Speranza
Grice wisely entitled the fourth William James lecture, "Indicative conditionals", for although J. L. Mackie was not, Grice was pessimistic that a truth-functional approach to subjunctive 'if' would be welcomed at Harvard!
O. T. O. H., there's Cleopatra's nose, which someone should symbolise---.
KEYWORDS:
ANALYTIC PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY
CLEOPATRA'S NOSE
Conditionals and causation
MACKIE
The source for the Cleopatra's Nose famous dictum is Pascal. But he does NOT elaborate.
The Irish historian Bury does, in a Rationalist Press Association essay of 1916, "Cleopatra's Nose".
This "Cleopatra's Nose" is quoted sympathetically by Collingwood in "The idea of history", and unsympathetically by Carr in "What is history?"
Trevor-Rope discusses it in "Fly in the Fly Bottle".
And so on.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Grice's Implicature in the New York Times
Speranza
J. McWhorter writes, in "Like, Degrading the Language? No Way" -- The New York Times --: "If there is one thing that unites Americans of all stripes, it is the belief that, whatever progress [America] might be making, [Americans] are moving *backward* on language."
"Just look at the crusty discourse level of comments sections and the
recreational choppiness of text messages and hit pop songs."
But they are written by Canadians! Justin Bieber, etc.
McWhorter continues:
"However, amid what often seems like the slack-jawed devolution of a once-mighty language [American English], we can find evidence for, of all things, a growing sophistication."
"Yes, sophistication — even in the likes of, well, “like,” used so prolifically by people under a certain age."
Where Wittgenstein would not be certain (in "On Certainty") what McWhorter means by 'certain'.
McWhorter goes on:
"We associate 'like' with ingrained hesitation, a fear of venturing a definite statement."
Cfr. Grice, "Do not say what you lack adequate evidence for."
McWhorter:
"Yet the hesitation can be seen less as a matter of confidence than one of consideration."
"“Like” often functions to acknowledge objection while underlining one’s own point."
"To say:
(i) This is, like, the only way to make it work.
is to recognize implicitly that this news may be unwelcome to the Griceian addressee, and to soften the blow by offering the utterer’s suggestion discreetly swathed in a garb of hypotheticality.
Or consider:
(ii) Like, the only way to do it.
operates on the same principle as other expressions, such as making a request with the phrasing:
(iii) “If you could open the door ...”
Hypothetical, when what you intend is quite concrete.
“Like” can seem somehow sloppier, but only because novelty always has a way of *seeming* sloppy.
What’s actually happening is that casual American English speech is, in its “like” fetish, more polite than it was before.
Cfr. Robin Tolmach Lakoff on re-interpreting Grice's maxims and expanding on Grice's idea that we may (or might) add (but we won't) a maxim,
"be polite".
(They don't generate conversational implicatures for Grice, which, as an Oxford philosopher working on the tradition of the G. E. Moore pragmatic implications, was all that he cared for).
Sooner than we know it, the people using “like” this way will be on walkers, and all will be right with the world.
The use of “totally” mines the same vein.
(iv) He is totally going to call you.
does NOT mean:
(v) He is going to call you in a total fashion.
It has a more specific meaning or implicature, although only handled subconsciously by utterers, as so much of language is.
(iv) contains or carries or triggers an implicature, to wit:
(vi) Someone has said otherwise.
Or, since as Grice notes, implicatures are indeterminate and disjunctional in nature:
(vii) The chances of it may seem slim at first glance but in fact aren’t.
As with “like,” “totally” tracks and nods to the opinions of others.
It’s totally civilized.
And totally Griceian.
Linguistically, underneath the distractions of incivility, America is taking a page from Dale Carnegie’s classic
“How to Win Friends and Influence People.”
And also from Grice's classic, even if not American, "Logic and Conversation" (Oxford lectures, 1965, reprinted as William James Lectures, yes, American, at Harvard).
There is, overall, an awareness of the states of minds of your Griceian addressee in much of what is typically regarded as Clearasil-scented grammatical sloth.
Texting’s famous
(viii) lol
for instance, started as literally meaning “laugh out loud".
But (viii) now serves the same function as the quiet chuckles and giggles that decorate most casual conversations.
(vii) creates a comfort zone by calling attention to sentiments held in common.
E.g.
(viii) I just studied for three hours lol.
No one would say that guffawing.
It is a graphic titter, channeling the very particular drudgery the utterer and the addresee both associate with studying.
It warms texting up into a graphic kind of spoken conversation.
In this vein, the
(ix) Because love.
expression celebrated by the American Dialect Society as the word of the year is just more of the same.
(x) Five second rule’ may be real, because science.
-- a blogger noted recently.
The usage has a specific meaning, implying (or as Grice prefers, implicating -- he could be slightly pedantic) a wariness toward claims of scientific backing that all readers presumably understand when, in this case, it comes to whether we can actually always feel safe eating food off the floor.
The utterer is considering the views of others, and he is stepping outside of his own heads.
“Because X” is another new way to say “we’re all in this together.”
The increase in public profanity may seem to speak against such a sunny perspective.
But what qualifies as profanity?
Today, the “four letter” words traditionally termed profanity in American English are more properly just salty.
As late as 1920, the lowlier word for excrement rarely appeared in print.
Its use has increased a hundredfold since.
The uses of “damn” and “hell” in print are higher than ever in written history.
No anthropologist observing our society would recognize words used so freely in public language as profanity.
At the same time, consider the words we now consider truly taboo, that we enshroud with a near-religious air of sinfulness.
They are, overwhelmingly, epithets aimed at groups.
Gone are the days when our main lexical taboos concerned religion — with “egad” as a way to evade saying “Ye Gods!” — or sex and the body, as when Americans started saying "white meat" and "dark meat" to avoid (euphemisms) mentioning "breasts" and "limbs" (dysphemisms) -- and vide Allan for a Gricean view of them.
Instead, today the abusive use of the N-word, the word beginning with F that refers to homosexual men and a four-letter word for a body part that can be used to refer to women are considered beyond the pale even in casual discourse, to an extent that would baffle a time traveler from as recently as 50 years ago.
A keystone of education is to foster awareness of, and respect for, diversities of opinion.
Changes in language suggest that the general populace has become much more attuned to this kind of diversity.
The increasingly wide and diverse circles of acquaintance Americans are likely to have may increase attention to a certain conversational civility.
Texting cries out for substitutes for facial expressions and intonations that cushion and nuance spoken conversation.
The civil rights revolution hardly created a paradise, but its impact on what we consider appropriate language is revolutionary.
We may not speak with the butter-toned exchanges of the characters on “Downton Abbey,” but in substance our speech is in many ways more civilised.
We are taught to celebrate the idea that Inuit languages reveal a unique relationship to snow, or that the Russian language’s separate words for dark and light blue mean that a Russian sees blueberries and robin’s eggs as more vibrantly different in color than the rest of us do.
Isn’t it welcome, then, that good old-fashioned American is saying something cool about us for once?
VERY cool.
J. McWhorter writes, in "Like, Degrading the Language? No Way" -- The New York Times --: "If there is one thing that unites Americans of all stripes, it is the belief that, whatever progress [America] might be making, [Americans] are moving *backward* on language."
Of course we don't agree!
McWhorter continues:
But they are written by Canadians! Justin Bieber, etc.
McWhorter continues:
"However, amid what often seems like the slack-jawed devolution of a once-mighty language [American English], we can find evidence for, of all things, a growing sophistication."
"Yes, sophistication — even in the likes of, well, “like,” used so prolifically by people under a certain age."
Where Wittgenstein would not be certain (in "On Certainty") what McWhorter means by 'certain'.
McWhorter goes on:
"We associate 'like' with ingrained hesitation, a fear of venturing a definite statement."
Cfr. Grice, "Do not say what you lack adequate evidence for."
McWhorter:
"Yet the hesitation can be seen less as a matter of confidence than one of consideration."
"“Like” often functions to acknowledge objection while underlining one’s own point."
"To say:
(i) This is, like, the only way to make it work.
is to recognize implicitly that this news may be unwelcome to the Griceian addressee, and to soften the blow by offering the utterer’s suggestion discreetly swathed in a garb of hypotheticality.
Or consider:
(ii) Like, the only way to do it.
operates on the same principle as other expressions, such as making a request with the phrasing:
(iii) “If you could open the door ...”
Hypothetical, when what you intend is quite concrete.
“Like” can seem somehow sloppier, but only because novelty always has a way of *seeming* sloppy.
What’s actually happening is that casual American English speech is, in its “like” fetish, more polite than it was before.
Cfr. Robin Tolmach Lakoff on re-interpreting Grice's maxims and expanding on Grice's idea that we may (or might) add (but we won't) a maxim,
"be polite".
(They don't generate conversational implicatures for Grice, which, as an Oxford philosopher working on the tradition of the G. E. Moore pragmatic implications, was all that he cared for).
Sooner than we know it, the people using “like” this way will be on walkers, and all will be right with the world.
The use of “totally” mines the same vein.
(iv) He is totally going to call you.
does NOT mean:
(v) He is going to call you in a total fashion.
It has a more specific meaning or implicature, although only handled subconsciously by utterers, as so much of language is.
(iv) contains or carries or triggers an implicature, to wit:
(vi) Someone has said otherwise.
Or, since as Grice notes, implicatures are indeterminate and disjunctional in nature:
(vii) The chances of it may seem slim at first glance but in fact aren’t.
As with “like,” “totally” tracks and nods to the opinions of others.
It’s totally civilized.
And totally Griceian.
Linguistically, underneath the distractions of incivility, America is taking a page from Dale Carnegie’s classic
“How to Win Friends and Influence People.”
And also from Grice's classic, even if not American, "Logic and Conversation" (Oxford lectures, 1965, reprinted as William James Lectures, yes, American, at Harvard).
There is, overall, an awareness of the states of minds of your Griceian addressee in much of what is typically regarded as Clearasil-scented grammatical sloth.
Texting’s famous
(viii) lol
for instance, started as literally meaning “laugh out loud".
But (viii) now serves the same function as the quiet chuckles and giggles that decorate most casual conversations.
(vii) creates a comfort zone by calling attention to sentiments held in common.
E.g.
(viii) I just studied for three hours lol.
No one would say that guffawing.
It is a graphic titter, channeling the very particular drudgery the utterer and the addresee both associate with studying.
It warms texting up into a graphic kind of spoken conversation.
In this vein, the
(ix) Because love.
expression celebrated by the American Dialect Society as the word of the year is just more of the same.
(x) Five second rule’ may be real, because science.
-- a blogger noted recently.
The usage has a specific meaning, implying (or as Grice prefers, implicating -- he could be slightly pedantic) a wariness toward claims of scientific backing that all readers presumably understand when, in this case, it comes to whether we can actually always feel safe eating food off the floor.
The utterer is considering the views of others, and he is stepping outside of his own heads.
“Because X” is another new way to say “we’re all in this together.”
The increase in public profanity may seem to speak against such a sunny perspective.
But what qualifies as profanity?
Today, the “four letter” words traditionally termed profanity in American English are more properly just salty.
As late as 1920, the lowlier word for excrement rarely appeared in print.
Its use has increased a hundredfold since.
The uses of “damn” and “hell” in print are higher than ever in written history.
No anthropologist observing our society would recognize words used so freely in public language as profanity.
At the same time, consider the words we now consider truly taboo, that we enshroud with a near-religious air of sinfulness.
They are, overwhelmingly, epithets aimed at groups.
Gone are the days when our main lexical taboos concerned religion — with “egad” as a way to evade saying “Ye Gods!” — or sex and the body, as when Americans started saying "white meat" and "dark meat" to avoid (euphemisms) mentioning "breasts" and "limbs" (dysphemisms) -- and vide Allan for a Gricean view of them.
Instead, today the abusive use of the N-word, the word beginning with F that refers to homosexual men and a four-letter word for a body part that can be used to refer to women are considered beyond the pale even in casual discourse, to an extent that would baffle a time traveler from as recently as 50 years ago.
A keystone of education is to foster awareness of, and respect for, diversities of opinion.
Changes in language suggest that the general populace has become much more attuned to this kind of diversity.
The increasingly wide and diverse circles of acquaintance Americans are likely to have may increase attention to a certain conversational civility.
Texting cries out for substitutes for facial expressions and intonations that cushion and nuance spoken conversation.
The civil rights revolution hardly created a paradise, but its impact on what we consider appropriate language is revolutionary.
We may not speak with the butter-toned exchanges of the characters on “Downton Abbey,” but in substance our speech is in many ways more civilised.
We are taught to celebrate the idea that Inuit languages reveal a unique relationship to snow, or that the Russian language’s separate words for dark and light blue mean that a Russian sees blueberries and robin’s eggs as more vibrantly different in color than the rest of us do.
Isn’t it welcome, then, that good old-fashioned American is saying something cool about us for once?
VERY cool.
Monday, March 24, 2014
Grice on Trust in Conversation
Speranza
-- Was emphatic about.
On the other hand, there's Mary McCarthy.
She would say of Lilian Hellman:
"Every word she writes is a lie, including 'and' and 'the'".
Does this merit a Griceian analysis?
Of course, Grice was fascinated with 'the' -- since it had also fascinated
Strawson ("The King of France is bald" -- "And I mean 'the'"). So there are
senses in which _the_ can be a lie: "She met the man". "She met the men". "She
met some men". Or "She played THE game", "She played some game", etc.
It's easier perhaps with 'and'. Strawson, but NOT Grice, would take,
"She got a child and got married."
as being a lie -- depending on 'and' -- as a report of incidents that went:
she got married and got a child. For Grice, 'and', rather, is the logician's
"&", with the 'then' added as an implicature. But surely 'and' can also be a
lie, as in
"He travelled to China and Japan" when would better be expressed by "He
travelled to China OR Japan."
Wear Green: The Implicatures
Speranza
Echoes from St. Patrick's Day.
A cartoon strip of DUSTIN:
Girl: OUCH!
Dustin: I pinched you because you're not wearing green.
Girl: Hello, my dress is green!
Dustin: No, it isn't -- it's red.
Girl: It's made of locally sourced, hand-woven, organic cotton.
Grice used to play with this. He would ask children:
Can a sweater be green and red all over?
It can!
Surely, there is a _sense_ of 'green' and an implicature of 'green' -- or
not.
Wear Green: The Implicatures
Speranza
Echoes from St. Patrick's Day.
A cartoon strip of DUSTIN:
Girl: OUCH!
Dustin: I pinched you because you're not wearing green.
Girl: Hello, my dress is green!
Dustin: No, it isn't -- it's red.
Girl: It's made of locally sourced, hand-woven, organic cotton.
Grice used to play with this. He would ask children:
Can a sweater be green and red all over?
It can!
Surely, there is a _sense_ of 'green' and an implicature of 'green' -- or
not.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Grice's Ducks
Speranza
Strawson's example was:
"She married and had a child."
Now, since that is ungrammatical UPON ONE READING, one is forced to look for a reading that is GRAMMATICAL -- a Griceian maxim, alla "speak grammatically".
"A flock of ducks comment on Crimea vote"
From today's World Wide Words:
© Michael Quinion 2014 http://www.worldwidewords.org.
"A headline over a story from Reuters: "China urges restraint in Ukraine, ducks comment on Crimea vote." Philip Peluso sent that in and added, "Wisely, the chickens, turkeys and geese refused to be quoted.""
"A headline over a story from Reuters: "China urges restraint in Ukraine, ducks comment on Crimea vote." Philip Peluso sent that in and added, "Wisely, the chickens, turkeys and geese refused to be quoted.""
This relates to Grice's commentary on "&".
Strawson's example was:
"She married and had a child."
Strawson noted that there is an implicature here, in that, the logically
equivalent:
"She had a child and married."
presupposes that the order of events is a different one.
Now, Reuters will, if possible, get away with '&'.
"China urges restraint in Ukraine AND ducks comment on Crimea vote."
Instead, they choose the ungrammatical (in Grice's and Strawson's
view):
"China urges restraint in Ukraine, ducks comment on Crimea vote.
Now, since that is ungrammatical UPON ONE READING, one is forced to look for a reading that is GRAMMATICAL -- a Griceian maxim, alla "speak grammatically".
We arrive at the favoured interpretation:
"China urges restraint in Ukraine, ducks comment on Crimea vote. Wisely,
the chickens, turkeys and geese refused to be quoted."
Or not.
It may be argued that
"China urges restraint in Ukraine"
and
"A flock of ducks comment on Crimea vote"
flouts one of Grice's maxims, in that the topic seems to change
dramatically. But this implicature can ALWAYS be cancelled, whereas a
grammatical mistake is a grammatical mistake is a grammatical mistake.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
As Soon As Possible: The Implicature
Speranza
As a Griceian, or as Griceians, we may need the logical form. The 'possible' obviously involves a modal operator. What, after Kripke & company, has been symbolised as a diamond:
It was in a television programme, a chapter of a well-known series, that
something like the following conversation took place:
A: I'll pay you back as soon as possible.
A: I'll pay you back as soon as possible.
B: Of course you'll do. There's no way you can do it as soon as it is not
possible.
Or perhaps:
A: Don't worry. I will pay you back -- as soon as possible.
A: Don't worry. I will pay you back -- as soon as possible.
B: I KNOW. No way you can do it as soon as it is IMpossible.
--- So there are various variations.
As a Griceian, or as Griceians, we may need the logical form. The 'possible' obviously involves a modal operator. What, after Kripke & company, has been symbolised as a diamond:
<> p
The phrase 'a. s. a. p' is then in co-variance with its negation
~ <> p
'impossible'
or
it is not the case as soon as possible p.
There may be readings of 'a.s.a.p.' in which it does NOT violate one of
what Grice calls 'conversational rules' (or 'desiderata' in earlier versions of
his now infamous "Conversation" lectures), where the idea of 'implicature' is
introduced.
An implicature is an INTENTIONAL extra-logical ingredient to the
'conversational pool', and it may be argued that the user or utterer of
'a.s.a.p' has none of that in mind. Or not.
In any case, it does seem to flout a conversational desiderata --
informativeness, trustworthiness, relevance, perspicuity (Grice, echoing Kant,
managed to find FOUR different conversational categories matching Kant's famous
quartette of quantitas-qualitas-relatio-modus). Or not.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Grice: A Marxist
Speranza
“My taste is for keeping open house for all sorts and conditions of
entities, just so long as when they come in they help with the house-work.
Provided that I can see them at work, and provided that they are not detected in
illicit logical behaviour … I do not find them queer or mysterious at all. To
fangle a new ontological Marxism, they work therefore they exist, even though
only some, perhaps those who come on the recommendation of some form of
transcendental argument, may qualify for the specially flavoured status of entia
realissima. To exclude honest working entities seems to me like metaphysical
snobbery, a reluctance to be seen in the company of any but the best
objects.”
--- Paul Grice, (1975) “Method in Philosophical Psychology (From the Banal to
the Bizarre)”, Proceedings and Addresses of the American Philosophical
Association 48, 23-53.
Six Conversational Implicatures A Minute
Speranza
Paul Tosey, Wendy Sullivan and Margaret Meyer have recently published a paper which investigates the origin of the claim that people speak "six metaphors a minute".
http://www.cleanchange.co.uk/cleanlanguage/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/Six-metaphors-a-minute-final.pdf
Paul Tosey, Wendy Sullivan and Margaret Meyer have recently published a paper which investigates the origin of the claim that people speak "six metaphors a minute".
http://www.cleanchange.co.uk/cleanlanguage/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/Six-metaphors-a-minute-final.pdf
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Oxford change, Cambridge change
Speranza
P. T. Geach writes:
"I have thus tied up ‘real’
relations with real changes."
"I have written about the problem of ‘real’ changes elsewhere (cf. The index to my recent collection God and the Soul)."
Geach goes on:
"I have urged that we need to distinguish ‘real’ [or "Oxford" as Grice might prefer] changes, processes that actually go on in a given individual, from among ‘Cambridge’ changes."
-----
Why "Cambridge"?
"The great Cambridge philosophical works published in the early years of this century, like Russell's Principles of Mathematics and McTaggart’s Nature of Existence, explained "change" as simply a matter of contradictory attributes holding good of individuals at different times."
"Clearly ANY change [even an "Oxford change"] logically implies a ‘Cambridge’ change."
"But the converse is clearly not true."
"There is a *sense* of ‘change,’ hard to explicate, in which it is false to say that
EXAMPLE 1:
Socrates changes by coming to be shorter than Theatetus when the boy grows up, or
EXAMPLE 2:
that the butter changes by rising in price, or that
EXAMPLE 3:
Herbert changes by becoming an ‘object of envy to Edith’."
--- BUT SURELY THIS CAN BE DISIMPLICATED. And what Peter Thomas Geach means by 'sense' is not what Herbert Paul Grice means by IMPLICATURE. "It is FALSE to say" versus "It is ODD to say" ('misleadingly odd, but true").
"In these cases, a ‘Cambridge’ change of an object (Socrates, the butter, Herbert) makes no ‘real’ change in that object."
P. T. Geach writes:
"As I have said, the question of ‘real’ relations is a
question of how a true relational property latches on to reality."
Geach goes on:
"I must
begin by refuting a false view as to the logical syntax of relational
propositions: the view that such propositions do not admit of subject-predicate
analysis."
"This is a narrowly logical point to make; but the acceptance of such a
view would prevent us from accepting or even understanding the Thomistic
doctrine of ‘real’ relations."
"If a relational proposition indeed made no
predications about A or B, but only affirmed a relation ‘between’ them, then it
would be quite unintelligible how, if true, the proposition could correspond to
a reality in A rather than to a reality in B; and as the two converse relations,
alike holding ‘between’ A and B, one could not very well be more ‘real’ than the
other. So we need to see why the ‘between’ account of relations is wrong."
Geach later notes:
"I have written about the problem of ‘real’ changes elsewhere (cf. The index to my recent collection God and the Soul)."
Geach goes on:
"I have urged that we need to distinguish ‘real’ [or "Oxford" as Grice might prefer] changes, processes that actually go on in a given individual, from among ‘Cambridge’ changes."
-----
Why "Cambridge"?
"The great Cambridge philosophical works published in the early years of this century, like Russell's Principles of Mathematics and McTaggart’s Nature of Existence, explained "change" as simply a matter of contradictory attributes holding good of individuals at different times."
"Clearly ANY change [even an "Oxford change"] logically implies a ‘Cambridge’ change."
"But the converse is clearly not true."
"There is a *sense* of ‘change,’ hard to explicate, in which it is false to say that
EXAMPLE 1:
Socrates changes by coming to be shorter than Theatetus when the boy grows up, or
EXAMPLE 2:
that the butter changes by rising in price, or that
EXAMPLE 3:
Herbert changes by becoming an ‘object of envy to Edith’."
--- BUT SURELY THIS CAN BE DISIMPLICATED. And what Peter Thomas Geach means by 'sense' is not what Herbert Paul Grice means by IMPLICATURE. "It is FALSE to say" versus "It is ODD to say" ('misleadingly odd, but true").
"In these cases, a ‘Cambridge’ change of an object (Socrates, the butter, Herbert) makes no ‘real’ change in that object."
Monday, January 20, 2014
Oxonian Philosophers of Logic: Herbert Paul Grice and Peter Thomas Geach
Speranza
Peter Thomas Geach was a philosopher who argued that, far from being 'above logic’, the existence of God was in fact perfectly logical.
Grice preferred 'genitorial'. His view is best described as seeing his project as that of the 'creator' or 'genitor' -- what philosophers call the 'ideal-observer' approach.
Peter Geach is a formidable logician.
He happened to be married to one of the 20th century’s leading English-language philosophers, Irish-born G. E. M. Anscombe.
In a way, this meant Geach was overshadowed.
In another, it doesn't.
Geach did have a strong philosophical life of his own -- and I know people who have ONLY read Geach, but never Anscombe! --.
Further, without the thousands (literally) of hours of discussion that G. E. M. Anscombe had with him, *her* philosophy would not have attained the eminence it did.
Grice quotes Anscombe -- twice. In his unpublications he lists Anscombe as one (along with Murdoch) who NEVER attained a meeting with J. L. Austin on a Saturday morning. Not the Play Group type.
Geach always had sharp teeth in an argument and, the harder the opposition, the harder he bit.
In this he resembled Grice.
Geach's father was a Welsh-born philosopher, who never, since he was a gentleman, took up a paid position, but was properly educated at Cambridge -- Trinity to be more specific --.
It was under Geach senior's influence, that Geach junior got to admire, in his youth, the philosophy of J. M. E. McTaggart, the Edwardian Hegelian who espoused the positions that Geach came to reject:
-- atheism
-- re-incarnation
-- determinism, and
-- the unreality of time.
Still, Geach admired the irresistible force of reasoning that he found in the prose of McTaggart.
Geach writes:
“Under God, I owe my
very self to McTaggart for it
was knowledge of his philosophy
that kept alight in me a longing
for the infinite and eternal that
was not to be quenched by the
noisy winds of the world.”
Even after decades, Geach still thinks it important to publish an introduction to McTaggart’s philosophy: "Truth, Love, and Immortality".
Geach found his own feet while arguing against his master.
Thus, in response to McTaggart’s argument that it was impossible to believe in a solitary God, Geach showed how McTaggart’s demands for a deity were fulfilled only by the Holy Trinity of orthodox Christianity: three in one.
Not surprisingly, Geach's favourite hymn was "Holy, Holy, Holy", which got parodied during the War as "Raining, Raining, Raining".
In the philosophy of religion, Geach contributed to a better understanding of "existence", or the act of "being".
Geach makes an important distinction between
i. There is a God” and
ii. God is, or lives.
In the latter sense, Geach (but not Grice) claims that God is identical with his being.
Geach’s thinking on this question is touched on in "God and the Soul" and "Providence and Evil".
In ethics, G. E. M. Anscombe makes a celebrated rejection of a kind of utilitarianism that she named Consequentialism ("It's the consequences that matter", echoing Kant).
Since many modern ethicists reject a divine system of laws, Miss Anscombe proposes a system of morals based on the Greek and Roman idea of virtue (or 'arete').
Some of Geach’s own ideas on virtue ethics were given in The Virtues, based on his Stanton Lectures.
There were some surprises.
“We ought, I think, to judge
about Cannabis indica
much as we judge about
alcohol,” Geach said in one lecture.
“Cannabis indica
appears to be less mentally
disturbing than alcohol, less
productive of damaging accidents
like car crashes, and very
much less addictive.”
In his paper “Good and Evil”, published in the journal "Analysis", Geach had shows how the meaning of the word “good” depended on the substantive or noun that it qualifies.
A good apple is very different from a good knife.
And the best apple is not the best knife.
It was an influential insight, taken up by Philippa Foot among others, whom Grice quotes in CONCEPTION OF VALUE.
Geach notes that we can understand the meaning of 'good' in expressions like
"This is a good phylochronoteleobarometre."
even if we have no idea what a phylochronoteleobarometre is. A good phylochronoteleobarometre is a phylochronoteleobarometre that fulfils its goal.
Similarly, Grice would go on to argue, with 'humans'. A good human is a good person. A good person is a rational person, and more.
Unlike the dense, un-sign-posted prose of Miss Anscombe, Geach’s style was a pleasure to read.
And it was a pleasure to read because one feels, alla Grice, that it was a pleasure to WRITE!
In their joint volume Three Philosophers, G. E. M. Anscombe contributes a penetrating analysis of Aristotle that was a hard slog for readers, and Geach two sections: one on Aquinas that was both clear and full of new insights, and one on Frege in which the chief obstacle for the general reader was the mathematical language of the philosopher’s logic.
It was largely through Geach, whose lectures on Frege were encouraged by Wittgenstein, that the importance of Frege’s philosophy was realised in England -- for better or worse!
Grice disliked the idea of a Fregean sense. And on one occasion, when one of his graduate students at Berkeley told him that he meant to write his PhD dissertation on Frege, Grice was unamused.
"I'll base the thesis on Dummett's _Frege_, if you've read it."
"I haven't read it," answered Grice, "and I hope I won't".
----
Geach’s style was described by the philosopher Jenny Teichman as deliberately outrageous.
In opposition, I would describe Grice's style as outrageously deliberate.
Having sharpened his wits on philosophers as formidable as Hume or Russell, Geach seems fiercer than an Old Testament prophet and did not fear to give hard knocks to living philosophers.
There was something Old Testamentarian about Grice too, who would often refer to the ten commandments, and would love to lecture on issues "from Genesis to Revelations".
Yet some of Geach’s phrases became the common coin of philosophers, such as a “Cambridge change”, and "pleonetetic" (a lovely word for the logic of 'most' and 'many', not just 'all' -- also for 'few' and 'some').
This, a "Cambridge change", is the notion suggested by Bertrand Russell’s thought:
that Socrates changes if something can be predicated of him that could not be predicated before.
This relates to Grice's view on relative identity, which he came to develop via Wiggins, who was influenced by Geach ("Logic matters").
Thus if Socrates’s son grows bigger than him, it becomes true to say Socrates is shorter than his son, and so Socrates would have changed.
But this is not a real change, only a “Cambridge change” --. On the other hand, the changes that matter are specimens of what Grice calls an "Oxford change".
Geach’s interest in the thought of both Wittgenstein and Tomasso d'Aquino, the Italian philosopher, made him an honorary founder of the philosophical school A. J. P. Kenny called “analytical Thomism”.
But while Geach was a philosopher and Catholic, his philosophy went wherever the force of logic demanded, rather than being tailored to a religious conclusion.
“To me, it appears blasphemous to say God is 'above’ logic,” he wrote. ("To my wife it doesn't", he seems to be implicating).
“Logic is NOT partisan, and knows nothing but to strike straight."
"But the sword is invincible, bearing the Maker’s name.”
Peter Thomas Geach was born in Lower Chelsea, London on March 29 1916, the son of George Hender Geach, a Cambridge-educated Welsh-born philosopher, and Eleonora Sgonina, the daughter of Polish emigrants.
Herbert Paul Grice was born in Staffordshire in 1913, the son of Herbert Grice, a musician ("and dreadful businessman") and Mabel Felton, an aristocrat.
Grice went to live with his Polish grandparents in Cardiff, his mother having separated from his father when he was four.
Mrs. Geach went up in Oxford, writing against Mr. Geach!
-----
Peter Thomas Geach was sent to Llandaff Cathedral, or rather, to the School therein, and then to Clifton (like Herbert Paul Grice).
Both Grice and Geach were awarded scholarships to attend Oxford: Grice ended up in Oxford's best college then: Corpus Christi.
Geach ended up in Balliol College, Oxford.
Grice gained a first in Greats. He became a Merton research student and later Fellow of St. John's (the best of Oxford's colleges).
Geach gained a first in Greats in 1938.
Geach was to spend the years 1945 to 1951 in philosophical research in Cambridge (under Witters and von Wright), and the next 15 years at Birmingham (Grice's country -- West Midlands -- Staffordshire border, Harborne), before being appointed Professor of Logic at Leeds.
Geach gave the Stanton Lectures in the philosophy of religion at Cambridge. Grice didn't. Instead, Grice gave the John Locke Lectures at Oxford.
The year 1938 had seen Geach received into the Catholic Church. Grice remained an Anglican all his life ("I can be said to be committed to the 39 Articles even if I don't know what they mean").
1938 was, oddly, also the year Geach (but not Grice) met G. E. M. Anscombe, who had independently become a Catholic.
Once Anscombe had taken her finals, she married to Geach, on Boxing Day 1941, and decided that she should keep her beautiful maiden name (Geach kept his name, too).
With Anscombe, Geach had seven children, four of them girls. One of the girls is a philosopher, and a very good one, too.
Most of the apocryphal stories in academe about the children had some basis in reality.
For example, how they would at a tender age cook alarming meals for their parents and guests.
Or, how they would appear clothed strangely, or not at all, in the middle of some seminar.
Or how one child, on being told that if her teddy was not in the drawing room it MUT be in her bedroom, retorted:
“But that doesn’t follow.”
The reasoning behind this motivated Grice.
Your teddy is either in the drawing-room OR in your bedroom.
It's not in the drawing-room.
----- Therefore, it is in your bedroom.
If your teddy is not in the drawing-room it MUST be in your bedroom.
Versus:
If your teddy is not in the drawing-room IT MAY BE in your bedroom.
That _seems_ to follow. Or not.
The “Geachcombes”, though each sometimes holding a post elsewhere, shuttled between Oxford and Cambridge, where Geach got to know Witters. So, in the words of Philomena Lee, the Geachcombes count as Oxbridges.
Witters lodged with them in Oxford towards the end of his life.
Together, Geach and Anscombe translated Descartes’s "Philosophical Writings," directly from the French (or Latin).
In the fifties, while G. E. M. Anscombe was doing the work that became her dense, short and influential book on "Intention", Geach also turned his attention to the philosophy of mind in "Mental Acts", where his focus, as always, was mediaeval: he loved Occam. Or Ockham, as he preferred to spell him.
Peter Geach listed his recreations as reading stories of detection, mystery and horror; collecting and annotating old bad logic texts.
G. E. M. Anscombe died in 2001; Peter Geach is survived by his children.
Peter Geach, born March 29 1916, died December 21 2013.
Peter Thomas Geach was a philosopher who argued that, far from being 'above logic’, the existence of God was in fact perfectly logical.
Grice preferred 'genitorial'. His view is best described as seeing his project as that of the 'creator' or 'genitor' -- what philosophers call the 'ideal-observer' approach.
Peter Geach is a formidable logician.
He happened to be married to one of the 20th century’s leading English-language philosophers, Irish-born G. E. M. Anscombe.
In a way, this meant Geach was overshadowed.
In another, it doesn't.
Geach did have a strong philosophical life of his own -- and I know people who have ONLY read Geach, but never Anscombe! --.
Further, without the thousands (literally) of hours of discussion that G. E. M. Anscombe had with him, *her* philosophy would not have attained the eminence it did.
Grice quotes Anscombe -- twice. In his unpublications he lists Anscombe as one (along with Murdoch) who NEVER attained a meeting with J. L. Austin on a Saturday morning. Not the Play Group type.
Geach always had sharp teeth in an argument and, the harder the opposition, the harder he bit.
In this he resembled Grice.
Geach's father was a Welsh-born philosopher, who never, since he was a gentleman, took up a paid position, but was properly educated at Cambridge -- Trinity to be more specific --.
It was under Geach senior's influence, that Geach junior got to admire, in his youth, the philosophy of J. M. E. McTaggart, the Edwardian Hegelian who espoused the positions that Geach came to reject:
-- atheism
-- re-incarnation
-- determinism, and
-- the unreality of time.
Still, Geach admired the irresistible force of reasoning that he found in the prose of McTaggart.
Geach writes:
“Under God, I owe my
very self to McTaggart for it
was knowledge of his philosophy
that kept alight in me a longing
for the infinite and eternal that
was not to be quenched by the
noisy winds of the world.”
Even after decades, Geach still thinks it important to publish an introduction to McTaggart’s philosophy: "Truth, Love, and Immortality".
Geach found his own feet while arguing against his master.
Thus, in response to McTaggart’s argument that it was impossible to believe in a solitary God, Geach showed how McTaggart’s demands for a deity were fulfilled only by the Holy Trinity of orthodox Christianity: three in one.
Not surprisingly, Geach's favourite hymn was "Holy, Holy, Holy", which got parodied during the War as "Raining, Raining, Raining".
In the philosophy of religion, Geach contributed to a better understanding of "existence", or the act of "being".
Geach makes an important distinction between
i. There is a God” and
ii. God is, or lives.
In the latter sense, Geach (but not Grice) claims that God is identical with his being.
Geach’s thinking on this question is touched on in "God and the Soul" and "Providence and Evil".
In ethics, G. E. M. Anscombe makes a celebrated rejection of a kind of utilitarianism that she named Consequentialism ("It's the consequences that matter", echoing Kant).
Since many modern ethicists reject a divine system of laws, Miss Anscombe proposes a system of morals based on the Greek and Roman idea of virtue (or 'arete').
Some of Geach’s own ideas on virtue ethics were given in The Virtues, based on his Stanton Lectures.
There were some surprises.
“We ought, I think, to judge
about Cannabis indica
much as we judge about
alcohol,” Geach said in one lecture.
“Cannabis indica
appears to be less mentally
disturbing than alcohol, less
productive of damaging accidents
like car crashes, and very
much less addictive.”
In his paper “Good and Evil”, published in the journal "Analysis", Geach had shows how the meaning of the word “good” depended on the substantive or noun that it qualifies.
A good apple is very different from a good knife.
And the best apple is not the best knife.
It was an influential insight, taken up by Philippa Foot among others, whom Grice quotes in CONCEPTION OF VALUE.
Geach notes that we can understand the meaning of 'good' in expressions like
"This is a good phylochronoteleobarometre."
even if we have no idea what a phylochronoteleobarometre is. A good phylochronoteleobarometre is a phylochronoteleobarometre that fulfils its goal.
Similarly, Grice would go on to argue, with 'humans'. A good human is a good person. A good person is a rational person, and more.
Unlike the dense, un-sign-posted prose of Miss Anscombe, Geach’s style was a pleasure to read.
And it was a pleasure to read because one feels, alla Grice, that it was a pleasure to WRITE!
In their joint volume Three Philosophers, G. E. M. Anscombe contributes a penetrating analysis of Aristotle that was a hard slog for readers, and Geach two sections: one on Aquinas that was both clear and full of new insights, and one on Frege in which the chief obstacle for the general reader was the mathematical language of the philosopher’s logic.
It was largely through Geach, whose lectures on Frege were encouraged by Wittgenstein, that the importance of Frege’s philosophy was realised in England -- for better or worse!
Grice disliked the idea of a Fregean sense. And on one occasion, when one of his graduate students at Berkeley told him that he meant to write his PhD dissertation on Frege, Grice was unamused.
"I'll base the thesis on Dummett's _Frege_, if you've read it."
"I haven't read it," answered Grice, "and I hope I won't".
----
Geach’s style was described by the philosopher Jenny Teichman as deliberately outrageous.
In opposition, I would describe Grice's style as outrageously deliberate.
Having sharpened his wits on philosophers as formidable as Hume or Russell, Geach seems fiercer than an Old Testament prophet and did not fear to give hard knocks to living philosophers.
There was something Old Testamentarian about Grice too, who would often refer to the ten commandments, and would love to lecture on issues "from Genesis to Revelations".
Yet some of Geach’s phrases became the common coin of philosophers, such as a “Cambridge change”, and "pleonetetic" (a lovely word for the logic of 'most' and 'many', not just 'all' -- also for 'few' and 'some').
This, a "Cambridge change", is the notion suggested by Bertrand Russell’s thought:
that Socrates changes if something can be predicated of him that could not be predicated before.
This relates to Grice's view on relative identity, which he came to develop via Wiggins, who was influenced by Geach ("Logic matters").
Thus if Socrates’s son grows bigger than him, it becomes true to say Socrates is shorter than his son, and so Socrates would have changed.
But this is not a real change, only a “Cambridge change” --. On the other hand, the changes that matter are specimens of what Grice calls an "Oxford change".
Geach’s interest in the thought of both Wittgenstein and Tomasso d'Aquino, the Italian philosopher, made him an honorary founder of the philosophical school A. J. P. Kenny called “analytical Thomism”.
But while Geach was a philosopher and Catholic, his philosophy went wherever the force of logic demanded, rather than being tailored to a religious conclusion.
“To me, it appears blasphemous to say God is 'above’ logic,” he wrote. ("To my wife it doesn't", he seems to be implicating).
“Logic is NOT partisan, and knows nothing but to strike straight."
"But the sword is invincible, bearing the Maker’s name.”
Peter Thomas Geach was born in Lower Chelsea, London on March 29 1916, the son of George Hender Geach, a Cambridge-educated Welsh-born philosopher, and Eleonora Sgonina, the daughter of Polish emigrants.
Herbert Paul Grice was born in Staffordshire in 1913, the son of Herbert Grice, a musician ("and dreadful businessman") and Mabel Felton, an aristocrat.
Grice went to live with his Polish grandparents in Cardiff, his mother having separated from his father when he was four.
Mrs. Geach went up in Oxford, writing against Mr. Geach!
-----
Peter Thomas Geach was sent to Llandaff Cathedral, or rather, to the School therein, and then to Clifton (like Herbert Paul Grice).
Both Grice and Geach were awarded scholarships to attend Oxford: Grice ended up in Oxford's best college then: Corpus Christi.
Geach ended up in Balliol College, Oxford.
Grice gained a first in Greats. He became a Merton research student and later Fellow of St. John's (the best of Oxford's colleges).
Geach gained a first in Greats in 1938.
Geach was to spend the years 1945 to 1951 in philosophical research in Cambridge (under Witters and von Wright), and the next 15 years at Birmingham (Grice's country -- West Midlands -- Staffordshire border, Harborne), before being appointed Professor of Logic at Leeds.
Geach gave the Stanton Lectures in the philosophy of religion at Cambridge. Grice didn't. Instead, Grice gave the John Locke Lectures at Oxford.
The year 1938 had seen Geach received into the Catholic Church. Grice remained an Anglican all his life ("I can be said to be committed to the 39 Articles even if I don't know what they mean").
1938 was, oddly, also the year Geach (but not Grice) met G. E. M. Anscombe, who had independently become a Catholic.
Once Anscombe had taken her finals, she married to Geach, on Boxing Day 1941, and decided that she should keep her beautiful maiden name (Geach kept his name, too).
With Anscombe, Geach had seven children, four of them girls. One of the girls is a philosopher, and a very good one, too.
Most of the apocryphal stories in academe about the children had some basis in reality.
For example, how they would at a tender age cook alarming meals for their parents and guests.
Or, how they would appear clothed strangely, or not at all, in the middle of some seminar.
Or how one child, on being told that if her teddy was not in the drawing room it MUT be in her bedroom, retorted:
“But that doesn’t follow.”
The reasoning behind this motivated Grice.
Your teddy is either in the drawing-room OR in your bedroom.
It's not in the drawing-room.
----- Therefore, it is in your bedroom.
If your teddy is not in the drawing-room it MUST be in your bedroom.
Versus:
If your teddy is not in the drawing-room IT MAY BE in your bedroom.
That _seems_ to follow. Or not.
The “Geachcombes”, though each sometimes holding a post elsewhere, shuttled between Oxford and Cambridge, where Geach got to know Witters. So, in the words of Philomena Lee, the Geachcombes count as Oxbridges.
Witters lodged with them in Oxford towards the end of his life.
Together, Geach and Anscombe translated Descartes’s "Philosophical Writings," directly from the French (or Latin).
In the fifties, while G. E. M. Anscombe was doing the work that became her dense, short and influential book on "Intention", Geach also turned his attention to the philosophy of mind in "Mental Acts", where his focus, as always, was mediaeval: he loved Occam. Or Ockham, as he preferred to spell him.
Peter Geach listed his recreations as reading stories of detection, mystery and horror; collecting and annotating old bad logic texts.
G. E. M. Anscombe died in 2001; Peter Geach is survived by his children.
Peter Geach, born March 29 1916, died December 21 2013.
The Grice Point, The Geach Point -- HERBERT PAUL GRICE and PETER THOMAS GEACH
Speranza
Peter Geach was a philosopher who argued that far from being 'above logic’, the existence of God was in fact perfectly logical.
Peter Geach is a formidable logician and happened to be married to one of the 20th century’s leading English-language philosophers, Irish-born G. E. M. Anscombe.
In a way this meant Geach was overshadowed.
Geach did, though, have a strong philosophical life of his own, and without the thousands of hours of discussion that G. E. M. Anscombe had with him, *her* philosophy would not have attained the eminence it did.
Geach always had sharp teeth in an argument and, the harder the opposition, the harder he bit.
His father was a Welsh-born philosopher who never took up a paid position, but was properly educated at Cambridge, and, under his influence, Geach junior admired in his youth JME McTaggart, the Edwardian Hegelian who espoused most positions that Geach came to reject: atheism, reincarnation, determinism, the unreality of time.
Geach admired the irresistible force of reasoning that he found in McTaggart.
“Under God, I owe my very self to McTaggart for it was knowledge of his philosophy that kept alight in me a longing for the infinite and eternal that was not to be quenched by the noisy winds of the world.”
Even after decades, Geach still thinks it important to publish an introduction to McTaggart’s philosophy, Truth, Love, and Immortality.
Geach found his own feet while arguing against his master.
Thus, in response to McTaggart’s argument that it was impossible to believe in a solitary God, Geach showed how McTaggart’s demands for a deity were fulfilled only by the Holy Trinity of orthodox Christianity.
In the philosophy of religion, Geach contributed to a better understanding of existence, or the act of being.
An important distinction he made was between the ideas “there is a God” and “God is, or lives”.
In the latter sense God is identical with his being.
Geach’s thinking on this question is touched on in God and the Soul (1969) and Providence and Evil (1977).
In ethics, G. E. M. Anscombe made a celebrated rejection of a kind of utilitarianism that she named consequentialism.
Since many modern ethicists rejected a divine system of laws, she proposed a system of morals based on virtues.
Some of Geach’s own ideas on virtue ethics were given in The Virtues, based on his Stanton Lectures.
There were some surprises.
“We ought, I think, to judge about Cannabis indica much as we judge about alcohol,” he said in one lecture.
“Cannabis indica appears to be less mentally disturbing than alcohol, less productive of damaging accidents like car crashes, and very much less addictive.”
In his paper “Good and Evil”, published in the journal Analysis in 1956, Geach had shown how the meaning of the word “good” depended on the substantive that it qualified.
A good apple is very different from a good knife.
It was an influential insight, taken up by Philippa Foot among others, that Grice quotes in CONCEPTION OF VALUE.
Unlike the dense, unsignposted prose of Anscombe, Geach’s style was a pleasure to read.
In their joint volume Three Philosophers (1961), G. E. M. Anscombe contributed a penetrating analysis of Aristotle that was a hard slog for readers, and Geach two sections: one on Aquinas that was both clear and full of new insights, and one on Frege in which the chief obstacle for the general reader was the mathematical language of the philosopher’s logic.
It was largely through Geach, whose lectures on Frege were encouraged by Wittgenstein in 1950, that the importance of Frege’s philosophy was realised in England
Geach’s style was described by the philosopher Jenny Teichman as deliberately outrageous.
Having sharpened his wits on philosophers as formidable as Hume or Russell, he could seem fiercer than an Old Testament prophet and did not fear to give hard knocks to living philosophers.
Yet some of Geach’s phrases became the common coin of philosophers, such as a “Cambridge change”.
This is the notion suggested by Bertrand Russell’s thought: that Socrates changes if something can be predicated of him that could not be predicated before.
Thus if Socrates’s son grows bigger than him, it becomes true to say Socrates is shorter than his son, and so Socrates would have changed.
But this is not a real change, only a “Cambridge change”.
Geach’s interest in the thought of both Wittgenstein and Aquinas made him an honorary founder of the philosophical school that called itself “analytical Thomism”.
But while Geach was a philosopher and Catholic, his philosophy went wherever the force of logic demanded, rather than being tailored to a religious conclusion.
“To me it appears blasphemous to say God is 'above’ logic,” he wrote.
“Logic is not partisan, and knows nothing but to strike straight; but the sword is invincible, bearing the Maker’s name.”
Peter Thomas Geach was born in Lower Chelsea, London on March 29 1916, the son of George Hender Geach, a Cambridge-educated Welsh-born philosopher, and Eleonora Sgonina, the daughter of Polish emigrants.
He went to live with his Polish grandparents in Cardiff, his mother having separated from his father when he was four.
He was sent to Llandaff Cathedral School, and then Clifton College (like Herbert Paul Grice), before going up to Balliol College, Oxford, gaining a first in Greats in 1938.
He was to spend the years 1945 to 1951 in philosophical research in Cambridge, and the next 15 years at Birmingham University, before being appointed Professor of Logic at Leeds in 1966, retiring in 1981.
From 1971 to 1974 he gave the Stanton Lectures in the philosophy of religion at Cambridge.
The year 1938 had seen him received into the Catholic Church.
It was also the year he met G. E. M. Anscombe, who had independently become a Catholic.
Once she had taken her finals, they married, on Boxing Day 1941, and decided that she should keep her maiden name.
With her, Geach had seven children, four of them girls. One of the girls is a philosopher.
Most of the apocryphal stories in academe about the children had some basis in reality: how they would at a tender age cook alarming meals for their parents and guests.
How they would appear clothed strangely, or not at all, in the middle of some seminar; how one child, on being told that if her teddy was not in the drawing room it must be in her bedroom, retorted:
“But that doesn’t follow.”
The “Geachcombes”, though each sometimes holding a post elsewhere, shuttled between Oxford and Cambridge, where Geach got to know Wittgenstein.
Wittgenstein lodged with them (in Oxford) towards the end of his life.
Together, Geach and Anscombe translated Descartes’s Philosophical Writings (1954).
In the Fifties, while G. E. M. Anscombe was doing the work that became her dense, short and influential book Intention (1957), Geach also turned his attention to the philosophy of mind in Mental Acts (1957).
Peter Geach listed his recreations as reading stories of detection, mystery and horror; collecting and annotating old bad logic texts.
G. E. M. Anscombe died in 2001; Peter Geach is survived by his children.
Peter Geach, born March 29 1916, died December 21 2013.
Peter Geach was a philosopher who argued that far from being 'above logic’, the existence of God was in fact perfectly logical.
Peter Geach is a formidable logician and happened to be married to one of the 20th century’s leading English-language philosophers, Irish-born G. E. M. Anscombe.
In a way this meant Geach was overshadowed.
Geach did, though, have a strong philosophical life of his own, and without the thousands of hours of discussion that G. E. M. Anscombe had with him, *her* philosophy would not have attained the eminence it did.
Geach always had sharp teeth in an argument and, the harder the opposition, the harder he bit.
His father was a Welsh-born philosopher who never took up a paid position, but was properly educated at Cambridge, and, under his influence, Geach junior admired in his youth JME McTaggart, the Edwardian Hegelian who espoused most positions that Geach came to reject: atheism, reincarnation, determinism, the unreality of time.
Geach admired the irresistible force of reasoning that he found in McTaggart.
“Under God, I owe my very self to McTaggart for it was knowledge of his philosophy that kept alight in me a longing for the infinite and eternal that was not to be quenched by the noisy winds of the world.”
Even after decades, Geach still thinks it important to publish an introduction to McTaggart’s philosophy, Truth, Love, and Immortality.
Geach found his own feet while arguing against his master.
Thus, in response to McTaggart’s argument that it was impossible to believe in a solitary God, Geach showed how McTaggart’s demands for a deity were fulfilled only by the Holy Trinity of orthodox Christianity.
In the philosophy of religion, Geach contributed to a better understanding of existence, or the act of being.
An important distinction he made was between the ideas “there is a God” and “God is, or lives”.
In the latter sense God is identical with his being.
Geach’s thinking on this question is touched on in God and the Soul (1969) and Providence and Evil (1977).
In ethics, G. E. M. Anscombe made a celebrated rejection of a kind of utilitarianism that she named consequentialism.
Since many modern ethicists rejected a divine system of laws, she proposed a system of morals based on virtues.
Some of Geach’s own ideas on virtue ethics were given in The Virtues, based on his Stanton Lectures.
There were some surprises.
“We ought, I think, to judge about Cannabis indica much as we judge about alcohol,” he said in one lecture.
“Cannabis indica appears to be less mentally disturbing than alcohol, less productive of damaging accidents like car crashes, and very much less addictive.”
In his paper “Good and Evil”, published in the journal Analysis in 1956, Geach had shown how the meaning of the word “good” depended on the substantive that it qualified.
A good apple is very different from a good knife.
It was an influential insight, taken up by Philippa Foot among others, that Grice quotes in CONCEPTION OF VALUE.
Unlike the dense, unsignposted prose of Anscombe, Geach’s style was a pleasure to read.
In their joint volume Three Philosophers (1961), G. E. M. Anscombe contributed a penetrating analysis of Aristotle that was a hard slog for readers, and Geach two sections: one on Aquinas that was both clear and full of new insights, and one on Frege in which the chief obstacle for the general reader was the mathematical language of the philosopher’s logic.
It was largely through Geach, whose lectures on Frege were encouraged by Wittgenstein in 1950, that the importance of Frege’s philosophy was realised in England
Geach’s style was described by the philosopher Jenny Teichman as deliberately outrageous.
Having sharpened his wits on philosophers as formidable as Hume or Russell, he could seem fiercer than an Old Testament prophet and did not fear to give hard knocks to living philosophers.
Yet some of Geach’s phrases became the common coin of philosophers, such as a “Cambridge change”.
This is the notion suggested by Bertrand Russell’s thought: that Socrates changes if something can be predicated of him that could not be predicated before.
Thus if Socrates’s son grows bigger than him, it becomes true to say Socrates is shorter than his son, and so Socrates would have changed.
But this is not a real change, only a “Cambridge change”.
Geach’s interest in the thought of both Wittgenstein and Aquinas made him an honorary founder of the philosophical school that called itself “analytical Thomism”.
But while Geach was a philosopher and Catholic, his philosophy went wherever the force of logic demanded, rather than being tailored to a religious conclusion.
“To me it appears blasphemous to say God is 'above’ logic,” he wrote.
“Logic is not partisan, and knows nothing but to strike straight; but the sword is invincible, bearing the Maker’s name.”
Peter Thomas Geach was born in Lower Chelsea, London on March 29 1916, the son of George Hender Geach, a Cambridge-educated Welsh-born philosopher, and Eleonora Sgonina, the daughter of Polish emigrants.
He went to live with his Polish grandparents in Cardiff, his mother having separated from his father when he was four.
He was sent to Llandaff Cathedral School, and then Clifton College (like Herbert Paul Grice), before going up to Balliol College, Oxford, gaining a first in Greats in 1938.
He was to spend the years 1945 to 1951 in philosophical research in Cambridge, and the next 15 years at Birmingham University, before being appointed Professor of Logic at Leeds in 1966, retiring in 1981.
From 1971 to 1974 he gave the Stanton Lectures in the philosophy of religion at Cambridge.
The year 1938 had seen him received into the Catholic Church.
It was also the year he met G. E. M. Anscombe, who had independently become a Catholic.
Once she had taken her finals, they married, on Boxing Day 1941, and decided that she should keep her maiden name.
With her, Geach had seven children, four of them girls. One of the girls is a philosopher.
Most of the apocryphal stories in academe about the children had some basis in reality: how they would at a tender age cook alarming meals for their parents and guests.
How they would appear clothed strangely, or not at all, in the middle of some seminar; how one child, on being told that if her teddy was not in the drawing room it must be in her bedroom, retorted:
“But that doesn’t follow.”
The “Geachcombes”, though each sometimes holding a post elsewhere, shuttled between Oxford and Cambridge, where Geach got to know Wittgenstein.
Wittgenstein lodged with them (in Oxford) towards the end of his life.
Together, Geach and Anscombe translated Descartes’s Philosophical Writings (1954).
In the Fifties, while G. E. M. Anscombe was doing the work that became her dense, short and influential book Intention (1957), Geach also turned his attention to the philosophy of mind in Mental Acts (1957).
Peter Geach listed his recreations as reading stories of detection, mystery and horror; collecting and annotating old bad logic texts.
G. E. M. Anscombe died in 2001; Peter Geach is survived by his children.
Peter Geach, born March 29 1916, died December 21 2013.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Because Causes
Speranza
From World Wide Words:
"Words of 2013."
"The American Dialect Society continued its tradition of voting for its
Word of the Year at its annual conference, held this year in Minneapolis."
"The winner was a curious choice:
"because X," where
"X" is a noun or noun phrase *without* the intermediate of that would be
expected in _standard_ English."
Examples:
“because homework”, “because internet”.
Speranza's examples:
"Because Implicature"
"Because Grice".
"In such phrases, most often encountered online, "because" has changed" --
as Grice would say -- "from a conjunction to a preposition"
thus complicating what Grice calls its logical form.
"It may suggest [or implicate -- Speranza] the logic behind the reasoning
is too poor to survive exposure or the reason is so obvious the speaker [or
utterer, as Grice prefers -- Speranza] doesn’t need to elaborate."
""The version found most often is
"because reasons,"
a hand-waving way of saying that the speaker [or utterer -- Speranza] doesn
’t want or need to explain."
It may be that the Griceian conversational maxim is alleged to be 'under
control': "do not say what you lack adequate reasons for".
""Because X "had also been chosen as "Most Useful Word of the Year" [where
the implicature is not Witters's -- 'meaning is use', meaning should be
useful -- Speranza], beating "struggle bus", a difficult situation, as in
"I’m riding the struggle bus"."
But cf. Speranza's
"Because Struggle Bus".
"It is likely that journalists will have a struggle bus telling their
readers why because X won (try “because language”, guys)."
Cheers
Speranza
World Wide Words is copyright © Michael Quinion 2014.
http://www.worldwidewords.org.
There is an appendix to the item in today's World Wide Words.
World Wide Words is copyright © Michael Quinion 2014.
http://www.worldwidewords.org.
Quinion writes:
"The choice of "because X" as the Word of the Year by the American Dialect
Society has led to much confused comment."
"As an example of the grammatical difficulties accompanying this word, as
much in its conventional usages as the new one, see Professor Geoffrey Pullum
’s mind-stretching discussion on Language Log."
"Pullum says that dictionaries wrongly call "because" a conjunction “
because they are all lazy followers of a stupid tradition that has needed
rethinking for 200 years.”"
"Pullum argues that the word is a preposition."
"You may find it hard work following him, but the destination is worth the
journey."
"If you would like a different view, pop over to Gretchen McCulloch’s blog
All Things Linguistic, in which she argues the opposite view, that because
in the new construction isn’t a preposition."
----
Grice discusses
p because of p.
Or
p; therefore, p.
In general, it is related to reasons:
"The reason why the bridge collapsed was that it was made of cellophane."
(His example in Aspects of Reason).
"Because" is of course a Latinism.
The proper Anglo-Saxon (almost expletive?) is 'for':
"I did it for I did it".
"I went to bed for I was tired."
And so on.
I don't think Strawson discusses "because" in "Introduction to Logical
Theory". He SHOULD. In that case, Grice would have criticised him. There are
various possibilities for the formalisation of 'because' in logical theory,
or for the 'logical form' (to use an idiom favourite with Witters) of
"because" utterances.
And as a corollary, this may lead to the logical form of this alleged new
usage (not to Geary) of 'because' that Quinion is referring to.
Or not.
Quinion:
""The version found most often is
"because reasons" [...]."
I propose it should be:
"because causes"?
Quinion:
""The version found most often is
"because reasons,"
a hand-waving way of saying that the speaker [or utterer -- Speranza]
doesn’t want or need to explain."
"Because causes" sounds more to the (or at least my) point.
Cf.
What I did for love.
What I did because love.
Cheers,
Speranza
From World Wide Words:
"Words of 2013."
"The American Dialect Society continued its tradition of voting for its
Word of the Year at its annual conference, held this year in Minneapolis."
"The winner was a curious choice:
"because X," where
"X" is a noun or noun phrase *without* the intermediate of that would be
expected in _standard_ English."
Examples:
“because homework”, “because internet”.
Speranza's examples:
"Because Implicature"
"Because Grice".
"In such phrases, most often encountered online, "because" has changed" --
as Grice would say -- "from a conjunction to a preposition"
thus complicating what Grice calls its logical form.
"It may suggest [or implicate -- Speranza] the logic behind the reasoning
is too poor to survive exposure or the reason is so obvious the speaker [or
utterer, as Grice prefers -- Speranza] doesn’t need to elaborate."
""The version found most often is
"because reasons,"
a hand-waving way of saying that the speaker [or utterer -- Speranza] doesn
’t want or need to explain."
It may be that the Griceian conversational maxim is alleged to be 'under
control': "do not say what you lack adequate reasons for".
""Because X "had also been chosen as "Most Useful Word of the Year" [where
the implicature is not Witters's -- 'meaning is use', meaning should be
useful -- Speranza], beating "struggle bus", a difficult situation, as in
"I’m riding the struggle bus"."
But cf. Speranza's
"Because Struggle Bus".
"It is likely that journalists will have a struggle bus telling their
readers why because X won (try “because language”, guys)."
Cheers
Speranza
World Wide Words is copyright © Michael Quinion 2014.
http://www.worldwidewords.org.
There is an appendix to the item in today's World Wide Words.
World Wide Words is copyright © Michael Quinion 2014.
http://www.worldwidewords.org.
Quinion writes:
"The choice of "because X" as the Word of the Year by the American Dialect
Society has led to much confused comment."
"As an example of the grammatical difficulties accompanying this word, as
much in its conventional usages as the new one, see Professor Geoffrey Pullum
’s mind-stretching discussion on Language Log."
"Pullum says that dictionaries wrongly call "because" a conjunction “
because they are all lazy followers of a stupid tradition that has needed
rethinking for 200 years.”"
"Pullum argues that the word is a preposition."
"You may find it hard work following him, but the destination is worth the
journey."
"If you would like a different view, pop over to Gretchen McCulloch’s blog
All Things Linguistic, in which she argues the opposite view, that because
in the new construction isn’t a preposition."
----
Grice discusses
p because of p.
Or
p; therefore, p.
In general, it is related to reasons:
"The reason why the bridge collapsed was that it was made of cellophane."
(His example in Aspects of Reason).
"Because" is of course a Latinism.
The proper Anglo-Saxon (almost expletive?) is 'for':
"I did it for I did it".
"I went to bed for I was tired."
And so on.
I don't think Strawson discusses "because" in "Introduction to Logical
Theory". He SHOULD. In that case, Grice would have criticised him. There are
various possibilities for the formalisation of 'because' in logical theory,
or for the 'logical form' (to use an idiom favourite with Witters) of
"because" utterances.
And as a corollary, this may lead to the logical form of this alleged new
usage (not to Geary) of 'because' that Quinion is referring to.
Or not.
Quinion:
""The version found most often is
"because reasons" [...]."
I propose it should be:
"because causes"?
Quinion:
""The version found most often is
"because reasons,"
a hand-waving way of saying that the speaker [or utterer -- Speranza]
doesn’t want or need to explain."
"Because causes" sounds more to the (or at least my) point.
Cf.
What I did for love.
What I did because love.
Cheers,
Speranza
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Folksy Grice
Speranza
To reduce terminological ambiguity, throughout this entry the term “mindreading” will be used to refer to that set of cognitive capacities which include (but is not exhausted by) the capacities to predict and explain behavior.
It's not clear who introduced the term “folk psychology” into the philosophy of mind. Grice was using 'folksy' by 1975.
The capacity to predict human behavior in a wide range of circumstances.
The capacity to attribute mental states to humans.
The capacity to explain the behavior of humans in terms of their possessing mental states.
(See for example Stich & Nichols 1992.) The second and third capacities are clearly related: explaining the behavior of humans in terms of their mental states involves attributing mental states to them. But we should not assume without further investigation that all mental state attributions take the form of explanations of behavior.
The characterization of mindreading given above is too restrictive. In addition to attributing mental states and predicting and explaining behavior, there is a wide range of closely related activities. To begin with, we not only seek to predict and explain people's behavior, we also seek to predict and explain their mental states. In addition, we speculate about, discuss, recall and evaluate both people's mental states and their behavior. We also speculate about, discuss, recall and evaluate people's dispositions to behave in certain ways and to have certain mental states; that is, we consider their character traits. It may be that these additional activities are grounded in the three capacities mentioned above, but we cannot simply assume that they are. Throughout this entry the term “mindreading” is used in a wide sense to include all of these activities.
As characterized above, mindreading is a human capacity directed at humans. But in two ways this is overly exclusive. First, we attribute mental states to non-human animals and to non-animal systems such as machines and the weather. It's not uncommon to hear people say that their dog wants a bone, or that the chess program is thinking about its next move. We do not have to accept every such attribution at face value; plausibly, some of this talk is metaphorical. Nevertheless, there seem to exist plenty of examples of non-metaphorical attributions of mental states to non-humans. (Notice that insisting that mental state attributions to animals are not metaphorical is compatible with such attributions being systematically false.) Consequently, we must be careful not to characterize mindreading in a way which makes it definitional that only humans can be the objects of mindreading. The second way in which the characterization of mindreading offered above is overly focused on humans is that it remains an open question whether some non-human primates can predict the behavior of their conspecifics. (See for example Call & Tomasello 2008.) Consequently, we should avoid characterizing the mindreading capacities in a way that makes it analytic that non-human animals lack those capacities.
One way to avoid the risk of over-emphasizing human capacities when characterizing mindreading is to begin with the human capacities and then let the empirical chips fall where they may. For example, it may turn out that some non-human primates can predict the behavior of their conspecifics, and that there are significant similarities (including neurological similarities) between the human capacity to predict the behavior of others and that of the non-human primate. In that case we should widen the characterization of mindreading given above so that it is not exclusively focused on human capacities. Similarly, it may turn out that precisely the same cognitive mechanisms are engaged when humans attribute mental states to their conspecifics and when they attribute mental states to animals and machines. In that case we should widen the characterization of mindreading to allow that animals and machines can be the objects of mindreading. Defining the precise extension of “mindreading” by stipulation from the armchair is not likely to be fruitful.
A final comment on mindreading is in order. The characterization of mindreading given here is compatible with the existence of first person mindreading. But it may turn out that we deploy quite distinct mechanisms when we predict or explain our own behavior, or attribute mental states to ourselves, than when we predict or explain other's behavior, or attribute mental states to them. However, this is not an issue which can be settled here. (See the entry on self-knowledge.)
How is mindreading achieved?
The claim that folk psychology is represented “in the head” raises a range of important empirical questions. These questions are extensively interrelated, with research in one area very often having significant consequences for research in other areas.
We can ask about the way in which folk psychology is represented in the brain. Is it represented in a language-like medium (Fodor 1975) or is it represented in a connectionist network (Churchland 1995, especially Ch.6)?
We can ask about the implementation of folk psychology in the brain. A wide range of brain areas have been correlated with mindreading. (For a summary see Goldman 2006: 140–2.)
We can ask about the content of folk psychology. What states and properties does it quantify over, and what regularities does in postulate (Von Eckardt 1994)?
We can ask questions about the structure of folk psychology. Is it a “proto-scientific” theory with a structure akin to that of scientific theories, or does it take some other form? (See for example Gopnik& Meltzoff 1997; Hutto 2008.)
We can ask about the status of folk psychology. Might it be, as Paul Churchland (1981) famously proposed, radically false?
We can ask about the development of folk psychology in young children. Does it exhibit a characteristic developmental pattern? (See for example Wellman 1990.)
We can ask about the natural history of folk psychology, and about its existence in our evolutionary relatives. (See especially Sterelny 2003: Ch. 11.)
Closely related to questions F and G is the issue of universality.
We can ask if the mechanism which deploys folk psychology is modular in something close to Fodor's (1983) sense of the term. (See especially Sterelny 2003: Ch. 10.)
And we can ask about pathologies of folk psychology. What happens when folk psychology fails to mature normally? (See for example the papers in Carruthers & Smith 1996, Part III.)
In addition to the issues just outlined, there is a further empirical question with which theory-theorists have been engaged. Is it the case that mindreading is in fact underpinned by a theory of human psychology? Is mindreading really a theoretical activity? A variety of philosophers and psychologists have argued that it is not, or have at least argued that there is more to mindreading than theorizing. According to simulation theory, mindreading involves a kind of mental projection in which we temporarily adopt the target's perspective (Gordon 1986; Goldman 1989). (See the entry on folk psychology: as mental simulation.) According to the Narrative Practice Hypothesis, mindreading involves not theoretical reasoning but the construction of a certain kind of narrative (Hutto 2008). And according to intentional systems theory, mindreading is achieved by adopting a particular stance towards a system such as another human being (Dennett 1971; 1987). Important though these alternatives are, they will not be assessed in this entry.
The remainder of this section is in two parts. Part 2.2 briefly surveys some of the important issues surrounding the development of mindreading in children and its evolution in our lineage. Part 2.3 provides a quick overview of work in social psychology aimed at exploring mindreading.
There exists a very substantial body of research on the development of mindreading in young children.
Nativists take the (purported) existence of a near-universal competence arrived at via a near-universal developmental pathway as evidence that the development of folk psychology is very strongly influenced by the child's genes: the species-wide developmental pattern is explained by our species-wide genetic inheritance (Carruthers 1996b: 23). They also offer a poverty of stimulus argument to the same conclusion. Children as young five are highly competent mindreaders and so must possess an extensive array of psychological concepts and a rich body of information about human psychology. They could not, though, have acquired those concepts and that information from their environment—their environment simply does not provide sufficient learning opportunities. Consequently, a considerable amount of folk psychology must be innate. (See for example Scholl & Leslie 1999.) A great deal of work is required, however, to sustain an argument of this nature. The proponent of any poverty of stimulus argument must demonstrate that the stimulus is impoverished relative to the mature competence. That in turn requires measuring the information content of the environment and comparing it with the information demands of the competence. In the case of folk psychology, we lack an accurate measure of the information demands of the competence because crucial questions about the nature of mature mindreading remain unresolved. For example, Daniel Hutto has suggested that many cases of successful behavior prediction rely not on a sophisticated theory of mind but on simple generalizations (Hutto 2008: 6). Consider a case where John predicts that Betty will stop at a red traffic signal. Perhaps John arrived at his prediction by reasoning as follows.
1. Betty believes that it is safest to stop at red traffic signals.
2. Betty desires to be safe.
3. Ceteris paribus, people act so as to realize their desires in light of their beliefs.
So far we have seen that we are not presently in a position to accurately measure the information demands of the human mindreading competence. In addition, we are only beginning to appreciate the informational richness of the child’s learning environment. Kim Sterelny (2003: Ch. 8) has placed great stress on what he calls “epistemic niche construction”. Animals can modify their environments to generate new information, make old information more salient, and reduce cognitive demands. Sometimes these environmental modifications endure long enough to enhance the fitness of the next generation. In particular, parents may modify their child's environment in ways which facilitate their acquisition of folk psychological concepts and information (Sterelny 2003: 221–5). Hutto has suggested that one way in which this might occur is by story telling (Hutto 2008). As Hutto observes, many stories make apparent the links between the characters’ environment, mental states and behavior, and so may facilitate the child’s understanding of those links. If Sterelny and Hutto are right, the child’s learning environment is richer than we might have supposed, and the poverty of stimulus argument for folk psychology is correspondingly weakened.
Since the 1950s, social psychologists have explored the ways in which humans think about and describe behavior and personality. Fritz Heider (1958) marked an important distinction between intentional and unintentional behavior, and argued that everyday explanations of intentional behavior are importantly different from those of unintentional behavior. In particular, explanations of an agent's intentional behavior very often appeal to the agent's reasons. Subsequent work in the field, however, tended to draw a fundamental distinction between “person” and “situation” causes of behavior. Person causes are located within the agent; situation causes are located in the agent's environment. Bertram Malle has noted that the person/situation distinction is importantly different from the intentional/unintentional one (2004, especially Section 1.1). The proximate causes of intentional behavior—the agent's reasons—are indeed internal to the agent; however, the proximate causes of some unintentional behaviors are also internal to the agent. For example, screaming in response to a terrifying stimulus is unintentional and yet its proximate cause—fear—is internal. So the distinction between behavior due to person causes and that due to situation causes cuts across the distinction between behavior caused by reasons and behavior caused by other factors.
We can see the person-situation distinction at work in Harold Kelley's theory of attribution (Kelley 1967). A theory of attribution is a theory of how ordinary people assign causes to events such as behaviors and mental states (understood broadly to include character traits). For ease of expression, I shall focus on cases in which the aim is to explain a person's behavior. Kelley elaborates the person-situation distinction by distinguishing between two kinds of potential situational causes: the object towards which the behavior is directed and the circumstances in which the behavior occurs. Consider a case in which person P performs an action A towards an object O in circumstance C: John kissed Betty at the party. The causal attributions we make depend on our assessment of the following three questions.
How often does John kiss Betty in other circumstances?
How often does John kiss people other than Betty?
How often do other people kiss Betty?
Kelley predicted that John's behavior would be attribute to a property of John, a property of Betty, or a property of the party according to the following table:
Response to Q.1Response to Q.2Response to Q.3Attribution
oftenrarelyrarelyJohn
oftenoftenoftenBetty
rarelyoftenrarelyparty
Kelley's prediction has been experimentally confirmed by a range of studies (see Von Eckardt 1997 for details).
Perhaps because the category of person causes fails to distinguish between reasons and other internal causes, social psychologists in the 1960s and 1970s paid little attention to reasons. Rather, much of the focus was on character traits. Research during this period explored important correlations between judgments of appearance and judgments of character trait, and between judgments of one character trait and another. For example, participants who judge that a person is attractive on the basis of a photo (appearance) are also likely to judge that he or she is kindly (trait) (Berscheid & Walster 1974). Again, if a person is judged to be talkative (trait), they are also likely to be judged to be adventurous (trait) (Norman 1963). As Barbara Von Eckardt has observed, these kinds of folk psychological inferences have been almost entirely ignored in the philosophy of mind (Von Eckardt 1994 and 1997).
Whilst the person-situation distinction has underpinned important research in the social psychology of mindreading, it has not been universally endorsed. Lee Ross (1977: 176) invites us to consider the following pair of explanations:
Jack bought the house because it was secluded.
Jill bought the house because she wanted privacy.
The cause cited in explanation (1) would standardly be coded as situational; that in explanation (2) as personal. However, most people are inclined to say that Jack and Jill's respective house purchases were motivated by the same reason. This strongly suggests that the linguistic structure of explanations is a poor guide to the causal antecedents of behavior.
Over the last decade, Malle has urged a return to Heider's original insight, which marked an important distinction between intentional and unintentional behavior (see especially Malle 2004). Malle's research strongly supports the claim that people distinguish between intentional and unintentional behavior. For example, Malle and Knobe (1997) gave subjects descriptions of 20 behaviors, and asked them to rate how intentional the behaviors were on an eight point scale (0 = “not at all”; 7 = “completely”). (Half the subjects were given a definition of intentionality; the other half had to rely on their untutored conception of intentionality.) There was considerable agreement amongst all the subjects as to which of the described behaviors were intentional and which were not.
Within the category of intentional behaviors, Malle has identified three different modes (his term) of explanations.
Reason explanations locate the causes of an agent's behavior in his or her reasons for acting. (Sally bought some vitamin C tablets because she believed taking vitamin C would prevent her getting a cold.)
Causal history of reason explanations locate the causes of an agent's behavior in the background conditions which caused the agent to have the reasons which in turn caused the behavior. (Sally bought the vitamin C tablets because she had been convinced of vitamin C's efficacy by an article in a magazine.)
Enabling factor explanations identify the conditions which enabled the agent to bring about her intentions. (Sally bought the vitamin C tablets because she had some money left over after doing the shopping.)
(See Malle 2004, Ch. 4.)
In addition to identifying a variety of explanatory modes people adopt towards intentional behavior, Malle also identifies the features of the explanatory situation which drive the selection of one explanatory mode rather than another. Two examples of Malle's work in this area are as follows (Malle 2004, Section 5.2).
The action is difficult to perform v. the action is easy to perform.
On Lewis's view, theoretical terms get their meaning from the role they play in the theory in which they are used; they are, says Lewis, “definable functionally, by reference to their causal roles” (Lewis 1972: 204). Lewis begins with a theory, T, which includes both new terms introduced by T and old terms already understood before T emerged. The new terms are called “theoretical terms” or “T-terms” for short. The label “theoretical term” is merely intended to indicate that the terms were introduced by T rather than by, say, ostension or by some theory which pre-dates T. The old terms are called “O-terms” for short. (Lewis stresses that the O-terms are not necessarily observational terms, “whatever those maybe” (1972: 205).) T can be expressed as a single sentence—perhaps as a long conjunction:
T[t1 … tn],
where
∃(x1 … xn)T(x1 … xn).
The Ramsey sentence says that there exists an n-tuple of entities which realizes T.
which says that there exists a unique n-tuple of entities that realizes T.
∃(x1 … xn)T(x1 … xn) → T[t1 … tn].
The Carnap sentence says that if T is realized, the t-terms name the corresponding entities of some realization of T. Given Lewis's aversion to multiple realization, he prefers the modified Carnap sentence which is a conditional with the modified Ramsey sentence as antecedent and T as the consequent:
∃!(x1 … xn)T(x1 … xn) → T[t1 … tn].
The modified Carnap sentence says that if T is uniquely realized, the t-terms name the corresponding entities of the unique realization of T. To cover those cases in which T is not uniquely realized, either because it is multiply realized or not realized at all, Lewis adds an additional conditional:
~∃!(x1 … xn)T(x1 … xn) → (t1 = * & … &tn = *).
This conditional says that, if T is not uniquely realized, then t1 … tn name nothing. Taken together, the last two conditionals are equivalent to a series of sentences which define each T-term strictly in O-terms:
T1 = ∃!x1T[x1]
.
.
.
Tn = ∃!xnT[xn]
We have now obtained an explicit definition for each T-term.
Lewis begins by imagining the set of all the everyday, commonsense platitudes about mental states.
Clearly, we need an account of the platitudes.
When someone is in so-and-so combination of mental states and receives sensory stimuli of so-and-so kind, he tends with so-and-so probability to be caused thereby to go into so-and-so mental states and produce so-and-so motor responses.
Also add all the platitudes to the effect that one mental state falls under another—“toothache is a kind of pain” and the like. Perhaps there are platitudes of other forms as well. Include only platitudes which are common knowledge among us—everyone knows them, everyone knows that everyone knows them, and so on.
Lewis uses the explicit functional definitions of the commonsense psychological terms he has obtained as premises in an argument for physicalism about mental states (Lewis 1972: 204):
With this picture in place, it is worth asking what precisely folk psychology is on Lewis's approach. To my knowledge, Lewis never explicitly defines the term. However, when giving the semantics of the everyday psychological vocabulary, he treats the conjunction of commonsense platitudes about mental states as a term-introducing theory, so it is natural to identify folk psychology with that conjunction. Alternatively, we could think of folk psychology as a systematization of the set of platitudes.
It is important to stress that Lewis's position has not been without its detractors.
Setting aside questions of semantics, note that Lewis is hostage to empirical fortune in ways he does not acknowledge. Lewis's claims about the platitudes are empirical claims—they are claims about what is commonly believed about mental states and as such can only properly be investigated by careful scientific research. There is no evidence that Lewis undertook the appropriate studies. Moreover, it is very likely that Lewis's own intuitions about mental states were influenced by his theoretical stance, and consequently there is little reason to think that Lewis's own intuitions are a good guide to what people typically believe about the mind.
Notice that Lewis only recognizes two kinds of platitudes: those that express causal relations between mental states, stimuli and behavior, and those that indicate when one type of mental state is contained by another. He admits that there maybe “platitudes of other forms as well” (Lewis 1972: 207–8), but this is disingenuous because his overall functionalist conclusion requires that all platitudes take one of the two forms he identifies.
Eliminativists have argued that there are no beliefs and no desires (see for example Churchland 1981; Stich 1983). One prominent argument for eliminativism begins with folk psychology:
Further reading:
Astington, J., P. Harris, and D. Olson (eds.), 1988, Developing Theories of Mind, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Baron-Cohen, S., H. Tager-Flusberg, & D. Cohen (eds.), 2000,
Berscheid, E. & G. Walster, 1974,
Call, J. & M. Tomasello, 2008,
Carruthers, P., 1996a,
––– 1996b, “Simulation and Self-Knowledge: A Defense of Theory-Theory,” in Carruthers & Smith 1996, 22–68.
Carruthers, P. and P. Smith, 1996, Theories of Theories of Mind, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Churchland, P. M., 1981, “Eliminative Materialism and the Propositional Attitudes,” Journal of Philosophy, 78: 67– 90.
–––, 1995, The Engine of Reason, The Seat of the Soul, Cambridge MA: MIT Press.
Heider, F., 1958, The Psychology of Interpersonal Relations, New York: Wiley.
Putnam, H., 1975, “The Meaning of ‘Meaning’,” in Mind, Language and Reality: Philosophical Papers, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2: 215–71.
Rosenthal, D., 1994, The Nature of Mind, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Ross, L., 1977, “The Intuitive Psychologist and his Shortcomings: Distortions in the Attribution Process,” in L. Berkowitz (ed.) Advances in Experimental Social Psychology, New York: Academic Press, 10: 174–220.
Scholl, B. and A. Leslie, 1999, “Modularity, Development and ‘Theory of Mind’,” Mind and Language, 14: 131–53.
Sellars, W., 1956, “Empiricism and the Philosophy of Mind,” in Minnesota Studies in Philosophy of Science, 1: 253–329.
Sterelny, K., 2003, Thought in a Hostile World: The Evolution of Cognition, Malden MA: Blackwell.
Stich, S., 1983, From Folk Psychology to Cognitive Science, Cambridge MA: MIT Press.
Stich, S. and S. Nichols, 2003, “Folk Psycholgy,” in The Blackwell Guide to Philosophy of Mind, S. Stich and T. Warfield (eds.), Oxford: Blackwell, pp. 235–55. [Preprint available online].
Stich, S. and I. Ravenscroft, 1992, “What is Folk Psychology?” Cognition, 50: 447–68.
Vinden, P., 1996, “Junin Quechua Children's Understanding of Mind,” Child Development, 67: 1707–16.
–––, 1999, “Children's Understanding of Mind and Emotion: A Multi-Culture Study,” Cognition and Emotion, 13: 19–48.
–––, 2002, “Understanding Minds and Evidence for Belief: A Study of Mofu Children in Cameroon” International Journal of Behavioral Development, 26: 445–52.
Von Eckardt, B., 1994, “Folk Psychology (1),” in A Companion to Philosophy of Mind, S. Guttenplan (ed.), Oxford: Blackwell, 300–7.
–––, 1997, “The Empirical Naivete of the Current Philosophical Conception of Folk Psychology,” in Mindscapes: Philosophy, Science, and the Mind, M. Carrier and P. K. Machamer (eds.), Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, pp. 23–51.
Wellman, H., 1990, The Child's Theory of Mind, Cambridge MA: MIT Press.
Wimmer, H. and J. Perner, 1983, “Beliefs about Beliefs: Representation and Constraining Function of Wrong Beliefs in Young Children's Understanding of Deception,” Cognition, 13: 103–28.
Other Internet Resources
Nichols, S., 2002, Folk Psychology, article in the Encyclopedia of Cognitive Science, London: Nature Publishing Group.
Baker, Lynne, 1999, Folk Psychology (in PDF), in Rob Wilson and Frank Keil (eds.), MIT Encyclopedia of Cognitive Science, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 317–318.
Related Entries
folk psychology: as mental simulation | functionalism | Lewis, David | materialism: eliminative | Sellars, Wilfrid
The concept of "folk psychology" (or as I prefer, 'folklore', to generalise) has played a significant role in philosophy
of mind (or as Grice prefers, 'philosophical psychology') and cognitive science over the last half century.
However, even a
cursory examination of the literature reveals that there are at least three
distinct usages in which the term “folk psychology” is used.
(1)
Sometimes “folk
psychology” is used to refer to a particular set of cognitive capacities which
include—but are not exhausted by—the capacities to predict and explain behaviour.
Or: (2)
The term “folk psychology” is also used to refer to a theory of behaviour
represented in the brain.
According to many philosophers and cognitive
scientists, the set of cognitive capacities identified above are underpinned by
folk psychology in this second sense.
Or (3):
The final usage of “folk psychology”
is closely associated with the work of David Lewis (who wrote his PhD in Harvard drawing extensively from the work of H. P. Grice).
On Lewis's view, folk
psychology is a psychological theory constituted by the platitudes about the
mind ordinary people are inclined to endorse.
To reduce terminological ambiguity, throughout this entry the term “mindreading” will be used to refer to that set of cognitive capacities which include (but is not exhausted by) the capacities to predict and explain behavior.
“Folk psychology” will be used only
in the second and third senses identified above.
When separate names are
required to avoid confusion, the second sense of “folk psychology” will be
called the mindreading approach to folk psychology and the third sense the
platitude approach to folk psychology.
This terminology is due to Stich &
Nichols 2003.
In an earlier publication, Stephen Stich and I called the
mind-reading sense of folk psychology the internal sense, and the platitude sense
the external sense (Stich & Ravenscroft 1994).
However, the current labels
are more informative.
It's not clear who introduced the term “folk psychology” into the philosophy of mind. Grice was using 'folksy' by 1975.
It gained wide usage during the 1980s
and is rarely used outside philosophy -- or "outside Grice", as I prefer.
The phrase “commonsense psychology” is
sometimes used by philosophers synonymously with “folk psychology”, although the
former term seems to be dying out.
Psychologists rarely use “folk psychology”,
preferring the phrase “theory of mind” (or sometimes “naïve psychology”).
Just
as there is ambiguity in the use of “folk psychology”, “theory of mind” is used
to refer both to mindreading and to the theory hypothesized to underpin
mindreading.
There's an important set of human cognitive capacities first noticed by social psychologists and philosophers in the middle of last century (see for example Heider 1958 and Sellars 1956.) The members of this set of cognitive capacities are almost always assumed to be closely related, perhaps in virtue of their being produced by a single underlying cognitive mechanism. To a first approximation the set consists of—
There's an important set of human cognitive capacities first noticed by social psychologists and philosophers in the middle of last century (see for example Heider 1958 and Sellars 1956.) The members of this set of cognitive capacities are almost always assumed to be closely related, perhaps in virtue of their being produced by a single underlying cognitive mechanism. To a first approximation the set consists of—
The capacity to predict human behavior in a wide range of circumstances.
The capacity to attribute mental states to humans.
The capacity to explain the behavior of humans in terms of their possessing mental states.
(See for example Stich & Nichols 1992.) The second and third capacities are clearly related: explaining the behavior of humans in terms of their mental states involves attributing mental states to them. But we should not assume without further investigation that all mental state attributions take the form of explanations of behavior.
The characterization of mindreading given above is too restrictive. In addition to attributing mental states and predicting and explaining behavior, there is a wide range of closely related activities. To begin with, we not only seek to predict and explain people's behavior, we also seek to predict and explain their mental states. In addition, we speculate about, discuss, recall and evaluate both people's mental states and their behavior. We also speculate about, discuss, recall and evaluate people's dispositions to behave in certain ways and to have certain mental states; that is, we consider their character traits. It may be that these additional activities are grounded in the three capacities mentioned above, but we cannot simply assume that they are. Throughout this entry the term “mindreading” is used in a wide sense to include all of these activities.
As characterized above, mindreading is a human capacity directed at humans. But in two ways this is overly exclusive. First, we attribute mental states to non-human animals and to non-animal systems such as machines and the weather. It's not uncommon to hear people say that their dog wants a bone, or that the chess program is thinking about its next move. We do not have to accept every such attribution at face value; plausibly, some of this talk is metaphorical. Nevertheless, there seem to exist plenty of examples of non-metaphorical attributions of mental states to non-humans. (Notice that insisting that mental state attributions to animals are not metaphorical is compatible with such attributions being systematically false.) Consequently, we must be careful not to characterize mindreading in a way which makes it definitional that only humans can be the objects of mindreading. The second way in which the characterization of mindreading offered above is overly focused on humans is that it remains an open question whether some non-human primates can predict the behavior of their conspecifics. (See for example Call & Tomasello 2008.) Consequently, we should avoid characterizing the mindreading capacities in a way that makes it analytic that non-human animals lack those capacities.
One way to avoid the risk of over-emphasizing human capacities when characterizing mindreading is to begin with the human capacities and then let the empirical chips fall where they may. For example, it may turn out that some non-human primates can predict the behavior of their conspecifics, and that there are significant similarities (including neurological similarities) between the human capacity to predict the behavior of others and that of the non-human primate. In that case we should widen the characterization of mindreading given above so that it is not exclusively focused on human capacities. Similarly, it may turn out that precisely the same cognitive mechanisms are engaged when humans attribute mental states to their conspecifics and when they attribute mental states to animals and machines. In that case we should widen the characterization of mindreading to allow that animals and machines can be the objects of mindreading. Defining the precise extension of “mindreading” by stipulation from the armchair is not likely to be fruitful.
A final comment on mindreading is in order. The characterization of mindreading given here is compatible with the existence of first person mindreading. But it may turn out that we deploy quite distinct mechanisms when we predict or explain our own behavior, or attribute mental states to ourselves, than when we predict or explain other's behavior, or attribute mental states to them. However, this is not an issue which can be settled here. (See the entry on self-knowledge.)
How is mindreading achieved?
One popular theory, often called the “theory-theory”,
holds that when we mindread we access and utilize a theory of human behavior
represented in our brains. The posited theory of human behavior is commonly
called “folk psychology”.
On this view, mindreading is essentially an exercise
in theoretical reasoning. When we predict behavior, for example, we utilize folk
psychology to reason from representations of the target's past and present
circumstances and behavior (including verbal behavior), to representations of
the target's future behavior. Chomsky's claim that understanding and producing
grammatical sentences involves a representation of the grammar of the relevant
language is frequently offered as analogy. (See for example Carruthers 1996a:
29.)
The claim that folk psychology is represented “in the head” raises a range of important empirical questions. These questions are extensively interrelated, with research in one area very often having significant consequences for research in other areas.
We can ask about the way in which folk psychology is represented in the brain. Is it represented in a language-like medium (Fodor 1975) or is it represented in a connectionist network (Churchland 1995, especially Ch.6)?
We can ask about the implementation of folk psychology in the brain. A wide range of brain areas have been correlated with mindreading. (For a summary see Goldman 2006: 140–2.)
We can ask about the content of folk psychology. What states and properties does it quantify over, and what regularities does in postulate (Von Eckardt 1994)?
We can ask questions about the structure of folk psychology. Is it a “proto-scientific” theory with a structure akin to that of scientific theories, or does it take some other form? (See for example Gopnik& Meltzoff 1997; Hutto 2008.)
We can ask about the status of folk psychology. Might it be, as Paul Churchland (1981) famously proposed, radically false?
We can ask about the development of folk psychology in young children. Does it exhibit a characteristic developmental pattern? (See for example Wellman 1990.)
We can ask about the natural history of folk psychology, and about its existence in our evolutionary relatives. (See especially Sterelny 2003: Ch. 11.)
Closely related to questions F and G is the issue of universality.
We can ask about the
extent to which the development of folk psychology, and the mature competence,
vary from culture to culture. (See for example the papers by Lillard and Vinden
in the reference list.)
We can ask if the mechanism which deploys folk psychology is modular in something close to Fodor's (1983) sense of the term. (See especially Sterelny 2003: Ch. 10.)
And we can ask about pathologies of folk psychology. What happens when folk psychology fails to mature normally? (See for example the papers in Carruthers & Smith 1996, Part III.)
In addition to the issues just outlined, there is a further empirical question with which theory-theorists have been engaged. Is it the case that mindreading is in fact underpinned by a theory of human psychology? Is mindreading really a theoretical activity? A variety of philosophers and psychologists have argued that it is not, or have at least argued that there is more to mindreading than theorizing. According to simulation theory, mindreading involves a kind of mental projection in which we temporarily adopt the target's perspective (Gordon 1986; Goldman 1989). (See the entry on folk psychology: as mental simulation.) According to the Narrative Practice Hypothesis, mindreading involves not theoretical reasoning but the construction of a certain kind of narrative (Hutto 2008). And according to intentional systems theory, mindreading is achieved by adopting a particular stance towards a system such as another human being (Dennett 1971; 1987). Important though these alternatives are, they will not be assessed in this entry.
The remainder of this section is in two parts. Part 2.2 briefly surveys some of the important issues surrounding the development of mindreading in children and its evolution in our lineage. Part 2.3 provides a quick overview of work in social psychology aimed at exploring mindreading.
There exists a very substantial body of research on the development of mindreading in young children.
In their essay, Heinz Wimmer and Joseph Perner (1983) describe what
is now usually called the “false belief test”.
In the original version of the
test, the participants are introduced to a puppet, Maxi.
Maxi shows the
participants that he has a piece of chocolate, and then hides his chocolate in
the “cupboard”—a cardboard box. He then announces that he is going out to play
and leaves the scene. A second puppet now enters and is introduced as Maxi's
Mom. Mom finds the chocolate in the cupboard and moves it to a second box, the
“refrigerator”. Mom leaves and Maxi returns, saying that he is going to retrieve
his chocolate. The action stops and the subjects are asked some control
questions to check that they understand what has happened. They are then asked
in which box Maxi will look for his chocolate, the cupboard or the refrigerator?
Strikingly, children up to about four years of age typically reply that Maxi
will look in the refrigerator, while children older than five typically say that
Maxi will look in the cupboard. The standard interpretation of this experiment
is that children younger than four typically lack the concept of belief, or at
best have only a poor grasp of the concept of belief. In particular, they don't
appreciate that beliefs can misrepresent reality. (Not everyone accepts that the
false belief task reveals a conceptual deficit: various authors have argued that
the task reveals a deficit of performance rather competence. For a judicious
review of some of this literature see Goldman 2006, Section 4.3.) The Maxi
experiment set off an avalanche of research aimed at discovering exactly how and
when mindreading develops in young children. (Useful references for this
literature are Astington, Harris & Olson 1988; Wellman 1990; and
Baron-Cohen, Tager-Flusberg & Cohen 2000.) A debate between empiricists and
nativists quickly emerged, strongly reminiscent of the empiricism versus
nativism debate about the development of grammar.
One of the most important defenders of empiricism about folk psychology is the developmental psychologist Alison Gopnik (Gopnik& Wellman 1994; Gopnik & Meltzoff 1997; Gopnik, Meltzoff & Kuhl 1999). Gopnik and her co-workers begin with a bold empirical conjecture—that the cognitive mechanisms which drive the child's development of folk psychology are exactly those mechanisms which drive the adult scientist's development of scientific theories. This view has been dubbed the “child as little scientist view”. In support of this conjecture, Gopnik appeals to the history of science. Drawing on the work of Thomas Kuhn (1962), she identifies a pattern in the way scientists respond to anomalous observations. Gopnik argues that when scientists are confronted by an anomaly they are initially inclined to dismiss it as noise or some other form of aberration. If the anomaly cannot easily be handled in this fashion, ad hoc conjectures are added to the original theory to deal with it. If counterevidence continues to accumulate, new theories are developed which are unencumbered by the growing excrescence of ad hoc conjectures. Very often, though, the new theory is applied only to the more recalcitrant anomalies. Finally, the new theory is applied across the domain and becomes very widely accepted. (See Gopnik & Meltzoff 1997: 39–41. See the entry on Thomas Kuhn.)
Gopnik argues that the pattern of scientific progress just sketched is recapitulated in the child's acquisition of folk psychology, thus supporting her claim that the mechanisms used by the child to acquire folk psychology are the same as those used by the adult to make scientific discoveries. (See Gopnik & Meltzoff 1997: Ch.5.) Gopnik's view is open to a number of objections. To begin with, it is not at all clear that the pattern of scientific progress Gopnik identifies is universal. For example, the history of geological science seems to provide an example where two competing research programs—vulcanism and neptunism—merged into a single, widely accepted paradigm. (I owe this example to George Couvalis.) If Gopnik's historical claims are mistaken then the pattern of conceptual development she observes in young children does not support the claim that the child deploys the same mechanisms as the adult scientist. Second, it has been argued that Gopnik's view is at odds with the apparent universality of the development of folk psychology: the vast majority of children pass through similar developmental stages to arrive at the same theory of human psychology, and do so on a common developmental timetable. Surely individual child-scientists beavering away in isolation would pass through different developmental stages to arrive at divergent theories of human psychology, and do so on distinct developmental timetables (Carruthers 1996b: 23). The claim that there is a universal developmental time table for the acquisition of folk psychology has not gone unopposed. Some author's have argued for the existence of considerable cross-cultural variation in the development of mindreading. See for example Lillard 1997; 1998 and Vinden 1996; 1999; 2002.
One of the most important defenders of empiricism about folk psychology is the developmental psychologist Alison Gopnik (Gopnik& Wellman 1994; Gopnik & Meltzoff 1997; Gopnik, Meltzoff & Kuhl 1999). Gopnik and her co-workers begin with a bold empirical conjecture—that the cognitive mechanisms which drive the child's development of folk psychology are exactly those mechanisms which drive the adult scientist's development of scientific theories. This view has been dubbed the “child as little scientist view”. In support of this conjecture, Gopnik appeals to the history of science. Drawing on the work of Thomas Kuhn (1962), she identifies a pattern in the way scientists respond to anomalous observations. Gopnik argues that when scientists are confronted by an anomaly they are initially inclined to dismiss it as noise or some other form of aberration. If the anomaly cannot easily be handled in this fashion, ad hoc conjectures are added to the original theory to deal with it. If counterevidence continues to accumulate, new theories are developed which are unencumbered by the growing excrescence of ad hoc conjectures. Very often, though, the new theory is applied only to the more recalcitrant anomalies. Finally, the new theory is applied across the domain and becomes very widely accepted. (See Gopnik & Meltzoff 1997: 39–41. See the entry on Thomas Kuhn.)
Gopnik argues that the pattern of scientific progress just sketched is recapitulated in the child's acquisition of folk psychology, thus supporting her claim that the mechanisms used by the child to acquire folk psychology are the same as those used by the adult to make scientific discoveries. (See Gopnik & Meltzoff 1997: Ch.5.) Gopnik's view is open to a number of objections. To begin with, it is not at all clear that the pattern of scientific progress Gopnik identifies is universal. For example, the history of geological science seems to provide an example where two competing research programs—vulcanism and neptunism—merged into a single, widely accepted paradigm. (I owe this example to George Couvalis.) If Gopnik's historical claims are mistaken then the pattern of conceptual development she observes in young children does not support the claim that the child deploys the same mechanisms as the adult scientist. Second, it has been argued that Gopnik's view is at odds with the apparent universality of the development of folk psychology: the vast majority of children pass through similar developmental stages to arrive at the same theory of human psychology, and do so on a common developmental timetable. Surely individual child-scientists beavering away in isolation would pass through different developmental stages to arrive at divergent theories of human psychology, and do so on distinct developmental timetables (Carruthers 1996b: 23). The claim that there is a universal developmental time table for the acquisition of folk psychology has not gone unopposed. Some author's have argued for the existence of considerable cross-cultural variation in the development of mindreading. See for example Lillard 1997; 1998 and Vinden 1996; 1999; 2002.
Assessing this literature is beyond the scope of this entry.
Nativists take the (purported) existence of a near-universal competence arrived at via a near-universal developmental pathway as evidence that the development of folk psychology is very strongly influenced by the child's genes: the species-wide developmental pattern is explained by our species-wide genetic inheritance (Carruthers 1996b: 23). They also offer a poverty of stimulus argument to the same conclusion. Children as young five are highly competent mindreaders and so must possess an extensive array of psychological concepts and a rich body of information about human psychology. They could not, though, have acquired those concepts and that information from their environment—their environment simply does not provide sufficient learning opportunities. Consequently, a considerable amount of folk psychology must be innate. (See for example Scholl & Leslie 1999.) A great deal of work is required, however, to sustain an argument of this nature. The proponent of any poverty of stimulus argument must demonstrate that the stimulus is impoverished relative to the mature competence. That in turn requires measuring the information content of the environment and comparing it with the information demands of the competence. In the case of folk psychology, we lack an accurate measure of the information demands of the competence because crucial questions about the nature of mature mindreading remain unresolved. For example, Daniel Hutto has suggested that many cases of successful behavior prediction rely not on a sophisticated theory of mind but on simple generalizations (Hutto 2008: 6). Consider a case where John predicts that Betty will stop at a red traffic signal. Perhaps John arrived at his prediction by reasoning as follows.
1. Betty believes that it is safest to stop at red traffic signals.
2. Betty desires to be safe.
3. Ceteris paribus, people act so as to realize their desires in light of their beliefs.
Therefore,
CONCLUSION:
4. Betty will stop at the red traffic
signal.
However, John might arrive at his prediction in quite a different way.
However, John might arrive at his prediction in quite a different way.
He might simply rely on the following generalization: most drivers stop at
red traffic signals. Hutto suspects that the latter explanation is the right one
(a similar observation is made in Goldman 1987). More generally, Hutto endorses
a kind of deflationism about mindreading: he thinks that philosophers and
psychologists have exaggerated the amount of folk psychologizing that occurs. If
it could be demonstrated that a great deal of mindreading rests not on folk
psychologizing but on the deployment of simple generalizations, then we would
have to reduce our estimate of the information demands of mindreading. Such a
reduction would in turn weaken the plausibility of the poverty of stimulus
argument. (See Hutto 2008: 181–6; Sterelny 2003: 214–8.)
So far we have seen that we are not presently in a position to accurately measure the information demands of the human mindreading competence. In addition, we are only beginning to appreciate the informational richness of the child’s learning environment. Kim Sterelny (2003: Ch. 8) has placed great stress on what he calls “epistemic niche construction”. Animals can modify their environments to generate new information, make old information more salient, and reduce cognitive demands. Sometimes these environmental modifications endure long enough to enhance the fitness of the next generation. In particular, parents may modify their child's environment in ways which facilitate their acquisition of folk psychological concepts and information (Sterelny 2003: 221–5). Hutto has suggested that one way in which this might occur is by story telling (Hutto 2008). As Hutto observes, many stories make apparent the links between the characters’ environment, mental states and behavior, and so may facilitate the child’s understanding of those links. If Sterelny and Hutto are right, the child’s learning environment is richer than we might have supposed, and the poverty of stimulus argument for folk psychology is correspondingly weakened.
Since the 1950s, social psychologists have explored the ways in which humans think about and describe behavior and personality. Fritz Heider (1958) marked an important distinction between intentional and unintentional behavior, and argued that everyday explanations of intentional behavior are importantly different from those of unintentional behavior. In particular, explanations of an agent's intentional behavior very often appeal to the agent's reasons. Subsequent work in the field, however, tended to draw a fundamental distinction between “person” and “situation” causes of behavior. Person causes are located within the agent; situation causes are located in the agent's environment. Bertram Malle has noted that the person/situation distinction is importantly different from the intentional/unintentional one (2004, especially Section 1.1). The proximate causes of intentional behavior—the agent's reasons—are indeed internal to the agent; however, the proximate causes of some unintentional behaviors are also internal to the agent. For example, screaming in response to a terrifying stimulus is unintentional and yet its proximate cause—fear—is internal. So the distinction between behavior due to person causes and that due to situation causes cuts across the distinction between behavior caused by reasons and behavior caused by other factors.
We can see the person-situation distinction at work in Harold Kelley's theory of attribution (Kelley 1967). A theory of attribution is a theory of how ordinary people assign causes to events such as behaviors and mental states (understood broadly to include character traits). For ease of expression, I shall focus on cases in which the aim is to explain a person's behavior. Kelley elaborates the person-situation distinction by distinguishing between two kinds of potential situational causes: the object towards which the behavior is directed and the circumstances in which the behavior occurs. Consider a case in which person P performs an action A towards an object O in circumstance C: John kissed Betty at the party. The causal attributions we make depend on our assessment of the following three questions.
How often does John kiss Betty in other circumstances?
How often does John kiss people other than Betty?
How often do other people kiss Betty?
Kelley predicted that John's behavior would be attribute to a property of John, a property of Betty, or a property of the party according to the following table:
Response to Q.1Response to Q.2Response to Q.3Attribution
oftenrarelyrarelyJohn
oftenoftenoftenBetty
rarelyoftenrarelyparty
Kelley's prediction has been experimentally confirmed by a range of studies (see Von Eckardt 1997 for details).
Perhaps because the category of person causes fails to distinguish between reasons and other internal causes, social psychologists in the 1960s and 1970s paid little attention to reasons. Rather, much of the focus was on character traits. Research during this period explored important correlations between judgments of appearance and judgments of character trait, and between judgments of one character trait and another. For example, participants who judge that a person is attractive on the basis of a photo (appearance) are also likely to judge that he or she is kindly (trait) (Berscheid & Walster 1974). Again, if a person is judged to be talkative (trait), they are also likely to be judged to be adventurous (trait) (Norman 1963). As Barbara Von Eckardt has observed, these kinds of folk psychological inferences have been almost entirely ignored in the philosophy of mind (Von Eckardt 1994 and 1997).
Whilst the person-situation distinction has underpinned important research in the social psychology of mindreading, it has not been universally endorsed. Lee Ross (1977: 176) invites us to consider the following pair of explanations:
Jack bought the house because it was secluded.
Jill bought the house because she wanted privacy.
The cause cited in explanation (1) would standardly be coded as situational; that in explanation (2) as personal. However, most people are inclined to say that Jack and Jill's respective house purchases were motivated by the same reason. This strongly suggests that the linguistic structure of explanations is a poor guide to the causal antecedents of behavior.
Over the last decade, Malle has urged a return to Heider's original insight, which marked an important distinction between intentional and unintentional behavior (see especially Malle 2004). Malle's research strongly supports the claim that people distinguish between intentional and unintentional behavior. For example, Malle and Knobe (1997) gave subjects descriptions of 20 behaviors, and asked them to rate how intentional the behaviors were on an eight point scale (0 = “not at all”; 7 = “completely”). (Half the subjects were given a definition of intentionality; the other half had to rely on their untutored conception of intentionality.) There was considerable agreement amongst all the subjects as to which of the described behaviors were intentional and which were not.
Within the category of intentional behaviors, Malle has identified three different modes (his term) of explanations.
Reason explanations locate the causes of an agent's behavior in his or her reasons for acting. (Sally bought some vitamin C tablets because she believed taking vitamin C would prevent her getting a cold.)
Causal history of reason explanations locate the causes of an agent's behavior in the background conditions which caused the agent to have the reasons which in turn caused the behavior. (Sally bought the vitamin C tablets because she had been convinced of vitamin C's efficacy by an article in a magazine.)
Enabling factor explanations identify the conditions which enabled the agent to bring about her intentions. (Sally bought the vitamin C tablets because she had some money left over after doing the shopping.)
(See Malle 2004, Ch. 4.)
Notice the centrality of reasons in
all these modes of explanation.
Reason explanations and causal history of reason
explanations are obviously concerned with the agent's reasons.
Enabling factor
explanations also involve the agent's reasons since they concern the factors
which render the agent's reasons efficacious.
In contrast, explanations of
unintentional behaviors don't appeal to the agent's reasons.
Unintentional
behaviors include overt behaviors over which the agent has no control (slipping
on an icy step) and emotional expressions such as blushing. In these cases the
explanations people offer resemble the kinds of explanations they offer for the
behavior of inanimate objects (Malle 2004: 111).
In addition to identifying a variety of explanatory modes people adopt towards intentional behavior, Malle also identifies the features of the explanatory situation which drive the selection of one explanatory mode rather than another. Two examples of Malle's work in this area are as follows (Malle 2004, Section 5.2).
The action is difficult to perform v. the action is easy to perform.
Difficult actions (eg
Jill's riding a unicycle) are usually explained by appealing to enabling factors
(eg She practiced a lot). In contrast, if the action is easy to produce (eg Jill
went for a walk), we tend to produce either reason explanations (eg She wanted
to keep fit) or causal history of reason explanations (eg Her trainer told her
that walking is an ideal way to keep fit).
The explanation is produced by the agent v. the explanation is produced by an observer. Actors tend to produce explanations of their own behavior which stress their beliefs. For example, consider Jack who wrote a letter to the mayor protesting against the city's housing policy. Jack explains his action by saying that he thought the mayor would listen. In contrast, observers tend to produce explanations which stress the agent's desires. Jill, who has observed Jack's letter writing, explains Jack's action by saying that he wanted to change the policy.
There is more to an explanation of intentional behavior than its mode. Jill did not explain Jack's letter writing by merely saying that he had a desire; she said that he wanted to change the policy. Reasons are propositional attitudes, and normally reason explanations specify the propositions involved as well as the attitudes. How do folk psychologists identify the propositions of an agent's attitudes when offering reason causes? Malle suggests a number of cognitive processes which perform this task. One of his central claims is that propositional contents are inferred from specific or generic information about the agent (Malle 2004: 140). Consider again Jill's explanation of Jack's writing to the mayor: He wrote to the mayor because he wanted to change the city's housing policy. Jill might attribute this particular desire to Jack because she has often heard Jack talk disparagingly about the city's current policy. However, there must be inferential processes which enable Jill to (a) locate information relevant to explaining Jack's action and (b) pass from the belief that Jack objects to the current policy to the conclusion that Jack wrote the letter because he wanted to change the current policy. According to the theory-theory, these inferential processes involve a theory which maps the complex relations between stimuli, mental states and behavior; that is, the inferences involve folk psychology. So the account of propositional attitude attribution is incomplete until we have a detailed—and empirically validated—account of folk psychology. What is required here is a response to item C in the list of empirical issues given in Part 2.1: What is the content of folk psychology? What states and properties does it quantify over, and what regularities does in postulate? (See Von Eckardt 1994.) It's fair to say that, at present, we lack detailed answers to these questions.
In a series of influential papers, D. K. Lewis (1966, 1970, 1972, 1994) defended a particular approach to the semantics of theoretical terms, applied that approach to the everyday psychological vocabulary (eg “belief” and “desire”), and thereby obtain a functionalist theory of mental states. Whilst Lewis does not give an explicit definition of the term “folk psychology”, an account of folk psychology naturally emerges from his approach.
The explanation is produced by the agent v. the explanation is produced by an observer. Actors tend to produce explanations of their own behavior which stress their beliefs. For example, consider Jack who wrote a letter to the mayor protesting against the city's housing policy. Jack explains his action by saying that he thought the mayor would listen. In contrast, observers tend to produce explanations which stress the agent's desires. Jill, who has observed Jack's letter writing, explains Jack's action by saying that he wanted to change the policy.
There is more to an explanation of intentional behavior than its mode. Jill did not explain Jack's letter writing by merely saying that he had a desire; she said that he wanted to change the policy. Reasons are propositional attitudes, and normally reason explanations specify the propositions involved as well as the attitudes. How do folk psychologists identify the propositions of an agent's attitudes when offering reason causes? Malle suggests a number of cognitive processes which perform this task. One of his central claims is that propositional contents are inferred from specific or generic information about the agent (Malle 2004: 140). Consider again Jill's explanation of Jack's writing to the mayor: He wrote to the mayor because he wanted to change the city's housing policy. Jill might attribute this particular desire to Jack because she has often heard Jack talk disparagingly about the city's current policy. However, there must be inferential processes which enable Jill to (a) locate information relevant to explaining Jack's action and (b) pass from the belief that Jack objects to the current policy to the conclusion that Jack wrote the letter because he wanted to change the current policy. According to the theory-theory, these inferential processes involve a theory which maps the complex relations between stimuli, mental states and behavior; that is, the inferences involve folk psychology. So the account of propositional attitude attribution is incomplete until we have a detailed—and empirically validated—account of folk psychology. What is required here is a response to item C in the list of empirical issues given in Part 2.1: What is the content of folk psychology? What states and properties does it quantify over, and what regularities does in postulate? (See Von Eckardt 1994.) It's fair to say that, at present, we lack detailed answers to these questions.
In a series of influential papers, D. K. Lewis (1966, 1970, 1972, 1994) defended a particular approach to the semantics of theoretical terms, applied that approach to the everyday psychological vocabulary (eg “belief” and “desire”), and thereby obtain a functionalist theory of mental states. Whilst Lewis does not give an explicit definition of the term “folk psychology”, an account of folk psychology naturally emerges from his approach.
On Lewis's view, theoretical terms get their meaning from the role they play in the theory in which they are used; they are, says Lewis, “definable functionally, by reference to their causal roles” (Lewis 1972: 204). Lewis begins with a theory, T, which includes both new terms introduced by T and old terms already understood before T emerged. The new terms are called “theoretical terms” or “T-terms” for short. The label “theoretical term” is merely intended to indicate that the terms were introduced by T rather than by, say, ostension or by some theory which pre-dates T. The old terms are called “O-terms” for short. (Lewis stresses that the O-terms are not necessarily observational terms, “whatever those maybe” (1972: 205).) T can be expressed as a single sentence—perhaps as a long conjunction:
T[t1 … tn],
where
“t1 …
tn”
stands for all the T-terms in T.
The O-terms have been suppressed to reduce
clutter.
If we systematically replace the T-terms with free variables, x1 … xn,
and prefix an existential quantifier binding the n-tuple x1 … xn, we obtain the
Ramsey sentence for T:
∃(x1 … xn)T(x1 … xn).
The Ramsey sentence says that there exists an n-tuple of entities which realizes T.
That is, T has at
least one realization. Lewis is concerned to rule out the possibility of
multiple realizations of T.
It is, he claims, implicit in the stating of a
theory that it has a unique realization; if a theory is multiply realized then
it is false and its T-terms fail to refer (Lewis 1972: 205). He therefore adopts
the modified Ramsey sentence
∃!(x1 … xn)T(x1 … xn),
which says that there exists a unique n-tuple of entities that realizes T.
The Carnap sentence is a
conditional with the Ramsey sentence as antecedent and T as its
consequent:
∃(x1 … xn)T(x1 … xn) → T[t1 … tn].
The Carnap sentence says that if T is realized, the t-terms name the corresponding entities of some realization of T. Given Lewis's aversion to multiple realization, he prefers the modified Carnap sentence which is a conditional with the modified Ramsey sentence as antecedent and T as the consequent:
∃!(x1 … xn)T(x1 … xn) → T[t1 … tn].
The modified Carnap sentence says that if T is uniquely realized, the t-terms name the corresponding entities of the unique realization of T. To cover those cases in which T is not uniquely realized, either because it is multiply realized or not realized at all, Lewis adds an additional conditional:
~∃!(x1 … xn)T(x1 … xn) → (t1 = * & … &tn = *).
This conditional says that, if T is not uniquely realized, then t1 … tn name nothing. Taken together, the last two conditionals are equivalent to a series of sentences which define each T-term strictly in O-terms:
T1 = ∃!x1T[x1]
.
.
.
Tn = ∃!xnT[xn]
We have now obtained an explicit definition for each T-term.
Moreover, says Lewis, the definitions are functional definitions: “The
t-terms have been defined as the occupants of the causal roles specified by the
theory T; as the entities, whatever those maybe, that bear certain causal
relations to one another and to the referents of the O-terms” (Lewis 1972: 207).
These definitions were implicit in the original theory T in the sense that no
additional content has been added to T in their derivation. (Lewis observes that
the definitions do in fact contain additional content, for their derivation
assumes that T is uniquely realized. He claims, though, that the assumption of
uniqueness was made implicitly when T was stated. See the remarks about
uniqueness scattered through out Section I of Lewis 1972.) Let's now turn to the
way Lewis applies his theory of theoretical terms to the everyday psychological
vocabulary.
Lewis begins by imagining the set of all the everyday, commonsense platitudes about mental states.
He treats this set of platitudes as
a term-introducing psychological theory, with the T-terms being the names of the
commonsense psychological states—beliefs, desires, pains, hungers, etc—and the
O-terms being terms drawn from the non-psychological part of the everyday
English vocabulary.
The formal method sketched above yields explicit definitions
of the T-terms.
These definitions are functionalist in that they describe the
causal roles in which the named entities participate:
“pain” names the state
which occupies so-and-so causal role. (Lewis 1966 (fn 6) distinguishes between
pain and the attribute of having pain.
Pain is the state which plays the
pain-role, and which state plays the pain-role may differ from world to world.
The attribute of having pain is the having of a state—whatever state that might
be—which plays the pain-role.)
Clearly, we need an account of the platitudes.
Which everyday claims about mental states count as part of the term-introducing
theory? Here's Lewis (1972: 207–8. See also Lewis 1966: 100):
Collect all the
platitudes you can think of regarding the causal relations of mental states,
sensory stimuli, and motor responses. Perhaps we can think of them as having the
form:
When someone is in so-and-so combination of mental states and receives sensory stimuli of so-and-so kind, he tends with so-and-so probability to be caused thereby to go into so-and-so mental states and produce so-and-so motor responses.
Also add all the platitudes to the effect that one mental state falls under another—“toothache is a kind of pain” and the like. Perhaps there are platitudes of other forms as well. Include only platitudes which are common knowledge among us—everyone knows them, everyone knows that everyone knows them, and so on.
Lewis uses the explicit functional definitions of the commonsense psychological terms he has obtained as premises in an argument for physicalism about mental states (Lewis 1972: 204):
1. Mental state M = the occupant of
causal role R.
2. The occupant of causal role R = neural state N.
From (1)
and (2) by transitivity we obtain:
3. Mental state M = neural state
N.
Premise (1) is a functional definition of M obtained by the Ramsey-Carnap-Lewis method sketched above.
Premise (1) is a functional definition of M obtained by the Ramsey-Carnap-Lewis method sketched above.
Premise (2) is overwhelmingly
supported by physiology. (In Lewis 1966, the second premise is more general: the
occupant of the causal role is identified with a physical state. Lewis then
defends the second premise by endorsing the explanatory adequacy of physics.) So
Lewis argues straightforwardly from functionalism to physicalism.
With this picture in place, it is worth asking what precisely folk psychology is on Lewis's approach. To my knowledge, Lewis never explicitly defines the term. However, when giving the semantics of the everyday psychological vocabulary, he treats the conjunction of commonsense platitudes about mental states as a term-introducing theory, so it is natural to identify folk psychology with that conjunction. Alternatively, we could think of folk psychology as a systematization of the set of platitudes.
It is important to stress that Lewis's position has not been without its detractors.
In particular, many
philosophers of language have objected to Lewis's semantic theory.
In the 1960s
and 1970s an alternative approach to semantics was introduced by David Kaplan
(1968), Keith Donellan (1970), Hilary Putnam (1975) and Saul Kripke (1980).
This
approach separates the meaning of a theoretical term from the role it plays in
the theories in which it is found; that is, it separates meaning from use.
These
alternative conceptions of meaning are broadly compatible with of Lewis's
metaphysical conclusions; for example, they are compatible with Lewis's
physicalism. However, they are incompatible with the way Lewis obtains his
conclusions.
Setting aside questions of semantics, note that Lewis is hostage to empirical fortune in ways he does not acknowledge. Lewis's claims about the platitudes are empirical claims—they are claims about what is commonly believed about mental states and as such can only properly be investigated by careful scientific research. There is no evidence that Lewis undertook the appropriate studies. Moreover, it is very likely that Lewis's own intuitions about mental states were influenced by his theoretical stance, and consequently there is little reason to think that Lewis's own intuitions are a good guide to what people typically believe about the mind.
Notice that Lewis only recognizes two kinds of platitudes: those that express causal relations between mental states, stimuli and behavior, and those that indicate when one type of mental state is contained by another. He admits that there maybe “platitudes of other forms as well” (Lewis 1972: 207–8), but this is disingenuous because his overall functionalist conclusion requires that all platitudes take one of the two forms he identifies.
Thus the functionalist conclusion could not be obtained if there
were platitudes expressing the view that mental states are substances which have
their causal powers non-essentially, or which lack causal powers altogether. It
may turn out, for example, that the folk conceive of pain as an essentially
experiential state with non-essential causal connections to stimuli and
behavior. Lewis is simply assuming that commonsense is resolutely committed to
the idea that mental states are characterized by causal role; that is, the
functionalist conclusion drives the characterization of the platitudes. No doubt
Lewis has philosophical arguments for denying that mental states are substances
which have their causal powers non-essentially, or substances that lack causal
powers altogether. But that is beside the present point. Lewis's intention was
to capture what the folk think about mental states, not what the philosophical
literati think about mental states.
Lewis also assumes that the platitudes form
a largely coherent set. He can handle minor inconsistencies because he proposes
to form not a grand conjunction of all the platitudes, but a grand disjunction
of conjunctions of most of the platitudes. However, he is still assuming that
consistent sets containing most of the platitudes can be obtained. This may or
may not be the case, and we will only find out by doing the relevant empirical
research.
There is some evidence that Lewis recognized these difficulties himself. In his “Reduction of Mind” he remarks that “Pace Lewis, 1972, p. 256, eliciting the general principles of folk psychology is no mere matter of gathering platitudes” (1994: 416). He also remarks that folk psychology “is common knowledge among us; but it is tacit, as our grammatical knowledge is” (1994: 416). These remakes are consistent with his adopting some version of the mindreading sense of folk psychology (see section 2 above); however, they are too cryptic for us to establish exactly what Lewis's final position was.
There is some evidence that Lewis recognized these difficulties himself. In his “Reduction of Mind” he remarks that “Pace Lewis, 1972, p. 256, eliciting the general principles of folk psychology is no mere matter of gathering platitudes” (1994: 416). He also remarks that folk psychology “is common knowledge among us; but it is tacit, as our grammatical knowledge is” (1994: 416). These remakes are consistent with his adopting some version of the mindreading sense of folk psychology (see section 2 above); however, they are too cryptic for us to establish exactly what Lewis's final position was.
Eliminativists have argued that there are no beliefs and no desires (see for example Churchland 1981; Stich 1983). One prominent argument for eliminativism begins with folk psychology:
1. Beliefs
and desires are the posits of folk psychology.
2. Folk psychology is
false.
3. The posits of false theories do not exist.
Therefore,
4.
Beliefs and desires do not exist.
It is not immediately obvious that this argument is valid, for we may have a range of reasons for accepting the existence of beliefs and desires—reasons unaffected by the truth or falsity of folk psychology (see Kitcher 1984; Von Eckardt 1994).
It is not immediately obvious that this argument is valid, for we may have a range of reasons for accepting the existence of beliefs and desires—reasons unaffected by the truth or falsity of folk psychology (see Kitcher 1984; Von Eckardt 1994).
Moreover, in light of the
proceeding discussion it is clear that the first two premises are ambiguous. As
we have seen, the term “folk psychology” is used in at least two different ways
in the philosophical and psychological literatures.
Consequently, the argument
just sketched has at least two interpretations, and may be sound on one but not
on the other (Stich & Ravenscroft 1992). Similar remarks apply to an
anti-eliminativist argument advanced by early simulation theorists such as
Robert Gordon (1986) and Alvin Goldman (1989). On their view, mindreading does
not involve a representation of folk psychology in the mindreader's brain, and
consequently we have no reason to think that folk psychology exists. They then
argue that, since there is no such thing as folk psychology, the question of the
existence or otherwise of its posits simply does not arise. However, the first
premise of this argument needs to be stated more carefully. If simulation theory
(as conceived by its early proponents) is true, then there is no such thing as
folk psychology on the mindreading sense of that term. But that is entirely
compatible with the existence of folk psychology on the platitude sense of the
term. (For useful discussions of eliminativism see Kitcher 1984; Horgan &
Woodward 1985; Von Eckardt 1994; and the entry on eliminative
materialism.)
Further reading:
Recent and valuable monographs which discuss
folk psychology include Nichols & Stich 2003; Sterelny 2003; Goldman 2006;
and Hutto 2008.
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Speranza -- Join the Grice Club!
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Other Internet Resources
Nichols, S., 2002, Folk Psychology, article in the Encyclopedia of Cognitive Science, London: Nature Publishing Group.
Baker, Lynne, 1999, Folk Psychology (in PDF), in Rob Wilson and Frank Keil (eds.), MIT Encyclopedia of Cognitive Science, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 317–318.
Related Entries
folk psychology: as mental simulation | functionalism | Lewis, David | materialism: eliminative | Sellars, Wilfrid
Ian Ravenscroft would like to thank Daniel Hutto, Frank
Jackson and (especially) Barbara Von Eckardt for helpful comments on a draft of
this entry, and thank his home institution Flinders University.
A commentary on Ian Ravenscroft's entry on"Folk Psychology as a Theory" for The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall 2010 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/fall2010/entries/folkpsych-theory/>.
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