cognitive functions such as pattern recognition, which have not been as successfully modeled by symbolic systems; challenging the need for symbol processing in accounting for linguistic behavior; and designing more complex connectionist architectures, such as recurrent networks, capable of responding to or producing systematic structures. 

connotatum –a variation on notatum, cf. denotatum --  adnotatum, annotate -- intension -- connotation. 1 The ideas and associations brought to mind by an expression used in contrast with ‘denotation’ and ‘meaning’. 2 In a technical use, the properties jointly necessary and sufficient for the correct application of the expression in question. 

sequentia: consequentia – “In ‘consequentia,’ the ‘con’ is possibly otiose, as cons usually are.” -- consequentialism, the doctrine that the moral rightness of an act is determined solely by the goodness of the act’s consequences. Prominent consequentialists include J. S. Mill, Moore, and Sidgwick. Maximizing versions of consequentialism  the most common sort  hold that an act is morally right if and only if it produces the best consequences of those acts available to the agent. Satisficing consequentialism holds that an act is morally right if and only if it produces enough good consequences on balance. Consequentialist theories are often contrasted with deontological ones, such as Kant’s, which hold that the rightness of an act is determined at least in part by something other than the goodness of the act’s consequences. A few versions of consequentialism are agentrelative: that is, they give each agent different aims, so that different agents’ aims may conflict. For instance, egoistic consequentialism holds that the moral rightness of an act for an agent depends solely on the goodness of its consequences for him or her. However, the vast majority of consequentialist theories have been agent-neutral and consequentialism is often defined in a more restrictive way so that agentrelative versions do not count as consequentialist. A doctrine is agent-neutral when it gives to each agent the same ultimate aims, so that different agents’ aims cannot conflict. For instance, utilitarianism holds that an act is morally right if and only if it produces more happiness for the sentient beings it affects than any other act available to the agent. This gives each agent the same ultimate aim, and so is agent-neutral. Consequentialist theories differ over what features of acts they hold to determine their goodness. Utilitarian versions hold that the only consequences of an act relevant to its goodness are its effects on the happiness of sentient beings. But some consequentialists hold that the promotion of other things matters too  achievement, autonomy, knowledge, or fairness, for instance. Thus utilitarianism, as a maximizing, agent-neutral, happiness-based view is only one of a broad range of consequentialist theories.  consequentia mirabilis, the logical principle that if a statement follows from its own negation it must be true. Strict consequentia mirabilis is the principle that if a statement follows logically from its own negation it is logically true. The principle is often connected with the paradoxes of strict implication, according to which any statement follows from a contradiction. Since the negation of a tautology is a contradiction, every tautology follows from its own negation. However, if every expression of the form ‘if p then q’ implies ‘not-p or q’ they need not be equivalent, then from ‘if not-p then p’ we can derive ‘not-not-p or p’ and by the principles of double negation and repetition derive p. Since all of these rules are unexceptionable the principle of consequentia mirabilis is also unexceptionable. It is, however, somewhat counterintuitive, hence the name ‘the astonishing implication’, which goes back to its medieval discoverers or rediscoverers. 

consistens: in traditional Aristotelian logic, a semantic notion: two or more statements are called consistent if they are simultaneously true under some interpretation cf., e.g., W. S. Jevons, Elementary Lessons in Logic, 1870. In modern logic there is a syntactic definition that also fits complex e.g., mathematical theories developed since Frege’s Begriffsschrift 1879: a set of statements is called consistent with respect to a certain logical calculus, if no formula ‘P & P’ is derivable from those statements by the rules of the calculus; i.e., the theory is free from contradictions. If these definitions are equivalent for a logic, we have a significant fact, as the equivalence amounts to the completeness of its system of rules. The first such completeness theorem was obtained for sentential or propositional logic by Paul Bernays in 8 in his Habilitationsschrift that was partially published as Axiomatische Untersuchung des Aussagen-Kalküls der “Principia Mathematica,” 6 and, independently, by Emil Post in Introduction to a General Theory of Elementary Propositions, 1; the completeness of predicate logic was proved by Gödel in Die Vollständigkeit der Axiome des logischen Funktionenkalküls, 0. The crucial step in such proofs shows that syntactic consistency implies semantic consistency. Cantor applied the notion of consistency to sets. In a well-known letter to Dedekind 9 he distinguished between an inconsistent and a consistent multiplicity; the former is such “that the assumption that all of its elements ‘are together’ leads to a contradiction,” whereas the elements of the latter “can be thought of without contradiction as ‘being together.’ “ Cantor had conveyed these distinctions and their motivation by letter to Hilbert in 7 see W. Purkert and H. J. Ilgauds, Georg Cantor, 7. Hilbert pointed out explicitly in 4 that Cantor had not given a rigorous criterion for distinguishing between consistent and inconsistent multiplicities. Already in his Über den Zahlbegriff 9 Hilbert had suggested a remedy by giving consistency proofs for suitable axiomatic systems; e.g., to give the proof of the “existence of the totality of real numbers or  in the terminology of G. Cantor  the proof of the fact that the system of real numbers is a consistent complete set” by establishing the consistency of an axiomatic characterization of the reals  in modern terminology, of the theory of complete, ordered fields. And he claimed, somewhat indeterminately, that this could be done “by a suitable modification of familiar methods.” After 4, Hilbert pursued a new way of giving consistency proofs. This novel way of proceeding, still aiming for the same goal, was to make use of the formalization of the theory at hand. However, in the formulation of Hilbert’s Program during the 0s the point of consistency proofs was no longer to guarantee the existence of suitable sets, but rather to establish the instrumental usefulness of strong mathematical theories T, like axiomatic set theory, relative to finitist mathematics. That focus rested on the observation that the statement formulating the syntactic consistency of T is equivalent to the reflection principle Pra, ‘s’ P s; here Pr is the finitist proof predicate for T, s is a finitistically meaningful statement, and ‘s’ its translation into the language of T. If one could establish finitistically the consistency of T, one could be sure  on finitist grounds  that T is a reliable instrument for the proof of finitist statements. There are many examples of significant relative consistency proofs: i non-Euclidean geometry relative to Euclidean, Euclidean geometry relative to analysis; ii set theory with the axiom of choice relative to set theory without the axiom of choice, set theory with the negation of the axiom of choice relative to set theory; iii classical arithmetic relative to intuitionistic arithmetic, subsystems of classical analysis relative to intuitionistic theories of constructive ordinals. The mathematical significance of relative consistency proofs is often brought out by sharpening them to establish conservative extension results; the latter may then ensure, e.g., that the theories have the same class of provably total functions. The initial motivation for such arguments is, however, frequently philosophical: one wants to guarantee the coherence of the original theory on an epistemologically distinguished basis. 

the english constitution:  an example Grice gives of a ‘vacuous name’ -- constitution, a relation between concrete particulars including objects and events and their parts, according to which at some time t, a concrete particular is said to be constituted by the sum of its parts without necessarily being identical with that sum. For instance, at some specific time t, Mt. Everest is constituted by the various chunks of rock and other matter that form Everest at t, though at t Everest would still have been Everest even if, contrary to fact, some particular rock that is part of the sum had been absent. Hence, although Mt. Everest is not identical to the sum of its material parts at t, it is constituted by them. The relation of constitution figures importantly in recent attempts to articulate and defend metaphysical physicalism naturalism. To capture the idea that all that exists is ultimately physical, we may say that at the lowest level of reality, there are only microphysical phenomena, governed by the laws of microphysics, and that all other objects and events are ultimately constituted by objects and events at the microphysical level. 

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

context: ‘text’ provides a few nice Romanisms – Grice: text, pre-text, con-text, sub-text --. while Grice jocularly echoes Firth with his ‘context of utterance,’ he thought the theory of context was ‘totally lacking in context.’ H. P. Grice, “The general theory of context,” -- contextualism, the view that inferential justification always takes place against a background of beliefs that are themselves in no way evidentially supported. The view has not often been defended by name, but Dewey, Popper, Austin, and Vitters are arguably among its notable exponents. As this list perhaps suggests, contextualism is closely related to the “relevant alternatives” conception of justification, according to which claims to knowledge are justified not by ruling out any and every logically possible way in which what is asserted might be false or inadequately grounded, but by excluding certain especially relevant alternatives or epistemic shortcomings, these varying from one context of inquiry to another. Formally, contextualism resembles foundationalism. But it differs from traditional, or substantive, foundationalism in two crucial respects. First, foundationalism insists that basic beliefs be self-justifying or intrinsically credible. True, for contemporary foundationalists, this intrinsic credibility need not amount to incorrigibility, as earlier theorists tended to suppose: but some degree of intrinsic credibility is indispensable for basic beliefs. Second, substantive foundational theories confine intrinsic credibility, hence the status of being epistemologically basic, to beliefs of some fairly narrowly specified kinds. By contrast, contextualists reject all forms of the doctrine of intrinsic credibility, and in consequence place no restrictions on the kinds of beliefs that can, in appropriate circumstances, function as contextually basic. They regard this as a strength of their position, since explaining and defending attributions of intrinsic credibility has always been the foundationalist’s main problem. Contextualism is also distinct from the coherence theory of justification, foundationalism’s traditional rival. Coherence theorists are as suspicious as contextualists of the foundationalist’s specified kinds of basic beliefs. But coherentists react by proposing a radically holistic model of inferential justification, according to which a belief becomes justified through incorporation into a suitably coherent overall system of beliefs or “total view.” There are many well-known problems with this approach: the criteria of coherence have never been very clearly articulated; it is not clear what satisfying such criteria has to do with making our beliefs likely to be true; and since it is doubtful whether anyone has a very clear picture of his system of beliefs as a whole, to insist that justification involves comparing the merits of competing total views seems to subject ordinary justificatory practices to severe idealization. Contextualism, in virtue of its formal affinity with foundationalism, claims to avoid all such problems. Foundationalists and coherentists are apt to respond that contextualism reaps these benefits by failing to show how genuinely epistemic justification is possible. Contextualism, they charge, is finally indistinguishable from the skeptical view that “justification” depends on unwarranted assumptions. Even if, in context, these are pragmatically acceptable, epistemically speaking they are still just assumptions. This objection raises the question whether contextualists mean to answer the same questions as more traditional theorists, or answer them in the same way. Traditional theories of justification are framed so as to respond to highly general skeptical questions  e.g., are we justified in any of our beliefs about the external world? It may be that contextualist theories are or should be advanced, not as direct answers to skepticism, but in conjunction with attempts to diagnose or dissolve traditional skeptical problems. Contextualists need to show how and why traditional demands for “global” justification misfire, if they do. If traditional skeptical problems are taken at face value, it is doubtful whether contextualism can answer them. 

Continens – temperans -- TEMPERANTIA, CONTINENTIA – INCONTINENTIA -- -- egcrateia: or temperantia. This is a universal. Strictly, it’s the agent who has the power – Or part of his soul – the rational soul has the power – hence Grice’s metaphor of the ‘power structure of the soul.’ Grice is interested in the linguistic side to it. What’s the use of “Don’t p!” if ‘p’ is out of the emissee’s rational control? Cf. Pears on egcreateia as ‘irrationality,’ if motivated. Cfr mesotes. the geniality of Grice was to explore theoretical akrasia. Grice’s genius shows in seeing egcrateia and lack thereof as marks of virtue. “C hasn’t been to prison yet” He is potentially dishonest. But you cannot be HONEST if you are NOT potentially DISHONEST. Of course, it does not paint a good picture of the philosopher why he should be obsessed with ‘akrasia,’ when Aristotle actually opposed the notion to that of ‘enkrateia,’ or ‘continence.’ Surely a philosopher needs to provide a reductive analysis of ‘continence,’ first; and the reductive analysis of ‘incontinence’ will follow. Aristotle, as Grice well knew, is being a Platonist here, so by ‘continence,’ he meant a power structure of the soul, with the ‘rational’ soul containing the pre-rational or non-rational soul (animal soul, and vegetal soul). And right he was, too! So, Grice's twist is Έγκράτεια, sic in capitals! Liddell and Scott has it as ‘ἐγκράτεια’ [ρα^], which they render as “mastery over,” as used by Plato in The Republic: “ἐ. ἑαυτοῦ,” meaning ‘self-control’ (Pl. R.390b; ἐ. ἡδονῶν καὶ ἐπιθυμιῶν control over them, ib.430e, cf. X.Mem.2.1.1, Isoc.1.21; “περί τι” Arist.EN1149a21, al. Liddell and Scott go on to give a reference to Grice’s beloved “Eth. Nich.” (1145b8) II. abs., self-control, X. Mem.1.5.1, Isoc.3.44, Arist. EN. 1145b8, al., LXX Si.18.30, Act.Ap. 24.25, etc. Richards, an emotivist, as well as Collingwood (in “Language”) had made a stereotype of the physicist drawing a formula on the blackboard. “Full of emotion.” So the idea that there is an UN-emotional life is a fallacy. Emotion pervades the rational life, as does akrasia. Grice was particularly irritated by the fact that Davidson, who lacked a background in the humanities and the classics, could think of akrasia as “impossible”! Grice was never too interested in emotion (or feeling) because while we do say I feel that the cat is hungry, we also say, Im feeling byzantine. The concept of emotion needs a philosophical elucidation. Grice was curious about a linguistic botany for that! Akrasia for Grice covers both buletic-boulomaic and doxastic versions. The buletic-boulomaic version may be closer to the concept of an emotion. Grice quotes from Kennys essay on emotion. But Grice is looking for more of a linguistic botany. As it happens, Kennys essay has Griceian implicatura. One problem Grice finds with emotion is that feel that  sometimes behaves like thinks that  Another is that there is no good Grecian word for emotio.  Kenny, of St. Benets, completed his essay on emotion under Quinton (who would occasionally give seminars with Grice), and examined by two members of Grices Play Group: Pears and Gardiner. Kenny connects an emotion to a feeling, which brings us to Grice on feeling boringly byzantine! Grice proposes a derivation of akrasia in conditional steps for both buletic-boulomaic and doxastic akrasia.  Liddell and Scott have “ἐπιθυμία,” which they render as desire, yearning, “ἐ. ἐκτελέσαι” Hdt.1.32; ἐπιθυμίᾳ by passion, oπρονοίᾳ, generally, appetite, αἱ κατὰ τὸ σῶμα ἐ. esp. sexual desire, lust, αἱ πρὸς τοὺς παῖδας ἐ.; longing after a thing, desire of or for it, ὕδατος, τοῦ πιεῖν;” “τοῦ πλέονος;” “τῆς τιμωρίας;” “τῆς μεθ᾽ ὑμῶν πολιτείας;’ “τῆς παρθενίας;’ “εἰς ἐ. τινὸς ἐλθεῖν;’ ἐν ἐ. “τινὸς εἶναι;’ “γεγονέναι;” “εἰς ἐ. τινὸς “ἀφικέσθαι θεάσασθαι;” “ἐ. τινὸς ἐμβαλεῖν τινί;” “ἐ. ἐμποιεῖν ἔς τινα an inclination towards;” =ἐπιθύμημα, object of desire, ἐπιθυμίας τυχεῖν;” “ἀνδρὸς ἐ., of woman, “πενήτων ἐ., of sleep. There must be more to emotion, such as philia, than epithumia! cf. Grice on Aristotle on philos. What is an emotion? Aristotle, Rhetoric II.1; Konstan “Pathos and Passion” R. Roberts, “Emotion”; W. Fortenbaugh, Aristotle on Emotion; Simo Knuuttila, Emotions in Ancient and Medieval Philosophy. Aristotle, Rhet. II.2-12; De An., Eth.N., and Top.; Emotions in Plato and Aristotle; Philosophy of Emotion; Aristotle and the Emotions, De An. II.12 and III 1-3; De Mem. 1; Rhet. II.5; Scheiter, “Images, Imagination, and Appearances, V. Caston, Why Aristotle Needs Imagination” M. Nussbaum, “Aristotle on Emotions and Rational Persuasion, J. Cooper, “An Aristotelian Theory of Emotion, G. Striker, Emotions in Context: Aristotles Treatment of the Passions in the Rhetoric and his Moral Psychology." Essays on Aristotles Rhetoric (J. Dow, Aristotles Theory of the Emotions, Moral Psychology and Human Action in Aristotle PLATO. Aristotle, Rhetoric I.10-11; Plato Philebus 31b-50e and Republic IV, D. Frede, Mixed feelings in Aristotles Rhetoric." Essays on Aristotles Rhetoric, J. Moss, “Pictures and Passions in Plato”; Protagoras 352b-c, Phaedo 83b-84a, Timaeus 69c STOICS The Hellenistic philosophers; “The Old Stoic Theory of Emotion” The Emotions in Hellenistic Philosophy, eEmotion and Peace of Mind: From Stoic Agitation to Christian Temptation, Sorabji, Chrysippus Posidonius Seneca: A High-Level Debate on Emotion. Nussbaum, The Therapy of Desire: Theory and Practice in Hellenistic Ethics M. Graver, Preface and Introduction to Cicero on Emotion: Tusculan Disputations 3 and 4 M. Graver, Stoicism and emotion. Tusculan Disputations 3 Recommended: Graver, Margaret. "Philo of Alexandria and the Origins of the Stoic Προπάθειαι." Phronesis. Tusculan Disputations; "The Stoic doctrine of the affections of the soul; The Stoic life: Emotions, duties, and fate”; Emotion and decision in stoic psychology, The stoics, individual emotions: anger, friendly feeling, and hatred.  Aristotle Rhetoric II.2-3; Nicomachean Ethics IV.5; Topics 2.7 and 4.5; Konstan, Anger, Pearson, Aristotle on Desire; Scheiter, Review of Pearsons Aristotle on Desire; S. Leighton, Aristotles Account of Anger: Narcissism and Illusions of Self‐Sufficiency: The Complex Evaluative World of Aristotles Angry Man,” Valuing emotions. Aristotle Rhetoric II. 4; Konstan, “Hatred”  Konstan "Aristotle on Anger and the Emotions: the Strategies of Status." Ancient Anger: Perspectives from Homer to Galen, C. Rapp, The emotional dimension of friendship: notes on Aristotles account of philia in Rhetoric II 4” Grice endeavours to give an answer to the question whether and to what extent philia (friendship), as it is treated by Aristotle in Rhet. II.4, can be considered a genuine emotion as, for example, fear and anger are. Three anomalies are identified in the definition and the account of philia (and of the associated verb philein), which suggest a negative response to the question. However, these anomalies are analysed and explained in terms of the specific notes of philia in order to show that Rhetoric II4 does allow for a consideration of friendship as a genuine emotion. Seneca, On Anger (De Ira) Seneca, On Anger Seneca, On Anger (62-96); K. Vogt, “Anger, Present Injustice, and Future Revenge in Senecas De Ira” FEAR Aristotle, Rhet. II.5; Nicomachean Ethics III.6-9  Aristotles Courageous Passions, Platos Laws; “Pleasure, Pain, and Anticipation in Platos Laws, Book I” Konstan, “Fear”  PITY Aristotle, Rhetoric II. 8-9; Poetics, chs. 6, 9-19 ; Konstan, “Pity”  E. Belfiore, Tragic pleasures: Aristotle on plot and emotion, Konstan, Aristotle on the Tragic Emotions, The Soul of Tragedy: Essays on Athenian Drama  SHAME Aristotle, Rhet. II.6; Nicomachean Ethics IV.9 Konstan, Shame J. Moss, Shame, Pleasure, and the Divided Soul, B. Williams, Shame and Necessity. Aristotle investigates two character traits, continence and incontinence, that are not as blameworthy as the vices but not as praiseworthy as the virtues. The Grecian expressions are’enkrateia,’ continence, literally mastery, and krasia (“incontinence”; literally, lack of mastery. An akratic person goes against reason as a result of some pathos (emotion, feeling”). Like the akratic, an enkratic person experiences a feeling that is contrary to reason; but unlike the akratic, he acts in accordance with reason. His defect consists solely in the fact that, more than most people, he experiences passions that conflict with his rational choice. The akratic person has not only this defect, but has the further flaw that he gives in to feeling rather than reason more often than the average person.  Aristotle distinguishes two kinds of akrasia: “propeteia,” or impetuosity and “astheneia, or weakness. The person who is weak goes through a process of deliberation and makes a choice; but rather than act in accordance with his reasoned choice, he acts under the influence of a passion. By contrast, the impetuous person does not go through a process of deliberation and does not make a reasoned choice; he simply acts under the influence of a passion. At the time of action, the impetuous person experiences no internal conflict. But once his act has been completed, he regrets what he has done. One could say that he deliberates, if deliberation were something that post-dated rather than preceded action; but the thought process he goes through after he acts comes too late to save him from error.  It is important to bear in mind that when Aristotle talks about impetuosity and weakness, he is discussing chronic conditions. The impetuous person is someone who acts emotionally and fails to deliberate not just once or twice but with some frequency; he makes this error more than most people do. Because of this pattern in his actions, we would be justified in saying of the impetuous person that had his passions not prevented him from doing so, he would have deliberated and chosen an action different from the one he did perform.  The two kinds of passions that Aristotle focuses on, in his treatment of akrasia, are the appetite for pleasure and anger. Either can lead to impetuosity and weakness. But Aristotle gives pride of place to the appetite for pleasure as the passion that undermines reason. He calls the kind of akrasia caused by an appetite for pleasure (hedone) “unqualified akrasia”—or, as we might say, akrasia simpliciter, “full stop.’ Akrasia caused by anger he considers a qualified form of akrasia and calls it akrasia ‘with respect to anger.’ We thus have these four forms of akrasia: impetuosity caused by pleasure, impetuosity caused by anger, weakness caused by pleasure, weakness caused by anger. It should be noticed that Aristotle’s treatment of akrasia is heavily influenced by Plato’s tripartite division of the soul. Plato holds that either the spirited part (which houses anger, as well as other emotions) or the appetitive part (which houses the desire for physical pleasures) can disrupt the dictates of reason and result in action contrary to reason. The same threefold division of the soul can be seen in Aristotles approach to this topic. Although Aristotle characterizes akrasia and enkrateia in terms of a conflict between reason and feeling, his detailed analysis of these states of mind shows that what takes place is best described in a more complicated way. For the feeling that undermines reason contains some thought, which may be implicitly general. As Aristotle says, anger “reasoning as it were that one must fight against such a thing, is immediately provoked. And although in the next sentence he denies that our appetite for pleasure works in this way, he earlier had said that there can be a syllogism that favors pursuing enjoyment: “Everything sweet is pleasant, and this is sweet” leads to the pursuit of a particular pleasure. Perhaps what he has in mind is that pleasure can operate in either way: it can prompt action unmediated by a general premise, or it can prompt us to act on such a syllogism. By contrast, anger always moves us by presenting itself as a bit of general, although hasty, reasoning.  But of course Aristotle does not mean that a conflicted person has more than one faculty of reason. Rather his idea seems to be that in addition to our full-fledged reasoning capacity, we also have psychological mechanisms that are capable of a limited range of reasoning. When feeling conflicts with reason, what occurs is better described as a fight between feeling-allied-with-limited-reasoning and full-fledged reason. Part of us—reason—can remove itself from the distorting influence of feeling and consider all relevant factors, positive and negative. But another part of us—feeling or emotion—has a more limited field of reasoning—and sometimes it does not even make use of it.  Although “passion” is sometimes used as a translation of Aristotles word pathos (other alternatives are emotion” and feeling), it is important to bear in mind that his term does not necessarily designate a strong psychological force. Anger is a pathos whether it is weak or strong; so too is the appetite for bodily pleasures. And he clearly indicates that it is possible for an akratic person to be defeated by a weak pathos—the kind that most people would easily be able to control. So the general explanation for the occurrence of akrasia cannot be that the strength of a passion overwhelms reason. Aristotle should therefore be acquitted of an accusation made against him by Austin in a well-known footnote to ‘A Plea For Excuses.’ Plato and Aristotle, Austin says, collapsed all succumbing to temptation into losing control of ourselves — a mistake illustrated by this example. I am very partial to ice cream, and a bombe is served divided into segments corresponding one to one with the persons at High Table. I am tempted to help myself to two segments and do so, thus succumbing to temptation and even conceivably (but why necessarily?) going against my principles. But do I lose control of myself? Do I raven, do I snatch the morsels from the dish and wolf them down, impervious to the consternation of my colleagues? Not a bit of it. We often succumb to temptation with calm and even with finesse. With this, Aristotle can agree. The pathos for the bombe can be a weak one, and in some people that will be enough to get them to act in a way that is disapproved by their reason at the very time of action.  What is most remarkable about Aristotle’s discussion of akrasia is that he defends a position close to that of Socrates. When he first introduces the topic of akrasia, and surveys some of the problems involved in understanding this phenomenon, he says that Socrates held that there is no akrasia, and he describes this as a thesis that clearly conflicts with the appearances (phainomena). Since he says that his goal is to preserve as many of the appearances as possible, it may come as a surprise that when he analyzes the conflict between reason and feeling, he arrives at the conclusion that in a way Socrates was right after all. For, he says, the person who acts against reason does not have what is thought to be unqualified knowledge; in a way he has knowledge, but in a way does not.  Aristotle explains what he has in mind by comparing akrasia to the condition of other people who might be described as knowing in a way, but not in an unqualified way. His examples are people who are asleep, mad, or drunk; he also compares the akratic to a student who has just begun to learn a Subjects, or an actor on the stage. All of these people, he says, can utter the very words used by those who have knowledge; but their talk does not prove that they really have knowledge, strictly speaking.  These analogies can be taken to mean that the form of akrasia that Aristotle calls weakness rather than impetuosity always results from some diminution of cognitive or intellectual acuity at the moment of action. The akratic says, at the time of action, that he ought not to indulge in this particular pleasure at this time. But does he know or even believe that he should refrain? Aristotle might be taken to reply: yes and no. He has some degree of recognition that he must not do this now, but not full recognition. His feeling, even if it is weak, has to some degree prevented him from completely grasping or affirming the point that he should not do this. And so in a way Socrates was right. When reason remains unimpaired and unclouded, its dictates will carry us all the way to action, so long as we are able to act.  But Aristotles agreement with Socrates is only partial, because he insists on the power of the emotions to rival, weaken or bypass reason. Emotion challenges reason in all three of these ways. In both the akratic and the enkratic, it competes with reason for control over action; even when reason wins, it faces the difficult task of having to struggle with an internal rival. Second, in the akratic, it temporarily robs reason of its full acuity, thus handicapping it as a competitor. It is not merely a rival force, in these cases; it is a force that keeps reason from fully exercising its power. And third, passion can make someone impetuous; here its victory over reason is so powerful that the latter does not even enter into the arena of conscious reflection until it is too late to influence action. That, at any rate, is one way of interpreting Aristotle’s statements. But it must be admitted that his remarks are obscure and leave room for alternative readings. It is possible that when he denies that the akratic has knowledge in the strict sense, he is simply insisting on the point that no one should be classified as having practical knowledge unless he actually acts in accordance with it. A practical knower is not someone who merely has knowledge of general premises; he must also have knowledge of particulars, and he must actually draw the conclusion of the syllogism. Perhaps drawing such a conclusion consists in nothing less than performing the action called for by the major and minor premises. Since this is something the akratic does not do, he lacks knowledge; his ignorance is constituted by his error in action. On this reading, there is no basis for attributing to Aristotle the thesis that the kind of akrasia he calls weakness is caused by a diminution of intellectual acuity. His explanation of akrasia is simply that pathos is sometimes a stronger motivational force than full-fledged reason.  This is a difficult reading to defend, however, for Aristotle says that after someone experiences a bout of akrasia his ignorance is dissolved and he becomes a knower again. In context, that appears to be a remark about the form of akrasia Aristotle calls weakness rather than impetuosity. If so, he is saying that when an akratic person is Subjects to two conflicting influences—full-fledged reason versus the minimal rationality of emotion—his state of knowledge is somehow temporarily undone but is later restored. Here, knowledge cannot be constituted by the performance of an act, because that is not the sort of thing that can be restored at a later time. What can be restored is ones full recognition or affirmation of the fact that this act has a certain undesirable feature, or that it should not be performed. Aristotle’s analysis seems to be that both forms of akrasia — weakness and impetuosity —share a common structure: in each case, ones full affirmation or grasp of what one should do comes too late. The difference is that in the case of weakness but not impetuosity, the akratic act is preceded by a full-fledged rational cognition of what one should do right now. That recognition is briefly and temporarily diminished by the onset of a less than fully rational affect.  There is one other way in which Aristotle’s treatment of akrasia is close to the Socratic thesis that what people call akrasia is really ignorance. Aristotle holds that if one is in the special mental condition that he calls practical wisdom, then one cannot be, nor will one ever become, an akratic person. For practical wisdom is present only in those who also possess the ethical virtues, and these qualities require complete emotional mastery. Anger and appetite are fully in harmony with reason, if one is practically wise, and so this intellectual virtue is incompatible with the sort of inner conflict experienced by the akratic person. Furthermore, one is called practically wise not merely on the basis of what one believes or knows, but also on the basis of what one does. Therefore, the sort of knowledge that is lost and regained during a bout of akrasia cannot be called practical wisdom. It is knowledge only in a loose sense. The low-level grasp of the ordinary person of what to do is precisely the sort of thing that can lose its acuity and motivating power, because it was never much of an intellectual accomplishment to begin with. That is what Aristotle is getting at when he compares it with the utterances of actors, students, sleepers, drunks, and madmen. Grice had witnessed how Hare had suffere to try and deal with how to combine the geniality that “The language of morals” is with his account of akrasia. Most Oxonians were unhappy with Hares account of akrasia. Its like, in deontic logic, you cannot actually deal with akrasia. You need buletics. You need the desiderative, so that you can oppose what is desired with the duty, even if both concepts are related. “Akrasia” has a nice Grecian touch about it, and Grice and Hare, as Lit. Hum., rejoiced in being able to explore what Aristotle had to say about it. They wouldnt go far beyond Aristotle. Plato and Aristotle were the only Greek philosophers studied for the Lit. Hum. To venture with the pre-socratics or the hellenistics (even if Aristotle is one) was not classy enough! Like Pears in Motivated irrationality, Grice allows that benevolentia may be deemed beneficentia. If Smith has the good will to give Jones a job, he may be deemed to have given Jones the job, even if Jones never get it. In buletic akrasia we must consider the conclusion to be desiring what is not best for the agents own good, never mind if he refrains from doing what is not best for his own good. Video meliora proboque deteriora sequor. We shouldnt be saying this, but we are saying it! Grice prefers akrasia, but he is happy to use the translation by Cicero, also negative, of this: incontinentia, as if continentia were a virtue! For Grice, the alleged paradox of akrasia, both alethic and practical, has to be accounted for by a theory of rationality from the start, and not be deemed a stumbling block. Grice is interested in both the common-or-garden buletic-boulomaic version of akrasia, involving the volitive soul ‒ in term of desirability  ‒ and doxastic akrasia, involing the judicative soul proper  ‒ in terms of probability. Grice considers buletic akrasia and doxastic akrasia ‒ the latter yet distinct from Moores paradox, p but I dont want to believe that p, in symbols p and ~ψb-dp. Akarsia, see egcrateia. egcrateia: also spelled acrasia, or akrasia, Grecian term for weakness of will. Akrasia is a character flaw, also called incontinence, exhibited primarily in intentional behavior that conflicts with the agent’s own values or principles. Its contrary is enkrateia strength of will, continence, self-control. Both akrasia and enkrateia, Aristotle says, “are concerned with what is in excess of the state characteristic of most people; for the continent abide by their resolutions more, and the incontinent less, than most people can” Nicomachean Ethics 1152a2527. These resolutions may be viewed as judgments that it would be best to perform an action of a certain sort, or better to do one thing than another. Enkrateia, on that view, is the power kratos to act as one judges best in the face of competing motivation. Akrasia is a want or deficiency of such power. Aristotle himself limited the sphere of both states more strictly than is now done, regarding both as concerned specifically with “pleasures and pains and appetites and aversions arising through touch and taste” [1150a910]. Philosophers are generally more interested in incontinent and continent actions than in the corresponding states of character. Various species of incontinent or akratic behavior may be distinguished, including incontinent reasoning and akratic belief formation. The species of akratic behavior that has attracted most attention is uncompelled, intentional action that conflicts with a better or best judgment consciously held by the agent at the time of action. If, e.g., while judging it best not to eat a second piece of pie, you intentionally eat another piece, you act incontinently  provided that your so acting is uncompelled e.g., your desire for the pie is not irresistible. Socrates denied that such action is possible, thereby creating one of the Socratic paradoxes. In “unorthodox” instances of akratic action, a deed manifests weakness of will even though it accords with the agent’s better judgment. A boy who decides, against his better judgment, to participate in a certain dangerous prank, might  owing to an avoidable failure of nerve  fail to execute his decision. In such a case, some would claim, his failure to act on his decision manifests weakness of will or akrasia. If, instead, he masters his fear, his participating in the prank might manifest strength of will, even though his so acting conflicts with his better judgment. The occurrence of akratic actions seems to be a fact of life. Unlike many such apparent facts, this one has received considerable philosophical scrutiny for nearly two and a half millennia. A major source of the interest is clear: akratic action raises difficult questions about the connection between thought and action, a connection of paramount importance for most philosophical theories of the explanation of intentional behavior. Insofar as moral theory does not float free of evidence about the etiology of human behavior, the tough questions arise there as well. Ostensible akratic action, then, occupies a philosophical space in the intersection of the philosophy of mind and moral theory.  Refs.: The main references here are in three folders in two different series. H. P. Grice, “Akrasia,” The H. P. Grice Papers, S. II, c. 2-ff. 22-23 and S. V, c. 6-f. 32, BANC.

continental breakfast: Grice enjoyed a continental breakfast at Oxford, and an English breakfast in Rome – As for ‘continental’ “philosophy,” Grice applied it to the gradually changing spectrum of philosophical views that in the twentieth century developed in Continental Europe and that are notably different from the various forms of analytic philosophy that during the same period flourished at Oxford. Immediately after World War II the expression “philosophie continentale” was more or less synonymous with ‘phenomenology’. The latter term, already used earlier in G. idealism, received a completely new meaning in the work of Husserl. Later on “phainomenologie” was also applied, often with substantial changes in meaning, to the thought of a great number of other Continental philosophers such as Scheler, Alexander Pfander, Hedwig Conrad-Martius, and Nicolai Hartmann. For Husserl the aim of philosophy is to prepare humankind for a genuinely philosophical form of life, in and through which each human being gives him- or herself a rule through reason. Since the Renaissance, many philosophers have tried in vain to materialize this aim. In Husserl’s view, the reason was that philosophers failed to use the proper philosophical method. Husserl’s phenomenology was meant to provide philosophy with the method needed. Among those deeply influenced by Husserl’s ideas the so-called existentialists must be mentioned first. If ‘existentialism’ is construed strictly, it refers mainly to the philosophy of Sartre and Beauvoir. In a very broad sense ‘existentialism’ refers to the ideas of an entire group of thinkers influenced methodologically by Husserl and in content by Marcel, Heidegger, Sartre, or Merleau-Ponty, and one may go and include S. N. Hampshire into the bargain. In this case one often speaks of existential phenomenology. When Heidegger’s philosophy became better known at Oxford, ‘continental philosophy’ received again a new meaning. From Heidegger’s first publication, Being and Time 7, it was clear that his conception of phenomenology differs from that of Husserl in several important respects. That is why he qualified the term and spoke of hermeneutic phenomenology and clarified the expression by examining the “original” meaning of the Grecian words from which the term was formed. In his view phenomenology must try “to let that which shows itself be seen from itself in the very way in which it shows itself from itself.” Heidegger applied the method first to the mode of being of man with the aim of approaching the question concerning the meaning of being itself through this phenomenological interpretation. Of those who took their point of departure from Heidegger, but also tried to go beyond him, Gadamer and Ricoeur must be mentioned. The structuralist movement in France added another connotation to ‘Continental philosophy’. The term structuralism above all refers to an activity, a way of knowing, speaking, and acting that extends over a number of distinguished domains of human activity: linguistics, aesthetics, anthropology, psychology, psychoanalysis, mathematics, philosophy of science, and philosophy itself. Structuralism, which became a fashion in Paris and later in Western Europe generally, reached its high point on the Continent between 0 and 0. It was inspired by ideas first formulated by Russian formalism 626 and Czech structuralism 640, but also by ideas derived from the works of Marx and Freud. In France Foucault, Barthes, Althusser, and Derrida were the leading figures. Structuralism is not a new philosophical movement; it must be characterized by structuralist activity, which is meant to evoke ever new objects. This can be done in a constructive and a reconstructive manner, but these two ways of evoking objects can never be separated. One finds the constructive aspect primarily in structuralist aesthetics and linguistics, whereas the reconstructive aspect is more apparent in philosophical reflections upon the structuralist activity. Influenced by Nietzschean ideas, structuralism later developed in a number of directions, including poststructuralism; in this context the works of Gilles Deleuze, Lyotard, Irigaray, and Kristeva must be mentioned. After 0 ‘Continental philosophy’ received again a new connotation: deconstruction. At first deconstruction presented itself as a reaction against philosophical hermeneutics, even though both deconstruction and hermeneutics claim their origin in Heidegger’s reinterpretation of Husserl’s phenomenology. The leading philosopher of the movement is Derrida, who at first tried to think along phenomenological and structuralist lines. Derrida formulated his “final” view in a linguistic form that is both complex and suggestive. It is not easy in a few sentences to state what deconstruction is. Generally speaking one can say that what is being deconstructed is texts; they are deconstructed to show that there are conflicting conceptions of meaning and implication in every text so that it is never possible definitively to show what a text really means. Derrida’s own deconstructive work is concerned mainly with philosophical texts, whereas others apply the “method” predominantly to literary texts. What according to Derrida distinguished philosophy is its reluctance to face the fact that it, too, is a product of linguistic and rhetorical figures. Deconstruction is here that process of close reading that focuses on those elements where philosophers in their work try to erase all knowledge of its own linguistic and rhetorical dimensions. It has been said that if construction typifies modern thinking, then deconstruction is the mode of thinking that radically tries to overcome modernity. Yet this view is simplistic, since one also deconstructs Plato and many other thinkers and philosophers of the premodern age. People concerned with social and political philosophy who have sought affiliation with Continental philosophy often appeal to the so-called critical theory of the Frankfurt School in general, and to Habermas’s theory of communicative action in particular. Habermas’s view, like the position of the Frankfurt School in general, is philosophically eclectic. It tries to bring into harmony ideas derived from Kant, G. idealism, and Marx, as well as ideas from the sociology of knowledge and the social sciences. Habermas believes that his theory makes it possible to develop a communication community without alienation that is guided by reason in such a way that the community can stand freely in regard to the objectively given reality. Critics have pointed out that in order to make this theory work Habermas must substantiate a number of assumptions that until now he has not been able to justify. 

Grice’s contingency planning – ‘contingens.’ “What is actual is not also possible” “What is necessary is not also contingent” -- contingent, neither impossible nor necessary; i.e., both possible and non-necessary. The modal property of being contingent is attributable to a proposition, state of affairs, event, or  more debatably  an object. Muddles about the relationship between this and other modal properties have abounded ever since Aristotle, who initially conflated contingency with possibility but later realized that something that is possible may also be necessary, whereas something that is contingent cannot be necessary. Even today many philosophers are not clear about the “opposition” between contingency and necessity, mistakenly supposing them to be contradictory notions probably because within the domain of true propositions the contingent and the necessary are indeed both exclusive and exhaustive of one another. But the contradictory of ‘necessary’ is ‘non-necessary’; that of ‘contingent’ is ‘non-contingent’, as the following extended modal square of opposition shows: These logico-syntactical relationships are preserved through various semantical interpretations, such as those involving: a the logical modalities proposition P is logically contingent just when P is neither a logical truth nor a logical falsehood; b the causal or physical modalities state of affairs or event E is physically contingent just when E is neither physically necessary nor physically impossible; and c the deontic modalities act A is morally indeterminate just when A is neither morally obligatory nor morally forbidden. In none of these cases does ‘contingent’ mean ‘dependent,’ as in the phrase ‘is contingent upon’. Yet just such a notion of contingency seems to feature prominently in certain formulations of the cosmological argument, all created objects being said to be contingent beings and God alone to be a necessary or non-contingent being. Conceptual clarity is not furthered by assimilating this sense of ‘contingent’ to the others. 

contrapositum: -- in Grecian, ‘antithesis’ – cfr. Hegel’s triad: thesis/antithesis,/synthesis. --  the immediate logical operation on any categorical proposition that is accomplished by first forming the complements of both the subject term and the predicate term of that proposition and then interchanging these complemented terms. Thus, contraposition applied to the categorical proposition ‘All cats are felines’ yields ‘All non-felines are non-cats’, where ‘nonfeline’ and ‘non-cat’ are, respectively, the complements or complementary terms of ‘feline’ and ‘cat’. The result of applying contraposition to a categorical proposition is said to be the contrapositive of that proposition.  contraries, any pair of propositions that cannot both be true but can both be false; derivatively, any pair of properties that cannot both apply to a thing but that can both fail to apply to a thing. Thus the propositions ‘This object is red all over’ and ‘This object is green all over’ are contraries, as are the properties of being red all over and being green all over. Traditionally, it was considered that the categorical A-proposition ‘All S’s are P’s’ and the categorical E-proposition ‘No S’s are P’s’ were contraries; but according to De Morgan and most subsequent logicians, these two propositions are both true when there are no S’s at all, so that modern logicians do not usually regard the categorical A- and E-propositions as being true contraries.  contravalid, designating a proposition P in a logical system such that every proposition in the system is a consequence of P. In most of the typical and familiar logical systems, contravalidity coincides with self-contradictoriness. 

voluntary and rational control – the power structure of the soul -- Grice’s intersubjective conversational control, -- for Grice only what is under one’s control is communicated – spots mean measles only metaphorically, the spots don’t communicate measles. An involuntary cry does not ‘mean.’ Only a simulated cry of pain is a vehicle by which an emissor may mean that he is in pain. an apparently causal phenomenon closely akin to power and important for such topics as intentional action, freedom, and moral responsibility. Depending upon the control you had over the event, your finding a friend’s stolen car may or may not be an intentional action, a free action, or an action for which you deserve moral credit. Control seems to be a causal phenomenon. Try to imagine controlling a car, say, without causing anything. If you cause nothing, you have no effect on the car, and one does not control a thing on which one has no effect. But control need not be causally deterministic. Even if a genuine randomizer in your car’s steering mechanism gives you only a 99 percent chance of making turns you try to make, you still have considerable control in that sphere. Some philosophers claim that we have no control over anything if causal determinism is true. That claim is false. When you drive your car, you normally are in control of its speed and direction, even if our world happens to be deterministic. 

conversational avowal:  The phrase is a Ryleism, but Grice liked it. Grice’s point is with corrigibility or lack thereof. He recalls his tutorials with Strawson. “I want you to bring me a paper on Friday.” “You mean The Telegraph?” “You know what I mean.”  “But perhaps you don’t.”  Grice’s favourite conversational avowal, mentioned by Grice, is a declaration of an intention.. Grice starts using the phrase ‘conversational avowal’ after exploring Ryle’s rather cursory exploration of them in The Concept of Mind. This is interesting because in general Grice is an anti-ryleist. The verb is of course ‘to avow,’ which is ultimately a Latinate from ‘advocare.’ A processes or event of the soul is, on the official view, supposed to be played out in a private theatre. Such an event is known directly by the man who has them either through the faculty of introspection or the ‘phosphorescence’ of consciousness. The subject is, on this view, incorrigible—his avowals of the state of his soul cannot be corrected by others—and he is infallible—he cannot be wrong about which states he is in. The official doctrine mistakenly construes an avowals or a report of such an episode as issuing from a special sort of observation or perception of shadowy existents. We should consider some differences between two sorts of 'conversational' avowals: (i) I feel a tickle and (ii) I feel ill. If a man feels a tickle, he has a tickle, and if he has a tickle, he feels it. But if he feels ill, he may not be ill, and if he is ill, he may not feel ill. Doubtless a man’s feeling ill is some evidence for his being ill. But feeling a tickle is not evidence for his having a tickle, any more than striking a blow is evidence for the occurrence of a blow. In ‘feel a tickle’ and ‘strike a blow’, ‘tickle’ and ‘blow’ are cognate accusatives to the verbs ‘feel’ and ‘strike’. The verb and its accusative are two expressions for the same thing, as are the verbs and their accusatives in ‘I dreamt a dream’ and ‘I asked a question’. But ‘ill’ and ‘capable of climbing the tree’ are not cognate accusatives to the verb ‘to feel.' So they are not in grammar bound to signify feelings, as ‘tickle’ is in grammar bound to signify a feeling. Another purely grammatical point shows the same thing. It is indifferent whether I say ‘I feel a tickle’ or ‘I have a tickle’; but ‘I have . . .’ cannot be completed by ‘. . . ill’, (cf. ‘I have an illness’), ‘. . . capable of climbing the tree’, (cf. I have a capability to climb that tree’) ‘. . . happy’ (cf. ‘I have a feeling of happiness’ or ‘I have happiness in my life’) or ‘. . . discontented’ (cf. ‘I have a feeling of strong discontent towards behaviourism’). If we try to restore the verbal parallel by bringing in the appropriate abstract nouns, we find a further incongruity; ‘I feel happiness’(I feel as though I am experiencing happiness), ‘I feel illness’ (I feel as though I do have an illness’) or ‘I feel ability to climb the tree’ (I feel that I am endowed with the capability to climb that tree), if they mean anything, they do not mean at all what a man means by uttering ‘I feel happy,’ or ‘I feel ill,’ or ‘I feel capable of climbing the tree’. On the other hand, besides these differences between the different uses of ‘I feel . . .’ there are important CONVERSATIONAL analogies as well. If a man says that he has a tickle, his co-conversationalist does not ask for his evidence, or requires him to make quite sure. Announcing a tickle is not proclaiming the results of an investigation. A tickle is not something established by careful witnessing, or something inferred from a clue, nor do we praise for his powers of observation or reasoning a man who let us know that he feels tickles, tweaks and flutters. Just the same is true of avowals of moods. If a man makes a conversational contribution, such as‘I feel bored’, or ‘I feel depressed’, his co-conversationalist does not usually ask him for his evidence, or request him to make sure. The co-conversationalist may accuse the man of shamming to him or to himself, but the co-conversationalist does not accuse him of having been careless in his observations or rash in his inferences, since a co-conversationalist would not usually think that his conversational avowal is a report of an observation or a conclusion.  He has not been a good or a bad detective; he has not been a detective at all. Nothing would surprise us more than to hear him say ‘I feel depressed’ in the alert and judicious tone of voice of a detective, a microscopist, or a diagnostician, though this tone of voice is perfectly congruous with the NON-AVOWAL past-tense ‘I WAS feeling depressed’ or the NON-AVOWAL third-person report, ‘HE feels depressed’. If the avowal is to do its conversational job, it must be said in a depressed tone of voice. The conversational avowal must be blurted out to a sympathizer, not reported to an investigator. Avowing ‘I feel depressed’ is doing one of the things, viz. one CONVERSATIONAL thing, that depression is the mood to do. It is not a piece of scientific premiss-providing, but a piece of ‘conversational moping.’That is why, if the co-conversationalist is suspicious, he does not ask ‘Fact or fiction?’, ‘True or false?’, ‘Reliable or unreliable?’, but ‘Sincere or shammed?’ The CONVERSATIONAL avowal of moods requires not acumen, but openness. It comes from the heart, not from the head. It is not discovery, but voluntary non-concealment. Of course people have to learn how to use avowal expressions appropriately and they may not learn these lessons very well. They learn them from ordinary discussions of the moods of others and from such more fruitful sources as novels and the theatre. They learn from the same sources how to cheat both other people and themselves by making a sham conversational avowal in the proper tone of voice and with the other proper histrionic accompaniments. If we now raise the question ‘How does a man find out what mood he is in?’ one can answer that if, as may not be the case, he finds it out at all, he finds it out very much as we find it out. As we have seen, he does not groan ‘I feel bored’ because he has found out that he is bored, any more than the sleepy man yawns because he has found out that he is sleepy. Rather, somewhat as the sleepy man finds out that he is sleepy by finding, among other things, that he keeps on yawning, so the bored man finds out that he is bored, if he does find this out, by finding that among other things he glumly says to others and to himself ‘I feel bored’ and ‘How bored I feel’. Such a blurted avowal is not merely one fairly reliable index among others. It is the first and the best index, since being worded and voluntarily uttered, it is meant to be heard and it is meant to be understood. It calls for no sleuth-work.In some respects a conversational avowal of a moods, like ‘I feel cheerful,’ more closely resemble announcements of sensations like ‘I feel a tickle’ than they resemble utterances like ‘I feel better’ or ‘I feel capable of climbing the tree’. Just as it would be absurd to say ‘I feel a tickle but maybe I haven’t one’, so, in ordinary cases, it would be absurd to say ‘I feel cheerful but maybe I am not’. But there would be no absurdity in saying ‘I FEEL better but, to judge by the doctor’s attitude, perhaps I am WORSE’, or ‘I do FEEL as if I am capable of climbing the tree but maybe I cannot climb it.’This difference can be brought out in another way. Sometimes it is natural to say ‘I feel AS IF I could eat a horse’, or ‘I feel AS IF my temperature has returned to normal’. But, more more immediate conversational avowals, it would seldom if ever be natural to say ‘I feel AS IF I were in the dumps’, or ‘I feel AS IF I were bored’, any more than it would be natural to say ‘I feel AS IF I had a pain’. Not much would be gained by discussing at length why we use ‘feel’ in these different ways. There are hosts of other ways in which it is also used. I can say ‘I felt a lump in the mattress’, ‘I felt cold’, ‘I felt queer’, ‘I felt my jaw-muscles stiffen’, ‘I felt my gorge rise’, ‘I felt my chin with my thumb’, ‘I felt in vain for the lever’, ‘I felt as if something important was about to happen’, ‘I felt that there was a flaw somewhere in the argument’, ‘I felt quite at home’, ‘I felt that he was angry’. A feature common to most of these uses of ‘feel’ is that the utterer does not want further questions to be put. They would be either unanswerable questions, or unaskable questions. That he felt it is enough to settle some debates.That he merely felt it is enough to show that debates should not even begin. Names of moods, then, are not the names of feelings. But to be in a particular mood is to be in the mood, among other things, to feel certain sorts of feelings in certain sorts of situations. To be in a lazy mood, is, among other things, to tend to have sensations of lassitude in the limbs when jobs have to be done, to have cosy feelings of relaxation when the deck-chair is resumed, not to have electricity feelings when the game begins, and so forth. But we are not thinking primarily of these feelings when we say that we feel lazy; in fact, we seldom pay much heed to sensations of these kinds, save when they are abnormally acute. Is a  name of a mood a name of an emotion? The only tolerable reply is that of course they are, in that some people some of the time use ‘emotion’. But then we must add that in this usage an emotion is not something that can be segregated from thinking, daydreaming, voluntarily doing things, grimacing or feeling pangs and itches. To have the emotion, in this usage, which we ordinarily refer to as ‘being bored’, is to be in the mood to think certain sorts of thoughts, and not to think other sorts, to yawn and not to chuckle, to converse with stilted politeness, and not to talk with animation, to feel flaccid and not to feel resilient. Boredom is not some unique distinguishable ingredient, scene or feature of all that its victim is doing and undergoing. Rather it is the temporary complexion of that totality. It is not like a gust, a sunbeam, a shower or the temperature; it is like the morning’s weather.  An unstudied conversational utterance may embody an explicit interest phrase, or a conversational avowal, such as ‘I want it’, ‘I hope so’, ‘That’s what I intend’, ‘I quite dislike it’, ‘Surely I am depressed’, ‘I do wonder, too’, ‘I guess so’ and ‘I am feeling hungry.’The surface grammar (if not logical form) makes it tempting to misconstrue all the utterances as a description. But in its primary employment such a conversational avowal as ‘I want it’ is not used to convey information.‘I want it’ is used to make a request or demand. ‘I want it’ is no more meant as a contribution to general knowledge than ‘please’. For a co-conversationalist to respond with the tag ‘Do you?’ or worse, as Grice’s tutee, with ‘*how* do you *know* that you want it?’ is glaringly inappropriate. Nor, in their primary employment, are conversational avowals such as ‘I hate it’ or ‘That’s what I I intend’ used for the purpose of telling one’s addressee facts about the utterer; or else we should not be surprised to hear them uttered in the cool, informative tones of voice in which one says ‘HE hates it’ and ‘That’s what he intends’. We expect a conversational avowal, on the contrary, to be spoken in a revolted and a resolute tone of voice respectively. It is an utterances of a man in a revolted and resolute frame of mind. A conversational avowal is a thing said in detestation and resolution and not a thing said in order to advance biographical knowledge about detestations and resolutions. A man who notices the unstudied utterances of the utterer, who may or may not be himself, is, if his interest in the utterer has the appropriate direction, especially well situated to pass comments upon the qualities and frames of mind of its author.‘avowal’ as a philosophical lexeme may not invite an immediate correlate in the Graeco-Roman, ultimately Grecian, tradition. ‘Confessio’ springs to mind, but this is not what Grice is thinking about. He is more concerned with issues of privileged access and incorrigibility, or corrigibility, rather, as per the alleged immediacy of a first-person report of the form, “I feel that …” . Grice does use ‘avowal’ often especially in the early stages, when the logical scepticism about incorrigibility comes under attack. Just to be different, Grice is interested in the corrigibility of the avowal. The issue is of some importance in his account of the act of communication, and how one can disimplicate what one means. Grice loves to play with his tutee doubting as to whether he means that p or q. Except at Oxford, the whole thing has a ridiculous ring to it. I want you to bring me a paper by Friday. You mean the newspaper? You very well know what I mean. But perhaps you do not. Are you sure you mean a philosophy paper when you utter, ‘I want you to bring a paper by Friday’? As Grice notes, in case of self-deception and egcrateia, it may well be that the utterer does not know what he desires, if not what he intends, if anything. Freud and Foucault run galore. The topic will interest a collaborator of Grice’s, Pears, with his concept of ‘motivated irrationality.’ Grice likes to discuss a category mistake. I may be categorically mistaken but I am not categorically confused. Now when it comes to avowal-avowal, it is only natural that if he is interested in Aristotle on ‘hedone,’ Grice would be interested in Aristotle on ‘lupe.’ This is very philosophical, as Urmson agrees. Can one ‘fake’ pain? Why would one fake pain? Oddly, this is for Grice the origin of language. Is pleasure just the absence of pain? Liddell and Soctt have “λύπη” and render it as pain of body, oἡδον; also, sad plight or condition, but also pain of mind, grief; “ά; δῆγμα δὲ λύπης οὐδὲν ἐφ᾽ ἧπαρ προσικνεῖται; τί γὰρ καλὸν ζῆν βίοτον, ὃς λύπας φέρει; ἐρωτικὴ λ.’ λύπας προσβάλλειν;” “λ. φέρειν τινί; oχαρά.” Oddly, Grice goes back to pain in Princeton, since it is explored by Smart in his identity thesis. Take pain. Surely, Grice tells the Princetonians, it sounds harsh, to echo Berkeley, to say that it is the brain of Smith being in this or that a state which is justified by insufficient evidence; whereas it surely sounds less harsh that it is the C-fibres that constitute his ‘pain,’ which he can thereby fake. Grice distinguishes between a complete unstructured utterance token – “Ouch” – versus a complete syntactically structured erotetic utterance of the type, “Are you in pain?”. At the Jowett, Corpus Barnes has read Ogden and says ‘Ouch’ (‘Oh’) bears an ‘emotional’ or ‘emotive’ communicatum provided there is an intention there somewhere. Otherwise, no communicatum occurs. But if there is an intention, the ‘Oh’ can always be a fake. Grice distinguishes between a ‘fake’ and a ‘sneak.’ If U intends A to perceive ‘Oh’ as a fake, U means that he is in pain. If there is a sneaky intention behind the utterance, which U does NOT intend his A to recognise, there is no communicatum. Grice criticises emotivism as rushing ahead to analyse a nuance before exploring what sort of a nuance it is. Surely there is more to the allegedly ‘pseudo-descriptive’ ‘x is good,’ than U meaning that U emotionally approves of x. In his ‘myth,’ Grice uses pain magisterially as an excellent example for a privileged-access allegedly incorrigible avowal, and stage 0 in his creature progression. By uttering ‘Oh!,’ under voluntary control, Barnes means, iconically, that he is in pain. Pain fall under the broader keyword: emotion, as anger does. Cf. Aristotle on the emotion in De An., Rhet., and Eth. Nich. Knowing that at Oxford, if you are a classicist, you are not a philosopher, Grice never explores the Stoic, say, approach to pain, or lack thereof (“Which is good, since Walter Pater did it for me!”). Refs.: “Can I have a pain in my tail?” The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC MSS 90/135c, The Bancroft Library, The University of California, Berkeley.

conversational game theory: Grice: “It was Austin who made me see the philosophy of football!” -- Grice for ‘homo ludens’. In “Logic and conversation,” Grice uses the phrases, “the game of conversation,” “conversational game,” “conversational move,” “the conversational rules,” – so he knew he was echoing Neumann and Morgenstern. J. Hintikka, “Grice and game theory.” the theory of the structure of, and the rational procedures (or strategies) for performing in, games or game-like human interactions. Although there are forerunners, game theory is virtually invented by Neumann and Morgenstern. Its most striking feature is its compact representation of interactions of at least two players; e. g. two players may face two choices each, and in combination these choices produce four possible outcomes. Actual choices are of strategies, not of outcomes, although it is assessments of outcomes that recommend this or that procedure, maxim, imperative, or strategy. To do well in a game, even for each player to do well, as is often possible, generally requires taking the other player’s position, interest, and goal, into account. Hence, to evaluate an imperative or rule or strategiy directly, without reference to the outcomes they might produce in interaction with others, is conspicuously perverse. It is not surprising, therefore, that in meta-ethics, game theory has been preeminently applied to utilitarianianism. As the numbers of players and rational procedure, guideline or strategies rise, the complexity of the game of conversation increases geometrically. If players have *2* strategies each and each ranks the four possible outcomes without ties, there are already *78* strategically distinct conversations. Even minor real-life interactions may have astronomically greater complexity. Grice once complained to Hintikka that this makes game theory ‘useless,’ or ‘otiose.’ Alternatively, one can note that this makes it realistic and helps us understand why real-life choices are at least as complex as they sometimes seem. To complicate matters further, conversationalists can choose over probabilistic combinations of their pure rational guidelines or strategies. Hence, the original 4 outcomes in a simple 2 $ 2 game define a continuum of potential outcomes. After noting the structure of the game of conversation, one might then be struck by an immediate implication of this mere description. A rational agent may be supposed to attempt to maximize his potential or expected outcome in the game of conversation. But as there are at least two players in the game of conversation, in general conversationalists cannot all maximize simultaneously over their expected outcomes while assuming that all others are doing likewise. This is an analytical principle. In general, we cannot maximize over two functions simultaneously. The general notion of the greatest good of the greatest number, e. g., is incoherent. Hence, in inter-active choice contexts, the simple notion of economic rationality is incoherent. Virtually all of early game theory was dedicated to finding an alternative principle for resolving conversational game interactions. There are now many of what Grice calls a “solution theory,” most of which are about this or that outcome rather than this or that rational guideline or strategy they stipulate which outcomes or range of outcomes is game-theoretically “rational.” There is little consensus on how to generalize from the ordinary rationality of merely choosing more rather than less and of displaying consistent preferences to the general choice of strategies in games. A pay-off in early game theory is almost always represented in a cardinal, transferable utility. A transferable utility is an odd notion that is evidently introduced to avoid the disdain with which philosophers then treated interpersonal comparisons of utility. It seems to be analogous to money. One could say that the theory is one of wealth maximization. In the early theory, the “rationality” conditions are as follows.In general, if the sums of the pay-offs to each players in various outcomes differ, it is assumed that a rational player will manage to divide the largest possible payoff with the other player. 2 No rational agent will accept a payoff below the “security level” obtainable even if all the other player or players really form a coalition against the individual. Sometimes it is also assumed that no group of players will rationally accept less than it could get as its group security level  but in some games, no outcome can meet this condition. This is an odd combination of elements. The collective elements are plausibly thought of as merely predictive. If we individually wish to do well, we should combine efforts to help us do best AS A CONVERSATIONAL DYAD. But what we want is a theory that converts two individual preferences into one collective result – Grice’s conversational shared goal of influencing and being influenced by others. Unfortunately, to put a move doing just this in the foundations of the theory is question-begging. Our fundamental burden is to determine whether a theory of subjective rationality MAY produce an inter-subjectively good result, not to stipulate that it must. In the theory with cardinal, additive payoffs, we can divide games. There is the constant-sum game, in which the sum of all players’ payoffs in each outcome is a constant, and variable sum games. A zero-sum games is a special case of a constant sum game. Two-player constant sum games are games of pure conversational ‘conflict.’ Each player’s gain is the other’s loss. In constant sum games with more than two players and in all variable sum games, there is generally reason for coalition formation to improve payoffs to members of the coalition. A game without transferable utility, such as a games in which players have only ordinal preferences, may be characterized as a game of pure conflict or of pure co-ordination (or co-operation) when players’ preference orderings over outcomes are, respectively, opposite or identical, or as games of mixed motive when their orderings are partly the same and partly reversed. Grice’s nalysis of such games is evidently less tractable than that of games with cardinal, additive utility, and their theory is only beginning to be extensively developed by Griceians. Despite the apparent circularity of the rationality assumptions of early game theory, it is the game theorists’ prisoner’s dilemma that makes clear that compelling subjectivistic principles of choice can produce an inter-subjective deficient outcome. This game given its catchy but inapt name. If they play it in isolation from any other interaction between them, two players in this game can each do what seems individually best and reach an outcome that both consider inferior to the outcome that results from making opposite strategy choices. Even with the knowledge that this is the problem they face, the players still have incentive to choose the strategies that jointly produce the inferior outcome. The prisoner’s dilemma involves both coordination (or co-operation) and conflict. It has played a central role in discussions of Griceian conversational pragmatics. Games that predominantly involve coordination (or cooperation), such as when we coordinate in all driving on the right or all on the left, have a similarly central role. The understanding of both classes of games has been read into the philosophy of Hobbes and Hume and into “mutual advantage” theories of justice. 

conversational benevolence: benevolentia, beneficentia, malevolentia, maleficentia -- . In Grice it’s not benevolence per se but as a force in a two-force model, with self-love on the other side. The fact that he later subsumed everything under ONE concept: that of co-operation (first helpfulness) testifies that he is placing more conceptual strength on ‘benevolence’ than ‘self love.’ But the self-love’ remains in all the caveats and provisos that Grice keeps guarding his claims with: ‘ceteris paribus,’ ‘provided there’s not much effort involved,’ ‘if no unnecessary trouble arises,’ and so on. It’s never benevolence simpliciter or tout court. When it comes to co-operation, the self-love remains: the mutual goal of that co-operation is in the active and the passive voice – You expect me to be helpful as much as I expect you to be helpful. We are in this together. The active/passive voice formulation is emphatic in Grice: informing AND BEING INFORMED; influencing AND BEING INFLUENCED. The self-love goes: I won’t inform you unless you’ll inform me. I won’t influence you unless you influence me. The ‘influence’ bit does not seem to cooperative. But the ‘inform’ side does. By ‘inform,’ the idea is that the psi-transmission concerns a true belief. “I’ll be truthful if you will.” This is the sort of thing that Nietzsche found repugnant and identified with the golden rule was totally immoral. – It was felt by Russell to be immoral enough that he cared to mention in a letter to The Times about how abusive Nietzsche can be – yet what a gem “Beyond good and evil” still is! In the hypocritical milieu that Grice expects his tuttees know they are engaged in, Grice does not find Nietzsche pointing to a repugnant fact, but a practical, even jocular way of taking meta-ethics in a light way. There is nothing other-oriented about benevolence. What Grice needs is conversational ALTRUISM, or helpfulness – ‘cooperation’ has the advantage, with the ‘co-’, of avoiding the ‘mutuality’ aspect, which is crucial (“What’s the good of helping you – I’m not your servant! – if thou art not going to help me!” It may be said that when Butler uses ‘benevolentia’ he means others. “It is usually understood that one is benevolent towards oneself, if that makes sense.” Grice writes. Then there’s Smith promising Jones a job – and the problem that comes with it. For Grice, if Smith promised a job to Jones, and Jones never gets it – “that’s Jones’s problem.” So we need to distinguish beneficentia and benevolentia. The opposite is malevolentia and maleficientia. Usually Grice states his maxims as PROHIBITIONS: “Do not say what you believe to be false” being the wittiest! So, he might just as well have appealed to or invoked a principle of absence of conversational ill-will. Grice uses ‘conversational benevolence’ narrowly, to refer to the assumption that conversationalists will agree to make a contribution appropriate to the shared purposes of the exhcnage. It contrasts with the limiting conversational self-love, which is again taken narrowly to indicate that conversationalists are assumed to be conversationally ‘benevolent,’ in the interpretation above, provided doing that does not get them into unnecessary trouble. The type of rationality that Grice sees in conversational is one that sees conversation as ‘rational co-operation.’ So it is obvious that he has to invoke some level of benevolence. When tutoring his rather egoistic tutees he had to be careful, so he hastened to add a principle of conversational self-love. It was different when lecturing outside a tutorial! In fact ‘benevolence’ here is best understood as ‘altruism’. So, if there is a principle of conversational egoism, there is a correlative principle of conversational altruism. If Grice uses ‘self-love,’ there is nothing about ‘love,’ in ‘benevolence.’ Butler may have used ‘other-love’! Even if of course we must start with the Grecians! We must not forget that Plato and Aristotle despised "autophilia", the complacency and self-satisfaction making it into the opposite of "epimeleia heautou” in Plato’s Alcibiades. Similarly, to criticize Socratic ethics as a form of egoism in opposition to a selfless care of others is inappropriate. Neither a self-interested seeker of wisdom nor a dangerous teacher of self-love, Socrates, as the master of epimeleia heautou, is the hinge between the care of self and others. One has to be careful here. A folk-etymological connection between ‘foam’ may not be needed – when the Romans had to deal with Grecian ‘aphrodite.’ This requires that we look for another linguistic botany for Grecian ‘self-love’ that Grice opposes to ‘benevolentia.’ Hesiod derives Aphrodite from “ἀφρός,” ‘sea-foam,’ interpreting the name as "risen from the foam", but most modern scholars regard this as a spurious folk etymology. Early modern scholars of classical mythology attempted to argue that Aphrodite's name was of Griceain or Indo-European origin, but these efforts have now been mostly abandoned. Aphrodite's name is generally accepted to be of non-Greek, probably Semitic, origin, but its exact derivation cannot be determined. Scholars in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, accepting Hesiod's "foam" etymology as genuine, analyzed the second part of Aphrodite's name as -odítē "wanderer" or -dítē "bright". Janda, also accepting Hesiod's etymology, has argued in favor of the latter of these interpretations and claims the story of a birth from the foam as an Indo-European mytheme. Similarly, an Indo-European compound abʰor-, very" and dʰei- "to shine" have been proposed, also referring to Eos. Other have argued that these hypotheses are unlikely since Aphrodite's attributes are entirely different from those of both Eos and the Vedic deity Ushas.A number of improbable non-Greek etymologies have also been suggested. One Semitic etymology compares Aphrodite to the Assyrian ‘barīrītu,’ the name of a female demon that appears in Middle Babylonian and Late Babylonian texts. Hammarström looks to Etruscan, comparing eprϑni "lord", an Etruscan honorific loaned into Greek as πρύτανις.This would make the theonym in origin an honorific, "the lady".Most scholars reject this etymology as implausible, especially since Aphrodite actually appears in Etruscan in the borrowed form Apru (from Greek Aphrō, clipped form of Aphrodite). The medieval Etymologicum Magnum offers a highly contrived etymology, deriving Aphrodite from the compound habrodíaitos (ἁβροδίαιτος), "she who lives delicately", from habrós and díaita. The alteration from b to ph is explained as a "familiar" characteristic of Greek "obvious from the Macedonians". It is much easier with the Romans.  Lewis and Short have ‘ămor,’ old form “ămŏs,” “like honos, labos, colos, etc.’ obviously from ‘amare,’ and which they render as ‘love,’ as in Grice’s “conversational self-love.” Your tutor will reprimand you if you spend too much linguistic botany on ‘eros.’ “Go straight to ‘philos.’” But no. There are philosophical usages of ‘eros,’ especially when it comes to the Grecian philosophers Grice is interested in: Aristotle reading Plato, which becomes Ariskant reading Plathegel. So, Liddell and Scott have “ἔρως” which of course is from a verb, or two: “ἕραμαι,” “ἐράω,” and which they render as “love, mostly of the sexual passion, ““θηλυκρατὴς ἔ.,” “ἐρῶσ᾽ ἔρωτ᾽ ἔκδημον,” “ἔ. τινός love for one, S.Tr.433, “παίδων” E. Ion67, and “generally, love of a thing, desire for it,” ““πατρῴας γῆς” “δεινὸς εὐκλείας ἔ.” “ἔχειν ἔμφυτον ἔρωτα περί τι” Plato, Lg. 782e ; “πρὸς τοὺς λόγους” (love of law), “ἔρωτα σχὼν τῆς Ἑλλάδος τύραννος γενέσθαι” Hdt.5.32 ; ἔ. ἔχει με c. inf., A.Supp.521 ; “θανόντι κείνῳ συνθανεῖν ἔρως μ᾽ ἔχει” S.Fr.953 ; “αὐτοῖς ἦν ἔρως θρόνους ἐᾶσθαι” Id.OC367 ; ἔ. ἐμπίπτει μοι c. inf., A.Ag.341, cf. Th.6.24 ; εἰς ἔρωτά τινος ἀφικέσθαι, ἐλθεῖν, Antiph.212.3,Anaxil.21.5 : pl., loves, amours, “ἀλλοτρίων” Pi.N.3.30 ; “οὐχ ὅσιοι ἔ.” E.Hipp.765 (lyr.) ; “ἔρωτες ἐμᾶς πόλεως” Ar.Av.1316 (lyr.), etc. ; of dolphins, “πρὸς παῖδας” Arist.HA631a10 : generally, desires, S.Ant.617 (lyr.). 2. object of love or desire, “ἀπρόσικτοι ἔρωτες” Pi.N.11.48, cf. Luc.Tim.14. 3. passionate joy, S.Aj.693 (lyr.); the god of love, Anacr.65, Parm.13, E.Hipp.525 (lyr.), etc.“Έ. ἀνίκατε μάχαν” S.Ant.781 (lyr.) : in pl., Simon.184.3, etc. III. at Nicaea, a funeral wreath, EM379.54. IV. name of the κλῆρος Ἀφροδίτης, Cat.Cod.Astr.1.168 ; = third κλῆρος, Paul.Al.K.3; one of the τόποι, Vett.Val.69.16. And they’ll point to you that the Romans had ‘amor’ AND ‘cupidus’ (which they meant as a transliteration of epithumia). If for Kant and Grice it is the intention that matters, ill-will counts. If Smith does not want Jones have a job, Smith has ill-will towards Jones. This is all Kant and Grice need to call Smith a bad person. It means it is the ill-will that causes Joness not having a job. A conceptual elucidation. Interesting from a historical point of view seeing that Grice had introduced a principle of conversational benevolence (i.e. conversational goodwill) pretty early. Malevolentia was over-used by Cicero, translating the Grecian. Grice judges that if Jones fails to get the job that benevolent Smith promised, Smith may still be deemed, for Kant, if not Aristotle, to have given him the job. A similar elucidation was carried by Urmson with his idea of supererogation (heroism and sainthood). For a hero or saint, someones goodwill but not be good enough! Which does not mean it is ill, either! Conversational benevolence -- Self-love Philosophical theology -- Edwards, J., philosopher and theologian. He was educated at Yale, preached in New York City, and in 1729 assumed a Congregational pastorate in Northampton, Massachusetts, where he became a leader in the Great Awakening. Because of a dispute with his parishioners over qualifications for communion, he was forced to leave in 1750. In 1751, he took charge of congregations in Stockbridge, a frontier town sixty miles to the west. He was elected third president of Princeton in 1757 but died shortly after inauguration. Edwards deeply influenced Congregational and Presbyterian theology in America for over a century, but had little impact on philosophy. Interest in him revived in the middle of the twentieth century, first among literary scholars and theologians and later among philosophers. While most of Edwards’s published work defends the Puritan version of Calvinist orthodoxy, his notebooks reveal an interest in philosophical problems for their own sake. Although he was indebted to Continental rationalists like Malebranche, to the Cambridge Platonists, and especially to Locke, his own contributions are sophisticated and original. The doctrine of God’s absolute sovereignty is explicated by occasionalism, a subjective idealism similar to Berkeley’s, and phenomenalism. According to Edwards, what are “vulgarly” called causal relations are mere constant conjunctions. True causes necessitate their effects. Since God’s will alone meets this condition, God is the only true cause. He is also the only true substance. Physical objects are collections of ideas of color, shape, and other “corporeal” qualities. Finite minds are series of “thoughts” or “perceptions.” Any substance underlying perceptions, thoughts, and “corporeal ideas” must be something that “subsists by itself, stands underneath, and keeps up” physical and mental qualities. As the only thing that does so, God is the only real substance. As the only true cause and the only real substance, God is “in effect being in general.” God creates to communicate his glory. Since God’s internal glory is constituted by his infinite knowledge of, love of, and delight in himself as the highest good, his “communication ad extra” consists in the knowledge of, love of, and joy in himself which he bestows upon creatures. The essence of God’s internal and external glory is “holiness” or “true benevolence,” a disinterested love of being in general i.e., of God and the beings dependent on him. Holiness constitutes “true beauty,” a divine splendor or radiance of which “secondary” ordinary beauty is an imperfect image. God is thus supremely beautiful and the world is suffused with his loveliness. Vindications of Calvinist conceptions of sin and grace are found in Freedom of the Will 1754 and Original Sin 1758. The former includes sophisticated defenses of theological determinism and compatibilism. The latter contains arguments for occasionalism and interesting discussions of identity. Edwards thinks that natural laws determine kinds or species, and kinds or species determine criteria of identity. Since the laws of nature depend on God’s “arbitrary” decision, God establishes criteria of identity. He can thus, e.g., constitute Adam and his posterity as “one thing.” Edwards’s religious epistemology is developed in A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections 1746 and On the Nature of True Virtue 1765. The conversion experience involves the acquisition of a “new sense of the heart.” Its core is the mind’s apprehension of a “new simple idea,” the idea of “true beauty.” This idea is needed to properly understand theological truths. True Virtue also provides the fullest account of Edwards’s ethics  a moral sense theory that identifies virtue with benevolence. Although indebted to contemporaries like Hutcheson, Edwards criticizes their attempts to construct ethics on secular foundations. True benevolence embraces being in general. Since God is, in effect, being in general, its essence is the love of God. A love restricted to family, nation, humanity, or other “private systems” is a form of self-love.  Refs.: The source is Grice’s seminar in the first set on ‘Logic and conversation.’ The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

conversational category: -- Greek ‘categoria,’ Cicero couldn’t translate it and kept it as ‘categoria,’. Cf  Kant ‘categoric versus hypotheticum or conditionale -- used jocularly by Grice. But can it be used non-jocularly? How can the concept of ‘category,’ literally, apply to what Grice says it applies, so that we have, assuming Kant is using ‘quantity,’ ‘quality,’ ‘relation’ and ‘mode,’ as SUPRA-categories (functions, strictly) for his twelve categories? Let’s revise, the quantity applies to the quantification (in Frege’s terms) or what Boethius applied to Aristotle’s posotes – and there are three categories involved, but the three deal with the ‘quantum: ‘every,’ ‘some,’ and ‘one.’ ‘some’ Russell would call an indefinite. Strictly, if Grice wants to have a category of conversational quantity – it should relate to the ‘form’ of the ‘conversational move.’ “Every nice girl loves a sailor” would be the one with most ‘quantity.’ Grice sees a problem there, and would have that rather translated as ‘The altogether nice girl loves the one-at-a-time sailor.’ But that would be the most conversational move displaying ‘most quantity.’ (It can be argued it isn’t). When it comes to the category of conversational quality, the three categories by Kant under the ‘function’ of qualitas involves the well known trio, the affirmative, the negative, and the infinite. In terms of the ‘quality’ of a conversational move, it may be argued that a move in negative form (as in Grice, “I’m not hearing any noise,” “That pillar box is not blue” seem to provide ‘less’ quality than the affirmative counterparts. But as in quantity, it is not sure Kant has some ordering in mind. It seems he does. It seems he ascribes more value to the first category in each of the four functions. When it comes to the category of conversational relation, the connection with Kant could be done. Since this involves the categoric, the hypothetic, and the disjunctive. So here we may think that a conversational move will be either a categoric response – A: Mrs Smith is a wind bag. B: The weather has been delightful. Or a hypothetical. A: Mrs Smith is a wind bag. B: If that’s what you think. Or a dijunctive: Mrs. Smith is a wind bag. B: Or she is not. When it comes, lastly, to the category of conversational mode, we have just three strict categories under this ‘function’ in Kant, which relate to the strength of the copula: ‘must be,’ must not be’ and ‘may.’ A conversational move that states a necessity would be the expected move. “You must do it.” Impossibility involves negation, so it is more problematic. And ‘may be’ is an open conversational move. So there IS a way to justify the use of ‘conversational category’ to apply to the four functions that Kant decides the Aristotelian categories may subsumed into. He knows that Kant has TWELVE categories, but he keeps lecturing the Harvardites about Kant having FOUR categories. On top, he finds ‘modus’ boring, and, turned a manierist, changes the idiom. This is what Austin called a ‘philosophical hack’ searching for some para-philosophy! One has to be careful here. Grice does speak of this or that ‘conversational category.’ Seeing that he is ‘echoing,’ as he puts it, Ariskant, we migt just as well have an entry for each of the four. These would be the category of conversational quantity, the category of conversational quality, the category of conversational relation, and the category of conversational modality. Note that in this rephrasing Grice applies ‘conversational’ directly to the category. As Boethius pointed out (and Grice loved to read Minio-Paullelo’s edition of Boethus’s commentary on the Categories), the motivation by Aristotle to posit this or that category was expository. A mind cannot know a multitude of things, so we have to ‘reduce’ things. It is important to note that while ‘quantitas,’ ‘qualitas’ ‘relatio’ and ‘modus’ are used by Kant, he actually augments the number of categories. These four would be supra-categories. The sub-categories, or categories themselves turn out to be twelve. Kant proposed 12 categories: unity, plurality, and totality for concept of quantity; reality, negation, and limitation, for the concept of quality; inherence and subsistence, cause and effect, and community for the concept of relation; and possibility-impossibility, existence-nonexistence, and necessity and contingency. Kategorien sind nach Kant apriorisch und unmittelbar gegeben. Sie sind Werkzeuge des Urteilens und Werkzeuge des Denkens. Als solche dienen sie nur der Anwendung und haben keine Existenz. Sie bestehen somit nur im menschlichen Verstand. Sie sind nicht an Erfahrung gebunden.^[5] Durch ihre Unmittelbarkeit sind sie auch nicht an Zeichen gebunden.^[6] Kants erkenntnistheoretisches Ziel ist es, über die Bedingungen der Geltungskraft von Urteilen Auskunft zu geben. Ohne diese Auskunft können zwar vielerlei Urteile gefällt werden, sie müssen dann allerdings als „systematische Doktrin(en)“ bezeichnet werden.^[7] Kant kritisiert damit das rein analytische Denken der Wissenschaft als falsch und stellt ihm die Notwendigkeit des synthetisierenden Denkens gegenüber.^[8] Kant begründet die Geltungskraft mit dem Transzendentalen Subjekt.^[9] Das Transzendentalsubjekt ist dabei ein reiner Reflexionsbegriff, welcher das synthetisierende Dritte darstellt (wie in späteren Philosophien Geist (Hegel), Wille, Macht, Sprache und Wert (Marx)), das nicht durch die Sinne wahrnehmbar ist. Kant sucht hier die Antwort auf die Frage, wie der Mensch als vernunftbegabtes Wesen konstituiert werden kann, nicht in der Analyse, sondern in einer Synthesis.^[10]Bei Immanuel Kant, der somit als bedeutender Erneuerer der bis dahin „vorkritischen“ Kategorienlehre gilt, finden sich zwölf „Kategorien der reinen Vernunft“. Für Kant sind diese Kategorien Verstandesbegriffe, nicht aber Ausdruck des tatsächlichen Seins der Dinge an sich. Damit wandelt sich die ontologische Sichtweise der Tradition in eine erkenntnistheoretische Betrachtung, weshalb Kants „kritische“ Philosophie (seit der Kritik der reinen Vernunft) oft auch als „Kopernikanische Wende in der Philosophie“ bezeichnet wird.Quantität, Qualität, Relation und Modalität sind die vier grundlegenden Urteilsfunktionen des Verstandes, nach denen die Kategorien gebildet werden. Demnach sind z. B. der Urteilsfunktion „Quantität“ die Kategorien bzw. Urteile „Einheit“, „Vielheit“ und „Allheit“ untergeordnet, und der Urteilsfunktion „Relation“ die Urteile der „Ursache“ und der „Wirkung“.Siehe auch: Kritik der reinen Vernunft und Transzendentale AnalytikBereits bei Friedrich Adolf Trendelenburg findet man den Hinweis auf die verbreitete Kritik, dass Kant die den Kategorien zugrunde liegenden Urteilsformen nicht systematisch hergeleitet und damit als notwendig begründet hat. Einer der Kritikpunkte ist dabei, dass die Kategorien sich teilweise auf Anschauungen (Einzelheit, Realität, Dasein), teilweise auf Abstraktionen wie Zusammenfassen, Begrenzen oder Begründen (Vielheit, Allheit, Negation, Limitation, Möglichkeit, Notwendigkeit) beziehen.

conversational compact: conversational pact in Grice’s conversational quasi-contractualism, contractarianism, a family of moral and political theories that make use of the idea of a social contract. Traditionally English philosophers such as Hobbes and Locke used the social contract idea to justify certain conceptions of the state. In the twentieth century philosophers such as G. R. Grice, H. P. Grice, and John Rawls have used the social contract notion (‘quasi-contractualism’ in Grice’s sense) to define and defend moral conceptions both conceptions of political justice and individual morality, often but not always doing so in addition to developing social contract theories of the state. The term ‘contractarian’ most often applies to this second type of theory. There are two kinds of moral argument that the contract image has spawned, the first rooted in Hobbes and the second rooted in Kant. Hobbesians start by insisting that what is valuable is what a person desires or prefers, not what he ought to desire or prefer for no such prescriptively powerful object exists; and rational action is action that achieves or maximizes the satisfaction of desires or preferences. They go on to insist that moral action is rational for a person to perform if and only if such action advances the satisfaction of his desires or preferences. And they argue that because moral action leads to peaceful and harmonious living conducive to the satisfaction of almost everyone’s desires or preferences, moral actions are rational for almost everyone and thus “mutually agreeable.” But Hobbesians believe that, to ensure that no cooperative person becomes the prey of immoral aggressors, moral actions must be the conventional norms in a community, so that each person can expect that if she behaves cooperatively, others will do so too. These conventions constitute the institution of morality in a society. So the Hobbesian moral theory is committed to the idea that morality is a human-made institution, which is justified only to the extent that it effectively furthers human interests. Hobbesians explain the existence of morality in society by appealing to the convention-creating activities of human beings, while arguing that the justification of morality in any human society depends upon how well its moral conventions serve individuals’ desires or preferences. By considering “what we could agree to” if we reappraised and redid the cooperative conventions in our society, we can determine the extent to which our present conventions are “mutually agreeable” and so rational for us to accept and act on. Thus, Hobbesians invoke both actual agreements or rather, conventions and hypothetical agreements which involve considering what conventions would be “mutually agreeable” at different points in their theory; the former are what they believe our moral life consists in; the latter are what they believe our moral life should consist in  i.e., what our actual moral life should model. So the notion of the contract does not do justificational work by itself in the Hobbesian moral theory: this term is used only metaphorically. What we “could agree to” has moral force for the Hobbesians not because make-believe promises in hypothetical worlds have any binding force but because this sort of agreement is a device that merely reveals how the agreed-upon outcome is rational for all of us. In particular, thinking about “what we could all agree to” allows us to construct a deduction of practical reason to determine what policies are mutually advantageous. The second kind of contractarian theory is derived from the moral theorizing of Kant. In his later writings Kant proposed that the “idea” of the “Original Contract” could be used to determine what policies for a society would be just. When Kant asks “What could people agree to?,” he is not trying to justify actions or policies by invoking, in any literal sense, the consent of the people. Only the consent of real people can be legitimating, and Kant talks about hypothetical agreements made by hypothetical people. But he does believe these make-believe agreements have moral force for us because the process by which these people reach agreement is morally revealing. Kant’s contracting process has been further developed by subsequent philosophers, such as Rawls, who concentrates on defining the hypothetical people who are supposed to make this agreement so that their reasoning will not be tarnished by immorality, injustice, or prejudice, thus ensuring that the outcome of their joint deliberations will be morally sound. Those contractarians who disagree with Rawls define the contracting parties in different ways, thereby getting different results. The Kantians’ social contract is therefore a device used in their theorizing to reveal what is just or what is moral. So like Hobbesians, their contract talk is really just a way of reasoning that allows us to work out conceptual answers to moral problems. But whereas the Hobbesians’ use of contract language expresses the fact that, on their view, morality is a human invention which if it is well invented ought to be mutually advantageous, the Kantians’ use of the contract language is meant to show that moral principles and conceptions are provable theorems derived from a morally revealing and authoritative reasoning process or “moral proof procedure” that makes use of the social contract idea. Both kinds of contractarian theory are individualistic, in the sense that they assume that moral and political policies must be justified with respect to, and answer the needs of, individuals. Accordingly, these theories have been criticized by communitarian philosophers, who argue that moral and political policies can and should be decided on the basis of what is best for a community. They are also attacked by utilitarian theorists, whose criterion of morality is the maximization of the utility of the community, and not the mutual satisfaction of the needs or preferences of individuals. Contractarians respond that whereas utilitarianism fails to take seriously the distinction between persons, contractarian theories make moral and political policies answerable to the legitimate interests and needs of individuals, which, contra the communitarians, they take to be the starting point of moral theorizing.

conversational co-öperation: Grice is perfectly right that ‘helpfulness’ does not ‘equate’ cooperation. His earlier principle of conversational helpfulness becomes the principle of conversational co-operation.Tthere is a distinction between mutual help and cooperation. First, the Romans never knew. Their ‘servants’ were ‘help’ – and this remains in the British usage of ‘civil servant,’ one who helps. Some philosophical tutees by Hare were often reminded, in the midst of their presenting their essays, “Excuse me for interrupting, Smith, but have you considered a career in the civil service?” Then some Romans found Christianism fashionable, and they were set to translate the Bible. So when this Hebrew concept appeared, they turned it into ad-judicatum, which was translated by Wycliff as ‘help.’ Now ‘operatio’ is quite a different animal. It’s the ‘opus’ of the Romans, who also had ‘labor.’ Surely to ‘co-laborate’ is to ‘co-operate.’ There is an idea that ‘operate,’ can be more otiose, in the view of Rogers Albritton. “He is operating the violin,” was his favourite utterance. “Possibly his opus 5.” The fact that English needs a hyphen and an umlaut does not make it very ‘ordinary’ in Austin’s description. Grice is more interested in the conceptualization of this, notably as it relates to rationality. Can cooperation NOT be rational? For most libertarians, cooperation IS “irrational,” rather. But Grice points is subtler. He is concerned with an emissor communicating that p. The least thing he deserves is a rational recipient. “Otherwise I might just as well scream to the walls!” Used by Grice WOW:368 – previously, ‘rational cooperation’ – what cooperation is not rational? Grice says that if Smith promised Jones a job; Jones doesn’t get it. Smith must be DEEMED to have given the job to Jones. It’s the intention, as Kant shows, the pure motive, that matters. Ditto for communication. If Blackburn draws a skull, he communicates that there is danger. If his addressee fails to recognise the emissor’s intention the emissor will still be deemed to have communicated that there is danger. So communication does NOT require co-operation. His analysis of “emissor communicates that p” is not one of “emissor successfully communicates that p,” because “communicates” reduces to “intends” not to ‘fulfilled intention.’ Cooperation enters when we go beyond ONE act of communication. To communicate is to give information and to influence another, and it is also to receive information and to be influenced by another. When these communicative objectives are made explicit, helpfulness or cooperation becomes essential. He uses ‘converational cooperation” and “supreme principle of conversational cooperation” (369). He uses ‘supreme conversational principle” of “cooperativeness” (369), to avoid seeing the conversational imperatives as an unorganized heap of conversational obligations. Another variant is Grice’s use of “principle of conversational co-operation.” He also uses “principle of conversational rational co-operation.” Note that irrational or non-rational co-operation is not an oxymoron. Another expression is conversational cooperative rationality. So Grice was amused that you can just as well refer to ‘cooperative rationality” or “rational cooperation,” “a category shift if ever there was one.”

conversational explicaturum – explicitirum – cf. the implicaturum and the impliciturm – implicatura/implicitura – implicaturm-impliciturm --  To be explicit is bad manners at Oxford if not in Paris or MIT. The thing is to imply! Englishmen are best at implying – their love for understatement is unequalled in the world. Grice needs the explicatio, or explicit. Because the mistake the philosopher makes is at the level of the implicatio, as Nowell-Smith, and C. K. Grant had noted. It is not OBVIOUSLY at the explicit level. Grice was never interested in the explicit level, and takes a very cavalier attitude to it. “This brief indication of my use of say leaves it open whether a man who says (today) Harold Wilson is a great man and another who says (also today) The British Prime Minister is a great man would, if each knew that the two singular terms had the same reference, have said the same thing. But whatever decision is made about this question, the apparatus that I am about to provide will be capable of accounting for any implicaturums that might depend on the presence of one rather than another of these singular terms in the sentence uttered. Such implicaturums would merely be related to different maxims.”Rephrase: “A brief indication of my use of ‘the explicit’ leaves it open whether a man who states (today), ‘Harold Wilson is a great man’ thereby stating that Wilson is a great man, and another who states (also today),‘The British Prime Minister is a great man,’ viz. that the Prime Minister is a great mand, would, if each singular term, ‘the Prime Minister’ and ‘Wilson’ has the same denotatum (co-relata) have put forward in an explicit fashion the same propositional complex, and have stated the same thing. On the face of it, it would seem they have not. But cf. ‘Wilson will be the prime minister’ versus ‘Wilson shall be the prime minister.’ Again, a subtler question arises as to whether the first emissor who has stated that Wilson will be the next prime minster and the other one who has stated that Wilson *shall* be the next prime minster, have both but forward the same proposition. If the futurm indicatum is ENTAILED by the futurum intentionale, the question is easy to settle. Whatever methodological decision or stipulation I end up making about the ‘explicitum,’ the apparatus that I rely on is capable of accounting for any implicaturum that might depend on the presence of this or that singular term in the utterance. Such an implicaturum would merely be related to a different conversational maxims. Urmson has elaborated on this, “Mrs. Smith’s husband just passed by.” “You mean the postman! Why did you use such contrived ‘signular term’?” If the emissor draws a skull what he explicitly conveys is that this is a skull. This is the EPLICITUM. If he communicates that there is danger, that’s via some further reasoning. That associates a skull with death. Grice’s example is Grice displaying his bandaged leg. Strictly, he communicates that he has a bandaged leg. Second, that his leg is bandaged (the bandage may be fake). And third, that he cannot play cricket. It all started in Oxford when they started to use ‘imply’ in a sense other than the ‘logical’ one. This got Grice immersed in a deep exploration of types of ‘implication.’ There is the implicaturum, and the implicitum, both from ‘implico.’ As correlative there is the explicatio, which yields both the explicatum and the explicitum. Grice has under the desideratum of conversational clarity that a conversationalist is assumed to make the point of his conversational contribution ‘explicit.’ So in his polemic with G. A. Paul, Grice knows that the ‘doubt-or-denial’ condition will be at the level NOT of the explicitum or explicatum. Surely an implicaturum can be CANCELLED explicitly. Grice uses ‘contextual’ or ‘explicit,’ here but grants that the ‘contextual’ may be subsumed under the ‘explicit.’  It is when the sub-perceptual utterance is copulated with the formulation of the explicatum of the implicaturum that Grice shows G. A. Paul that the statement is still ‘true,’ and which Grice sees as a reivindication of the causal theory of perception. In the twenty or so examples of philosophical mistakes, both in “Causal” and “Prolegomena,” all the mistakes can be rendered back to the ‘explicatum’ versus ‘implicaturum’ distinction. Unfortunately, each requires a philosophical background to draw all the ‘implications,’ and Grice has been read by people without a philosophical background who go on to criticise him for ignoring things where he never had focused his attention on. His priority is to deal with these philosophical mistakes. He also expects the philosopher to come up with a general methodological statement. Grice distinguishes between the conversational explicitum and the conversational explicatum. Grice plays with ‘explicit’ and ‘implicit’ at various places. He often uses ‘explicit’and ‘implicit’ adverbially: the utterer explicitly conveys that p versus the utterer implicitly conveys that p (hints that p, suggests that p, indicates that p, implicates that p, implies that p). Grice regards that both dimensions form part of the total act of signification, accepting as a neutral variant, that the utterer has signified that p.

conversational game: In a conversational game, you don’t say “The pillar box seems red” if you know it IS red. So, philosophers at Oxford (like Austin, Strawson, Hare, Hampshire, and Hart) are all victims of ignoring the rules of the game, and just not understanding that a game is being played.  the expression is used by Grice systematically. He speaks of players making the conversational move in the conversational game following the conversational rule, v. rational choice

conversational haggle -- bargaining theory, the branch of game theory that treats agreements, e.g., wage agreements between labor and management. In the simplest bargaining problems there are two bargainers. They can jointly realize various outcomes, including the outcome that occurs if they fail to reach an agreement, i.e. if they fail to help each other or co-operate. Each bargainer assigns a certain amount of utility to each outcome. The question is, what outcome will they realise if each conversationalist is rational? Methods of solving bargaining problems are controversial. The best-known proposals are Grice’s and Nash’s and Kalai and Smorodinsky’s. Grice proposes that if you want to get a true answer to your question, you should give a true answer to you co-conversationalist’s question (“ceteris paribus”). Nash proposes maximizing the product of utility gains with respect to the disagreement point. Kalai and Smorodinsky propose maximsiing utility gains with respect to the disagreement point, subject to the constraint that the ratio of utility gains equals the ratio of greatest possible gains. These three methods of selecting an outcome have been axiomatically characterized. For each method, there are certain axioms of outcome selection such that that method alone satisfies the axioms. The axioms incorporate principles of rationality from cooperative game theory. They focus on features of outcomes rather than bargaining strategies. For example, one axiom requires that the outcome selected be Pareto-optimal, i.e., be an outcome such that no alternative is better for one of the bargainers and not worse for the other. A bargaining problem may become more complicated in several ways. First, there may be more than two bargainers (“Suppose Austin joins in.”). If unanimity is not required for beneficial agreements, splinter groups or co-alitions may form. Second, the protocol for offers, counte-roffers (“Where does C live?” “Why do you want to know?”) etc., may be relevant. Then principles of *non-cooperative* but competitive game theory concerning war strategies (“l’art de la guerre”) are needed to justify this or that solution. Third, the context of a bargaining problem may be relevant. For instance, opportunities for side payments, differences in bargaining power, and interpersonal comparisons of utility may influence the solution. Fourth, simplifying assumptions, such as the assumption that bargainers have complete information about their bargaining situation, may be discarded. Bargaining theory is part of the philosophical study of rationality. It is also important in ethics as a foundation for contractarian theories of morality and for certain theories of distributive justice. 

conversational helpfulness. It’s not clear if ‘helpfulness’ has a Graeco-Roman counterpart! The Grecians and the Romans could be VERY individualistic! – adiuvare, (adiuare, old for adiūverare), iūtus, āre,” which Lewis and Short render as “to help, assist, aid, support, further, sustain. “fortīs fortuna adiuvat, T.: maerorem orationis meae lacrimis suis: suā sponte eos, N.: pennis adiutus amoris, O.: in his causis: alqm ad percipiendam virtutem: si quid te adiuero, poet ap. C.: ut alqd consequamur, adiuvisti: multum eorum opinionem adiuvabat, quod, etc., Cs.—With ellips. of obj, to be of assistance, help: ad verum probandum: non multum, Cs.: quam ad rem humilitas adiuvat, is convenient, Cs.—Supin. acc.: Nectanebin adiutum profectus, N.—P. pass.: adiutus a Demosthene, N.—Fig.: clamore militem, cheer, L.: adiuvat hoc quoque, this too is useful, H.: curā adiuvat illam (formam), sets off his beauty, O. Grice is right that ‘cooperation’ does NOT equate ‘helpfulness’ and he appropriately changes  his earlier principle of conversational helpfulness to a principle of conversational co-operation. Was there a Graeco-Roman equivalent for Anglo-Saxon ‘help’? helpmeet (n.) a ghost word from the 1611 translation of the Bible, where it originally was a two-word noun-adjective phrase translating Latin adjutorium simile sibi [Genesis ii.18] as "an help meet for him," and meaning literally "a helper like himself." See help (n.) + meet (adj.). By 1670s it was hyphenated help-meet and mistaken as a modified noun. Compare helpmate. The original Hebrew is 'ezer keneghdo. Related entries & more   aid (v.) "to assist, help," c. 1400, from Old French aidier "help, assist" (Modern French aider), from Latin adiutare, frequentative of adiuvare (past participle adiutus) "to give help to," from ad "to" (see ad-) + iuvare "to help, assist, give strength, support, sustain," which is from a PIE source perhaps related to the root of iuvenis "young person" (see young (adj.)). Related: Aided; aiding. Related entries & more   succor (n.) c. 1200, socour, earlier socours "aid, help," from Anglo-French succors "help, aid," Old French socors, sucurres "aid, help, assistance" (Modern French secours), from Medieval Latin succursus "help, assistance," from past participle of Latin succurrere "run to help, hasten to the aid of," from assimilated form of sub "up to" (see sub-) + currere "to run" (from PIE root *kers- "to run"). Final -s mistaken in English as a plural inflection and dropped late 13c. Meaning "one who aids or helps" is from c. 1300. There is a fashion in which to help is to cooperate, but co-operate, strictly, requires operation by A and operation by B. We do use cooperate loosely. “She is very cooperative.” “Help” seems less formal. One can help without ever engaging or honouring the other’s goal. I can help you buy a house, say. So the principle of conversational cooperation is stricter and narrower than the principle of conversational helpfulness. Cooperation involves reciprocity and mutuality in a way that helpfulness does not. That’s why Grice needs to emphasise that there is an expectation of MUTUAL helpfulness. One is expected to be helpful, and one expects the other to be helpful. Grice was doubtful about the implicaturum of ‘co-operative,’ – after all, who at Oxford wants a ‘co-operative.’ It sounds anti-Oxonian. So Grice elaborates on ‘helping others’ and ‘assuming others will help you’ in the event that we ‘are doing something together.’ Does this equate cooperation, he wonders. Just in case, he uses ‘helpfulness’ as a variant. There are other concepts he plays with, notably ‘altruism,’ and ‘benevolence,’ or other-love.’Helpfulness is Grice’s favourite virtue. Grice is clear that reciprocity is essential here. One exhibits helpfulness and expects helpfulness from his conversational partner. He dedicates a set of seven lectures to it, entitled as follows. Lecture 1, Prolegomena; Lecture 2: Logic and Conversation; Lecture 3: Further notes on logic and conversation; Lecture 4: Indicative conditionals; Lecture 5: Us meaning and intentions; Lecture 6: Us meaning, sentence-meaning, and word-meaning; and Lecture 7: Some models for implicaturum. I hope they dont expect me to lecture on James! Grice admired James, but not vice versa. Grice entitled the set as being Logic and Conversation. That is the title, also, of the second lecture. Grice keeps those titles seeing that it was way the whole set of lectures were frequently cited, and that the second lecture had been published under that title in Davidson and Harman, The Logic of Grammar. The content of each lecture is indicated below. In the first, Grice manages to quote from Witters. In the last, he didnt!  The original set consisted of seven lectures. To wit: Prolegomena, Logic and conversation, Further notes on logic and conversation, Indicative Conditionals, Us meaning and intentions, Us meaning, sentence-meaning, and word meaning, and Some models for implicaturum. They were pretty successful at Oxford. While the notion of an implicaturum had been introduced by Grice at Oxford, even in connection with a principle of conversational helpfulness, he takes the occasion now to explore the type of rationality involved. Observation of the principle of conversational helpfulness is rational (reasonable) along the following lines: anyone who cares about the two central goals to conversation (give/receive information, influence/be influened) is expected to have an interest in participating in a conversation that is only going to be profitable given that it is conducted along the lines set by the principle of conversational helpfulness. In Prolegomena he lists Austin, Strawson, Hare, Hart, and himself, as victims of a disregard for the implicaturum. In the third lecture he introduces his razor, Senses are not to be muliplied beyond necessity. In Indicative conditionals he tackles Strawson on if as not representing the horse-shoe of Whitehead and Russell. The next two lectures on the meaning by the utterer and intentions, and meaning by the utterer, sentence-meaning, and word-meaning refine his earlier, more austere, account of this particularly Peirceian phenomenon. He concludes the lectures with an exploration on the relevance of the implicaturum to philosophical psychology. Grice was well aware that many philosophers had become enamoured with the s. and would love to give it a continuous perusal. The set is indeed grandiose. It starts with a Prolegomena to set the scene: He notably quotes himself in it, which helps, but also Strawson, which sort of justifies the general title. In the second lecture, Logic and Conversation, he expands on the principle of conversational helpfulness and the explicitum/implicaturum distinction – all very rationalist! The third lecture is otiose in that he makes fun of Ockham: Senses are not to be multiplied beyond necessity. The fourth lecture, on Indicative conditionals, is indeed on MOST of the formal devices he had mentioned on Lecture II, notably the functors (rather than the quantifiers and the iota operator, with which he deals in Presupposition and conversational implicaturum, since, as he notes, they refer to reference). This lecture is the centrepiece of the set. In the fifth lecture, he plays with mean, and discovers that it is attached to the implicaturum or the implicitum. In the sixth lecture, he becomes a nominalist, to use Bennetts phrase, as he deals with dog and shaggy in terms of this or that resultant procedure. Dont ask me what they are! Finally, in “Some models for implicaturum,” he attacks the charge of circularity, and refers to nineteenth-century explorations on the idea of thought without language alla Wundt. I dont think a set of James lectures had even been so comprehensive! Conversational helpfulness. This is Grice at his methodological best. He was aware that the type of philosophying he was about to criticise wass a bit dated, but whats wrong with being old-fashioned? While this may be seen as a development of his views on implicaturum at that seminal Oxford seminar, it may also be seen as Grice popularising the views for a New-World, non-Oxonian audience. A discussion of Oxonian philosophers of the play group of Grice, notably Austin, Hare, Hart, and Strawson. He adds himself for good measure (“Causal theory”). Philosophers, even at Oxford, have to be careful with the attention that is due to general principles of discourse. Grice quotes philosophers of an earlier generation, such as Ryle, and some interpreters or practitioners of Oxonian analysis, such as Benjamin and Searle. He even manages to quote from Witterss Philosophical investigations, on seeing a banana as a banana. There are further items in the Grice collection that address Austins manoeuvre, Austin on ifs and cans, Ifs and cans, : conditional, power.  Two of Grices favourites. He opposed Strawsons view on if. Grice thought that if was the horseshoe of Whitehead and Russell, provided we add an implicaturum to an entailment. The can is merely dispositional, if not alla Ryle, alla Grice! Ifs and cans, intention, disposition. Austin had brought the topic to the fore as an exploration of free will. Pears had noted that conversational implicaturum may account for the conditional perfection (if yields iff). Cf. Ayers on Austin on if and can. Recall that for Grice the most idiomatic way to express a disposition is with the Subjectsive mode, the if, and the can ‒ The ice can break. Cf. the mistake: It is not the case that what you must do, you can do. The can-may distinction is one Grice played with too. As with will and shall, the attachment of one mode to one of the lexemes is pretty arbitrary and not etymologically justified ‒ pace Fowler on it being a privilege of this or that Southern Englishman as Fowler is. If he calls it Prolegomena, he is being jocular. Philosophers Mistakes would have been too provocative. Benjamin, or rather Broad, erred, and so did Ryle, and Ludwig Witters, and my friends, Austin (the mater that wobbled), and in order of seniority, Hart (I heard him defend this about carefully – stopping at every door in case a dog comes out at breakneck speed), Hare (To say good is to approve), and Strawson (“Logical theory”: To utter if p, q is to implicate some inferrability, To say true! is to endorse – Analysis). If he ends with Searle, he is being jocular. He quotes Searle from an essay in British philosophy in Lecture I, and from an essay in Philosophy in America in Lecture V. He loved Searle, and expands on the Texas oilmens club example! We may think of Grice as a linguistic botanizer or a meta-linguistic botanizer: his hobby was to collect philosophers mistakes, and he catalogued them. In Causal theory he produces his first list of seven. The pillar box seems red to me. One cannot see a dagger as a dagger. Moore didnt know that the objects before him were his own hands. What is actual is not also possible. For someone to be called responsible, his action should be condemnable. A cause must be given only of something abnormal or unusual (cf. ætiology). If you know it, you dont believe it. In the Prolegomena, the taxonomy is more complicated. Examples A (the use of an expression, by Austin, Benjamin, Grice, Hart, Ryle, Wittgenstein), Examples B (Strawson on and, or, and especially if), and Examples C (Strawson on true and Hare on good – the performative theories). But even if his taxonomy is more complicated, he makes it more SO by giving other examples as he goes on to discuss how to assess the philosophical mistake. Cf. his elaboration on trying, I saw Mrs. Smith cashing a cheque, Trying to cash a cheque, you mean. Or cf. his remarks on remember, and There is an analogy here with a case by Wittgenstein. In summary, he wants to say. Its the philosopher who makes his big mistake. He has detected, as Grice has it, some conversational nuance. Now he wants to exploit it. But before rushing ahead to exploit the conversational nuance he has detected, or identified, or collected in his exercise of linguistic botanising, the philosopher should let us know with clarity what type of a nuance it is. For Grice wants to know that the nuance depends on a general principle (of goal-directed behaviour in general, and most likely rational) governing discourse – that participants in a conversation should be aware of, and not on some minutiæ that has been identified by the philosopher making the mistake, unsystematically, and merely descriptively, and taxonomically, but without ONE drop of explanatory adequacy. The fact that he directs this to his junior Strawson is the sad thing. The rest are all Grices seniors! The point is of philosophical interest, rather than other. And he keeps citing philosophers, Tarski or Ramsey, in the third James leture, to elaborate the point about true in Prolegomena. He never seems interested in anything but an item being of philosophical interest, even if that means HIS and MINE! On top, he is being Oxonian: Only at Oxford my colleagues were so obsessed, as it has never been seen anywhere else, about the nuances of conversation. Only they were all making a big mistake in having no clue as to what the underlying theory of conversation as rational co-operation would simplify things for them – and how! If I introduce the explicatum as a concession, I shall hope I will be pardoned! Is Grices intention epagogic, or diagogic in Prolegomena? Is he trying to educate Strawson, or just delighting in proving Strawson wrong? We think the former. The fact that he quotes himself shows that Grice is concerned with something he still sees, and for the rest of his life will see, as a valid philosophical problem. If philosophy generated no problems it would be dead. Refs.: H. P. Grice, “Whence I took helpfulness,’; the main sources are the two sets on ‘logic and conversation.’ There are good paraphrases in other essays when he summarises his own views, as he did at Urbana. The H. P. Grice Papers, BANC.

conversational imperative: Grice is loose in the use of ‘imperative.’ It obviously has to do with the will in command mode! -- The problem with ‘command’ is that for Habermas, it springs from ‘power,’ and we need to have it sprung from ‘auctoritas,’ rather – the voice of reason, that is – “Impero” gives also pre-pare. “Imperare, prepare, etc. What was the Greek for ‘imperative mode’? προστακτική prostaktike. προσ-τακτικός , ή, όν, A.of or for commanding, imperative, imperious, τὸ π. [ἡ ψυχή], opp. τὸ ὑπηρετικόν (of the body), Arist.Top.128b19; “π. τινῶν” Corn.ND16; “λόγος” Plu.2.1037f; Προστακτικός (sc. λόγος), title of work by Protagoras, D.L.9.55; “βραχυλογία” Plu.Phoc.5; also of persons, “ἄρχων” Max.Tyr.13.2 (Sup.). II. Gramm., ἡ -κὴ ἔγκλισις the imperative mood, D.T.638.7, A.D.Synt.31.20; π. ἐκφορὰ τῶν ῥημάτων ib.69.20; “τὸ π. σχῆμα” Anon.Fig.24; also “τὸ -κόν” D.L. 7.66,67, Ps.-Plu.Vit.Hom.53. Adv. “-κῶς” in the imperative mood, D.H.4.18, Sch.Ar.Av.1163.Grice became famous for his ‘maxims,’ which in Nowell-Smith’s view they are more like rules of etiquette for sylish conversation. As such, many had been proposed. But Grice proposes them AS A PHILOSOPHER would, and ONLY TO REBUFF the mistake made by this or that philosopher who would rather EXPLAIN the phenomenon in terms OTHER than involving as PART OF THE DATA, i. e. as a datum (as he says) or assumption, that there are these ‘assumptions,’ which guide behaviour. Grice is having in mind Kant’s “Imperativ.” He also uses ‘conversational objective.” In most versions that Grice provides of the ‘general expectations’ of rational discourse, he chooses the obvious imperative form. On occasion he does use ‘imperative.’ Grice is vague as to the term of choice for this or that ‘expectation.’ According to Strawson, Grice even once used ‘conversational rule,’ and he does use ‘conversational rule of the conversational game of making this or that conversational move.’ Notably, he also uses ‘conversational principle,’ and ‘conversational desideratum.’ And ‘maxim’! And ‘conversational directive (371), and ‘conversational obligation’ (369). By ‘conversational maxim,’ he means ‘conversational maxim.’ He uses ‘conversational sub-maxim’ very occasionally. He rather uses ‘conversational super-maxim.’ He uses ‘immanuel,’ and he uses ‘conversational immanuel.’ It is worth noting that the choice of word influences the exegesis. Loar takes these things to be ‘empirical generalisations over functional states’! And Grice agrees that there is a dull, empiricist way, in which these things can be seen as things people conform to. There is a quasi-contractualist approach to: things people convene on. And there is an Ariskantian approach: things people SHOULD abide by. Surely Grice is not requiring that the conversationalists ARE explicitly or consciously AWARE of these things. There is a principle of effort of economical reason to cope with that!

Conversational entropia -- Entropia -- conversational entropy. -- Principle of Conversational entropy, a measure of disorder or “information.” The number of states accessible to the various elements of a large system of particles such as a cabbage or the air in a room is represented as “W.” Accessible microstates might be, e. g., energy levels the various particles can reach. One can greatly simplify the statement of certain laws of nature by introducing a logarithmic measure of these accessible microstates. This measure, called “entropy” by H. P. Grice is defined by the formula: SEntropy % df. klnW, where “k” is Grice’’s constant. When the conversational entropy of a conversational system increases, the system becomes more random and disordered (“less dove-tailed,” in Grice’s parlance) in that a larger number of microstates become available for the system’s particles to enter. If a large system within which exchanges of energy occur is isolated, exchanging no energy with its environment, the entropy of the system tends to increase and never decreases. This result is part of the second law of thermodynamics. In real, evolving physical systems effectively isolated from their environments, entropy increases and thus aspects of the system’s organization that depend upon there being only a limited range of accessible microstates are altered. A cabbage totally isolated in a container e. g. would decay as complicated organic molecules eventually became unstructured in the course of ongoing exchanges of energy and attendant entropy increases. In Grice’s information theory, a state or event (or conversational move) is said to contain more information than a second state or event if the former state is less probable and thus in a sense more surprising (or “baffling,” in Grice’s term) than the latter. Other plausible constraints suggest a logarithmic measure of information content. Suppose X is a set of alternative possible states, xi , and pxi  is the probability of each xi 1 X. If state xi has occurred the information content of that occurrence is taken to be -log2pxi . This function increases as the probability of xi decreases. If it is unknown which xi will occur, it is reasonable to represent the expected information content of X as the sum of the information contents of the alternative states xi weighted in each case by the probability of the state, giving: This is called the Shannon’s or Grice’s entropy. Both Shannon’s and Grice’s entropy and physical entropy can be thought of as logarithmic measures of disarray. But this statement trades on a broad understanding of ‘disarray’. A close relationship between the two concepts of entropy should not be assumed, not even by Grice, less so by Shannon.