Interperspectival Content – LUDLOW (M)

LUDLOW, P. Interperspectival Content. Oxford University Press, 2019. 272 pages. Resenha de: MARTONE, Filipe. Manuscrito, Campinas, v.42 n.3  July/Sept. 2019.

Peter Ludlow’s most recent book is a systematic defense and exploration of what he calls interperspectival contents. Such contents are a sui generis kind of content expressed in language by tense and indexical expressions. They are essentially perspectival, and they cannot be eliminated or reduced to non-perspectival contents. Moreover, the ‘inter’ in ‘interperspectival’ means they are not subjective, private things: they are shared across agents situated in different perspectives. According to Ludlow, reality is shot through with such contents, from language and thought to computation and the flow of information, and they are needed to explain a number of phenomena, including intentional action, rule-following and the passage of time. In a sense, then, Ludlow’s new book is the perfect antithesis to Cappelen & Dever (2013). He makes a comprehensive case that perspectivality is not merely philosophically interesting, but also that it runs as deep as basic physics (Ch. 8). The book is ambitious, broad-ranging and interdisciplinary, and it would be impossible to discuss all of its contents in a short review. For this reason, I concentrate on the main points of his theory (laid out in the first three chapters) and try to spell them out in a bit more detail.

Perry’s messy shopper and Lewis’ twin gods convinced almost everybody that certain beliefs and desires must involve an essentially perspectival ingredient if they are to explain human intentional action adequately. Referential content, they claimed, is not enough. Because this perspectival ingredient is expressed in language by tense and indexicals, it is usually referred to as ‘indexical content’, but Ludlow prefers to call it ‘interperspectival content’, or ‘perspectival content’ for short (p. 3). Since Perry’s and Lewis’ work, philosophers started seeing ineliminable perspectival components everywhere: in emotion, perception, consciousness, temporal reasoning, ethical agency and in normative behavior more generally. Of course, they disagree on the precise nature of this perspectival component (e.g. if it reflects a deep feature of reality or is merely a narrow psychological state), but there is widespread agreement that it must be there to explain various aspects of human activities. There is a vocal minority, though, who remains deeply unconvinced. The most notable case is that of Cappelen and Dever (2013), henceforth C&D.

C&D’s work had a huge impact, so it is a natural starting point for Ludlow. In the first chapter, he uses C&D objections as a foil to show why interperspectival contents are indispensable. His main target are the so-called Impersonal Action Rationalizations (IAR). IARs attempt to explain an agent’s behavior only in terms of non-perspectival attitudes. C&D argue that IARs are perfectly adequate explanations of behavior, even though they are perspective-free. If they are right, this would show that there is no necessary connection between perspectivality and agency, pace Perry and Lewis. To better see the point, it is useful to reproduce here two action rationalizations Ludlow discusses, one personal and the other impersonal (p. 26):

Personal Action Rationalization (explanation) 1.

  • Belief: François is about to be shot.
  • Belief: I am François.
  • Belief (Inferred): I am about to be shot.
  • Desire: That I not be shot.
  • Belief: If I duck under the table, I will not be shot.
  • Action: I duck under the table.

Impersonal Action Rationalization (explanation) 1.

  • Belief: François is about to be shot.
  • Desire: François not be shot.
  • Belief: If François ducks under the table, he will not be shot.
  • Action: François ducks under the table.

For C&D, IAR-1 is an adequate explanation of why François ducked, and therefore the supposedly essential perspectival component is dispensable. Ludlow grants that some IARs have the appearance of genuine explanations, but he claims that we have good reasons to suspect that they appear that way because there is “something enthymematic” (p. 27) about them. For instance, IAR-1 seems to work only because the premise that François believes that he himself is François is implicit. This is not a new argument, but Ludlow gives it a different spin by asking us to consider a case in which François lacks the perspectival belief that he himself is François, but still ducks. The lack of a first-personal belief seems to make his ducking completely random and unconnected to the attitudes described in the rationalization.

To me, however, the most interesting argument Ludlow offers against C&D appeals to temporal beliefs. Ludlow notes that François’ attitudes are already knee-deep in temporal perspectival contents:

The desire is not that François timeline be free of getting-shot events; it is too late to realize such a desire. You can’t get unshot. His desire is that he not get shot now. Similarly for François’ belief: His belief is that if he ducks under the table now he will not get shot now. (p. 27)

Thus, even if the first-person perspective is somehow eliminated from the rationalization, temporal perspectival contents must remain, otherwise we cannot explain why François ducks at the moment he ducks. For some reason, the role of temporal perspectival contents in action explanation has mostly slipped under philosophers’ radars, and Ludlow does a nice job of bringing it out1. In fact, because temporal contents do not involve the complexities of the first-person, they seem to make a better and more straightforward case for the indispensability of the perspectival element, as Morgan (2019) argued.

Another interesting aspect of the first chapter is the discussion of C&D’s example of the aperspectival god. C&D claim that there could be a god who does not have perspectival thoughts but who could nevertheless act upon the word just by thinking things like ‘the door is closed’, and the door is closed. This example is supposed to show that there could be intentional action without perspectivality. But, Ludlow argues, this is very implausible. Suppose the aperspectival god creates a universe containing only ten qualitatively identical doors arranged in a circle (p. 33). How can the god form a particular intention to close one of the doors in this case? Indexical-free definite descriptions cannot single out any of them, and neither can proper names, since to name something you must first be able to identify it, either perceptually or by description. Even being omniscient, there must be a perspectival way of singling out one particular door in the god’s ‘awareness space’ (e.g. ‘that door’), otherwise she would not be able to form a particular intention about it. Ludlow’s example bears some similarities to Strawson’s massive reduplication universe (1959: 20-23), and both have more or less the same moral: every act of particular identification seems to ultimately rest on demonstrative (i.e. perspectival) identification. If this is right, then the aperspectival god would not be able to form particular intentions in these cases, and hence could not act upon particular objects. Ludlow concludes that perspectival components are indispensable.

Having established why we need perspectival contents, in the second chapter Ludlow goes on to explain what they are. In particular, by focusing on tense, he argues that perspectival contents are substantial features of reality, and not merely superficial aspects of language or thought. His argument leans heavily on a methodological doctrine he calls Semantic Accountability. As he puts it, “the basic idea is that meaningful use of language carries ontological commitments” (p. 16), and “that the metalanguage of the semantics must be grounded in the world and the contents that are expressed in the metalanguage are features of the external world” (p. 38). In other terms, if we cannot purge perspectival contents from the metalanguage that gives the semantics of a certain piece of perspectival discourse, then we must treat these contents as irreducible and ineliminable features of reality. Ludlow argues that this is not only the case with tense, but also with information theory, computation and even with physics. As we can see, the doctrine of semantic accountability plays a crucial role in the whole book.

In the second chapter he also expands on the two central notions of the book, namely, perspectival position and perspectival content. In short, perspectival positions are “egocentric spaces anchored in external positions” (p. 6), where external positions are objective locations in space and time. Because we are embedded in such positions, certain things will be there or herepast or future, and so on, with respect to us. More importantly, Ludlow argues that perspectival positions are not a matter of phenomenology, i.e., of how things are experienced by the relevant agents. According to him, the same perspectival position can have different phenomenal experiences associated with them, whereas different perspectival positions can yield the same phenomenal experience (p. 7).

Now, things get more complicated with interperspectival contents. Because they are primitives for Ludlow (p. 42), it is pretty hard to define them precisely. He attempts to circumvent this difficulty by employing several metaphors. First, he asks us to think of perspectival positions in terms of panels on a storyboard. Each panel is anchored in the agents’ perspectival position and represents the world from their point of view. For example, in a situation where I say ‘I am here’ and you say ‘you are there’, there is a panel representing my utterance, your utterance and the world from my perspectival position, and a panel representing your utterance, my utterance and the world from your perspectival position. The interperspectival content, in turn, “consists of this collection of storyboard panels…and a theory of how the panels in the storyboards are related (p. 42). As I understand it, this theory describes the events occurring – my utterance and your utterance – in a way that explains what we are doing, our motivations, beliefs and emotions in that situation. This explanatory theory would be the perspectival content. Another metaphor Ludlow offers is that of a dramaturge who has all the panels before her. The dramaturge knows how to coordinate them and has a theory of what is happening (p. 42). Finally, Ludlow emphasizes that perspectival contents are shared. When I say ‘I am here’ and you say ‘you are there’, we are expressing the same perspectival content, but from different perspectival positions. That is, we are expressing the same theories from different perspectives (p. 40), and to do that we have to use a different set of expressions. The same phenomena occurs with perspectival contents expressed across different temporal positions. If I think ‘today is a fine day’, and in the next day I think ‘yesterday was a fine day’, my thought episodes have the same referential content and the same perspectival content under a different verbal clothing.

The fact that perspectival contents are shared and remain stable across perspectival positions might make them look just like referential contents, since the latter also have the same properties. But Ludlow quickly points out that this cannot be right, for referential contents cannot explain action, emotion, and so on (p. 45), as he argued in the first chapter. Thus, whatever perspectival contents are, they cannot be referential contents. In fact, in the next chapter he is going to claim that perspectival contents bear important similarities to Fregean senses, which are notoriously richer and more fine-grained than referential content.

I understand that perspectival content is a pretty difficult notion to grasp, but the fact that Ludlow’s attempts to ‘define’ them are not so obviously equivalent makes things somewhat more confusing. For instance, in various passages he seems to identify perspectival contents with theories of some sort:

the resulting local theory is your interperspectival content.” (p. 72, italics mine).

I’ve offered a proposal in which we think of interperspectival contents as local theories that we express in different ways from different perspectival positions. (p. 75, italics mine)

Earlier, though, when discussing the storyboard metaphor, he talks about perspectival contents as being the combination of the panels (i.e. perspectival positions) and a theory, and not just the theory itself (p. 42). The following passage is also a bit odd: “[a]s we saw in Chapter 1, stripping the perspectival content from these theories [i.e. action rationalizations] neuters them” (p. 71). This makes it seem that perspectival contents are something contained or invoked in theories, and not theories in themselves. Also, assuming that perspectival contents are identified with theories, it is not clear how to interpret this passage: “[p]erspectival contents, when expressed, do not supervene on the state of a single individual, but they rather supervene (at least partly) on multiple individuals in multiple perspectival positions.” (p. 44). It surely sounds weird to say that a theory supervenes on individuals in perspectival positions; supervenience does not seem to be the right sort of relation here. Although I think I understand what perspectival contents are, I confess that I still feel a bit confused about the particulars and how they are supposed to work exatcly.

In the third chapter, Ludlow sets out to explain our “cross-perspective communication abilities” (p. 57), that is, how we manage to communicate across perspectival positions. As I mentioned earlier, in order to express the same perspectival content across spatial, temporal or personal perspectival positions we need to adjust its verbal expression. But how exatcly do we do that? To answer this question, Ludlow draws from his theory of Interpreted Logical Forms (ILFs)2 and from his theory of microlanguages3. The problem ILFs set out to explain was the problem of how using different expressions at different times could count as attributing the same attitude to an agent (p. 66). The basic idea is that, in making attitude reports, we are offering a “contribution to our shared theory of the agent’s mental life” (p. 67). This theory has two components: the Modeling Component and the Expression Component. The Modeling Component is roughly the ability to model an agent’s mental life, and it is sensitive to various factors, such as our interests and goals, our common ground, our knowledge of folk psychology, and so on. The Expression Component, in turn, involves a tacit negotiation among speakers regarding which expressions to use to talk about the agent’s belief structure as modeled by the Modeling Component. Drawing from research in psychology, Ludlow calls this process of negotiating expressions entrainment (p. 68). The result of entrainment is a microlanguage built on the fly, in the context, to describe the relevant agent’s attitudes. Thus, given our models and our local microlanguages, different words sometimes express the same content, sometimes different contents, or leave the matter open (p. 68). This same general idea applies in the case of perspectival contents and how they are expressed across different perspectival positions. The ability to form microlanguages help us express local theories, constructed on the go, about perspectival information. In other terms (as I understand it), by modeling perspectival information and by building microlanguages we are able to express shared local theories so as to explain action, emotion, and so on, from different perspectives and about agents in different perspectival positions. To illustrate this point, Ludlow again uses the metaphor of the storyboard:

… we can think of the storyboards as illustrating the Modeling Component. The overarching theory of content attribution combines the perspectival information (illustrated by the multiple storyboards), coordinates its expression across the agents represented, and combines that with fine grained contents as in the Larson and Ludlow ILF theory (…) The resulting local theory is your interperspectival content. (p. 72)

What I have discussed so far covers, I think, the main body of Ludlow’s theory of perspectival contents. These chapters are dense and complicated, and some points would benefit from a lengthier exposition. For example, ILFs and microlanguages are very important to the overall theory, and it would help if they were explained in a bit more detail. This also happens later in the book, when he uses his theory of the dynamic lexicon to account for the passage of time. I suspect that readers who are not familiar with Ludlow’s earlier work might fail to fully appreciate his point.

In the fourth chapter, Ludlow considers alternative accounts of perspectival contents: token reflexive theories, Lewis’ de se, Kaplan’s theory of indexicals and demonstratives, and use theories. He argues that all of them try to purge perspectival contents from the semantics, but sooner or later they reappear with a vengeance. According to him, such sanitized semantics (especially token-reflexive theories) fail to do the very thing they were supposed to do, i.e., explain action, emotion, temporal reasoning, etc., and they often end up surreptitiously reintroducing perspectival contents in the metalanguage. His objections to Perry’s reflexive-referential theory, in particular, are very compelling. He ends with an interesting discussion of rule-following and normative behavior in general, which provides the perfect hook for the next chapter, where he applies his theory to computation and information theory. In short, he argues in that chapter that perspectival contents are necessary to understand the very notion of information, and that “all information flow, whether natural or the product of human intentions, ultimately bottoms out in perspectival contents.” (p. 134).

In the sixth chapter, Ludlow argues for what he calls A-series and B-series compatibilism. This is the thesis that we can combine the immutable ordering of events in time (the B-series) with the tensed series of events (the A-series) without generating puzzles. Again, he draws on his earlier work on the dynamic lexicon (Ludlow 2014) and relates it to his theory of perspectival contents to explain how that is possible. He claims that both the B-series and the A-series are needed to account for the passage of time, and perspectival contents and the dynamic lexicon play an essential role in his explanation. Also, he notes that one can endorse his view of the A-series without being a presentist. A detailed argument for this latter claim, however, is found in the appendix. The remaining chapters deal with further metaphysical issues and argue that perspectival contents cannot be eliminated even from science, both in its practice and in its theories.

In sum, Ludlow’s book puts forward provocative claims and an interesting and novel theory of perspectivality. The amount of ground covered in such a relatively short book is admirable. Even if it is not all that clear that Ludlow’s theory can explain everything it is meant to explain – after all, its ambitions are far from humble -, his arguments, objections and examples are vivid and persuasive, and they cannot be ignored by philosophers working on these issues. Philosophically inclined computer scientists, information theorists and physicists might also find the book an interesting read.

References

CAPPELEN, H., AND DEVER, J., 2013. The Inessential Indexical. Oxford: Oxford University Press. [ Links ]

LARSON, R., AND LUDLOW, P., 1993. “Interpreted Logical Forms.” Synthese 95, 305-56. [ Links ]

LUDLOW, P., 2014. Living Words: Meaning Underdetermination and the Dynamic Lexicon. Oxford: Oxford University Press . [ Links ]

LUDLOW, P., 2000. “Interpreted Logical Forms, Belief Attribution, and the Dynamic Lexicon.” In. K.M. Jaszczolt (ed.), Pragmatics of Propositional Attitude Reports. Elsevier Science, Ltd. [ Links ]

MORGAN, D. 2019. “Temporal indexicals are essential”. Analysis 79 (3):452-461. [ Links ]

STRAWSON, O. 1959. Individuals: An essay in Descriptive Metaphysics. 7th Edition, New York, Routledge. [ Links ]

Notas

1An exception is Morgan (2019).

2Cf. Larson & Ludlow (1993) and Ludlow (2000).

3Cf. Ludlow (2014).

Filipe Martone – University of Campinas Department of Philosophy Campinas, SP Brazil. E-mail: filipemartone@gmail.com

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Referential Mechanics: Direct Reference and the Foundations of Semantics – ALMOG

ALMOG, Joseph. Referential Mechanics: Direct Reference and the Foundations of Semantics. [?]:Oxford University Press, 2014. Resenha de MARTONE, Filipe. Manuscrito, Campinas, v.39 n.2 Apr./June 2016.

The work of Ruth Barcan Marcus, Saul Kripke, Keith Donnellan, David Kaplan and others started a revolution in philosophy of language. The so-called direct reference theory, or simply referentialism, dealt a powerful blow to the then prevailing Fregean spirit of theories of meaning and reference, and it deeply affected the way we think about these topics. But saying what the core ideas of direct reference really are is not as easy as one might think. Direct reference theorists often disagree about what seems to be very basic issues: Are there singular propositions, and do we need them? If descriptivism is false, what are the mechanisms of reference determination? What are the consequences (if any) of holding a referentialist semantics to our views on cognition? Should referentialists be worried about Frege’s Puzzle? In a time in which debates in philosophy of language can get highly sophisticated, it is easy to get lost amidst technical arguments and overlook these fundamental questions. Joseph Almog‘s new book, Referential Mechanics: Direct Reference and the Foundations of Semantics, is an attempt to look past the technicalities of this “quantum mechanics of words” (p. xvii) and to engage with those questions directly.

Almog has three aims in this essay. First, he wants to understand what direct reference is really about. To do so, he dissects the versions of direct reference offered by three of its founding fathers – Kripke, Kaplan and Donnellan – and examines their foundations and their consequences for philosophy of mind and metaphysics. Second, he tries to show that two puzzles that supposedly threaten direct reference – the puzzle of empty names and Frege’s Puzzle – are not puzzles at all. Third, and finally, he introduces his project of unifying the semantics of all subject-phrases under the referentialist framework: instead of modelling paradigmatically referential terms such as proper names after denoting phrases (e.g. “every philosopher” or “most philosophers”), as Montague and his followers did, Almog wants to treat denoting phrases as genuinely referential terms. The challenge of integrating referential semantics into global semantics is what he called the Russell-Partee-Kaplan challenge. But Referential Mechanics only sets up the stage for a full answer to this challenge. A detailed account will be given in a companion piece, not yet published.

The book is divided into four chapters. The first three deal with direct reference as conceived by Kripke, Kaplan and Donnellan, and the fourth wrestles with the puzzles of empty names and cognitive significance (a.k.a. Frege’s Puzzle) and begins to work on an answer to the Russell-Partee-Kaplan challenge. In what follows I will offer a brief overview of the chapters, pointing out some of their virtues as well as their shortcomings.

In the first chapter, Almog offers an interesting reading of Kripke’s Naming and Necessity (henceforth NN) and introduces some of the key notions of his essay. He claims that there is a fundamental tension between two very different conceptions of semantics in NN. On the one hand, there is what he calls the designation model theory for natural language. This model is what we get from Lecture I. On this model, direct reference is cashed out in terms of rigid designation. On the other hand, there is the historical referential semantics, found mainly in Lecture III. The distinction between these two conceptions of semantics “touches the very fulcrum” of Almog’s essay (p. 15). According to him, the designation model suffers from a fundamental defect; it completely misconceives what semantics truly is (or should be): a descriptively correct account of the actual workings of a natural language, and not an adequate but mere representation of such workings (p. 16).

The main problem with the designation model, Almog argues, is the following. In this model, expressions such as names, definite descriptions, sentences and predicates are all unified under the fundamental semantic relation of designation. This model of semantics, therefore, sees no categorical difference between proper names and definite descriptions. In other terms, even though names are rigid designators whereas descriptions are not, both are connected to their designata via the same kind of semantic relation. However, designation is a “stipulated relation designed for a language with uninterpreted symbols: individual constants, variables, predicates (…)” (p. 15). Thus, designation is not, Almog claims, the real semantic relation that obtains in an actual existing language like English. Taking it to be so creates an insolvable puzzle, namely, the puzzle of reference determination: descriptions pick out their designata via satisfaction or fit; but how do names pick out their designata if they are not disguised descriptions, as Kripke so convincingly argued? How does the designation relation obtain for proper names? This model of semantics has no answer to give.

The historical referential semantics, on the other hand, gets it right. There is no puzzle of reference determination to be solved. The names we use are already loaded with their referents. We, consumers of language, do not have to “reach out” to them; they come to us through their names via causal/communication chains. The puzzle of reference determination arises only we if take designation to be the fundamental semantic relation obtaining in actual languages. Once we see that it is not, the puzzle disappears. Almog calls this shift from an “inside-out” (designation) to an “outside-in” (historical referential) mechanism of reference the “flow diagram reversal”: we refer with a name not because we designate an object, but because the object itself is already connected to the name we are using. This “flow diagram reversal”, he claims, is present in the works of Kripke, Kaplan and Donnellan, and it is the key idea of direct reference.

Almog’s notions of “outside-in” mechanisms of reference and of “flow diagram reversal” are quite interesting, and they neatly capture some of the main lessons of direct reference. However, he makes some rather cryptic remarks about perceiving an object through its name. More precisely, he claims that the reversal account of reference also extends “the classically qualitatively understood perception” (p. 29), meaning that “we perceive (remote) objects by means of loaded names” (p. 30). He offers some details of this view in footnote 19, but they are not really illuminating. What he seems to be suggesting is that public names put us in some sort of “acquaintance” relation with their bearers, allowing us to cognize them through language. This is a respectable idea which has many advocates nowadays. Yet, to say that this kind of relation extends perception per se seems to stretch the notion of perception beyond plausibility.

The second chapter is devoted to Kaplan’s account of direct reference in terms of singular propositions. For Kaplan, for a term to be directly referential is for it to make a special kind of contribution – its referent – to the proposition expressed by the sentence that contains it. This kind of proposition is called ‘singular proposition’. Almog stresses how distinct Kaplan’s approach to direct reference is when compared to Kripke’s designation model. That model makes no use of propositions; its key semantic unit is the pre-sentential subject (the designator). Kaplan’s direct reference semantics, on the other hand, takes propositions as its key semantic unit, and as the objects of assertion and thought. Almog argues that this leads to several problems, and these problems show that singular propositions fail to capture what direct reference is really about.

One interesting aspect of this chapter is that it tries to distinguish between what are legitimate criticisms of singular propositions and what are not. Almog vehemently dismisses the claims that the doctrine of singular propositions (and direct reference in general) is committed to a particular view about modal haecceitism and about the informativeness of identity statements (i.e. Frege’s Puzzle). Singular propositions and direct reference, he argues, are merely semantic notions. As he puts it: “There are no entailments from direct reference theory proper regarding either modal or attitudinal questions” (p. 48; italics in the original). What are legitimate criticisms of singular propositions, on the other hand, are the well-known objections of negative existentials with empty names and of reference to past objects.

What is a bit strange in this chapter is Almog’s claim that the failure of singular propositions to correctly classify apparently contradictory cognizers like Kripke’s Pierre and to capture phenomena of cognitive dynamics adequately “leads to the breakdown of the apparatus of proposition and content” (p. 56). If singular propositions are neutral regarding “attitudinal questions”, as he says, why are arguments from cognitive dynamics and propositional attitudes wielded against them? Why is Frege’s Puzzle not a problem to singular propositions while Kripke’s Pierre is? In fact, Kripke’s Pierre seems to be an instance of Frege’s Puzzle, so it is not at all clear why singular propositions are threatened by the first and not by the latter. Almog is also quite vague when it comes to his alternative to singular propositions. He talks of “object-loaded names” coming to us and of sentences with empty names being true precisely “because there is no proposition” corresponding to them. These remarks are somewhat obscure. He says, for instance, that “On this idea of the re-ferent coming to us late users, there is no mystery about why you and I can and do refer now to the long gone Aristotle by using now the (Aristotle-loaded) name ‘Aristotle’, just as we see a long dead star by being impacted now by light from it” (p. 52). There is plenty of mystery there to me, however. If the object no longer exists, how come it is loaded into the name? How do we “refer back” to Aristotle and cognize him, as Almog often says, if Aristotle does not exist anymore? Almog probably means that there is a causal connection between Aristotle, “Aristotle” and us, but that is not a complete explanation of what sort of thing we are in fact cognizing and referring to when using a name. Besides, it is also not obvious why his objections to singular propositions do not apply to his own view, since objects themselves play a crucial role in his semantics, as they do in Kaplan’s account.

The third chapter is by far the most compelling part of Almog’s book. It discusses Donnellan’s idea of referential uses of expressions and its connection to having an object in mind. Almog believes that these two ideas are the key ideas not only of direct reference, but of semantics in general. In discussing them he hopes to show that semantics should be conceived not as a branch of model theory (as Montague held), but as branch of cognitive psychology (p. 63).

Almog claims that Donnellan’s insight about having an object in mind in fact explains direct reference: direct reference is direct not because of conventional rules of language, but because it is linked to a certain cognitive mechanism of grasping worldly objects. This mechanism is captured by the “flow diagram reversal”: we do not have to reach out to those worldly objects; our minds, by natural processes, enter in relations with those objects, and they “make their way” into our cognition. It is not necessary to select which object we are thinking of and then look for it in the world. In fact, Almog argues that it is a mistake to understand Donnellan’s idea of having an object in mind as internally selecting some individual or other; the object we have in mind is determined by causal/historical processes. It is because we have objects in mind in this way that we can directly refer to it.

Almog argues that the process of referential use is divided into three different stages. First, there is the fixing. My mind enters in some relation with an object by an outside-in mechanism, which makes that precise object the object of my cognition. Second, there is the characterization. After the object is determined by this process, I can predicate things of it. Almog stresses that, because the object is already fixed, it does not matter if I apply false predicates; my thought is about it even in cases of gross mischaracterization. This is precisely what happens in Donnellan’s cases. Third, there is the communication. After (1) the object is fixed and (2) I form some beliefs about it, I can (3) go on to express these beliefs through language. To do that, I use whatever expression I think will help to direct the audience’s attention to the object I am already thinking of. As Almog puts it: “I am trying to co-focus you, make you have in mind what I already have in mind” (p. 69). This is why, for him, referential uses are not in any way restricted to definite descriptions. Any kind of singular terms, and even expressions like “someone”, can be used referentially: these terms do not determine the reference; they are used merely as aids to communication.

With this Almog hopes to show why Kripke’s claim that Donnellan’s cases are cases of speaker reference and not of semantic reference is mistaken. He believes that this distinction is preposterous; they are all as semantic as it gets. However, I do not see why this conclusion follows from his arguments. His proposal might in fact account for referential uses, but it is not clear why it also entails that there is no such thing as the semantic referent of an expression in a particular use. Even if our cognition is hooked to objects by non-conventional processes (which is a very plausible idea), it does not follow that this sort of having in mind completely overrides the conventional reference of the expressions used. In other words, I do not see why it is incompatible to hold this “flow diagram reversal” for thought and the speaker/semantic reference distinction at the same time. In short, more arguments are required to show why Donnellan’s “cognitive mechanics” entails the collapse of the speaker/semantic referent distinction.

In sum, Almog seems to be proposing some sort of externalist-subjectivist semantics in this chapter. It is externalist because external objects themselves make their way into our cognition, and the meanings of the expressions we use (if we are allowed to talk about meanings in Almog’s framework) are external objects and properties. Yet, it is subjectivist because what matters for giving the content (again, if such talk is plausible here) of the expressions we use are not community-wide conventions, but individual speakers in particular occasions. This is not, of course, to deny the role of conventions, but what ultimately determines the content/referents of our expressions is what the speakers have in mind when they use these expressions. This combination of two apparently opposed views about language is certainly interesting and it deserves further discussion.

The fourth and last chapter is concerned with Frege’s Puzzle and the puzzle of empty names, and it introduces the discussion of the Russell-Partee-Kaplan challenge. Almog argues that, if we take Donnellan’s approach seriously, both puzzles disappear. In fact, they turn out to be uninteresting consequences of this model of semantics (p. 91). The first observation he makes is that no speaker is omniscient regarding the semantic history of all names she uses. If this is right, informative identity statements are to be expected precisely because knowing that two names lead back to the same object can only be known a posteriori. Informativeness, Almog claims, is a relational feature, and it arises from the interaction between the information a speaker has in the head and the relevant sentence. If this in-the-head information is sufficient to settle the truth of the sentence, it will be trivial; if not, it will be informative. Second, the puzzle of empty names disappears because what makes sentences containing such names true are not object-involving propositions; what makes them true is the history of the name that leads back to failed baptisms.

Almog puts the Russell-Partee-Kaplan challenge as follows: “Can we or can’t we generalize the reference-only semantics to all nominals?” (p. 98). The problem arises from a dilemma about the visible grammatical form of subject-predicate sentences and their semantic forms. Subject-predicate sentences apparently work in the same way: they introduce objects for subsequent predication. Some terms, like proper names and indexicals, seem to fit well in this intuitive definition. Their visible grammar is a reliable guide to their semantic (or logical) forms. The problem is that some subject-predicate sentences, like “most philosophers are wise” or “some linguists sing”, do not seem to refer to any object. How should we deal with this? Russell, as Almog says, held that not all nominals function semantically in the same way: some refer, some denote. Montague, on the other hand, wanted to keep the link between visible grammar and semantics, but to do that he opted to treat referential terms as he treated other denoting nominals: visible grammar reflects semantic form insofar as all subject terms denote and not refer. Almog, however, wants to keep the semantics of all nominals referential and the visible grammar intact. So, he needs to explain what sort of reference expressions like “most philosophers” and “many linguists” have and how we should treat subject-predicate sentences containing them.

Almog claims that all nominals can be used either referentially or attributively. In the first case, they merely communicate an already made reference to an object, i.e., they externalize what I have in mind; in the second, they originate reference. This is a genuine semantic “ambiguity” of nominals, and not a mere pragmatic phenomenon. Both uses, however, necessarily involve reference to some worldly entity. As for their reference, Almog claims that nominals like “every musician” and “two philosophers” pick out kinds or “pluralities” in the world (p. 111). In this way, they do not denote, but genuinely refer to these entities. He closes the chapter by considering some challenges and further objectives (to be discussed in another essay): he wants to extend his account beyond subject-predicate sentences, apply it to the logical relation of consequence and to understand what is to cognize the world by using ordinary language – all of this following the general guidelines of keeping the semantics referential and the superficial grammar untouched.

Referential Mechanics is an engaging and provocative book, even though its difficult subject and the many topics it discusses would probably receive a better treatment in a longer and more detailed essay. Its occasional lack of clarity and insufficient argumentation can get frustrating sometimes. However, this does not diminish its many merits. The essay advances unorthodox theses and offers interesting takes on three of the most important versions of direct reference. Anyone interested in semantics, foundational semantics and in the history of analytic philosophy should definitely study it.

References

ALMOG, Joseph. Referential Mechanics: Direct Reference and the Foundations of Semantics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. [ Links ]

Erratum

In the article “Referential Mechanics: Direct Reference and the Foundations of Semantics” with DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1590/0100-6045.2016.V39N2.FM, published in MANUSCRITO, 39.2, 133 a 140, on 133, where it says “Referential Mechanics: Direct Reference and the Foundations of Semantics” one should read “Book Review: ALMOG, J. Referential Mechanics: Direct Reference and the Foundations of Semantics (Oxford University Press, 2014)”

Although this article is included in the present volume, it appeared earlier in the modality Ahead of Print.

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Filipe Martone – University of Campinas – Philosophy. Rua Cora Coralina, 100, Campinas São Paulo, Brazil. 13083-896. filipemartone@gmail.com.

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