the entire
idea that we should pay detailed attention to the way we talk seems to me to
have a certain quality which is characteristic of a philosophical revolution (at least a minor one).”
“I was once
dining with P. F. Strawson at Magdalen’s when one of the guests present, an Air
Marshal, reveals himself as having, when he was a student, sat at the feet of
Cook Wilson, whom he revered.”
“Strawson
asked the Air Marshal what he
regarded as specially significant about Cook Wilson as a philosopher.”
“After a
good deal of fumbling, the Air Marshal answers that it was Cook Wilson's
delivery of the message that ‘what we know we know.”
“This
provokes in me, then, some genteel silent mirth.”
“But, a long
time later, I realise that mirth, however genteel and silent, is quite
inappropriate.”
“Indeed,
Cook Wilson’s message was a platitude, but so are many of the best
philosophical messages.”
“For they
exhort us to take seriously something to which, previously, we have given at
best ‘lip service,’ as it were.”
“J. L.
Austin’s message was another platitude.”
“J. L.
Austin’s message, in effect, says that, if in accordance with prevailing
fashion one wants to say that all or some philosophical propositions are really
about linguistic usage, one had
better see to it that one has a proper knowledge of what linguistic usage is and of what lies behind it.”
“This
sophisticated but remorseless
literalism is typical of Austin.”
“When
seeking a way of organizing a discussion group to entertain a visiting logician
from The New World, Austin says, ‘They say that logic is a game. Well then,
let’s play it as a game'; with the result that we spent a fascinating term,
meeting each week to play that week’s improved version of a game called, by
Austin, ‘Symbolo,’ a sequence (I suspect) of less thrilling ancestors of the
game many years later profitably marketed under the name of ‘Wffn’Proof.’”
“Another
appealing element is the fact that J. L. Austin had, and at times communicated,
a prevalent vision of ‘ordinary language’ as a wonderfully intricate
instrument.”
“By this I
do not mean merely that Austin saw, or hoped one day to be able to see, our
language conforming to a Leibnizian ideal of exhibiting an immense variety of
linguistic phenomena which are capable of being elegantly and economically
organized under a relatively small body of principles or rules.”
“Austin
might have had such a picture of language, and may indeed have hoped that some
extension or analogue of Chomsky's work on syntax, which he greatly admired, might
fill in the detail for us, thus providing new access to the Austinian science
of grammar, which seemed to reside in an intellectual Holy of Holies, to be
approached only after an intensive discipline of preliminary linguistic
studies.”
“What I am
imputing to Austin is a belief in our everyday language as an instrument, as
manifesting the further Leibnizian feature of purpose; a belief in it as
something whose intricacies and distinctions are not idle, but rather marvellously and subtly fitted to serve the
multiplicity of our needs and desires in communication.”
“It is not surprising,
therefore, that the Play Group discussions not infrequently involved enquiries
into the [utterer’s?] ‘purpose’ or [utterer’s?] ‘point’ of some feature of
ordinary discourse.”
“When put to
work, this conception of ‘ordinary’ language seems to offer a fresh and
manageable approach to a philosophical idea or a philosophical problem, the
appeal of which approach, in my eyes at least, is in no way diminished by the discernible
affinity between the approach on the one hand and, on the other, the
professions and practice of Aristotle in relation to ‘ta legomena,’ “what is
said.”
“When properly
regulated and directed, ‘linguistic botanising’ seems, to me, to provide a
valuable initiation to the philosophical treatment of a concept, particularly
if what is under examination (and it is arguable that this should always be the
case) is a family of different but related concepts.”
“Indeed, I
will go further, and proclaim it as my belief that linguistic botanising is indispensable, at a certain stage, in a
philosophical enquiry, and that it is lamentable that this lesson has been
forgotten, or has never been learned.”
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