Putnam on the Virtues & Vices of Ordinary Language

Perhaps it follows from Hilary Putnam's critique of obsessive formalism (in philosophy) that he would also have championed the use of ordinary language, if not of the ‘ordinary language' school and its actual doctrines. Putnam himself says:

“One is that philosophy can and should for the most part be done in ordinary language, about which I agree with Austin enormously. The other is that it’s about ordinary language, which I don’t agree with. I think there’s a tendency not to separate the two.” (233)

The idea that philosophy should be done in ordinary language (at least when that's possible) isn't in itself a commitment to ‘ordinary language philosophy’; or a commitment that philosophy should only study ordinary language (or ordinary language concerns/issues).

This also follows from Putnam’s suspicion of the formalising tendencies in philosophy; as well as the strong attention to the efficacy - and indeed glorification - of mathematical logic.

Of course the ordinary language philosophers were indeed primarily concerned with the minutia of ordinary language. That was certainly the case with J.L. Austin; though not someone like Peter Strawson (e.g., with his ‘descriptive metaphysics’).

This commitment to ordinary language isn't just a question of making one’s prose-style clear and understandable to the layperson. It's also a question of the idea that if you don't (or can't) use ordinary prose to say what you want to say in ordinary language, then that should make you suspect the legitimacy of what you're saying. If you use language in a way that's radically at odds with ordinary language, then you commit “a plain violation of ordinary language” and “that’s at least a bad sign” (234).It's a sign that something has gone wrong with your philosophy somewhere along the line.

Putnam gives some examples of these ‘violations’ that not only use language that's at odds with ordinary language, but also say things which are themselves philosophically suspect. For example:

“The fact that we never speak of 'directly perceiving' and 'not directly perceiving' in everyday language in the way that traditional epistemologists do was a sign that something was really quite wrong with the traditional philosophy of perception, something already noticed in the eighteenth century by Thomas Reid, by the way. Reid sounds very Austinian when he fulminates against the strange ways philosophers talk about perception. I think that’s a corrective one should apply to one’s own thought.” (234)

The problem with this position is that it may not (or will not) allow philosophers any leeway to say anything new because that would be bound to go against the dictates of everyday language. Would we say the same kind of thing to poets when they use a strange (or any kind of) metaphor – that they too are going against everyday language? I hope not. In addition, the very fact that philosophy is an academic disciple (that is, a specialism) surely means that it's bound to say novel things in novel ways. Indeed Rorty, for example, says that it is almost the duty of philosophers to say strange things in strange ways. This is parallel to the situation with metaphors, he argues. That is, if metaphors were indeed literally translatable into everyday language, then they would simply loose their point.

Can we really have such a radical position on philosophical discourse as the one Putnam suggests? Perhaps Putnam is really against plain philosophical pretentiousness rather than radical philosophical prose itself. Of course many philosophers try to show off with mathematical logic, schematisations, gratuitous use of logical symbols/variables and the rest. This, however, isn't a point about philosophical prose: it's about philosophical pretentiousness. And pretentiousness, of course, is a failing we can find not just in philosophy but in all other academic disciplines. Indeed we can find it in all walks of life. (Including from the pretentiously self-conscious practitioner of being ‘down-to-earth’.)

I’m not even sure about Putnam’s examples. Is it really the case that the phrase “directly perceiving” is suspect from an everyday language point of view? It makes sense even if it's philosophically suspect. It would even make sense to the layperson.

These examples (given by Putnam) aren't like some of the stuff you can read in the academic journals of contemporary analytic philosophy (especially if written by postgraduate philosophy students!). So although I agree with Putnam to some extent, I think he goes a little too far. In addition, he should make a distinction between plain pretentiousness and the unavoidable fact that a disciple like philosophy is bound, at times, to be written in a prose-style that will make the layperson’s head buzz. You can’t do anything about that; at least in certain areas of philosophy.

Putnam seems to agree that we can't become the Khmer Rouge of philosophers. He says:

“But on the other hand, if another philosopher uses an expression in an extraordinary way or violates its ordinary use, I would never immediately conclude that he or she is talking nonsense. Then the idea of ordinary language become a kind of straightjacket – we know what ordinary language is, we know when it’s violated and we know that when it’s violated nonsense results – I don’t accept any one of those three statements.” (234)

Just as we may say that philosophers shouldn't be too hasty or keen to say that a layperson’s utterances are ‘meaningless’: perhaps the layperson himself shouldn't be too keen (or hasty) to call the writings of philosophers ‘meaningless’ or ‘violations of everyday language’. In that sense, perhaps philosophy is like poetry in that if the poet is to say something truly knew, he may have to say it in a novel way. The same may be true of the philosopher. Indeed some laypersons think that other laypersons are abusing language simply because they don’t understand their new ideas or the way that they're expressed. Perhaps it's really because they don't like what it is that's being expressed and thus cynically claim that it's the way they say it that's the problem.

So these issues don't only arise in philosophy or even only in other academic disciplines.

For example, many people say that ‘newage-ers’ speak nonsense – perhaps they do. Other say that animal rights activists don't even make sense – perhaps they don’t. What about what is said (in everyday language) about ‘super-strings’ or ‘quantum indeterminacy’? Surely that's ‘nonsense’ to the layperson if he can't even be bothered giving the physicist the benefit of the doubt.

In any case, do “we know what ordinary language is” (234)? Do we know “when it’s violated” if we don’t really know what it is in the first place (at least not formally)? Have we got the skills and the right to say when it's violated and that when it is ‘nonsense results’? Should we even be in the business, as philosophers or laypersons of putting “a kind of straightjacket” on our language? If we do, then perhaps all sorts of negative things would result: such as the sterility of thought, a lack of innovation, and, basically, the death of the imagination. Perhaps ordinary things can only be said in ordinary language and extraordinary things can only be said in extraordinary language. After all, language itself has never been static and much of what we said in the past is nonsense by present standards; just as what we say today would have been nonsense to our ancestors. Indeed much of what we say today will be deemed nonsense by future generations.

Quick Thoughts on the Identity of Indiscernibles

The law of the Identity of Indiscernibles is said to be the converse of Leibniz’s law. This is the Indentity of Indiscernibles:

If a and b have all their properties in common, then they are one and the same thing.

In symbols:

(x) (y) (F) ((F) x ≡ F (y) ⊃. x = y)

The basic question is:

Imagine two steel balls which have all their properties in common. Could they still be two?

Intuitively, most people (I think) would say 'yes'. It doesn't seem inconceivable prior to modal philosophising.

For a start, wouldn’t the balls still be spatially or temporally separate? If that is the case, then surely they wouldn't have all their properties in common. (That's if you accept spatial and temporal properties, which many philosophers do.)

Now we go deeper into this thought experiment.

One could say (I suppose) that if the balls were suddenly frozen in space, then their positions would be different. Hence they'd have different spatial properties. However, what if the balls will never be frozen in space and never have been frozen in space? (Is that a hypothetical scenario about a hypothetical scenario?)

As they are now, and in five minutes, etc., the balls are constantly on the move relative to one another. Thus they have all their spatial (as well as temporal) properties in common. And because they're both in an empty world, there can be no relational properties (care-of other objects, conditions, events, etc.). Any relational properties a has relative to b, b has relative to a. Thus they have all their properties in common.

This, then, appears to break Leibniz’s law in that the balls are indiscernible; though not identical!

Leibniz’s Law & Intensional Contexts

What is Leibniz’s law? This:

If a is the same as b, then everything true of a is also true of b.

Or in symbols: (x) (y) (F) (x = y ⊃. F (x) ≡ F (y))

There's at least one way in which it can be taken to be false. Take Roger Scruton’s example:

“Suppose John is thinking tenderly of Mary, and Mary is the person who, unknown to John, ate his beloved cat. Is John thinking tenderly of the person who ate his cat?” 

This is primarily a question of John’s beliefs about Mary (de dicto): not about Mary herself (de re). It's indeed the case the cat-eater is the same person as the person thought tenderly of by John. However, John doesn't know that Mary ate his cat. This is a fact about John; not a fact about Mary. (Can there be psychological facts?)... Unless what is thought by other people about Mary also constitute facts about Mary. In that case, there would be a multitude of facts about Mary that she and others (as individuals) couldn't know about Mary (which isn't in itself implausible).

Does this story break Leibniz’s law? No.

What we would require to save the day is a theory of contexts: 'intensional' contexts. Do we need such intensional (or belief contexts) at all? Quine said no – at least not in science, logic and perhaps in philosophy too. That is, what John is thinking of doesn't belong to this particular extension (or reference) – that is, to Mary. Thus it plays no part in science or logic. (Though it would, perhaps, play a part in the psychological descriptions of John.) Then again, it could also be said that Mary (as a single person or human being) couldn't really play a part in science or logic either.

James Ladyman & Don Ross on Metaphysicians' Intuitions

 

You will note how important the criticism of the (analytic) metaphysicians' reliance on 'intuitions' is in James Ladyman and Don Ross's paper/book.

Since I've read many analytic philosophers (if not analytic metaphysicians) criticising not only the notion of “intuitions” - but also the philosophical reliance on them, I find it hard to make sense of Ladyman and Ross's stress on such a thing.

Sure, some philosophers have noted and even relied on intuitions; though many haven't. Though, as I argue later, it's almost impossible not to begin one's philosophical pursuits without utilising one's intuitions. And, it may follow from that, that if one's intuitions are acknowledged as a starting point, that starting point is bound to have an affect on much of what follows.

Having said that, it's indeed ironic, at least prima facie, that metaphysicians rely at all on intuitions. Isn't it far more likely that an epistemologist or a philosopher of mind (for reasons I hope are obvious) would stress or even rely on intuitions?

                          A Case for Intuitions

There are many arguments in favour of intuitions... and not all of them use intuitions.

For example, you must start from somewhere. And the best - or even the only - place to start from in philosophy (as in most things) is from one's own intuitions. Indeed it's hard to even make sense of the idea of starting from anywhere else. And if you start from your own intuitions (I stress the word 'start'), then it may be equally - or more - wise to take on board collective (as it were) intuitions as well.

Bearing all that in mind, it's hardly a cardinal sin when metaphysicians begin by using phrases such as "it is intuitive that..." or "it is counter-intuitive that..." (the examples given by Ladyman and Ross) when, presumably, such people won't end their philosophical pursuits with such phrases.

So when Ladyman and Ross say that intuitions aren't scientific data, the metaphysician may simply say: “Yes, I know. And?”

On the one hand, it may be understandable to argue against intuitions regarding, say, quantum mechanics or the nature of DNA. However, many mathematicians and scientists (ranging from Kurt Godel and Alan Turing to Roger Penrose) have happily stressed the importance of intuitions in both mathematics and physics. (Though, admittedly, perhaps not in quite the same way the guilty metaphysicians do.)

You can also defend the existence and utilisation of intuitions without using the phrase (which I noted in Ladyman and Ross's paper and elsewhere) “the faculty of intuition”. That sounds like the kind of reification that Gilbert Ryle warned against some seventy years ago. Indeed if people do believe in such a faculty, it will take on a role similar to that of Kant's a priori 'categories' or even the amygdala. In that case, just as philosophers could have asked Kant why he thought that the mind's concepts or categories were a-historical and universal; so a contemporary critic can ask why (some) metaphysicians think that our faculty of intuition is reliable and/or static from (say) an evolutionary or biological point of view.

Though, again, our intuitions need not be seen as a priori, a-historical or even as constituting a faculty as such.

It would be wise to say, then, that when contemporary metaphysicians appeal to intuitions, they don't (or, at least, they ought not to) refer to some magical ability which only they possess. Rather, they're simply using semi-rhetorical language; of which there are many other examples in analytic philosophy (such as "surely...", "it is obvious that...").

The Basics of Ladyman and Ross's Case Against Analytic Metaphysics

It can be seen that the basic idea is simple.

Before the rise of modern science it was philosophers who investigated “the fundamental structure and nature of physical reality” (as it's often put). However, after the rise of modern science, philosophers shouldn't be still doing this without the help of science.... at least not in 2015!

As a consequence of that, The Every Thing Must Go position is against any “a priori metaphysics” or the search for “a priori truths”.

Prima facie, it's hard to make sense of this because I can't really believe that there's a 21st-century (or 20th century) metaphysician who would claim to be engaged in an entirely a priori pursuit. (Though perhaps I'm wrong.) In fact I'm not even sure what the words “a priori metaphysics” mean or if it would be achievable (in principle).

Anyway, if such a thing does exist, then James Ladyman and Don Ross class it as “neo-Scholasticism”.

Sometimes Ladyman and Ross's main criticisms of analytic metaphysics seem rhetorical – at least as they stand. For example:

i) That metaphysics "contributes nothing to human knowledge”.
ii) That metaphysicians are "wasting their talents”.
iii) That metaphysics “fails to qualify as part of the enlightened pursuit of objective truth, and should be discontinued”.

Sure, these positions can be argued for. However, it must now be said that some commentators say that they aren't argued for by Ladyman and Ross: they're simply stated.

What may happen here, then, is that those who follow the every-thing-must-go position will simply end up talking a different language to those who practice analytic metaphysics (or just plain metaphysics). And then it will come as no surprise that there's no mutual ground between them (or even a conversation). It will become like the situation between much Continental philosophy and analytic philosophy (at least until, say, the 1980/90s).

What Ladyman & Ross Do

The central metaphysical position of the everything-must-go school (if there is such a thing) is one of “ontic structuralism realism”. The fundamental aspect of this is the importance it gives to the mathematical relations or structures which capture the nature of physical reality (i.e., in physics). Clearly, then, if one wants to explore this position, then that's where to begin.

ETMG philosophers also class themselves as “neo-positivists”. They acknowledge that there were big problems with the original logical positivist school (if it ever was a school). That's not a problem because the logical positivists themselves realised that there was a problem with (much of) logical positivism. In fact it was mainly - or only - former logical positivists who destroyed logical positivism. (I doubt that other philosophers would have had the knowledge or skill to carry out that feat.)

It also seems that Ladyman and Ross are saying that metaphysicians should be scientifically-literate holists who should try to show us “how everything fits together in a broad sense” (as Nelson Goodman or Wilfred Sellars once put it).

In other words, the “ontological structure” of the universe is the domain of physics and science generally. Metaphysics, on the other hand, should attempt to find a unified and “cross-disciplinary” philosophical synthesis and analysis of how the sciences tell us the universe is structured. (Put that way, it's similar to Quine's position; though he didn't really emphasise cross-disciplinary unification as such.)

The Debate?

When a metaphysician says that analytic metaphysics is concerned with problems which aren't (strictly speaking) scientific (as well as when he says that it uses analytical and logical methods that aren't those of of science), then, I suppose, Ladyman and Ross may give the obvious reply:

The problems and tools of metaphysics shouldn't be distinct from science – even if they aren't identical.

Though if you were to take this position too far, metaphysics will simply become physics/science; or, at the least, a part of science/physics.

The problem is that no only may Ladyman and Ross throw out metaphysics and even all philosophy (if you follow their logic), it may even be the case that much science will also be thrown out too. (This point was famously made against certain positions advanced by the logical positivists.)

For example, what about empirically-untestable string theory? Is that “neo-Scholasticism”? What about some of the well-known mathematical and logical problems? That is, the ones which can be seen as “intellectual puzzles” and nothing more?

Everything must go?