A Triangular Relation?

In the previous post, we saw a sharply binary model of signifier and signified being applied by Roger Bacon and Duns Scotus. At least in Bacon’s case, this goes hand in hand with a new kind of “direct” realism that aims to deal directly with things in the world, and repudiates the subtleties of the indirect account of knowledge and meaning by way of concepts and the passions of the soul that was broadly shared by Aristotle, Augustine, and Boethius. But Scotus complicates the picture considerably by also promoting a triangular model that includes concepts understood in a certain way. Scotus also argues for a non-psychological approach to concepts.

“Does the sign signify the thing itself or the concept in the soul? — We have said that for Scotus, the great semantic controversy of the Middle Age, more fundamental than any other, is constituted by the following question: Is the vocal sound the sign of the thing or of the concept?” (Boulnois, L’Être et représentation, p. 35, my translation throughout).

“The line of the English Franciscans seems to have developed this theory long before him: for Roger Bacon, linguistic signs have been arbitrarily instituted by humans to directly indicate the things themselves. Words are not related to things by means of a conceptual interpretation. A new, radically non-Platonic way of thinking language arises: instrument of communication, it ‘takes the place of’ (supponit pro) the thing, and not the idea of the speaker. What is more, it exercises a representative function uniquely defined by its capacity to refer to present and existent things. For Roger Bacon, the name signifies solely the thing on which it has been imposed. It can only refer to things (even if it can signify connotata, by inference). But at the same time, there is a relation between the vox [vocal sound] and the species in the soul. The vocal sound is its proper presentification, but it makes the representation of a thing arise in the mind. It makes the thing be conceived, or makes it arise in the soul. Thus the sign in a single gesture refers to the thing and recalls a representation. The vox is not a concept, but a thing that signifies another; it signifies a singular thing in the present, without involving essence, and no longer passes by way of the intellectus to arrive at the res [thing]. There is a sort of collaterality of the sermo [spoken word] and the intellectus that both refer to the res” (ibid).

Scholastic accounts of language typically focus on proprieties of naming. Implicit in this approach is an account of meaning that begins from individual terms. Broadly speaking, this approach has an affinity to modern bottom-up theories of semantics, which aim to put together a picture of the world in a compositional way from individual terms taken as given.

In the early 20th century, Saussurean linguistics developed an alternative approach that treats the signifier in a relational way, such that each signifier is understood in the first instance as identified by its difference from other signifiers, independent of its nominal reference to a signified. This led to an incipient “deconstructive” analysis of individual terms in the broad current of 20th-century European (especially French) “structuralism”, which then came to be explicitly thematized in developments that Anglophone writers came to refer to as “post” structuralist.

From a completely different starting point in a pragmatist reading of analytic philosophy and German Idealism, in the late 20th century Brandom developed an “inferentialist” semantics that begins from whole sentences as the minimal unit of assertion, and focuses on explaining the “material” inferential properties of propositions in terms of normative assessments of proprieties of concrete assertion, rather than in terms of universal formal rules. Brandom understands the meaning of concepts inferentially, in terms of their use or functional role in assertions, and emphasizes the non-psychological character of meaning understood in this way. From this point of view, concepts are not to be identified with individual terms, and instead have a holistic character, such that each concept involves other concepts.

In sharp contrast to both of these as well as to Aristotle and Augustine, Scotus develops his triangular model of signification in a way that aims to be consistent with a primacy of individual things, and with a direct association of words to things.

“[I]n his first commentary on [Aristotle’s] treatise On Interpretation, [Scotus] maintains, like Boethius and Thomas Aquinas, that the vocal sound signifies the concept, which resembles the thing or ‘represents’ it. The vox immediately signifies the species, the representation of the thing in the intellect, but it mediately signifies that which it represents, which is to say the thing itself. But in the second commentary, closer to Bacon, he holds that the vocal sound directly signifies not the conceptions of the intellect, but the thing itself. When Aristotle and Boethius say that the name directly signifies the passions of the soul, it is necessary to understand by this not the concept, or the resemblance in the soul, but the thing that is conceived. This second version is evidently a radical revision of Scotist semantics. It is also the definitive position of the theological works” (pp. 36-37).

“Following Bacon and [Peter] Olivi, Duns Scotus breaks with the Boethian interpretation of signification, but he does so with a nuance, integrating the Aristotelian semantics; the verbal sign (verbum) is directly the sign of both the thing and the concept, but it is in the first instance the sign of the thing, and then the sign of the concept. The sign comes from a direct causality of the thing and signifies it directly. Nonetheless there is a logical anteriority of the concept, for it is on it that the linguistic sign depends. Scotus formulates his response in the vocabulary of his own theory of causality. The concept, the written sign, and the phoneme are all three ordered effects of the same cause: the thing itself…. Writing, the vocal sound, and the concept are signs, situated on the same plane, none of them exercising any causality over the others, and they signify the same signified” (p. 37).

If the sign is in the first instance the sign of the thing, it is difficult to see how the concept can be logically anterior to the relation of sign to thing. But Scotus apparently wants to assert both, and also that the concept is a kind of sign, and that the sign is a kind of thing.

“[T]he word, the concept, and the thing no longer form a series, but a triangle…. The play of natural causes, the weight of institution, and the semantic relation are articulated with one another, but remain autonomous…. The concept is the first, natural effect of the thing itself. It is it that is first of all a sign of the thing, and not the vocal sound or writing. It constitutes the object of logic, an anterior object, more fundamental than vocal sounds, and supposed by them…. If there is a science of things, metaphysics, and a science of words, grammar, logic occupies an intermediary and central place, as the science of concepts” (p. 39).

Scotus wants to give metaphysics a new status as a rational science, in a strong sense that is independent of Aristotle. Meanwhile, he also explicitly rejects Aristotle’s thesis that logic is a tool for clearly expressing meaning and not a science with its own subject matter, which Brandom has recently revived under the name of logical expressivism.

“Noetics studies the concept insofar as it constitutes an aspect of the mind (mens), where it is found as an accident in a subject. Logic, on the contrary, considers the concept as sign, insofar as it refers to a signified. This is the ambiguity of representation: we consider in it either the thing that represents, or the thing that it represents, the being of the representing or the being represented…. Logic is distinct from psychology…. The aim of thought is not reducible to its psychic reality” (pp. 39-40).

Boulnois does not point it out here, but Scotus’s assumption that the concept is in the mind “as an accident in a subject” is directly opposed to Augustine’s strong contention that the mind should not be seen as a subject in which knowledge and love inhere as accidents.

“In this triangle of word, concept, and thing, the concept is described as a sign, and reciprocally the cognitive act is itself a semiosis. Duns Scotus breaks with Augustine and Boethius, who reserve signification to vocal sounds and writing. He participates in what C. Panaccio has called a general movement of ‘semantization’ of thought. Logic, conceived as a rational science, a theory of signs or of ‘signifying reasoning’ (ratio significandi), is no longer a subalternate discipline, concerned with the expression of thought. Because thought is signifying, logic becomes a theory of thought itself. Nevertheless, it does not fall to it to resolve the problem of the place of thought. Concepts are natural signs, not conventional ones: they are combined in propositions according to logical rules, the structure of which subtends all possible oral or written propositions, even if they are not proffered. They constitute the elements of a universal mental language, of a general grammar and of a pure theory of communication. This language is for Duns Scotus a subjacent condition of all oral enunciations and effective writings” (pp. 40-41).

Thus apparently the treatment of concepts as a kind of sign is closely related to the non-Aristotelian idea that logic is a science with its own subject matter.

“But above all, this ideal possibility is real: it is accomplished par excellence in the domain of angelic communication. Angels communicate with the aid of intelligible signs, which is to say pure concepts, without phonetic or graphical support. Each angel directly causes a concept in another, by an immediate communication. It is on this occasion that Duns Scotus formulates a formal theory of pure thought” (p. 41).

If concepts are natural signs and signs are real things, then concepts are real things.

“The sign establishes a double relation. On the one hand, it is the image of the thing that caused it; on the other hand, what is more important, it signifies it: the concept is a real object, which has a natural existence, belonging to a causal chain; but it bears a resemblance to the object it represents. This resemblance is produced by the concurrent double causality of the thing itself and the intelligible species conserved in memory. — Is it necessary to say that the concept preserves the transparency of representation, while the conventional sign loses it? For a concept, does representare signify a ‘resemblance to’, or simply: ‘taking the place of the presence’ of an object, which was already the sense of the word in Peter of Spain? Does the representivity of the concept for the intellect come from its resemblance to real objects, or from its dependence on a cause?” (pp. 41-42).

Given Scotus’s insistence that the sign refers directly to the thing, it is surprising to read that “We cannot pass directly from the representation to the thing” (p. 43). But our act is different from the reference of the sign, so technically there is no contradiction.

“But even in maintaining that the relation of cause to effect is first, Scotus does not go to the point of abandoning resemblance: both are real aspects of intellection. Even if it supposes the causality of the object, semiosis is a complex process that is not reduced to it, since it supposes a play of resemblances. The sign is recognized more than it is produced” (ibid).

In a way, the play of resemblances resembles the mutual dependence of signifiers in the Saussurean tradition.

That the sign is recognized more than it is produced is a nice injection of good sense that stands in obvious tension with the foundation myth of signs as imposed and instituted “at will”. But the user of a sign is usually not its institutor.

“The phoneme homo no longer signifies the concept of the human: like the concept, it signifies the real human, even if it depends on the concept for this. The three forms of signification (formal sign, oral sign, written sign) are parallel, even if their terms are ordered according to a serial dependency. The signification of the concept is a natural relation between the intellect and things. The signified of phonemes and graphemes remains the thing itself, but it depends on a conventional relation.”

“In this Scotus directly opposes Aristotle, for whom the vox is a sound emitted by the mouth of a human being, accompanied by an imaginative representation. Words are not the tools of knowledge, but of communication” (p. 43).

I think that knowledge in Plato and Aristotle (and Hegel and Gadamer and Habermas and Brandom, among others) implicitly has a dialogical (and therefore in part communicative) character. Gadamer has highlighted the dialogical element in Plato and Aristotle. The “communicative reason” elaborated by Habermas involves a dialogical view of knowledge. It is only “monological” conceptions of knowledge that do not involve an element of communication.

“In itself, the written or oral sign is only an ensemble of sounds or letters, which causes nothing more than the knowledge of itself. The imposition of the sign describes the passage from concept to sign, and reciprocally interpretation allows a reascent from the sign to the intelligible concept that subtends it. The process of interpretation follows a trajectory inverse to that of imposition. It is thus a contingent process of association” (p. 45).

“In the moment of imposition, the imposer associates sense and intellect, in relating a perceived name to a conceived thing. In the moment of interpretation, the hearer recalls the relation between the name perceived in the present, and the past thing that she knew more or less distinctly” (p. 46).

I don’t think of interpretation as happening in a moment. It is not only dialogical, but also involves mediation, concepts, and an extension in time. In the same way, only in a very improper sense is jumping to a conclusion a kind of judgment. But Boulnois is summarizing Scotus here, not necessarily asserting this in his own name.

Signification cannot take the place of knowledge. There is no transparency between the sign and thought” (ibid).

Knowledge implies a knower in a way that formal signification does not. But the dialogical expression and elaboration of knowledge is closely interwoven with the dialogical elaboration of signification and meaning.

“But what is it that is signified? The thing, yes, but in what sense of the word ‘thing’? According to [Scotus’s] Questions on On Interpretation, not the thing in its singularity and its existence, but the thing as quiddity [what Aristotle calls the “what it is”], indifferent to singularity and universality, to existence and nonexistence: the thing as it is seen by the mediation of a concept…. According to this semantic, signification is no longer an intelligible correlation between the signifying and the concept” (pp. 46-47).

Indeed, “thing” is said in many ways. Thing as quiddity and thing as object are almost mutually exclusive. I use “object” in a deflationary way as a relative term, as in “the object of”, not as naming something that is assumed to be a free-standing thing in its own right. I don’t actively use the term “quiddity”, but I think of it as a more static and self-contained projection of essence, which in its more proper usages is not something self-contained. Brandom says that a concept is not the kind of thing we could have just one of. I think of essence in a similar way. All articulation is inter-articulation, involving more than one term.

“From now on, signification can be thought independent of the scope of the concept.”

“Linguistic signs signify directly, without passing through the concept. They can signify a thing more precisely than intellect can conceive it. The circulus vini, a sign that indicates the presence of new wine in the inn, causes nothing new in the intellect of the one who perceives it. It is an arbitrary sign, constituted by a convention…. Convention is limited to establishing a relation of reason between two things, two physical realities: the sonorous matter of the phoneme (the vox) and the reality signified (the res). To be valid, this relation-convention supposes the knowledge of the two terms…. A weak and confused knowledge of the thing suffices for us to be able to use a sign, and to signify in a suitable way. We can signify in a way that is more precise than we conceive” (pp. 47-48).

Signification is a “formal” concept, in what seems to be Scotus’s distinctive sense of the term “formal”, which is neither Platonic nor Kantian, and also not to be understood in terms of modern logical or mathematical formalism. The formal status of signification is what allows it to be “more precise” than the knowledge we actually have. But as Hegel reminds us, formal precision (in any of these senses) is not always a virtue when applied to real things.

“Duns Scotus is inspired by the analyses of Olivi to establish a relation between semantic representation and juridical representation, the sign and the law.”

Peter Olivi was another important 13th-century Franciscan, and another strong voluntarist.

“A sign can be speculative or practical. The speculative sign leads to knowledge; it allows a concept of the signified to be formed in the intellect, but its characteristic tells us nothing of its real existence; for example, homo is the sign of a concept, and allows the knowledge of an essence, of a nature in general, whether or not a human exists. The practical sign implies the existence of its signified; it is the sign of an existence, and not of a simple possibility…. Since the practical sign signifies the advent of an effect, and this effect depends on the ordered power (that is to say on the free voluntary disposition) of someone who can cause it, only the author of this effect can give this practical sign certain being. It suffices that the institutor is disposed to regularly produce the signified of the sign she institutes…. Contracts, pacts, and promises are examples. The practical sign pertains to a juridical order instituted by humans. It depends on a law…. The sign belongs to the domain of the will of a free agent, who is self-determining in limiting herself to the order she institutes. This one, in proportion to her political power, can engage in rendering real what she has disposed in the order of signs” (pp. 48-49).

To me it seems preposterous to say that the sign belongs to the domain of the will of a free agent. A sign belongs to a field of reciprocal determination that is independent of anyone’s will. (See also Hegel on Willing.)

“The practical sign is an ordination of power. In this sense, it belongs to the theology of absolute power and ordained power. In Duns Scotus, these two concepts apply to every free agent: absolute power includes all that a free being can effectively do, de facto. Ordained power includes all she can do in conformity to a law, de jure. The institutor is an absolutely free agent, who self-determines freely in choosing this or that order” (p. 49).

An earlier book by Boulnois develops the history of the theology of absolute power and ordained power in detail. A later book treats the history of theological voluntarism in the Latin tradition.

For Scotus “It is will that founds the truth of the practical sign, and not the inverse” (p. 52).

But “there are signs of which we are not the institutors, and that we receive as fully established by an alien will…. We are under the law of signs, and they do not always depend on us” (ibid).

Next in this series: Perspectiva

Conditionals and Conceptual Roles

Saying something is more than the material fact of emitting sounds in conventionalized patterns. We ought to be able to say more about that “more”.

This is part two of a look at an early programmatic document in which Brandom first develops his highly original approach to meaning and logic. Brandom’s “logical expressivism” treats logic as a tool for explaining meaning, rather than a discipline with its own distinctive subject matter. That logic is such a tool and not a science is an Aristotelian view (or, I would say, insight) that has been mostly ignored by subsequent traditions.

The dominant modern tradition treats meaning as representation by pointing or reference. But pointing is rather trivial and uninformative. By contrast, I normally think of meaning in terms of something to be interpreted. But this hermeneutic approach tends to focus attention on concrete details. Brandom ambitiously wants to say meaningful things about meaning in general, and I think he succeeds.

As in the first installment, I will continue to focus on the discursive parts of the text, while skirting around the formal development. (There is more formal logical development in this text than anywhere else in Brandom’s corpus, at least until this year’s publication of the collaborative work Reasons for Logic, Logic for Reasons, which returns to the current text’s aim of implementing his program of logical expressivism.)

Brandom begins with the early work of Frege, who pioneered modern mathematical logic.

“To make out the claim that the systems of social practices we have described implicitly define assertion, we need to supplement that account of assertings with a story about the contents which are thereby asserted. Our starting point is Frege’s discussion in the Begriffschrift, where the distinction between force and content was first established…. First, Frege identifies conceptual content with inferential role or potential. It is his project to find a notation which will allow us to express these precisely. Second, sentences have conceptual contents in virtue of facts about the appropriateness of material inferences involving them. The task of the logical apparatus of the conceptual notation which Frege goes on to develop is to make it possible to specify explicitly the conceptual contents which are implicit in a set of possible inferences which are presupposed when Frege’s logician comes on the scene. The task of logic is thus set as an expressive one, to codify just those aspects of sentences which affect their inferential potential in some pre-existing system” (“Assertion and Conceptual Roles”, p. 21).

Meaningful “content” is to be identified with the inferential roles of things said, which are each in turn defined by the pair consisting of the conditions of their application and the consequences of their application. The novelty of what is expressed here is tactfully understated by the reference to “facts” about the appropriateness of material inferences. This tends to downplay the “fact” that the inquiry into conditions of application is really a normative inquiry into judgments about appropriateness more than an inquiry into facts.

What is being said here also needs to be sharply distinguished from the nihilistic claim that there are no facts. There are facts, and they need to be respected. The point is that this respect for facts ought to be opposed to taking them for granted.

“We will derive conceptual contents from the systems of practices of inference, justification, and assertion described above. Following the Fregean philosophy of logic, we do so by introducing formal logical concepts as codifications of material inferential practices. First we show how conditionals can be introduced into a set of practices of using basic sentences, so as to state explicitly the inference license which the assertion of one sentence which becomes the antecedent of the conditional can issue for the assertion of another (the consequent of the conditional). With conditionals constructed so as to capture formally the material inferential potential of basic sentences, we then show how conceptual contents expressed in terms of such conditionals can be associated with basic sentences on the model of the introduction and elimination rules for compound sentence forms like the conditional” (ibid).

Introduction and elimination rules are characteristic of the natural deduction and sequent calculi due to Gentzen. This style of formalization — common in proof theory, type theory, and the theory of programming languages — is distinctive in that it is formulated entirely in terms of specified inference rules, without any axioms or assumed truths.

Until Sellars and Brandom, modern logic was considered to be entirely about formal inference. Brandom argues that the early Frege correctly treated it instead as about the formalization of material inference. Brandom also endorses Quine’s logical holism against atomistic bottom-up views like that defended by Russell.

“We cannot in general talk about ‘the consequences’ of a claim (for instance, that the moon is made of green cheese) without somehow specifying a context of other claims against the background of which such consequences can be drawn. (Can we use what we know about the mammalian origins of cheese and take as a consequence that at one time the moon was made of milk, for instance?) Quine, in “Two Dogmas [of Empiricism]”, may be seen as arguing against the possibility of an atomistic theory of meaning (e.g. one which assigns to every sentence its ‘conceptual content’) that such meanings must at least determine the inferential roles of sentences, and that the roles of each sentence in a ‘web of belief’ depends on what other sentences inhabit that same web. In particular, whether anything counts as evidence for or against a certain claim … depends on what other sentences are held concurrently. Given any sentence, … and given any second sentence there will be some webs in which the second counts as evidence for the first, and some where it counts as evidence against the first, where what ‘web of belief’ is considered determines what other sentences are available as auxiliary hypotheses for inferences. Accepting the general Fregean line that meanings as theoretical constructs are postulated to express inferential potentials, Quine reminds us of basic facts about our inferential practices … to impugn the comprehensibility of assignments of conceptual role to individual sentences, unrelativized to some doxastic context. Conceptual roles can only be specified relative to a set of other sentences which are all and only those which can be used as auxiliary hypotheses, that is, as Quine puts it, at the level of whole theories-cum-languages, not at the level of individual sentences” (pp. 22-23).

Much of the ensuing discussion will revolve around conditionals, and what logicians call the implicational fragment of a logic, in which only implication is considered. This is a kind of minimal form for what constitutes a logic — if you specify a notion of implication, you have a logic. But the common modern truth-table definition of implication has been criticized from many quarters. Much work has been done on the precise definition of alternate or “better” notions of implication. This is one of the things Brandom will be doing here.

One of the most important questions about implication is whether it is “primitive” — i.e., something in terms of which other things are defined, which is itself considered to be defined only operationally (indirectly, by its use) — or whether it is to be defined in terms of something else, such as a truth table. For instance, category theory (by which all of mathematics can be interpreted) can be elaborated entirely in terms of primitive “arrows” or morphisms, which generalize both the notion of a mathematical function and that of logical implication. Arrow logics, which generalize modal logic, also start from a primitive notion of arrows. Later in this text, Brandom will develop his own notion of arrows as a primitive, alternate form of implication.

In the context of the debate about holism and atomism, it is interesting to consider the scholastic practice of debating for and against individual propositions. At top level, it seems atomistic, in that the propositions are taken up one at a time. But at a detailed level, the arguments turn out to be mostly about the consequences of accepting or rejecting the proposition under discussion. Brandom will argue that propositions are to be understood by the combination of their consequences and their conditions of appropriate use.

He turns to the question of what assertion is. The novelty here is that assertion will be explained in terms of primitive conditionals, rather than treated as primitive.

“The first step in our account of the semantic contents or conceptual roles sentences acquire in virtue of being used according to the practices expressed in some idiom is the introduction of some logical vocabulary. We understand the inference-licensing function of assertion by our model of justificatory systems of social practices. We will introduce the conditional as a compound sentence-form constructed out of the basic sentences on which some idiom is defined. The conceptual content of the conditionals will be stipulated; a sentence of the form pq is to have as content the inference-license of a statement of the appropriateness of an inference from the assertion of p to the assertion of q. Various formal inferential connections between such conditional sentences will then be elicited. For these formal principles to comprise a logic is for them to make possible the explicit formal codification of the material inferential and justificatory practices of some conceptual idiom. This is the task Frege sets for logic in the Begriffschrift — although in that work he succeeded only in completely codifying the formal inferences involving his logical constructions, his discussion makes clear that the ultimate criterion of adequacy for his conceptual notation is its capacity to express explicitly and precisely the contextual material inferences which define the conceptual roles of non-logical sentences” (p. 23).

We see here too some of the motivation for focusing on compound sentences — all sentences that include explicit conditionals are compound. But according to his analysis, it will turn out that simple sentences of the form “A is B” implicitly express a sort of minimal form of material inference.

I would suggest that the allegedly unconditional or categorical judgment “A is B” is best understood as a kind of shorthand for a judgment like A(x)→B(x). Aristotle’s concern with sayings leads him to treat the sentences that express propositions in a non-atomic way. He glosses “A is B” as expressing “combination” and “A is not B” as expressing “separation”. I have suggested that “combination” could be read as a relation of material consequence, and “separation” as a relation of material incompatibility. This means that for Aristotle too, a proposition can be considered a kind of minimal material inference. (See Aristotelian Propositions.)

“Once the conditional has been introduced as codifying the consequence relation implicit in material inferential practice, and its formal logical properties have been presented, we will use such conditionals both as models for the conceptual roles of non-logical sentences (which will have analogues of introduction and elimination rules, and will be given content as licensing inferences from their circumstances of appropriate application to the consequences of such application) and as tools for making those roles explicit” (ibid).

Treating conditionals as models for the conceptual roles of simple “non-logical” sentences like “A is B” begins from the intuition that these simple assertions are the potential antecedents or consequents of inferences, and that this role in possible inferences is what gives them specifiable meaning.

“We may think of the relation between basic and extended repertoires in a conceptual idiom as defining a consequence function on admissible sets of sentences. For the extended repertoire … comprises just those sentences which an individual would socially be held responsible for (in the sense that the relevant community members would recognize anaphoric deference of justificatory responsibility for claims of those types to that individual) in virtue of the dispositions that individual displays explicitly to undertake such responsibility for the sentences in his basic repertoire. The extended repertoire consists of those claims the community takes him to be committed to by being prepared to assert the claims in his basic repertoire. These community practices thus induce a consequence function which takes any admissible basic repertoire and assigns to it its consequence extension. The function only represents the consequences of individual sentences relative to some context, since we know what the consequences are of p together with all the other sentences in a basic repertoire containing p, but so far have no handle on which of these various consequences might ‘belong’ to p. Thus we have just the sort of material inferential relations Frege presupposes when he talks of the inferences which can be drawn from a given judgment ‘when combined with certain other ones’…. The idiom also expresses a material consistency relation…. The sets which are not idiomatically admissible repertoires are sets of sentences which one cannot have the right simultaneously to be disposed to assert, according to the practices … of the community from which the idiom is abstracted. The final component of a conceptual idiom as we have defined it is the conversational accessibility relation between repertoires” (pp. 23-24).

The accessibility relation will turn out to correspond to whether a sentence makes sense or is categorial nonsense like “Colorless green ideas sleep furiously”.

“Given such an idiom defined on a set of non-logical sentences, we will add conditional sentences pq to each of the consequence-extended repertoires in which, intuitively, p is inferentially sufficient for q, in such a way that the newly minted sentences have the standard inferential consequences of conditionals such that this formal swelling of the original repertoires is inferentially conservative, that is does not permit any material inferences which were not already permitted in the original idiom” (p. 24).

He defines an idiom as a triple consisting of a set of sets of sentences or basic repertoires, a function from basic repertoires to their consequence extensions, and a function from repertoires to the other repertoires “accessible” from each.

“Recalling the constitutive role of recognitions by accessible community members in determining consequence relations, we may further define p as juridically (inferentially) stronger than q at some repertoire R just in case p is actually stronger than q at every repertoire S accessible from R. This natural modal version of inferential sufficiency will be our semantic introduction rule for conditional sentences…. The conditional thus has a particular content in the context of a given repertoire, a content determined by the inferential roles played by its antecedent and consequent” (p. 25).

“We must show that the important formal properties of idioms are preserved by the introduction of conditionals, and that the conditionals so introduced have appropriate properties. In order to permit sentences with more than one arrow in them, we must swell the basic idiom with conditionals first, and then iterate the process adding conditionals which can have first-order conditionals as antecedents or consequents, and so on, showing that the relevant properties of conceptual idioms are preserved at each stage. Our procedure is this. Starting with a basic idiom …, we define a new idiom … with repertoires defined not just over the original set of non-logical sentences, but also containing first-order conditionals, as well as consequence and accessibility relations between them. The same procedure is repeated, and eventually we collect all the results” (ibid).

“The properties of conceptual idioms which must be preserved at each stage in this construction are these. First is the extension condition, that for any admissible repertoire R, R [is a subset of its consequence extension]. The motive for this condition is that the consequence extension c(R) of R is to represent those claims one is taken to be committed to in virtue of being prepared explicitly to take responsibility for the members of R, and certainly one has committed oneself to the claim one asserts, and licenses the trivial inference which is re-assertion justified by anaphoric deferral to one’s original performance. Second of the properties of conceptual idioms which we make use of is the interpolation condition, which specifies that any basic repertoire R which can be exhibited as the result of adding to some other repertoire S sentences each of which is contained in the consequence extension of S, has as its consequence extension c(R) just the set c(S).” (pp. 25-26).

“The idempotence of the consequence function, that for all [repertoires in the domain], c(c(R)) = c(R), is a consequence of the interpolation property. Of course this is a desirable circumstance, since we want idempotence in the relation which is interpreted as the closure under material inference (as constituted by social attributions of justificatory responsibility) of admissible basic repertoires” (p. 26).

“The consequence relation is contextual, in that a change in the total evidence which merely adds to that evidence may entail the denial of some claims which were consequences of the evidential subset. Allowing such a possibility is crucial for codifying material inferential practices, which are almost always defeasible by the introduction of some auxiliary hypothesis or other…. [B]oth ‘If I strike this match, it will light’, and ‘If I strike this match and I am under water, it will not light’, can be true and justified. Denying monotonicity (that if [one repertoire is a subset of another], then [its consequence extension is a subset of the consequence extension of the other]) forces our logic to take account of the relativity of material inference to total evidence at the outset, with relativity to context made an explicit part of the formalism instead of leaving that phenomenon to the embarrassed care of ceteris paribus [other things being equal] clauses because standard conditionals capture only formal inference, which is not context-sensitive” (p. 27).

Real things are in general sensitive to context, whereas formal logical tautologies are not.

Monotonicity is a property of logics such that if a conclusion follows from a set of premises, no addition of another premise will invalidate it. This is good for pure mathematics, but does not hold for material inference or any kind of causal reasoning, where context matters. The match will light if you strike it, but not if you strike it and it is wet, and so on.

“We are now in a position to investigate the logic of the arrow which this formal, non-substantive expansion of the basic idiom induces. To do so, we look at the sentences which are idiomatically valid, in that every repertoire in the formally expanded idiom contains these sentences in its consequence extension. First, and as an example, we show that if p is in some consequence-extended repertoire, and pq is also in that repertoire, then so is q, that is, that modus ponens is supported by the arrow” (p. 29).

What he calls a basic repertoire is defined by some set of simple beliefs, assumptions, or presumed facts, with no specifically logical operations defined on it. Non-substantive expansion leaves these unchanged, but adds logical operations or rules.

At this point he proves that modus ponens (the rule that p and (p implies q) implies q, which he elsewhere refers to as “detachment” of q) applies to the conditional as he has specified it. Additional theorems are proved in an appendix.

“[T]he most unusual feature of the resulting logic is its two-class structure, treating conditionals whose antecedents are other conditionals rather differently from the way in which it treats conditionals involving only basic sentences. This feature is a direct consequence of the introduction of first-order conditionals based on material inferential circumstances of the repertoire in question, and higher-order conditionals according to purely formal, materially conservative criteria. Thus it is obvious from inspection of the … steps of our construction of the hierarchy of conditionals that the complement of basic sentences in a consequence extended repertoire is never altered during that construction, and that the novel repertoires introduced always have first-order restrictions which are elements of the original set…. Higher-order conditionals, of course, are what are added to the original idiom, and … those conditionals obey a standard modal logic. The principles governing conditionals with basic sentences as antecedents or consequents, however, are those of the pure implicational fragment of Belnap and Anderson’s system EI of entailment” (ibid).

Belnap and Anderson worked on relevance logic, which restricts valid inference to the case where premises are relevant to the conclusion. The premises of a material inference are always “relevant” in this sense. Formal inference on the other hand doesn’t care what the underlying terms or propositions are. It is entirely governed by the abstractly specified behavior of the formal operators, whereas material inference is entirely governed by the “content” of constituent terms or propositions.

That there would be two distinct kinds of conditionals — first-order ones that formally codify material inferences, and higher-order ones that operate on other conditionals in a purely formal way — seems consonant with other cases in which there is a qualitative difference between first-order things and second-order things, but no qualitative difference between second-order and nth-order for any finite n.

“We may view the conditionals which end up included in the consequence extensions of formally extended repertoires as partially ordering all of the sentences of the (syntactically specified) language. Since according to our introduction rule, a repertoire will contain conditionals whose antecedents and consequents are not contained in that (extended) repertoire, the ordering so induced is not limited to the sentences of the repertoire from which the ordering conditionals are drawn. Although the conditional induces an appropriately transitive and reflexive relation on the sentences of the language, the ordering will not be total (since for some p, q and R [in the domain], it may be that neither pq nor qp is in c(R)), and it will not be complete, in that sentences appearing only in inaccessible repertoires will have only trivial implication relations (e.g. p→p)” (ibid).

“The conditionals which do not have antecedents in c(R) are counterfactual with respect to R. These are of three kinds: i) those taken true by the theory codified in the repertoire, that is, counterfactuals in c(R), ii) those taken not to be true, i.e. conditionals not in c(R) but on which R induces non-trivial entailments, and iii) inaccessible counterfactuals, assigned no significance by the extended repertoire (e.g. ‘If the number seventeen were a dry, well-made match’, an antecedent generating counterfactuals which, with respect to a certain set of beliefs or repertoire simply makes no sense). Entailment relations between counterfactuals of the first two kinds and between each of them and base sentences will be underwritten by the induced partial ordering, all depending on the original material inferential practices involving only base sentences” (pp. 29-30).

There are many counterfactuals that we take to be true. For example, if I had left earlier, I would have arrived earlier. In fact counterfactuals are essential to any truth that has any robustness. Without counterfactuals, what Brandom is calling an idiom could apply only to some exactly specified set of facts or true statements. This would makes it very brittle and narrowly applicable. For example, any kind of causal reasoning requires counterfactuals, because causes are expected to operate under a range of circumstances, which by definition cannot all hold at the same time. Counterfactuals play an important role in Brandom’s later work.

“The repertoire which induces such a partial ordering by its conditionals will then be a distinguished subset of the sentences it orders, one which Theorem 1 assures us is deductively closed under modus ponens. Each repertoire is in short a theory or set of beliefs, embedded in a larger linguistic structure defining the implications of the sentences in that theory. Not only do different repertoires codify different theories, but they assign different significances to syntactically type-identical sentences of those theories, in that p as an element of c(R) may have one set of inferential consequences, and as an element of c(R’) have a different set of consequences. The repertoires ordered by their indigenous implication relations thus deserve to be called ‘webs of belief’ in Quine’s sense, as the smallest units of analysis within which sentences have significance. The idiom, comprising all of these repertorial structures of implicational significance and embedded belief, is not a set of meanings common and antecedent to the repertoires, but is the structure within which each such web of belief is a linguistic perspective made possible by a justificatory system of social practices” (p. 30).

Each repertoire counts as a “theory” or set of beliefs.

“The systematic variation of the significance of those sentences from one individual to another expressed in a formally expanded idiom then exactly answers to whatever communication is going on in the original set of practices. The possibility of communication consists in [a] kind of coordination of significances across repertoires codified in a formally expanded idiom” (p. 31).

The success or failure of communication depends on something like a kind of translation from your repertoire to mine.

“We have described the practical origins and effects of elements of extended repertoires which are first-order sentences of the language, in terms of attributions and undertakings of justificatory responsibility and the issuing and recognition of inferential authority. What, in these terms, should we take to be the significance of a conditional pq? The presence of such a conditional in the formally expanded consequence extension of the repertoire exhibited by an individual should signify, first, that that individual recognizes others who are prepared to assert p as licensing the inference to q, and, second, that he recognizes the assertion of p as justifying the assertion of q” (p. 32).

“So if all those recognized by the individual exhibiting R are responsible for the conditional pq and p [is in] c(R), then q [is in] c(R), which means that pq plays the proper role as codifying the recognition of inferential licensing and appropriate justification of q by p” (ibid).

“Finally, we state a more general condition under which the arrow we have defined will be a practically complete expression of a justificatory system” (ibid).

Next in this series: Anaphora and Prosentences

Uncurtailed Communication

Habermas has said that reaching understanding is the inherent telos of human speech. While deeply involved in the theory of empirical social science, he wants to look at language beyond its status as an empirical phenomenon, to the expansive ethical possibilities of “uncurtailed communication”. This is closely bound up with his idea of communicative action as representing the kind of ideal speech situation that I have summarized as “dialogue under conditions of mutual recognition“. Uncurtailed communication would be a full-blooded realization of the Enlightenment values of freedom and equality. At the same time, it gives freedom and equality a more specific reference, by developing intersubjectivity at the micro level of concrete interactions between people.

“Even the strategic model of action can be understood in such a way that the participants’ actions, directed through egocentric calculations of utility and coordinated through interest situations, are mediated through speech acts. In the cases of normatively regulated and dramaturgical action we even have to suppose a consensus formation among participants that is in principle of a linguistic nature. Nevertheless, in these three models of action language is conceived one-sidedly in different respects” (Theory of Communicative Action vol. 1, p. 94).

Again we should note that he is using the terms “normative” and “teleological” in different senses than I have been developing here. This homonymy need not be an issue, provided that we keep each meaning distinct.

“The teleological [sic] model of action takes language as one of several media through which speakers oriented to their own success can influence one another in order to bring opponents to form or to grasp beliefs and intentions that are in the speakers’ own interest. This concept of language — developed from the limit case of indirect communication aimed at getting someone to form a belief, an intention, or the like — is, for instance, basic to intentionalist semantics. The normative model of action presupposes language as a medium that transmits cultural values and carries a consensus that is merely reproduced with each additional act of understanding. This culturalist concept of language is widespread in cultural anthropology and content-oriented linguistics. The dramaturgical model of action presupposes language as a medium of self-presentation; the cognitive significance of the propositional components are thereby played down in favor of the expressive functions of speech acts. Language is assimilated to stylistic and aesthetic forms of expression” (p. 95, emphasis in original).

The “teleological” and “normative” models that he criticizes both treat language and values as inert, while the dramaturgical one focuses on immediate presentation. The notion of intentionality that Habermas uses here is not the very innovative one that Brandom attributes to Kant, but a more standard, empiricist one.

He clarifies what he means by “formal pragmatics”, linking it to the notion of uncurtailed communication. This quality of being uncurtailed relates not only to a micro-level realization of freedom and equality, but also to the addressing of all three of Popper’s “worlds”.

“Only the communicative model of action presupposes language as a medium of uncurtailed communication whereby speakers and hearers, out of the context of their preinterpreted lifeworld, refer simultaneously to things in the objective, social, and subjective worlds in order to negotiate common definitions of the situation. This interpretive concept of language lies behind the various efforts to develop a formal pragmatics” (p. 95, emphasis in original).

I really like this point about “uncurtailed” communication. It has important consequences for personal life too.

“The one-sidedness of the first three concepts of language can be seen in the fact that the corresponding types of communication singled out by them prove to be limit cases of communicative action…. In each case only one function of language is thematized: the release of perlocutionary effects, the establishment of interpersonal relations, and the expression of subjective experiences. By contrast, the communicative model of action, which defines the traditions of social science connected with Mead’s symbolic interactionism, Wittgenstein’s concept of language games, Austin’s theory of speech acts, and Gadamer’s hermeneutics, takes all the functions of language equally into consideration” (ibid).

“In order to avoid mislocating the concept of communicative action from the start, I would like to characterize the level of complexity of speech acts that simultaneously express a propositional content, the offer of an interpersonal relationship, and the intention of the speaker” (p. 96, emphasis added).

Habermas wants to define or discover communicative action as involving all three of Popper’s worlds. The mislocation he speaks of reminds me of some silly debates about whether Aristotle’s Categories is about language or about the world, as if these were two mutually exclusive possibilities, when there is clear textual evidence that Aristotle aims at both.

“In the course of the analysis it will become evident how much this concept owes to investigations in the philosophy of language stemming from Wittgenstein. Precisely for this reason it might be well to point out that the concept of following a rule with which analytic philosophy begins does not go far enough. If one grasps linguistic conventions only from the perspective of rule following, and explains them by means of a concept of intentions based on rule consciousness, one loses that aspect of the threefold relation to the world of communicative agents that is important for me” (ibid).

This is an important qualification to keep in mind. Habermas elsewhere stresses a Kantian emphasis on rules, which is intended to avoid particularism. Here he effectively recognizes that rules are not a sufficient basis for meta-ethical interpretation.

(Earlier, I had expected to move quickly to his discussions of discourse ethics, but I must confess that so far, I find those to be rather narrowly technical. There seems to be richer “ethical” content here in his main work that inspires me to write than in those discussions. But my personal view is that broad meta-ethical inquiry is the actual heart of ethics, and is what ought to constitute first philosophy. I relate this to Brandom’s thesis that meta-ethics is properly “normative all the way down”, and need never reduce ethical conclusions to non-normative ones. I recall also Aristotle’s advice (Nicomachean Ethics book 1) not to seek greater precision in an inquiry than is appropriate to the subject matter.)

“I shall use the term ‘action’ only for those symbolic expressions with which the actor takes up a relation to at least one world. I shall distinguish from actions the bodily movements and operations that are concurrently executed…. In a certain sense, actions are realized through movements of the body, but only in such a way that the actor, in following a technical or social rule, concomitantly executes these movements. Concomitant execution means that the actor intends an action but not the bodily movements with the help of which he realizes it. A bodily movement is an element of an action but not an action” (pp. 96-97, emphasis in original).

Action is not reducible to motion. It involves “relating to a world”. I would also put a caveat on language like “the actor intends”, which reflects neither an innovative account of Aristotelian act like Aubry’s, nor an innovative account of Kantian intentionality like Brandom’s. Habermas rejects what he calls the philosophy of consciousness, but seems to retain a relatively conventional notion of an acting subject.

“Operational rules do not have explanatory power; following them does not mean, as does following rules of action, that the actor is relating to something in the world and is thereby oriented to validity claims connected with action-motivated reasons” (p. 98).

This seems to be a development of Kant’s distinction between being governed by rules and being governed by concepts of rules, which he associates exclusively with free rational beings.

“This should make clear why we cannot analyze communicative utterances in the same way as we do the grammatical sentences with the help of which we carry them out. For the communicative model of action, language is relevant only from the pragmatic viewpoint that speakers, in employing sentences with an orientation to reaching understanding, take up relations to the world, not only directly as in teleological [sic], normatively regulated, or dramaturgical action, but in a reflective way. Speakers integrate the three formal world-concepts, which appear in the other modes of action either singly or in pairs, into a system…. They no longer relate straightaway to something in the objective, social, or subjective worlds; instead they relativize their utterances against the possibility that their validity will be contested by other actors…. A speaker puts forward a criticizable claim in relating with his utterance to at least one ‘world’; he thereby uses the fact that this relation between actor and world is in principle open to objective appraisal in order to call upon his opposite number to take a rationally motivated position” (pp. 98-99, emphasis in original).

Taking up relations to the world in a reflective way is what we’re about here.

“Thus the speaker claims truth for statements or existential presuppositions, rightness for legitimately regulated actions and their normative context, and truthfulness or sincerity for the manifestation of subjective experiences. We can easily recognize therein the three relations of actor to world presupposed by the social scientist in the previously analyzed concepts of action; but in the context of communicative action they are ascribed to the perspective of the speakers and hearers themselves. It is the actors themselves who seek consensus and measure it against truth, rightness, and sincerity, that is, against the ‘fit’ or ‘misfit’ between the speech act, on the one hand, and the three worlds to which the actor takes up relations with his utterance, on the other (pp. 99-100).

This way of formulating the matter seems like it would also be applicable to interpersonal relations, independent of its relevance to social science.

“For both parties the interpretive task consists in incorporating the other’s interpretation of the situation into one’s own in such a way that in the revised version ‘his’ external world and ‘my’ external world can — against the background of ‘our’ lifeworld — be relativized in relation to ‘the’ world, and the divergent situation definitions can be brought to coincide sufficiently. Naturally this does not mean that interpretation must lead in every case to a stable and unambiguously differentiated assignment. Stability and absence of ambiguity are rather the exception in the communicative picture of everyday life” (p. 100).

Life with others is a negotiation of shared interpretation. The process can also fail.

Next in this series: Understanding Social Actions

Popper’s Three Worlds

Habermas in the third chapter of Theory of Communicative Action quotes the noted philosopher of science Karl Popper’s 1967 address “Epistemology Without a Knowing Subject”, which surprised the empiricist community by claiming that besides physical objects and states of consciousness there must also be “the world of objective contents of thought, especially of scientific and poetic thoughts and of works of art” (vol. 1 p. 76, emphasis in original). I must confess that I have deprioritized Popper, due to his horrible but influential claim in The Open Society and Its Enemies (1945) that Plato and Hegel sow the seeds of totalitarianism. But on the contents of thought, he is worth listening to.

According to Habermas, Popper takes up Frege and Husserl’s critique of psychologism.

“Popper is criticizing the fundamental empiricist conception of a subject that confronts the world in an immediate way…. This problem context explains why he understands his doctrine of objective mind as a critical extension of the empiricist concept and introduces both objective and subjective mind as ‘worlds’, that is, as special totalities of entities. The older theories of objective mind or spirit developed in the historicist and neo-Hegelian traditions from Dilthey… start from an active mind that expounds itself in the worlds it constitutes. By contrast, Popper holds fast to the primacy of the world in relation to mind…. The world counts as the totality of what is the case” (pp. 76-77).

The last part is a famous formulation from Wittgenstein.

What Habermas calls a historicist “active mind” seems to recall stereotypes of Hegel rather than anything in Aristotle. Habermas sides with Popper against bad Hegelianism. He does not seem to share Robert Pippin’s concern to insist on the purely active character of human understanding. I take this to be a good thing.

“Popper distinguishes between explicit semantic contents that are already embodied in phonemes and written signs, in color or stone, in machines, and so forth, on the one hand, and those implicit semantic contents that are not yet ‘discovered’, not yet objectified in carrier objects of the first world, but are simply inherent in already embodied meanings. Symbolic formations… confront subjective mind with the objectivity of a problematic, uncomprehended complex of meaning that can be opened up only through intellectual labor. The products of the human mind immediately turn against it as problems” (p. 77, emphasis in original).

I like the emphasis on problems. Meanings are never just there, or simply given. All meaning has a problematic aspect, when examined closely enough. All meaning is subject to interpretation. That is one reason why the cooperative social aspect of communication is so important.

“These problems are clearly autonomous. They are in no sense made by us; and in this sense they exist, undiscovered, before their discovery. Moreover, at least some of these problems may be insoluble” (ibid).

“[T]he moment we have produced … theories, they create new, unintended and unexpected problems, autonomous problems, problems to be discovered. This explains why the third world, which in its origin is our product, is autonomous in what may be called its ontological status. It explains why we can act upon it and add to it or help its growth, even though no one can master even a small corner of this world. All of us contribute to its growth, but almost all of our individual contributions are vanishingly small. All of us try to grasp it, and none of us could live without being in contact with it, for all of us make use of speech, without which we would hardly be human. Yet the third world has grown far beyond the grasp not only of any individual but even of all individuals (as shown by the existence of insoluble problems)” (p. 78).

Meaning also has or can have its own kind of objectivity, tied neither to physical things nor to an individual subject or community. Its objectivity and its problematic character need to be thought together.

“This entails a renunciation of two fundamental empiricist conceptions. On the one hand, the entities of the third world cannot be reduced — as forms of expression of subjective mind — to mental states, that is, to entities of the second world. On the other hand, the relations between entities of the first and second worlds cannot be conceived exclusively in terms of the causal model that holds for relations between entities of the first world themselves. Popper bars the way both to a psychologistic conception of objective mind and to a physicalistic conception of subjective mind. The autonomy of the third world guarantees instead that knowledge of, as well as intervention into, states of the objective world are mediated through discovery of the independence of internal meaning connections” (ibid, emphasis added).

Meaning exists only in relation to other meaning. It is made up of “internal connections”. Efficient causality is useful for getting things done, but is a poor fit for the understanding of human reality.

“The development of science, which Popper understands as a cumulative feedback process involving initial problems, creative formation of hypotheses, critical testing, revision, and discovery of new problems, not only serves as the model for subjective mind’s grasp of the world of objective mind; according to Popper, the third world is essentially made up of problems, theories, and arguments. He does also mention, in addition to theories and tools, social institutions and works of art as examples of entities in the third world…. Strictly speaking, the third world is the totality of Fregean Gedanken [thoughts], whether true or false, embodied or not” (p. 79, emphasis in original).

“Popper not only conceives of the third world in ontological terms as a totality of entities with a specific mode of being; within this framework he also understands it in a one-sided manner, from the conceptual perspective of the development of science” (ibid).

Otherwise said, Popper — like many of the moderns — still privileges efficient causality.

“Both aspects prove to be severe restrictions in the attempt to make Popper’s concept of the third world useful for the foundations of sociology. I.C. Jarvie starts from the phenomenological sociology of knowledge inspired by Alfred Schutz, which conceives of society as a social construction of the everyday world that issues from the interpretive processes of acting subjects and congeals into objectivity. But he analyzes the ontological status of the social life-context , which is produced by the human mind and yet preserves a relative independence from it, on the model of the third world” (ibid).

“[C]arrying Popper’s three-world theory over from epistemological to action-theoretic contexts makes the weaknesses of the construction visible” (p. 80).

“Jarvie neglects the elements of cultural tradition that cannot be reduced to Gedanken or propositions admitting of truth. He limits the objective complexes of meaning that acting subjects both produce and discover to cognitive interpretations in the narrow sense. In this respect Popper’s model of the third world is particularly implausible, for the action-orienting power of cultural values is at least as important for interactions as that of theories. Either the status of societal entities is assimilated to that of theories; or … it permits no distinction between cultural values and the institutional embodiment of values in norms” (p. 81).

Habermas criticizes both narrow cognitivism and its reduction of everything to efficient causes.

“To begin with, I would like to replace the ontological concept of ‘world’ with one derived from the phenomenological tradition and to adopt the pair of concepts ‘world’ and ‘lifeworld’…. [P]henomenologists like Alfred Schutz speak of the lifeworld as the unthematically given horizon within which participants in communication move in common when they refer thematically to something in the world” (p. 82).

“I would like to replace the one-sidedly cognitivistic interpretation of the concept ‘objective mind’ with a concept of cultural knowledge differentiated according to several validity claims…. From the perspective of action theory, the activities of the human mind are not easily limited to the cognitive-instrumental confrontation with external nature; social actions are oriented to cultural values and these do not have a truth relation” (p. 83).

Much of his first volume will be taken up with a reading of the neo-Kantian sociology of Max Weber. Habermas positions Weber’s stance as an alternative to Jarvie’s use of Popper.

“Weber understands cultural tradition in toto as a store of knowledge out of which special spheres of value and systems of knowledge are formed under different validity claims. He would thus include in the third world the evaluative and expressive components of culture as well as the cognitive-instrumental. If one adopts this alternative, one must of course explain what ‘validity’ and ‘knowledge’ can mean in regard to the noncognitive components of culture” (p. 84).

I am sympathetic to Brandom’s idea that evaluative and expressive aspects not only need to be included, but come first in the order of explanation.

“Participants in communication who are seeking to come to an understanding with one another about something do not take up a relation only to the one objective world, as is suggested by the precommunicative model dominant in empiricism. They by no means refer only to things that happen or could happen or could be made to happen in the objective world, but to things in the subjective and social worlds as well” (ibid).

With what he calls the communicative model, Habermas aims to conclusively move beyond egocentrism and physicalistic reductionism in the understanding of the human.

Next in this series: Models of Action

Communicative Action

When it appeared, Habermas’s Theory of Communicative Action was called the most ambitious study in social theory in recent memory. Its scope is far larger than I will address. Here my aim is only to capture a few top-level highlights from his first chapter that are relevant in an ethical context.

Habermas aims to develop a notion of communicative action that treats meaning as inherently social, thus overcoming the modern “philosophy of consciousness” that threatens to reduce everything to individual subjectivity. At the same time, he emphasizes that every saying is a doing.

“To the goal of formally analyzing the conditions of rationality, we can tie neither ontological hopes for substantive theories of nature, history, society, and so forth, nor transcendental-philosophical hopes for an aprioristic reconstruction of the equipment of a nonempirical species subject, of consciousness in general. All attempts at discovering ultimate foundations, in which the intentions of First Philosophy live on, have broken down…. Theories of modern empirical science, whether along the lines of logical empiricism, critical rationalism, or constructivism, make a normative and at the same time universalistic claim that is no longer covered by fundamental assumptions of an ontological or transcendental-philosophical nature” (vol. 1, p. 2).

I’m a little more hopeful that first philosophy is still a meaningful endeavor. Correlated with this difference, Habermas seems to regard Aristotelian first philosophy as inevitably foundationalist, whereas I think that is by no means the case. But this all has to do with what we mean by first philosophy. For example, Avicenna complains that Aristotle should have put the first cause at the beginning of the Metaphysics, rather than only arriving at it at the end. That is to say, Avicenna takes a foundationalist view of the first cause as the Necessary Being (God), from which all else follows. Aristotle instead takes a hermeneutic approach, starting with the concrete while cultivating a variant of what Paul Ricoeur calls the long detour. Habermas too speaks of hermeneutics in this context.

“[R]ationality has less to do with the possession of knowledge than with how speaking and acting subjects acquire and use knowledge” (p. 8).

“We can call men and women, children and adults, ministers and bus conductors ‘rational’, but not animals or lilac bushes, mountains, streets, or chairs. We can call apologies, delays, surgical interventions, declarations of war, repairs, construction plans or conference decisions ‘irrational’, but not a storm, an accident, a lottery win, or an illness” (p. 9).

One way to think of this is that rationality and irrationality (and normative properties in general) are properly said only of things that have intentional structure, which is something different from sensible form or gestalt.

Habermas examines in detail Max Weber’s early 20th century theory of modernity as an increasing, primarily economic but also scientific and technological, “rationalization” of society. He points out that Weber was actually highly critical of the effects of this rationalization. This kind of rationalization is exclusively concerned with what the Frankfurt school critical theorists Horkheimer and Adorno called instrumental reason, which involves a calculating, utilitarian approach to the selection of means, while downplaying any evaluation of the goodness of ends. Horkheimer and Adorno were pessimists about modernity. In this regard, Habermas is much closer to Rorty and Brandom, in that all three are optimists about modernity.

Habermas sees a night-and-day contrast between instrumental reason and the communicative reason he is concerned to promote. In Aristotelian terms, instrumental reason treats everything in light of a degraded concept of efficient causality, as if that were the only thing that is relevant. Communicative reason on the other hand aims at shared understanding, and shared understanding implicitly tends toward universality.

“These reflections point in the direction of basing rationality of an expression on its being susceptible of criticism and grounding…. A judgment can be objective if it is undertaken on the basis of a transsubjective validity claim that has the same meaning for observers and nonparticipants as it has for the acting subject himself. Truth and efficiency are claims of this kind. Thus assertions and goal-directed actions are the more rational the better the claim (to propositional truth or to efficiency that is connected with them) can be defended against criticism” (ibid).

“This concept of communicative rationality carries with it connotations based ultimately on the central experience of the unconstrained, unifying, consensus-bringing force of argumentative speech, in which different participants overcome their merely subjective views and, owing to the mutuality of rationally motivated conviction, assure themselves of both the unity of the objective world and the intersubjectivity of their lifeworld” (p. 10, emphasis in original).

“It is constitutive of the rationality of the utterance that the speaker raises a criticizable validity claim for the proposition p, a claim that the hearer can accept or reject for good reason…. It is constitutive of the action’s rationality that the actor bases it on a plan that implies the truth of p…. An assertion can be called rational only if the speaker satisfies the conditions necessary to achieve the illocutionary goal of reaching an understanding about something in the world with at least one other participant in communication” (p. 11).

“Behavioral reactions of an externally or internally stimulated organism, and environmentally induced changes of state in a self-regulated system can indeed be understood as quasi-actions, that is, as if they were the expressions of a subject’s capacity for action. But this is to speak of rationality only in a figurative sense, for the susceptiblity to criticism and grounding that we require of rational expressions means that the subject to whom they are attributed should, under suitable conditions, himself be able to provide reasons or grounds” (p. 12, emphasis in original).

This recalls Rorty’s anti-authoritarianism argument.

To make assertions at all is to invite critical discussion. This is a very familiar point from Brandom. Brandom himself acknowledges significant influence from Habermas.

This kind of free inquiry is also exactly what Socrates was all about. Plato implicitly illustrates it time and again through abundant examples in his dialogues.

“The abstract concept of the world is a necessary condition if communicatively acting subjects are to reach understanding among themselves about what takes place in the world or is to be effected in it. Through this communicative practice they assure themselves at the same time of their common life-relations, of an intersubjectively shared lifeworld. This life world is bounded by the totality of interpretations presupposed by the members as background knowledge. To elucidate the concept of rationality the phenomenologist must then examine the conditions for communicatively achieved consensus” (p. 13, emphasis in original).

Husserl’s notions of intersubjectivity and lifeworld were extensively developed in the socially oriented phenomenology of Alfred Schutz, to which Habermas makes reference.

“In the context of communicative action, only those persons count as responsible who, as members of a communication-community, can orient their actions to intersubjectively recognized validity claims” (p. 14).

Intersubjectivity — genuine sharing and community — also counts as an ethical ideal. Habermas advocates “dialogical” approaches instead of “monological” ones.

“But there are obviously other types of expressions for which we can have good reasons, even though they are not tied to truth or success claims” (p. 15, emphasis in original).

Normatively regulated actions and expressive self-presentations have, like assertions or constative speech acts, the character of meaningful expressions, understandable in their context, which are connected with criticizable validity claims. Their reference is to norms and subjective experiences rather than to facts. The agent makes the claim that his behavior is right in relation to a normative context recognized as legitimate, or that first-person utterance of an experience to which he has privileged access is truthful or sincere. Like constative speech acts, these expressions can also go wrong. The possibility of intersubjective recognition of criticizable validity claims is constitutive for their rationality too” (pp. 15-16, emphasis in original).

He takes very seriously the notion of argumentation, discussing at some length the work of Stephen Toulmin. This approach dwells on the validity of arguments, rather than the deduction of conclusions from assumptions.

“Thus the rationality proper to the communicative practice of everyday life points to the practice of argumentation as a court of appeal that makes it possible to continue communicative action with other means when disagreements can no longer be repaired with everyday routines and yet are not to be settled by the direct or strategic use of force” (pp. 17-18).

“Corresponding to the openness of rational expressions to being explained, there is, on the side of persons who behave rationally, a willingness to expose themselves to criticism and, if necessary, to participate properly in argumentation” (p. 18).

“In virtue of their criticizability, rational expressions also admit of improvement; we can correct failed attempts if we can successfully identify our mistakes. The concept of grounding is interwoven with that of learning” (ibid).

“In philosophical ethics, it is by no means agreed that the validity claims connected with norms of action, upon which commands or ‘ought’ sentences are based, can, analogously to truth claims, be redeemed discursively. In everyday life, however, no one would enter into moral argumentation if he did not start from the strong presupposition that a grounded consensus could in principle be be achieved among those involved. In my view, this follows with conceptual necessity from the meaning of normative validity claims” (p.19, emphasis in original).

“Anyone who systematically deceives himself about himself behaves irrationally. But one who is capable of letting himself be enlightened about his irrationality possesses not only the rationality of a subject who is competent to judge facts and who acts in a purposive-rational way, who is morally judicious and practically reliable, who evaluates with sensitivity and is aesthetically open-minded; he also possesses the power to behave reflectively in relation to his subjectivity and to see through the irrational limitations to which his cognitive, moral-practical, and aesthetic-practical expressions are subject. In such a process of self-reflection, reasons and grounds also play a role” (p. 20).

“One behaves irrationally if one employs one’s own symbolic means of expression in a dogmatic way. On the other hand, explicative discourse is a form of argumentation in which the comprehensibility, well-formedness, or rule-correctness is no longer naively supposed or contested but is thematized as a controversial claim” (p. 22).

“We can summarize the above as follows: Rationality is understood to be a disposition of speaking and acting subjects that is expressed in modes of behavior for which there are good reasons or grounds” (ibid).

“Argumentation makes possible behavior that counts as rational in a specific sense, namely learning from explicit mistakes” (ibid).

“But if the validity of arguments can be neither undermined in an empiricist manner nor grounded in an absolutist manner, then we are faced with precisely those questions to which the logic of argumentation is supposed to provide the answers: How can problematic validity claims be supported by good reasons? How can reasons be criticized in turn? What makes some arguments, and thus some reasons, which are related to validity claims in a certain way, stronger or weaker than other arguments?” (p. 24).

“We can distinguish three aspects of argumentative speech. First, considered as a process, we have to do with a form of communication that is improbable in that it sufficiently approximates ideal conditions. In this regard, I tried to delineate the general pragmatic presuppositions of argumentation as specifications of an ideal speech situation. This proposal may be unsatisfactory in its details; but I still view as correct my intention to reconstruct the general symmetry conditions that every competent speaker must presuppose are sufficiently satisfied insofar as he intends to enter into argumentation at all” (p. 25).

More generally, I think we can say that an ideal speech situation is characterized by dialogue under conditions of mutual recognition.

“Participants in argumentation have to presuppose in general that the structure of their communication, by virtue of features that can be described in purely formal terms, excludes all force — except the force of the better argument (and thus that it also excludes, on their part, all motives except that of a cooperative search for truth). From this perspective argumentation can be conceived as a reflective continuation, with different means, of action oriented to reaching understanding” (ibid, emphasis in original).

“The fundamental intuition connected with argumentation can best be characterized from the process perspective by the intention of convincing a universal audience and gaining assent for an utterance; from the procedural perspective, by the intention of ending a dispute about hypothetical validity claims with a rationally motivated agreement; and from the product perspective by the intention of grounding or redeeming a validity claim with arguments” (p. 26).

Next in this series: Worldview, Lifeworld

Ethics of Communication

The work of Jürgen Habermas, whom I recently cited, has both significant points of commonality and significant points of contrast with that of Robert Brandom, who first opened my eyes to a sympathetic reading of Kant and Hegel. I’d like to explore how both of these can be related to the broad aims of Platonic dialogue. Eventually, I also hope to relate this all to the needs and circumstances of emotionally sensitive personal communication between individuals.

Most human sayings of things have ethical significance. Many if not most human conflicts are traceable to communication issues. Habermas is mainly interested in exploring this at a broad social and political level. At this point in my life, I mainly hope to have some positive impact on the micro level of personal relationships. But in the world, there are close connections between these, and it would be artificial to try to completely separate them.

Habermas combines a broadly Kantian, procedural and “cognitivist”, rules- and rights-oriented concept of morality with a post-Kantian concern for intersubjectivity. He combines serious attention to German and American sociology, law, and political science, with a sympathy for both American pragmatism and the social criticism of the Young Hegelians and the Frankfurt school. He has a rather old-school, negative view of Hegel, but defends the relevance and usefulness of the broader tradition of German idealism, construed in a way that is compatible with modern science.

Brandom explicitly credits Habermas as an early influence, but also finds great value and contemporary relevance in Hegel. Brandom and Habermas have each written some about the other. Like Brandom, Habermas is a strong defender of modernity, and of the core Enlightenment values of democratic freedom and equality.

Often cited as Habermas’s magnum opus is the two-volume Theory of Communicative Action (German ed. 1981; English tr. 1984, 1987). Like Brandom, he regards the pragmatics (simply put, the use) of language as coming before semantics or the study of meaning. Habermas directly associates the pragmatics of language with justification and the giving of reasons.

Habermas and Brandom both connect linguistic pragmatics with American pragmatist philosophy, by recognizing that saying is a kind of doing. They both see meaning in terms of dialogue about reasons, which I think should also be strongly associated with Platonic dialogue.

The theory of communicative action is intended mainly as an explanatory theory dealing with questions of publicly addressable fact. It deliberately straddles the boundary between philosophy and social science.

Unlike Brandom, Habermas talks about a formal pragmatics, and a non-standard formal semantics (inspired by Michael Dummet’s argument that verification comes before truth, which also has affinities with constructive logic). Brandom applies a kind of Hegelian dislike of formalism in developing an account of material inference.

Habermas is also the leading promoter of what he calls discourse ethics, about which I’ll have more to say in upcoming posts. Moral Consciousness and Communicative Action (German ed. 1983, English tr. 1990) and Justification and Application: Remarks on Discourse Ethics (German ed. 1991, English tr. 1993) develop his more specific views on ethics and morality. Between Facts and Norms: Contributions to a Discourse Theory of Law and Democracy (German ed.1992, English tr. 1996) applies closely related principles at the level of politics and law. These are large and sophisticated developments, with many nuances that are not very amenable to haiku-like summary, but nonetheless, over the course of a few posts, I hope to capture an overview.

I see Platonic dialogue as a kind of ideal model for what Habermas calls communication, corresponding to what Hegel, Brandom, and Habermas all call mutual recognition. At the same time, the various prerequisites for good dialogue are constitutive for meta-level judgment about our practices of communication in life. This applies as much to overcoming misunderstandings between individuals in personal life, as it does to law and politics.

Next in this series: Communicative Action