Tag: Discourse

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 p→q 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 p → q 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 p→q 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 p→q nor q→p 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 p→q? 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 p→q and p [is in] c(R), then q [is in] c(R), which means that p→q 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

Pragmatics of Inquiry

The third chapter of Brandom’s 1976 dissertation addresses a dispute in 20th-century philosophy of science between “realism” and “instrumentalism”. He aims to overcome this dichotomy with the help of concepts developed by John Dewey (1859-1952). Besides its intrinsic interest, the discussion sheds additional light on several terms that are prominent in Brandom’s later work.

“Within the structure of classical (positivist) philosophy of science there was a genuine and easily formulable issue between realists and instrumentalists concerning the nature of scientific theories. Both parties agreed that statements reporting observations are either true or false, and that the terms used in true observational statements refer to actual objects and properties. The realist claimed that theoretical statements are also true or false, and that if true their terms refer to actual objects and properties. The instrumentalist regarded theoretical statements as convenient codifications of inferential practices concerning observational statements. Theoretical statements are rather to be read as expressing rules for complicated practices of material inference. The origin of this suggestion for reading putative propositions as rules for inferential practices lies in the fact that in a formal logical system one can in general replace any premise such as ‘n is an A‘ with material inferential rules of the form ‘From “All As are Bs” infer “n is a B” ‘ ” (Brandom, “Practice and Object”, p. 71).

Here Brandom already makes use of Sellars’ notion of material inference, which is the foundation of the “inferentialism” that will be propounded in his first big book Making It Explicit (1994). Within the current chapter, he approaches realism and instrumentalism in an even-handed manner, but his references to this discussion elsewhere in this work are slanted in the direction of criticizing instrumentalism. Given that his later inferentialism advocates something closely related to what he criticizes here, it is clear that his thinking on this matter has evolved.

In the current context, “realism” refers not to a direct or naive realism (the idea that we directly interact with objectively real things, which are more or less as we take them to be), but to a commitment to the reality of theoretical objects. Alongside this he implicitly portrays both parties to the dispute as holding to a kind of empiricism that he does not criticize here, but does criticize in his later works.

“Beginning with Pierce, the primary motivation for wanting to eliminate commitment to theoretical objects has been a desire to accommodate the sort of open-ended conceptual change which has characterized scientific inquiry from the beginning…. Appreciation of this sort of conceptual change has taken the form of a regulative principle to the effect that there are to be no claims taken as ‘fixed points’ settled once and for all…. This is referred to by Pierce and Popper as ‘fallibilism’, and by Quine as the ‘revisability in principle’ of our beliefs and the concepts they are couched in” (pp. 71-72).

I hold in addition that this “revisability in principle” applies not only to scientific concepts and theories, but also to the concepts and beliefs that we apply in ordinary life and in any kind of dialogue.

“The realists argue that theoretical statements do not simply license certain inferential moves concerning observation statements, they also explain the efficacy and account for the legitimacy of those practices…. Appreciation of the need for some explanation of the sort the realists seek takes the form of a regulative principle for theories of inquiry which Quine calls ‘naturalized epistemology’. It is just the requirement that we be able to exhibit scientific inquiries as natural processes susceptible of ordinary empirical investigation and explanation” (p. 73).

The terms “empirical” and “naturalized” can also have broader meanings than they generally do in modern science. For example, I’ve had a lifelong interest in why people believe the things that they do. In this context it is hard to see any kind of dichotomy between justification and explanation. I approach both in terms of “reasons why”. The explanation at issue here, though, is more narrowly causal in a modern sense. (I take both naturalism and “empirical” inquiry in broader, more relaxed senses — empirical as meaning grounded in ordinary experience, and naturalism simply as not appealing to the supernatural as an unexplained explainer.)

“The classical theory/observation distinction simply repeats the Kantian picture of knowledge as the product of a faculty of receptivity (intuition, observation, the passive appropriation of the ‘given’) and a faculty of spontaneity (understanding, theory, the interpretation of the ‘given’)” (pp. 74-75).

More to the point, the common theory/observation distinction in early 20th-century philosophy of science reflects a common dogmatic attachment to empiricism. But at this early point, Brandom still seems to follow Rorty’s negative view of Kant, and he avoids directly criticizing empiricism. But since Kant emphasizes the interdependence of intuition and understanding and says we never find one of these without the other in any real case, it hardly seems fair to treat this as a rigid dualism. In later works, Brandom treats Kant much more sympathetically, and does directly criticize empiricism.

“It is important to realize that the original dispute proceeded as a disagreement about the nature of theories in which the objects immediately given in observation were taken as the measure against which ‘theoretical objects’ were to be laid…. The notion of a theory-neutral, interpretation-free observation language was attacked by Wittgenstein in the Investigations and by Sellars among others, and had fallen into disrepute in the philosophy of science by the 1960s” (p. 75).

That is once again to say that a kind of dogmatic empiricism reigned almost undisputed in early 20th-century philosophy of science. Within analytic philosophy, this commitment to empiricism only began to be questioned in the 1950s, with the work of late Wittgenstein, Sellars, and Quine.

“[T]he current [1976] situation may be put as follows. In the light of many recent criticisms, philosophers of science have denied that there are sharp differences of kind between objects of observation and objects of theory. Contemporary instrumentalists ([such as] Quine, Feyerabend, and Kuhn) may be thought of as taking this work as … showing that [observation] is more like theory as classically conceived than we had previously thought. So observation is to join theory as a matter of holistically criticizable practices. Realists (such as Putnam, Field, and Boyd) have taken the demise of [the observation/theory distinction] as illuminating our notion of theory, letting us see that theoretical objects are as real, causally efficacious, and independent of our knowledge of them as the classical observable objects” (pp. 76-77).

Each of these latter views seems to make a good point.

“It is not clear, however, … that the new positions are incompatible…. I believe that this is precisely the virtue of Dewey’s theory of inquiry” (p. 78). “Dewey’s idiosyncratic and often obscure account of the mechanics of inquiry … exhibits the realist/instrumentalist dispute as a confusion based on insufficient appreciation of the consequences of abandoning the theory/observation distinction” (p. 70).

He goes on to discuss a number of passages from Dewey. Dewey’s “inquiry into inquiry” is grounded in a specialized notion of situation.

Dewey says “The situation as such is not and cannot be stated or made explicit… It is present throughout [inquiry] as that of which whatever is explicitly stated or propounded is a distinction” (p. 79).

Certainly we never have unqualified “mastery” of our practical or epistemic circumstances, but this doctrine of inherently ineffable “situations” goes further than is needed to make that point. What Dewey says here resembles existentialist claims that existence is ineffable in principle. I was unaware that there was such a dimension to his thought. To my knowledge, none of Brandom’s later works builds on this Deweyan theory of situations. But the way Brandom relates this dubious notion to the making of distinctions puts it in a maximally positive light.

Brandom comments “To ‘know’ something, rather than simply ‘having’ the situation is a matter of repeatables ‘instituted’ within an unrepeatable situation. It is this process which we must investigate to understand the nature of inquiry…. What is excluded by the unrepeatable, non-cognitive nature of situations is only that in a given inquiry I should come to know, rather than simply have, the situation which is the context of that very inquiry. I may investigate other inquiries and their contexts, and this is what one must do to produce a theory of inquiry” (p. 80).

The positive idea that universals arise out of our practices that institute “repeatables” is provocative. No human inquiry partakes of perfect reflexivity, but inquiry is possible nonethless.

“From this external point of view situations are sub-types of the natural occurrences which Dewey calls various ‘histories’ or ‘affairs’. These are the basic elements for which our collective name is ‘nature’ ” (ibid).

He quotes Dewey: “[N]ature is an affair of affairs” (ibid).

Then he goes on: “Situations are a class of affairs which contain sentient organisms. These are the most complicated and interesting affairs in nature, for it is within them that cognition occurs. The model of this sort of affair is the transaction between an organism and its environment in which ‘integration is more fundamental than is the distinction designated by interaction of organism and environment’. The environment here is not just that bit of the physical world which happens to surround the organism. It is that part of the surrounding world with which the organism interacts to live. So from the outside, situations are just congeries of objects ‘falling within boundaries’ determined in some way by the inquirer, and considered as unique, datable occurrences.”

I guess this predates the sentience/sapience distinction that Brandom dwells on in Making It Explicit.

“But if situations are thus unrepeatable constellations of objects, how are the repeatables crucial to cognitive inquiry, as Dewey says, ‘instituted’ within them?” (p. 81).

That is indeed the question.

He quotes Dewey again: “A starting point for further discussion is found in the fact that verbal expressions which designate activities are not marked by the distinction between ‘singular’ (proper) names and ‘common’ names which is required in the case of nouns. For what is designated by a verb is a way of changing and/or acting. A way, manner, mode of change and activity is constant or uniform. It persists through the singular deed done or the change taking place is unique” (ibid).

Adverbial ways of being and ways of acting are far more interesting than mere attributions of undifferentiated existence or action. The association of these adverbial “ways” with a formal characteristic of verbs that is agnostic to the distinction between particulars and universals is unfamiliar and intriguing.

Brandom notes, “Practices, modes of activity involving the objects making up the situation, are to be the basis for repeatability in inquiry” (p. 82)

Now he says it more categorically. Universals become instituted through commonalities in practice, rather than through putative resemblances in perceptual experience. No universal is simply passively acquired.

He quotes Dewey again: “We are brought to the conclusion that it is modes of response which are the ground of generality of logical form, not existential immediate qualities of what is responded to…. ‘Similarity’ is the product of assimilating different things with respect to their functional value in inference and reasoning” (p. 82).

This resembles Brandom’s later critique of assumptions about resemblance.

Brandom comments, “Dewey wants to be able to present a ‘naturalized epistemology’, a theory of inquiry which will account for the practices of an inquirer in the ordinary empirical way, in terms of a set of objects existing antecedent to any activity of the inquirer, and which causally condition his behavior in explicable ways. One of the terms by means of which Dewey formulates the results of his ‘inquiry into inquiry’ is thus the situation. The situation of any particular inquiry we choose to investigate may well contain objects unknown to the inquirer who ‘has’ the situation…. With this introduction to the notion of a situation, we are prepared to approach Dewey’s notion of inquiry” (pp. 83-84).

The way he uses “empirical” here seems to straddle the boundary between empirical science on the one hand, and ordinary experience and natural language use on the other.

“[Dewey’s] official definition of inquiry is: ‘the controlled or directed transformation of an indeterminate situation into one that is so determinate in its constituent distinctions and relations as to convert the elements of the original situation into a unified whole.’ Dewey later decided that this was ill-put, and his considered view is that ‘the original indeterminate situation and the eventual resolved one are precisely initial and terminal stages of one and the same existential situation’. We will see that the ‘transformation’ which is inquiry according to Dewey is a transformation of practices of reporting, inferring, eating, etc. Dewey’s talk of ‘existentially transforming’ situations by inquiring will seem less paradoxical if we recall that the paradigm of a situation from the external point of view is an organism in its environment” (pp. 84-85).

Inquiry is something existentially transforming that occurs within a broadly natural context.

“By insisting on the role of pre-cognitive situations in inquiry, Dewey enforces the constraint of practices and changes of practice by causal relations of pre-existing objects which make those practices possible” (p. 85).

Here Brandom aims to show that Dewey addresses the concerns of the realists.

An interesting sentence in one of his quotations from Dewey is that “The attitude, when made explicit, is an idea or conceptual meaning” (p. 87). The phrase “making explicit” appears here at several important junctures in this discussion of Dewey. The title of Making It Explicit may reflect a Deweyan inspiration. This also sheds light on Brandom’s later talk about the attitude-dependence of normative statuses. The attitudes in question are not purely or shallowly subjective. They are practical stances in situations, subject to concrete give-and-take in the situations, and therefore to objective constraints that go into making the situation what it is.

Young Brandom explains, “A situation is indeterminate insofar as it is uncertain what to do in it, what past situation to assimilate it to…. An inquirer enters any situation with a repertoire of practices differentially elicitable by features of that situation…. The situation is determinate or resolved insofar as a concordant set of practices is unambiguously elicited by the situation. Inquiry is the process of producing such settled situations by applying high-order practices of criticism and refinement of initially conflicting claims made in accord with established practices whether inferential or non-inferential” (ibid).

The notion of a differentiating elicitation does occur in his later work.

“For Dewey, as for Pierce, inquiry is a matter of refining one’s practices toward an ideal in which no situation would elicit discordant or ambiguous activity in accord with those practices. Every time a problematic situation does arise, a re-assessment of the practices involved is required, an adjustment and refinement of that set of practices until concord is reached in the concrete situation” (p. 89).

Brandom’s later works express this repeated re-assessment in terms of the ongoing re-constitution of Kantian unities of apperception. Pierce and Dewey apparently put too much stock in a sort of universal movement toward consensus.

“It is important to this picture of inquiry that the inquirer and the habits which determine his practices are part of the situation. This means that altering one’s practices is a way of transforming one situation into another” (pp. 89-90).

“The essential feature of language is that ‘it compels one individual to take the standpoint of other individuals and to see and inquire from a standpoint that is not strictly personal but is common to them as participants or “parties” in some conjoint undertaking’ ” (p. 90).

Language in part presupposes and in part constitutes intersubjectivity. (Intersubjectivity is not something added onto individual subjectivity, but rather a precondition for its possibility. We could not be talking animals at all without others to talk with.)

“Common sense inquiries and scientific inquiries are alike, in that the same general description as ‘controlled transformation of problematic situations into resolved ones’ applies to both. They are different in that the practices of scientific inquiry are developed, inculcated, and criticized in social institutions unparalleled in the extra-scientific community” (p. 91).

I would say that any serious inquiry is an instance of what Habermas calls communicative action, and involves many considerations that do not apply to action in general.

“By looking thus from the outside at an inquirer and his situation in terms of the best scientific theory we have of them, we can also in principle describe conceptual change in an ordinary empirical way” (p. 93). “By describing their practices with respect to the objects which our best theories tell us make up their situations, we provide the framework for an ordinary empirical investigation of inquiry and conceptual change in terms of the physiological and sociological basis of their practices…. According to Dewey, the activity of the physiologist and sociologist investigating the basis in relation of objects for the practices of various groups of inquirers is itself to be thought of as a set of practices which occur within some non-cognitive situation (had but not known) and transformed as inquiry progresses. Inquiry into inquiry shares with all other inquiries the utilization and adaptation of practices forged in previous inquiries, and hence the revisability-in-principle of all these practices and the claims made in accordance with them” (p. 94).

This seems to treat natural-scientific explanation rather than discursive inquiry into meaning as the paradigm for explanation in general. As evinced by the work of Habermas, revisability in principle is an attribute of discursive or dialogical inquiry in general.

“It should be clear at this point that the realist’s claims and the instrumentalist’s claims as they appear in Dewey’s view of inquiry are completely compatible. Objects and practices occupy correlative functional roles in describing inquiry. Conceptual change is indeed viewed as a change of practice, but neither the practices nor the change is viewed as inexplicable” (pp. 95-96).

This is the main point that young Brandom wants to make here. Issues with classical pragmatist sources notwithstanding, I think he is basically successful.

“On the contrary, any practice or change of practice may in principle be explained by appealing to the objects reported, inferred about, or manipulated in any of the practices which are not then in question. This does not mean that there is any practice which cannot be explained or changed, and which is somehow a basis for the rest. We simply cannot change or explain all of our practices at once” (p. 96).

Any particular belief or concept we may have is subject to revision. But we doubt one thing in light of other things that are provisionally held constant. In real life no one doubts everything at any given time.

“There is a certain sort of circularity here, but it is the familiar non-vicious circularity of any self-regulating enterprise, a formal characteristic acknowledged by contemporary philosophy of science as applying to empirical inquiries, capsulized most vividly in Neurath’s famous figure of a ship making repairs at sea” (ibid).

This idea of practical mutual dependence among the elements of inquiry makes foundationalism untenable.

“The difficulty with the instrumentalists is that, having noticed the problems resulting from an ontology of objects, they sought to put epistemology on a firm footing by substituting an ontology of practices, claiming that objects were derivative entities, ultimately reducible to practices which, as we say, involve them…. Dewey teaches us that the problem is with the notion of ontology itself. Once we have become naturalistic, accepting a thoroughgoing fallibilism means eschewing the notion of a categorization of the kinds of things there are which is outside of and prior to any empirical investigation. Objects and practices are mutually dependent functional notions. We cannot account for the changing roles objects play in our conceptual economy without appealing to practices as well, and we cannot individuate practices without reference to objects” (p. 96n).

Objects are derivative entities, and there is a problem with ontology itself, whether it be taken merely as an a priori enumeration of kinds of things, or as something supposedly more fundamental.

“The problem which faced the realists, as we have argued, is allowing for fallibilism in their account of scientific activity. On the face of it, the explanation which the realist wants to be able to offer of the success of current practices, in terms of the actual existence and causal efficacy of the objects purportedly referred to in the theory will not explain why previous views which we have good empirical reason to believe false worked as well as they did. Nor is it obvious how believing in all those unreal objects enabled us to reach our present privileged position of believing in real ones (i.e., the ones which ‘really’ enable us to engage in the practices we do). Finally, fallibilism dictates that we be willing to accept the possibility of revisions in our current view as radical as those which have occurred in the past” (p. 97).

Here there is a clear parallel to the entry conditions for dialogue developed by Gadamer and Habermas. These apply not only to scientific discourse, but to discourse in general.

“According to Dewey’s view, each time our scientific view of things changes sufficiently, we will have to rewrite our account of the history of inquiry in terms of the sorts of objects which we have new practices of making claims about. But this fact no more impugns the project of explaining how previous practices worked as well as they did, than it impugns any other empirical project which may have to be rethought in view of the results of subsequent inquiry” (p. 98).

Naive views of the history of scientific progress as a linear accumulation toward presumed present truth cannot be sustained. When one view supersedes another in any context, it is not a simple matter of truth versus error. For example, geocentric astronomy had an important practical use in navigation that was not negated by the greater “truth” of heliocentric astronomy.

“As long as knowledge is thought of on the Kantian model, as the product of the collaboration of a faculty of receptivity and a faculty of spontaneity (and the observation/theory distinction is a straightforward version of this model, it will seem that there is a philosophical task of explaining the relations of these faculties. (Even Quine falls into this view in the very midst of a recommendation of a Deweyan naturalism about knowledge.) On this picture, philosophers are to tell us how theory relates to evidence, concept to intuition, in every possible cognition. This project stands outside of and prior to any empirical investigation. Dewey, having wrestled free of the picture generating the classical epistemological project, is able to present inquiry into inquiry as an ordinary empirical matter…. Thus Dewey’s naturalized account of inquiry can retain a distinction between inferential and noninferential practices, and between repeatable and non-repeatable elements. These categories are now meant to have only the same force that any empirical classification has, however. They can be discarded when an empirically better idea comes along. Once we give up the receptivity/spontaneity distinction, and with it the project of a philosophical discipline called ‘epistemology’ which is to relate the operations of the two faculties, we lose also the means to formulate a dispute between realism and instrumentalism concerning which faculty is to be given pride of place” (pp. 98-100).

As I noted earlier, in later works Brandom never blames Kant for the bad idea that there is such a thing as pure observation without any interpretation. That is an empiricist prejudice that ought in fact to be regarded as decisively refuted by Kant. Broadly construed, “naturalism about knowledge” is a good thing, provided it does not lead us back to empiricism.

Next in this series: Truth and Assertibility

Free Will in Aristotle?

A recent large book by Olivier Boulnois, Généalogie de la liberté [Genealogy of Freedom] (2021), provides great detail on the emergence of the notion of free will (liberum arbitrium in Latin). I have previously mentioned his Être et représentation (1999), which gives fascinating documentation of the role of Duns Scotus in the formation of modern notions of representation, and metaphysics as ontology. Boulnois has written extensively on medieval philosophy. Like Alain de Libera, he turns a broadly Foucaultian “archaeological” method in the direction of showing the large and largely unknown role of medieval philosophy in the development of common Western philosophical concepts. This post will focus on a part of his discussion of how Aristotle stands largely apart from later views.

Early on in the present work, Boulnois cites the first sentence of G. E. Moore’s Principia Ethica:

“It appears to me that in Ethics, as in all other philosophical studies, the difficulties and disagreements, of which its history is full, are mainly due to a very simple cause: namely to the attempt to answer questions, without first discovering precisely what question it is which you desire to answer” (quoted in Boulnois, p. 34).

Boulnois notes how Latin translations extensively transformed the meanings of Aristotelian concepts.

“Is free will proper to the human? All of medieval and modern reflection on action rests on this thesis…. The concept of proairesis is analyzed for the first time in book III of the Nicomachean Ethics” (Boulnois, p. 133, my translation throughout). “To begin with, must we follow the [12th century Latin] translation of Burgundio? Does proairesis really mean free will?” (p. 134).

“With the translation of proairesis by ‘choice’, the key concept of Aristotelian ethics is integrated into the semantic field of will. The Burgundian node, which connects Aristotle and [the Church Fathers] Nemesius and Damascene in the same bundle of translations, constitutes a second origin of proairesis as free will in the 12th century” (p. 137). “Aristotle defines proairesis as a kind of desire joined with deliberation (with discourse)” (p. 139). “With Aristotle, we are indeed far from the medieval and modern interpretation, which speaks of choice (electio)” (p. 141).

Until now I have followed Joe Sachs’s translation in using “choice” myself. Sachs uses the English word with the same root as the French that Boulnois is questioning, but he explains it in terms of Aristotle’s definition just mentioned. But as we will see in an upcoming post, the Latin tradition gave it a voluntaristic coloring that is foreign to Aristotle.

“The most rigorous translation seems to be ‘resolution’…. Resolution introduces logos and time” (p. 140). “The object of our resolution is first of all the object of our desire, insofar as this results from a deliberation” (pp. 140-141). “Our moral character depends not on our theoretical attitude but on the ensemble of our resolutions, the repetition of which constitutes our disposition to act, indeed our aptitude for beautiful actions” (p. 142).

This ensemble of our resolutions sounds like the commitments of which Brandom and other contemporary writers speak.

“Since Cicero, the boulesis of the Stoics has been translated to Latin by voluntas [will]. But the Stoics affirm that such a mastery of impulse is found only in the sage…. It is only later, with Augustine, that this prerogative of the sage becomes a faculty accessible to all. Our concept of will, as capacity to consent or not to our representations, carries all this history. But in Aristotle, boulesis always designates the desire that pertains to that part of the soul that is capable of speech. It is a form of desire that is enunciable, intelligible…. Boulesis indeed is a wish: a wish does not require the existence of a will; like all desire, it is moved by its object” (p. 143).

“Among our desires, resolution results from a deliberation, which deploys itself in language…. The true principle of our resolution is of the order of language and of thought. Like all living beings, the human is necessarily moved by what appears to her as desirable; but in distinction from the other living beings, it is through speech that the desirable appears to her…. Resolution bears on action that can be accomplished by us…. There is only a place for deliberation when several lines of action are possible…. We deliberate on that which no one can do in our place” (p. 145, emphasis in original).

Here the resolution of deliberation is explicitly grounded in language and thought, and not in an anachronistic non-Aristotelian notion of a faculty of will.

“It is necessary to underline: Aristotle does not exactly say that the resolution depends on us. What depends on us is the action that is the object of that resolution…. Aristotle does propose a theory of decision, or of resolution, but not a theory of freedom of choice, or of free will” (pp. 145-146, emphasis in original).

Unlike Boulnois here, some 20th century writers have used “decision” in the sense that Boulnois gives to “choice”.

“Such actions are ontologically contingent: they could [also] not be. The metaphysical tradition deduced from this the existence of a power of choice, of a will or a free will” (pp. 146-147).

The important point here is that this “metaphysical tradition” does not include Aristotle.

“Nothing obliges us to understand contingency in an absolute manner, and as subject to our power. Aristotle refers to the ensemble of actions that depend on us (eph’ hemin) in general (in the sense of a collectivity: the humans, the agents, the citizens), but not to those that depend on me (here and now)…. But Aristotle never claims that an agent has, other things being equal, at a given instant, the capacity to do one thing or its contrary, to act and not to act. ‘What depends on us’ is a generic capacity, proper to humankind, and not to some particular individual, here and now. Reciprocally, in insisting on the idea that deliberation is the cause of our resolution, Aristotle holds that at the interior of this bivalence, we more often see what the logos presents as desirable” (p. 147, emphasis in original).

“In this context, what is the principle of action?” (p. 150). He quotes Aristotle, “and the principle of resolution is desire and reason…. What affirmation and negation are in thought, pursuit and flight are to desire…. For resolution to be good, it is necessary at the same time that the discourse be true and the desire just” (p. 150).

Boulnois summarizes, “Thus the properly human principle of action is resolution, that is to say the conjunction of desire and of logos in the pursuit of an end” (p. 151).

He turns to the background that Aristotle is responding to.

“The sophists affirm that every desire is good; Plato, that we can only truly will the true or absolute good” (ibid). “While the sophists identify freedom with the capacity to do what we want, and Plato with sole adherence to the Good, Aristotle proposes a third way: ethical freedom is the art of deciding well, of arriving at the resolution the circumstances require…. The resolution taken by the serious human [substituting Sachs’s “serious” for spudaios in the homme de bien or man of the good in Boulnois] is indeed a point of coincidence between the apparent good (which all seek) and the true good (that she discerns). In leaving behind the confrontation between sophists and Platonists, Aristotle has recourse neither to a relativism of appearances nor to an objective norm; in the element of virtue (and of desire), he aims at a coincidence between the phenomenon of good and its truth” (p. 152).

This Aristotelian idea of a point of coincidence between appearance and truth was later taken up by Hegel.

“Is it necessary to say that resolution is free? Does it consist in a choice?… Aristotle never makes the concept of freedom intervene in relation to the question of choice, nor even that of willingness” (p. 153). “Nevertheless, Aristotle knows and uses a concept of freedom (eleutheria). But this pertains to politics and not to the theory of action” (ibid, emphasis in original).

“The Latin translation not withstanding, [the adjective] ‘hekousion’ (willing) does not mean ‘voluntary’ (voluntarium); it is rather the mode of our action, except in cases of constraint or ignorance. Proairesis does not mean ‘free will’ (liberum arbitrium), but decision, resolution… Freedom is the ethical horizon of our action, and not the metaphysical attribute of a will that Aristotle did not envisage” (p. 154).

“It is indeed possible to analyze human action without postulating in the agent a central instance of arbitration, and without inscribing her in a physical determinism…. Ethics is indeed thinkable without a theory of will” (p. 155).

As I have noted many times, Plato and Aristotle founded ethics without the later notion of a faculty of will.

“Ethical action does not necessarily require a freedom of choice. It depends on a resolution (proairesis), which mainly refers to a dimension of anticipation, and does not always imply a choice. Ethics is indeed thinkable without the doctrine of free will” (ibid).

Here again the emphasis is on something like commitment.

“Resolution presupposes a process of deliberation in the agent: she at least implicitly evaluates the reasons to do x rather than nothing; that which she does is not imposed on her from the outset. That is to say that for her, there are a multitude of options and reasons to act” (ibid, emphasis in original).

Deliberation is concerned with the goodness of reasons.

“A stranger to the metaphysical problem of free will, freedom is ethical in essence; it consists in the ability to act well; it is only acquired at the completion of an education in virtue” (ibid).

“All thought about action situates itself in the horizon of the good, and freedom is nothing other than liberation from the bad” (p. 156).

“It is ethics that founds freedom, and not freedom that founds ethics.” (ibid, emphasis in original).

“On the plane of finite existence, no one knows if they have absolutely accomplished the best action. In the same way in their reflections on our moral lack of power, Aristotle and Ovid speak of that which is ‘better’ (comparative) and not of that which is ‘best’ (superlative)” (ibid).

The Role of Reasons

In a brand-new book co-authored with logician Ulf Hlobil — Reasons for Logic, Logic for Reasons: Pragmatics, Semantics, and Conceptual Roles (2025) — Robert Brandom introduces results from the Research Group on Logical Expressivism, which is inspired by a major strand of his work. Logical expressivism is a highly innovative approach that takes the primary purpose of formal logic to be not the proving of truths, but a kind of making explicit of all kinds of real-world reasoning that are carried out in natural language.

The book introduces quite a number of big ideas — among them logical expressivism, reason relations, implication spaces, conceptual roles, and important new technical results that highlight the importance of nonmonotonic logic and substructural logic. Established Brandomian themes such as normativity and its relation to modality, inferentialism, material inference, and the close connection between semantics and pragmatics also show up here in new light. Brandom has written the more philosophical chapters, and Hlobil the more technical ones.

One interesting surprise is that Brandom explicitly calls the new approach “neo-Aristotelian”. This “neo-Aristotlian metalinguistic bimodal conceptual realism” will be “hylomorphic in a recognizably Aristotelian sense. For it identifies a kind of rational form that is understood as common to thoughts and things…. [T]he relations of consequence and incompatibility that show up in different guises in a whole constellation of intimately interrelated metavocabularies… are those that in the end underwrite practices of reasoning, by determining what is a reason for and against what” (p. 9, emphasis in original).

This is well short of the more full-blooded re-visioning of an open Aristotelianism that I have been suggesting here, but within its scope it does seem genuinely Aristotelian to me — particularly the idea that there are forms common to thought, things, language, and practices of reasoning. This is a nice vindication of the “Aristotle and Brandom” theme with which I began this blog almost six years ago.

“[T]he strategy of addressing philosophy’s perennial concern with the nature of understanding or reason in general by investigating language…. has been developed in two quite different directions…. The first, dominant, better worked out tradition focused on logic, and later, also formal semantics, as perspicuous mathematical metalanguages…. The other tradition focused rather on language as a kind of social practice” (p. 1, emphasis in original).

Brandom has always been interested in both of these. At the beginning of his career he worked on logic, but for most of his maturity he has tended to favor the pragmatic side. Here at one point he ends up suggesting that they may be equally important. The book presents new results in mathematical logic that help bridge the gap.

“Where the formalist tradition is oriented by a conception of understanding and reasons as codified in artificial logical calculi and semantic metalanguages, the pragmatist tradition looks instead directly to natural languages, thought of as social practices and forms of life. In place of the exclusively monological character of reasoning as deriving, modeled on proof, characteristic of the other tradition, understanding shows up in this tradition as a social achievement, and reasoning as essentially dialogical: a matter of discursive practices of giving and asking for reasons, defending and challenging claims that amount to taking up positions in a contestable, public, normative space” (p. 2).

“The two traditions ought by rights to be understood as focusing on different aspects of language: roughly, on the meanings of linguistic expressions, and on their use. In suitably broad senses, we might understand semantics as the study of meaning, and pragmatics as the study of use or discursive practices and abilities. So understood, semantics (even a semantics inspired by and paradigmatically applicable to logic) and pragmatics show up as complementary theoretical endeavors. The goal should be to synthesize semantic and pragmatic theories…. Perhaps the combination of those thoughts recommends rather a more balanced view that eschews claims of explanatory priority in favor of understanding each aspect as in principle intelligible only in terms of its relation to the other” (pp. 2-3, emphasis in original).

“The lesson that emerges, we will argue, is a kind of discursive or linguistic rationalism. Language becomes visible as at base the medium of reasons, and reasoning as the beating heart of language. On the side of pragmatics, the fundamental speech act is that of making claims. The basic speech act of making claims, asserting, is to be understood in terms of practices of defending and challenging those claims, by making other claims that have the practical significance of giving reasons for and against them. Understanding claiming this way provides a path to understanding the claimable contents expressed by declarative sentences in terms of the role they play in relations of being a reason for or against — what we will call ‘reason relations” (p. 3, emphasis in original).

He continues, “On the side of semantics, worldly represented states show up as what determines the reason relations of consequence and incompatibility that the sentences whose truth-makers and falsifiers they are stand in to one another: their roles in reason relations. By understanding the common topic that semantic and pragmatic metalanguages articulate aspects of, not just under the vague rubric of ‘language’, but more specifically as the implicit reason relations that distinguish discursive practices as such, we can better understand not only the relations between the meaning and the use of linguistic expressions, but also the relations between truth (the central concept of traditional semantics) and justification (the central concept of pragmatics, according to linguistic rationalism), in the form of practices of defending claims by giving reasons for them and challenging claims by giving reasons against them” (pp. 3-4, emphasis in original).

“At the core of this book, then, is the rationalist explanatory strategy of understanding the nature of language in terms of what we will call ‘reason relations’. As addressed here, that is a genus with two principal species: implication and incompatibility. They correspond to being a reason for and being a reason against” (p.4).

“A closely related term of art is ‘vocabulary’. We use it in a technical sense, to mean a lexicon or set of declarative sentences, together with an implication relation and an incompatibility relation defined on those sentences. To begin with, we can think of an implication relation as holding between a set of sentences that are its premises and a single sentence that is a conclusion that follows from, is a consequence of, or is implied by those premises. An incompatibility relation holds between a set of premises and a further sentence that those premises exclude, or rule out, or are incompatible with” (p. 5).

He continues, “By calling them (declarative) ‘sentences’ we just mean that they are what in the first instance stand to one another in reason relations of implication and incompatibility…. In virtue of standing to one another in reason relations of implication and incompatibility, what thereby count as declarative sentences express conceptual contents. Those contents can be thought of as the functional roles the sentences play in constellations of implications and incompatibilities” (ibid).

“According to this order of explanation, the key question is: what do we mean by talk of reason relations of implication and incompatibility? In virtue of what does something deserve to count as a consequence or incompatibility relation?” (ibid).

“The idea is to identify reason relations in terms of the various vocabularies that can be used to specify them. Because these are vocabularies for talking about (the reason relations of) other vocabularies, they are metavocabularies. Because it is in particular the reason relations of base vocabularies that they address, we can call them rational metavocabularies” (pp. 5-6, emphasis in original).

“Semantic metavocabularies explain reason relations of implication and incompatibility by specifying what the sentences that stand in those relations mean, in the sense of how the world must be for what they say to be true. The sentences stand to one another in relations of implication and incompatibility because the objective states of affairs that are their semantic truth conditions stand to one another in modally robust relations of necessitation and noncompossibility” (p. 6).

“Pragmatic vocabularies explain what is expressed by reason relations of base vocabularies by saying what features of the discursive practice of using those sentences it is, in virtue of which practitioners count as practically taking or treating the sentences as standing to one another in relations of implication and incompatibility. Pragmatic metavocabularies make it possible to say what it is that language users do in virtue of which they are properly to be understood as practically taking or treating some sentences as implying others in the sense of taking assertion or acceptance of the premises as providing reasons for asserting or accepting the conclusions, and practically taking or treating some sentences as incompatible with others in the sense of taking assertion or acceptance of the premises as providing reasons against asserting or accepting the conclusions. Reason relations show up from the expressive perspective provided by pragmatic metavocabularies as normative standards for assessment of the correctness of rational defenses of and challenges to claims, made by offering other claims as reasons for or reasons against those claims” (p. 6).

“As we will see later in much more detail, to do their job properly, semantic metavocabularies must use alethic modal vocabulary to make claims about what states and combinations of states of the world the base vocabulary talks about are and are not possible. To do their job properly, pragmatic metavocabularies must use deontic normative vocabulary to make claims about what acts, practical attitudes, and combinations of them are and are not appropriate, and what other acts and attitudes would and would not entitle an interlocutor to them. What can be said in alethic modal terms is substantially and importantly different from what can be said in deontic normative terms. The one concerns features of the objective world, the other features of the practice of discursive subjects. These are the two poles of the intentional nexus that links knowers and the known, minds and the world they understand and act in, representings and what is represented. We want to understand both kinds of thing, and the important relations between them” (p. 7).

“Alethic” is from the Greek aletheia, for truth. The parallelism or isomorphism between the “alethic modal” notion of measuring the subjunctive robustness of assertions, and a “deontic normative” Kantian articulation of the compelling or necessary character of ethical conclusions, which Brandom has long stressed, is very substantially elaborated in the new book.

“In the terms used above to introduce the idea of reason relations we propose to understand the alethic modal semantic metavocabulary and the deontic normative pragmatic metavocabulary as offering different (meta)conceptual perspectives on a common object: the incompatibility of what is expressed by the declarative sentence p and what is expressed by the declarative sentence q. Corresponding claims apply to reason relations of consequence or implication” (pp. 7-8, emphasis in original).

Next in this series: An Isomorphism

Word?

“Language and thinking about things are so bound together that it is an abstraction to conceive of the system of truths as a pregiven system of possibilities of being for which the signifying subject selects corresponding signs. A word is not a sign that one selects, nor is it a sign that one makes or gives to another; it is not an existent thing that one picks up and gives an ideality of meaning in order to make another being visible through it. This is mistaken on both counts. Rather, the ideality of the meaning lies in the word itself. It is meaningful already. But this does not imply, on the other hand, that the word precedes all experience and simply advenes to an experience in an external way, by subjecting itself to it” (Gadamer, Truth and Method, pp. 416-417).

Language is not a voluntaristic manipulation. It has “being” of its own that is closely related to thought — a kind of thickness or “substantiality”. But I am doubtful that this applies to individual words in speech. We find one kind of metaphorical substantiality in discourse, and another in poetry, but I don’t think either of these comes from individual words. Language as meaningful consists of “sayings”, not mere names or representational tokens. Aristotle principally focuses on such sayings, and gives preferential treatment to what is well said. Such implicitly normative sayings are what is studied in the pragmatics of language, to which Habermas and Brandom explicitly draw our attention.

“If Greek philosophy does not want to admit this relationship between word and thing, speech and thought, the reason no doubt is that thought had to protect itself against the intimate relationship between word and thing in which the speaker lives. The dominion of this ‘most speakable of all languages’ (Nietzsche) over thought was so great that the chief concern of philosophy was to free itself from it. Thus from early on, the Greek philosophers fought against the ‘onoma‘ as the source of the seduction and confusion of thought, and instead embraced the ideality that is constantly created in language. This was already true when Parmenides conceived the truth of the thing from the logos, and certainly after the Platonic turn to ‘discourse,’ followed by Aristotle’s orienting the forms of being to the forms of assertion (schemata tes kategorias)” (p. 417).

Especially the beginning above seems quite disappointing, coming from one who has quite a few interesting things to say about Plato and Aristotle. He seems to be claiming that the Greek philosophers assumed that language is completely transparent. I find entirely the opposite at least in the case of Aristotle, who discusses many complexities in language use. Language for Aristotle is not at all a transparent medium, but rather something very tangible in which we live, make our way, and find our sustenance. Transparency of language is especially a modern prejudice. Reading it back into the Greeks comes only on the questionable authority of Heidegger. Gadamer seems to accept Heidegger’s claims that Plato and Aristotle base everything on a notion of presence (which really was a central concept for Husserl). I think this reading puts way too much of Husserl into Plato and Aristotle.

“There is, however, an idea that is not Greek which does more justice to the being of language, and so prevented the forgetfulness of language in Western thought from being complete. This is the Christian idea of incarnation. Incarnation is obviously not embodiment. Neither the idea of the soul nor of God that is connected with embodiment corresponds to the Christian idea of incarnation” (p. 418).

This distinction is certainly correct. Alain de Libera has emphasized the unrecognized role of Trinitarian theology and christology in shaping apparently secular modern Western notions of subjectivity and personhood.

“The uniqueness of the redemptive event introduces the essence of history into Western thought, brings the phenomenon of language out of its immersion in the ideality of meaning, and offers it to philosophical reflection. For, in contrast to the Greek logos, the word is pure event (verbum proprie dicitur personaliter tantum)” (ibid).

The last part about Incarnation as pure event might be plausible in itself. The Latin phrase means “the word is properly said personally only”. The “personally” here might indicate the performative mode of speech that Habermas discusses. But to stress a pure event is precisely to stress the accidental over the essential. And to claim an utterly unique event is a sectarian move. Live and let live, I say. Moreover, it is not at all clear what Incarnation specifically has to do with recognizing the being of language.

Culmination of the Culmination

Right before his final conclusion, Pippin recalls a wonderful quote from Nietzsche’s Twilight of the Idols:

“Learning to see — habituating the eye to repose, to patience, to letting things come to it; learning to defer judgment, to investigate and comprehend the individual in all its aspects. This is the first schooling in spirituality: not to react immediately to a stimulus, but to have the restraining, stock-taking instincts in control. Learning to see, as I understand it, is almost what is called in unphilosophical language strong will-power: the essence of it is precisely not to ‘will’, the ability to defer decision. All unspirituality, all vulgarity, is due to the incapacity to resist a stimulus — one has to react, one obeys a stimulus” (The Culmination, p. 216).

Heidegger argues that art — and poetry in particular — represents a disclosure of meaningfulness that must be understood as prior to philosophy and to all the works of reason. Pippin explains Heidegger’s talk about attunement to the question of Being as a way of putting meaning before knowledge. I too think meaning comes before knowledge; I believe in a kind of Platonic reticence about knowledge claims.

But Heidegger effectively attributes to Aristotle and Hegel, among others, what Derrida would call a logocentrism — a bad-smelling thing redolent of ethnocentrism, but having to do with the role of reason. I sharply disagree with this characterization of Aristotle and Hegel, as well as with the characterization of the role of reason that Heidegger assumes.

I think that across a great many posts here, we have clearly seen that interpretation of meaning comes before knowledge in Aristotle and Hegel. Reason itself, for the two greatest “rationalist” philosophers, has a fundamentally hermeneutic or interpretive character, which takes precedence over logic in the sense of formal calculation. Hegel can be forgiven for using the term “logic” in a very nonstandard way, and even for calling it a science. Heidegger was an important promoter of a kind of hermeneutics in the 20th century, but he seems to think of a hermeneutic approach as standing in opposition to the “rationalism” of Aristotle and Hegel.

Pippin says that for Hegel, “The role of art is to make available the speculative truth of philosophy in a sensible and affective register, and that means in an incomplete and finally unsatisfactory, because not fully self-conscious, way, and that way must be and can only fully be articulated in the Logic. Obviously, this touches on the basic issue that has arisen scores of times in the preceding: is there or is there not a form of nondiscursively available meaningfulness in human experience, and one that bears directly on philosophy in a fundamental way, given that such original familiar meaningfulness must count as bearing on the ‘first’ question all philosophy must be oriented from — the possible availability of anything at all, the availability of being qua being?” (p. 217).

That some more fundamental interpretation of meaning must precede calculable, univocal forms of reasoning is, I think, abundantly clear. Even from the side of formal systems, it is always necessary to begin with axioms, postulates, or hypotheses that are presumed to have a status independent of the development of the system. No formal system is truly self-contained. But philosophers like Aristotle and Hegel are not developing formal systems.

And what does this all have to do with talk about “being qua being”? This connection, so important to Heidegger, seems like sheer presumption. I’m objecting to the identification from the hermeneutic side, but I could imagine that some Thomists might also be unhappy with it, because they would identify being qua being with God, and therefore not with human hermeneutic activity.

On the other hand, I do greatly appreciate Pippin’s gloss that Heidegger’s question of the meaning of Being can alternately be expressed more simply as questioning about meaning. That takes the mystifying element out of it. But it still raises the question why it is necessary to raise the topic of questioning about meaning in such a roundabout and mystifying way, if that is really the aim.

Pippin equates the possible availability of being qua being to the “possible availability of anything at all” (ibid). I doubt this. Being qua being is a very specific historically developed theory or theories, mainly due to Avicenna, Aquinas, and Scotus. Anything at all is anything at all.

“[W]e can say that there is in [Hegel’s] Encyclopedia system a non-theoretical, nondiscursive, and philosophically significant role for art…. Heidegger’s affirmative answer… ranges from his early emphasis on the disclosive role of ‘attunements’ to his later emphasis on historical ‘uncoverings and self-concealings’ in the arts…. [I]n Hegel, … fine art should count as a ‘sensible and affective’ register of what could be called the way in which the meaning of Geist’s being is available to it at a historical period in a historical community” (ibid).

The medieval Albertist Dietrich of Freiberg would frankly tell us that the meaning of Geist‘s being should be understood to be the same as the meaning of Geist said simply (he says that a human being is in no way different from a human, and similarly for all such cases).

For Hegel “Consciousness as Sense-Certainty… assumes the world is available to it simply by virtue of its sensible presence. One is immediately onto sensed objects directly just by sensing them. But any distinctly human form of apprehension must, insists Hegel, be able to say what it claims to know, otherwise it is just differentially responsive and not an instance of knowing. The absence of such saying would be untrue to its experienced nature as a human knower and in that sense, not being who one is, would be unfree. It puts itself unavoidably to the test by trying to say what it knows and failing. This is the first manifestation of the conatus of freedom, the realization of self-conscious self-knowledge…. As we have seen Heidegger argue, … in phenomenological terms the ultimacy of this conatus, from the beginning… means that metaphysics as unconditioned thinking on thinking… is an illusion, question-begging (p. 219, emphasis in original).

Conatus is a term from early modern theories of motion that was used by Spinoza for the ongoing effort of a living being to be the being that it is. It seems to me to describe more or less the same phenomena as Aristotelian entelechy or Kantian internal teleology, in a vocabulary that is compatible with mechanism and avoids reference to teleology.

Pippin adds in a footenote to “question-begging” : “I state here the Heideggerian position, not my own. Heidegger has to claim that what for the Hegelian, or in the Hegelian tradition, must count as the pathologies of modernity — alienation, reification, domination instead of mutuality of recognitive status, the humiliating conditions of the modern organization of labor, anomie, deracination — are all best understood as implications of the still ‘unthought’ question, the meaning of Being, as descendants of the ‘metaphysical’ tradition…. [T]his claim is worth taking more seriously than it has been, but the way Heidegger formulates the issue seems to exclude all other options as derivative from and so complicit with that tradition. Even on strictly hermeneutical grounds, such exclusivity leaves us with an incomplete interpretation of what we need to understand” (p. 219n).

The theory of how the unconditioned can emerge from the conditioned, and the eternal from what is in time, is very delicate and easily misunderstood, but it is central to what Hegel is about. I don’t claim to know that that is how things are, but it is my fervent conviction. Hegel uses very idiosyncratic talk about “negation” and “negativity” to explain it.

“Heidegger has framed all such issues as dependent on, and reflecting some sense of, the historical meaningfulness of Being and that means the context of his question about the reconciling powers of reason is a question about mattering” (ibid).

I’m all for attention to meaning and mattering, but for me that means attention to interpretation and ethics, not ontology. Heidegger distinguishes an inferior, everyday “ontic” character of things from the superior, extraordinary, ineffable character of Being, and castigates others for ignoring this distinction. I think this distinction is false and should be ignored. Rather than a binary division between the ineffable and the boring world of ordinary things and ordinary life, it is better to learn to see the nonordinary in the ordinary.

Next in this series: Heidegger’s Story About Metaphysics

What We Mean by Meaning

Returning to Brandom’s Spinoza lectures, he has been clarifying his relation to the tradition of American pragmatist philosophy, which is largely mediated by the work of his former teacher and colleague Richard Rorty.

“At the core of the capacious ‘big tent’ tradition Rorty retrospectively rationally reconstructs under the rubric of ‘pragmatism’ is this broadly naturalistic, anthropological-ecological conception of language as an evolving population of discursive practices that is a, indeed the, distinctive feature of the natural history of creatures like us” (Pragmatism and Idealism, p. 41).

Aristotle defines humans as animals that have logos, or meaningful discourse. Hegel says that “language is the Dasein [“existence”, literally “being there”] of spirit”. The pragmatists Pierce and Dewey were interested in Hegel, and notably took a down-to-earth attitude toward his work. Brandom picks up this somewhat loose link to Hegel, and strengthens and sharpens it.

“This is what motivates and justifies [Rorty’s] use of this term [pragmatism] to characterize not only philosophers such as Pierce and Dewey, who embraced it themselves, but others such as Wittgenstein and Heidegger, and Sellars, Quine, and Davidson, who (sometimes explicitly and emphatically) did not. Rorty sees a stark contrast between this way of thinking about language and the analytic representationalist tradition that runs from Frege, Russell, and the Wittgenstein of the Tractatus through Carnap and Tarski to his colleague David Lewis. This tradition models language on formal monological logistical calculi, justification on proof of theorems from axioms, and truth conditions on model-theoretic semantics for such artificial languages. What, Rorty asks, does any of that have to do with what users of natural languages do?” (ibid).

Brandom himself speaks of “pragmatism” in this same very broad and yet distinctly philosophical way. Here we get a glimpse of how he arrived at that.

“In taking this line, Rorty rightly understands himself as appealing to the Pierce-Dewey tradition of American pragmatism to amplify and radicalize Quine’s and Sellars’ criticisms of Carnap, and following up on Wittgenstein’s advice for philosophers to look not to the [formal, logical, representational] meaning of expressions, but to their use‘” (ibid).

Brandom more commonly cites Wittgenstein’s other formulation, that “meaning is use”. He clearly does not mean that there is no meaning. He means that meaning as use comes before meaning as representation. This focus on order of explanation as an alternative to reducing one thing to another, or denying one in favor of the other, is one of Brandom’s great contributions.

“Rorty sometimes seems to draw the lesson that we should do pragmatics instead of semantics (which he identifies with appeals to the notions of [logical] truth and representation), study use rather than meaning. When talking this way. he is following the later Wittgenstein (who recoils from his semantics-only Tractarian view to a pragmatics-only approach), James, and Dewey, but not Pierce, Sellars, Quine, and Davidson. They should be understood as pursuing pragmatics-first, rather than semantics-first explanatory strategies, but not as trading the traditional neglect of pragmatics by the representationalist semantic tradition for a corresponding dismissal of semantics holus bolus. I think that another genuine strand in Rorty’s thought belongs in this tradition…. [H]ere we see both a subtle interplay and perhaps a residual tension between pragmatist naturalism and an insistence on a Kantian disjunction between norms and causes” (pp. 41-42).

“Rorty inscribes within his Piercean, broadly naturalistic account, a distinction between the social-normative and the nonsocial, so non-normative, merely natural world of vocabulary-less things. The norms that articulate vocabulary use are to be understood functionally, in terms of roles in social practices that include the adoption of normative attitudes. Practitioners adopt such attitudes by taking or treating each other in practice as committed or entitled, responsible or authoritative” (p. 42).

Vocabularies are a characteristic theme of Rorty’s. I take this to resemble my own attitude in examining usages of words — not looking for “the” meaning (as if there could be such a thing), but rather thoughtfully exploring what uses are better or worse, and why.

In contrast to reductionist views, naturalism should be understood in terms broad enough to encompass beings like us who have their being in language and normativity, and thus live mainly in “second nature”.

“In the sort of pragmatics-first order of explanation he recommends, we think of what one is doing in claiming, say, that the frog is on the log, as undertaking a commitment. Doing that is taking up a stance in a normative space, acquiring a distinctive kind of social status. Rorty understands such statuses ultimately in terms of interpersonal practices of justification. In adopting normative stances we make ourselves answerable to each other for doing so. We are liable to be challenged, and obliged to defend the normative statuses we claim. One commitment is treated by community members as providing a reason for another, as providing a justification for it” (pp. 42-43).

Every assertion we make has some kind of ethical consequences.

“The meaning expressed by using some bit of vocabulary is to be understood in terms of the role it plays in these practices of giving and practically assessing reasons: what its application provides reasons for and against, and what provides reasons for and against its application. All there is to confer meaning on our noises is the role they play in our taking up, challenging, and defending the stances taken up by applying them…. Understanding meaning or semantic content in terms of inferential roles read off of justificatory practices is a way of implementing the pragmatics-first order of explanation without giving up on semantics” (p. 43).

Ethics and hermeneutics come before epistemology. This is not to say that a theory of knowledge is impossible, but only that it should not be foundationalist. We never begin a philosophical account of things with certainty, but rather with questions and practices of questioning. The highest kind of certainty we can have is still only a “moral” certainty, not an absolute one.

“Rorty thinks such a pragmatist explanatory strategy can underwrite unobjectionable kinds of truth-talk. We just have to restrict ourselves to properties of truth that can be cashed out in pragmatic terms of what we are doing in taking or treating something as true” (ibid).

I don’t really see this as a restriction. There are ultimately ethical truths of reason and reasoning and emotional reasonableness that can be brought to light by Socratic dialogue, and there is poetic truth. Spiritual truth I take to be one or the other of these, or both. Neither of these is an authoritarian representational Truth with a capital T that I personally claim to know, but never mind how.

“Once the meanings are fixed, it is of course nonsense to think the community can in general make true whatever sentences it likes simply by taking or treating them as true. But our words do not mean what they mean apart from which sentences involving them we actually take to be true” (p. 44).

Rorty’s Pragmatism

We’re in the middle of Robert Brandom’s recent Spinoza lectures, published as Pragmatism and Idealism (2022). He has been situating the work of his teacher Richard Rorty (and implicitly his own as well) in the context of 20th-century philosophy in the English-speaking world. Rorty aimed to revive the minority tradition of American pragmatism, which historically adopted a number of insights from Kant and Hegel, upon which Brandom aims to further expand. Rorty wanted to question standard received views of experience and representation. Brandom has been contrasting pragmatist views of the philosophy of science with the mid-20th century orthodoxy of logical empiricism.

“[E]xperience is not an input to the process of learning. Experience is the process of learning” (Pragmatism and Idealism, p. 23, emphasis in original).

“The rationality of science is best epitomized not in the occasion of the theorist’s sudden intellectual glimpse of some aspect of the true structure of reality, but in the process by which the skilled practitioner coaxes usable observations by experimental intervention, crafts theories by inferential postulation and extrapolation, and dynamically works out a more or less stable but always evolving accommodation between the provisional results of these two enterprises. The distinctive pragmatist shift in imagery for the mind is not from mirror to lamp, but from telescope and microscope to flywheel governor” (ibid).

Brandom has also been diagnosing inherent conflicts within the tradition of logical empiricism.

“A threatening and recalcitrant tension accordingly concerned how to proceed when respect for the deliverances of science as the measure of what there is and how it is in nature collides with empiricist strictures on when we are entitled to claim to know what there is and how it is. Otto Neurath thought that naturalism should prevail, while Moritz Schlick thought that empiricism should. Rudolph Carnap struggled mightily to keep the two wings of the movement from flying off in different directions. In spite of his many pragmatist corrections to and emendations of his hero Carnap, Quine could never bring into harmony his own scientific naturalism and residual empiricist hostility to modality” (pp. 25-26).

It is in this context that Rorty calls for a revival of pragmatism. More than Rorty himself, Brandom brings out the Kantian and Hegelian background of the pragmatist alternative.

“Rorty’s call for a second pragmatist Enlightenment, completing the first, is a Hegelian extrapolation of the original Kantian understanding of the Enlightenment, extending the application of that concept from ethics to encompass also semantics and epistemology. Further on, I will say more about what makes it Hegelian, and what difference that step beyond Kant makes. But first it is worth filling in the argument behind this subsumption of semantic anti-representationalism under the banner of humanistic Enlightenment anti-authoritarianism. In its largest structure, I think it consists of two moves: a Kantian appreciation of the normative character of representational relations, and a Hegelian social pragmatism about normativity in general” (p. 30, emphasis in original).

Here we are at the core of Brandom’s work on Kant and Hegel. It is fascinating to see how much of this he attributes to Rorty. This is a nice capsule account. (I’m still wary of the extremely compressed term “social pragmatism”, which presupposes a much more elaborate understanding like the one he is developing.)

“The first [of the two moves Brandom attributes to Rorty] is part and parcel of Kant’s radical recasting of Descartes’s division of things into minds and bodies in terms of the distinction between norms and causes. Kant reconceives discursive intentionality (apperception or sapience) as a normative phenomenon. What principally distinguishes judgments and intentional actions from the responses of merely natural creatures is their normative status” (ibid, emphasis in original).

This has huge significance. In language compatible with modern notions of cause, discourse around the notion of normativity seems able to express all practical matters of mind or spirit. This was a great problem with which the early moderns mightily struggled. 

“Knowers and agents are responsible for how they take things to be and make things to be. Candidate knowings and doings express commitments as to how things are or shall be. They are exercises of a distinctive kind of authority: the authority to commit oneself, to make oneself responsible. This is the authority to bind oneself by rules in the form of the concepts discursive beings apply in judging and intending. Merely natural creatures are bound by rules in the form of laws of nature. Discursive beings are bound by rules they bind themselves by: concepts they apply, which are rules determining what they have thereby made themselves responsible to and for. Their normative statuses (responsibility, commitments) are instituted by their attitudes of undertaking or acknowledging these commitments” (pp. 30-31, emphasis in original).

Brandom is literally reinventing the notion of authority. This is not some power emanating from a central source, but the authority of all rational beings to undertake commitments and responsibilities just by binding themselves to those commitments and responsibilities. This is a version of Kantian autonomy.

At the same time Brandom appeals to Kant’s provocative, non-representationalist suggestion that concepts should be thought of as a kind of rules.

He continues, “Autonomy is the essence of Kantian rationality. It is a distinctive normative sort of freedom, which Kant develops by turning Rousseau’s definition of freedom — [Rousseau] says ‘obedience to a law one has prescribed for oneself is freedom’ — into a criterion for genuinely normative bindingness” (p. 31).

The autonomy of reason means that reason is not subordinated to any unquestioned assumptions. Its exercise is free.

I have long puzzled over Kant and Hegel’s enthusiasm for Rousseau, who has usually seemed to me like an anti-rationalist voluntarist, with his emphasis on will rather than reason. I also tend to viscerally reject social contract theory, as a vulgar business-transaction metaphor for considerations that ought to be treated in more comprehensively ethical terms. But this particular formulation does seem to have a more specific relation to Kantian autonomy. “Obedience to a law one has prescribed for oneself” implies a strong consistency, which Brandom elsewhere relates to the Kantian meta-goal of unity of apperception. A delicate question that arises here is whether the mythical founding moment of such obedience is taken to be arbitrary, or rather on the contrary is subject to the same conditions of Socratic questioning as everything else.

“I think that in his later critique of representationalism in semantics on the basis of a more thoroughgoing and general version of Enlightenment anti-authoritarianism, Rorty follows Hegel in focusing on the rulishness of Kant’s conception of representation. For Hegel reads Kant as offering a normative concept of representation, as a way of filling in his normative conception of intentionality. Kant dug down below Cartesian epistemological concerns about the warrant for our confidence in the success of our representational undertakings to uncover the underlying semantic understanding of representational purport they presuppose” (ibid, emphasis in original).

Despite his emphasis on autonomy, Kant is very much a philosopher of rules and law, who emphasizes the nomos (law or custom) in autonomy. From Hegel’s point of view, this is partly a strength and partly a weakness. Kant sees formalism as a safeguard against arbitrariness, and implicitly expects it to be deployed in a reasonable way. Hegel recognizes this, but also thinks that every formalism will eventually go wrong.

Brandom continues, “Where Descartes takes for granted the representational purport of our thought (construing it as something we immediately know, just by having thoughts at all) — their being, in his phrase, tanquam rem, ‘as if of things’ — Kant asks what it is about our thoughts in virtue of which they so much as seem to represent something else, purport to point beyond themselves to something they are of or about” (pp. 31-32).

Descartes and many others take the contents of thought and their apparent meanings for granted. Kant and Hegel and the pragmatists do not.

“One lesson that Hegel learns from Kant, as I understand him, is that a representing is responsible to what it represents for assessments of its correctness, in a distinctive sense. What is represented exercises authority over what count as representings of it just in virtue of its serving as a standard those representings are responsible to for such assessments of correctness (as representings). This is a radical reconceptualization of the representational relations between representeds and representings as a normative relation of authority and responsibility” (p. 32, emphasis in original).

Here Brandom lays the ground for a response to Rorty’s rejection of the “authority” of Reality with a capital R. For Brandom, genuine authority is not something imposed on us from above, but something in which we too participate from a ground level. And representation is not just a matter of fact, but something we do well or poorly, and thus something subject to normative appraisal.

“Pragmatism in this sense is the claim that normative statuses — paradigmatically responsibility or authority, commitment or entitlement — are always and everywhere features of the role something plays in social practices. Norms are creatures of our practices, instituted by our practical attitudes: how we take or treat things. Apart from their involvement in such practices, there are no normative proprieties, only natural properties” (p. 32, emphasis in original).

Brandom here implicitly associates pragmatism with the Kantian thesis of the primacy of “practical” reason. Kantian practical reason is ethical reason. 

Pragmatism has commonly been presented as continuing something like the spirit of the British utilitarianism of Bentham and Mill. The utilitarians certainly have ethical concepts of their own, but they are “ethical naturalists” who ultimately explain ethics in terms of utility or pleasure. 

Kant’s thesis of the primacy of practical reason, especially as radicalized by Brandom, goes in the opposite direction. It makes value judgment the root of all other judgment, including judgment of ordinary facts. Questioning about the good comes before any conclusions about the real or the true in the constitutive order of things. I think Plato and Aristotle would both endorse this.

“This is a social, Hegelian version of a central enlightenment idea. Samuel Pufendorf theorized about what he called the ‘imputation’ of normative characteristics of things: the way they acquire this new sort of normative significance by playing a suitable role in our practices. Social contract theories of political obligation looked for the origin of normative statuses of political authority and responsibility in practical attitudes of contracting and consenting. By contrast to traditional ideas of an objective natural or supernatural order of normative superiority and subordination (the scala naturae, the Great Chain of Being), the modern idea is that there were no statuses of authority and responsibility, no superiors and subordinates, until we started taking or treating each other as authoritative and responsible, as entitled to command and obliged to obey” (pp. 32-33, emphasis in original).

Pufendorf played a major role in the development of the notion of a social contract, and early modern secular theories of “natural law”. He was a political voluntarist, and a defender of absolute sovereignty in the tradition of Bodin and Hobbes. But Brandom points out that Pufendorf also sought to explain normative significances in terms of roles in social practice. (Any serious thinker ought to be embarrassed at the prospect of defending sheer arbitrary will, so it is not surprising that voluntaristic political theorists ended up tempering their voluntarism.)

Now we come back to Rorty and Cartesian representationalism.

“The answer [Rorty] eventually came to, starting off with the rough, popular characterization of ‘privacy’ and ending with the substantially more focused notion of ‘incorrigibility’, was in explicitly normative terms. The key, he came to see, is a distinctive kind of first-person authority. Sincere contemporaneous first-person reports count as reports of mental occurrences just in case and insofar as they have a distinctive kind of un-overrideable epistemic authority. We can’t be either wrong about or ignorant of how things sensuously seem to us, or about what we are currently thinking, in the sense that no-one else’s claims about our experience have the social significance of decisive objections to our sincere first-person avowals” (pp. 33-34).

For this, Brandom cites articles by Rorty from 1965 and 1970. Incorrigibility is central to Brandom’s own account of Descartes. At a certain level, the argument does seem to be irrefutable. But it doesn’t seem to do much for knowledge, since what is thereby determined to be in a way incorrigible is just a certain seeming or appearing. I cannot be mistaken about how things seem to me. Everyone is an uncontestable authority on their own subjective feeling, and this has relevance in ethical contexts. But, needless to say, this incorrigibility does not extend to our beliefs about how things actually are. This is an important practical distinction in ethical contexts. You are the incontestable authority on how things seem to you. But the moment you make claims about what is true in the real world, you become responsible to answer questions and doubts about those claims.

Brandom seems to be suggesting that a broadly Cartesian concept of the mental can be retained, provided that we reinterpret it in terms of normativity rather than supposed facts of consciousness.

“Understanding minds in the Cartesian sense accordingly shows up as the task of understanding the nature of that authority. One option is that the authority should be understood as a natural, objective, ontological feature of mental phenomena. But Rorty has learned from the later Wittgenstein to be suspicious of this idea. Normative statuses, he thinks, must ultimately be understood as social statuses. (This is the positive, Hegelian, pragmatist lesson Rorty learns from Dewey.)” (p. 34).

“[Rorty thinks] social practices of according such authority to reports changed. Descartes both theoretically reflected and practically encouraged modern practical attitudes of taking or treating sincere first-person reports of contemporaneous mental events as having incorrigible authority. That change in normative attitudes brought into existence a new ontological category of thing: mental episodes as incorrigibly knowable by their possessors” (ibid).

“According to Rorty’s radicalized version of social pragmatism about norms, the very idea of objective things as exercising epistemic authority over our attitudes — underwritten by the semantic idea of representeds serving as normative standards for assessments of the correctness of what count as representings of them just in virtue of being responsible to them for such assessments — is deeply and irremediably confused. All authority is in the end communal authority. Further, as we shall see, the critical function of reason as legitimating norms, as understood by the Enlightenment and made most fully explicit by Kant, teaches that we can only be genuinely responsible to each other, to what we can engage with in conversation, to what we can give justifying reasons to and in turn demand justifying reasons from” (pp. 36-37).

“This radicalization of social pragmatism about norms is now explicitly construed in political terms of freedom and dignity. ’Only in a democratic society which describes itself in pragmatist terms, one can imagine Dewey saying, is the refusal to countenance any authority save that of consensus reached by free inquiry complete'” (p. 37).

“The incipient pragmatist emancipation Rorty is working toward is the substitution of a pragmatics of consensus for the semantics of representation. All we can do is give and ask for reasons with each other. Authority and responsibility are creatures of those discursive practices. We should accordingly reject the idea that our discursive practices answer to, are responsible to, need to acknowledge the authority of, anything outside those practices and the practical attitudes of those who engage in them. The constraint of the objective world should be understood as exclusively causal, not normative. We are normatively constrained only by our reasons” (p. 38, emphasis in original).

“Like his hero Dewey, Rorty never questioned the utility and importance of a basically ecological concept of reality…. This is the stubborn, recalcitrant reality that causally constrains, challenges, frustrates, and rewards our practical undertakings” (ibid, emphasis in original).

“Rorty’s critique of representationalism is founded not on denying or ignoring the causal context in which our talk takes place…, but precisely on a hard-headed insistence and focus on that context” (p. 39).

“Rorty sees Dewey as having usefully added an emphasis on the social character of practices that transcend individual learning processes. At this level, the ‘habits’ that are cyclically shaped by ecological-adaptational causal interactions with the environment are in the first instance social practices. Rorty takes it that this broadened social naturalism (a ‘second-nature naturalism’ as per McDowell in Mind and World) is endorsed also by the later Wittgenstein and the Heidegger of Division One of Being and Time. And Rorty himself goes beyond even Dewey, in making common cause with Wittgenstein in further focusing on specifically discursive practices” (p. 40).

“Rorty sometimes seems to draw the lesson that we should do pragmatics instead of semantics (which he identifies with appeals to the notions of truth and representation), study use rather than meaning. When talking this way, he is following the later Wittgenstein (who recoils from his semantics-only Tractarian view to a pragmatics-only approach), James, and Dewey, but not Pierce, Sellars, Quine, and Davidson. They should be understood as pursuing pragmatics-first, rather than semantics-first explanatory strategies, but not as trading the traditional neglect of pragmatics by the representationalist semantic tradition for a corresponding pragmatist dismissal of semantics holus bolus” (pp. 41-42).

“He does have views about meaning. But he thinks we should understand it in terms of justificatory practices rather than a notion of truth understood in terms of representation” (p. 42).

I for one understand ethical truth in terms of such justificatory practices. I also recognize poetic truth that is neither representational nor justificatory, but nonetheless significant.

More on Reflection

The concept of reflection is fundamental to Kant and Hegel’s view of reason, and on a very down-to-earth level to supporting what I call emotional reasonableness.

Reflection occurs through the medium of discursive development. What we experience as immediate consciousness is the result of pre-conscious syntheses of imagination that in part build on past knowledge and experience in accordance with our dispositions and character, but in part simply represent shortcuts (assumptions and pre-judgments) that enable us to respond rapidly in situations where there is no time for prolonged reflection.

Neither Plato nor Aristotle has a Greek word that exactly corresponds to reflection in Kant and Hegel’s sense, but a similar concept permeates their work. Platonic dialogue is implicitly reflection that is shared between two or more persons. Aristotelian deliberation, contemplation, and normative saying are all implicitly grounded in reflection. Our higher destiny as talking animals is to reflect. What we reflect on includes deeds and motivations in general, not only the special kind of deeds that are sayings. It also includes relevant circumstances.

In recent times, Paul Ricoeur and Robert Pippin have each made important uses of the concept of reflection.

Anything at All

I was surprised to see the way that Pippin talks about “the thought of anything at all”. For him “anything at all” is apparently the unique failed thought of the utterly indeterminate, taken as a single abstract pseudo-thing with no characteristics.

What I thought of first on seeing this phrase was rather the indefinitely vast multitude of different things of all sorts that could be thought of. “Anything at all” could be idea of the good, or Hegel’s left shoelace, or absolutely any other “thing” in the broadest possible sense, but in each case I would want to say that it is something. The one (pseudo) thing I think “anything at all” excludes is the symbolic term “nothing” and its analogues.

As Hegel points out, the thought of “the indeterminate immediate” is in reality the thought of nothing at all. I think he is right that without distinction there is no intelligibility, and that the abolition of all distinction in Parmenidean Being makes it inferentially and thus “logically” equivalent to Nothing. No consequences could follow from anything that has no characteristics.

The utterly indeterminate is already equivalent to Nothing, independent of the mention of immediacy. Things are equivalent or not based on the equivalence of their characteristics, so all nominal or pseudo “things” with no characteristics are equivalent to one another. Parmenidean Being falls to Hegel’s critique because Parmenides denies that it is determined in any way whatoever.

Although I agree with Hegel that the utterly indeterminate is nothing, I don’t at all want to identify the phrases “anything at all” and “nothing at all”, which is the direction in which Pippin’s usage of “anything at all” seems to me to tend. I take “nothing at all” to name the one case that “anything at all” (i.e., any thing at all, i.e., anything that can be distinguished) excludes.

What Pippin really meant was “the thought of ‘anything at all'”. Adding explicit scare quotes around “anything at all” makes it clear that it is intended as an “immediate” concept, rather than invitation to substitute what we please. The thought of “anything at all” is equivalent to the thought of nothing at all. This is a very specific point about terminological clarity that has little to do with the important and valuable main argument of Hegel’s Realm of Shadows.

I mention this only because I seriously misunderstood the first reference Pippin made to “the thought of anything at all”, before he explicitly connected it to Hegel’s thesis of the nullity of Parmenidean Being. He said something like, “For Hegel, logic begins with the thought of anything at all”, and I initially took that to refer to any of the vast multitude of possible thoughts. I mistook the message to be that what we begin with is of little import; what matters much more is the form of the course of development and actualization and making explicit. That is true also, but in the passage, it turns out that Pippin was referring forward to the material I covered in the last post.

Next in this series: Being the One Acting