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In memory of Pamela Sue Anderson (1955–2017)
Part III. Ine
Preface
ese essays are reprinted with relatively minor amendments. Many of the amendments are purely cosmetic. Some, such as the addition of some cross references and the introduction of some standardization, are for the sake of the volume. In a few cases I have corrected what I now see as simple philosophical or exegetical mistakes.
Two cases are worth singling out. ere is much in Essay 5 with which I now disagree. But I have not tried to rectify it. Rather I have included a postscript in which I indicate what my discomfort with it is, why I think that the main contention of the essay would have survived even if I had tried to rectify it, and why I think that its primary lesson concerning Wittgenstein’s later work would actually have been reinforced. Similarly, though on a smaller scale, I have added a new footnote to Essay 16 (note 16) in which I disavow some material elsewhere in the essay and reference a section in Essay 11 that I now take to undermine it. I think that it is instructive to leave the o ending material in Essay 16 intact, not least to highlight what is at stake in the relevant section of Essay 11. e rest of Essay 16, by far the bulk of it, is una ected.
I have made no attempt to eliminate (sometimes verbatim) repetition from one essay to another: this is partly to accentuate interconnections between the essays, partly to ensure that each essay remains self-contained. As for the interconnections, I have an introduction whose main rationale is to elucidate these.
I thank Peter Momtchilo , philosophy editor at Oxford University Press, for his advice, encouragement, and support. I also thank the editors and publishers of the volumes in which these essays rst appeared for permission to reprint them.
A. W. Moore
Publisher’s Acknowledgements
We are grateful for permission to include the following copyright material in this book.
e publisher and author have made every e ort to trace and contact all copyright holders before publication. If noti ed, the publisher will be pleased to rectify any errors or omissions at the earliest opportunity.
Introduction
e rationale for collecting these essays together is that they are all concerned, at some level, with the nature, scope, and limits of representation. By representation here I mean the act of representing how things are, or the act of producing a representation. By a representation I mean anything which has content—that things are thus and so—and which, because of its content, is true or false.
e essays in Part I deal with linguistic representation. One thesis that surfaces at various points in these essays is the following:
(1) Some things are ine able.
e essays in Part II deal with representation more generally, and with the character of what is represented. ey all touch more or less directly on the distinction between ‘perspectival’ representations, that is representations from a point of view, and ‘absolute’ representations, that is representations from no point of view. One thesis that surfaces at various points in these essays is the following:
(2) Nothing is ine able.
How is the resulting tension between Part I and Part II to be resolved? e essays in Part III, deriving their inspiration from the early work of Wittgenstein, indicate a way. We can construe the ‘things’ of which (1) says that some are ine able as states of knowledge or understanding, and the ‘things’ of which (2) says that none are ine able as facts or truths. is allows us to a rm both that, however things are, they can be said to be that way, in line with (2), and that there are nevertheless insights of a kind that are beyond expression, in line with (1).
1. Part I: Language
In Essays 1 to 3 I consider some of the things that we do with words and some of the ways in which we might characterize these things. More speci cally, I consider some of the distinctions that we might draw as a means to characterizing them. Among these are: (i) distinctions that we nd it very natural to draw; (ii) distinctions that we are inclined to draw only as a result of philosophical re ection; and (iii) distinctions that we are disinclined to draw—in fact whose drawing we are inclined to repudiate— as a result of philosophical re ection. Self-conscious attention to our linguistic behaviour leads us to try to disentangle these, and, where a distinction belongs to both
category (ii) and category (iii), a fortiori where it belongs to both categories by virtue of the same philosophical re ection, to try to determine what should give: the distinction; or the deliverances of the relevant philosophical re ection; or the power of these deliverances to incline us one way or another. All of these possibilities are illustrated in the rst three essays. In the course of these essays I argue that some of the distinctions in question are su ciently well suited to their purposes that we need feel no compunction about continuing to draw them, while others are genuinely problematical. Roughly, the more natural it is for us to draw one of these distinctions, the more likely it is to be of the former kind.
Essay 3 is a kind of focal point for the rst three essays: it recapitulates some of Essay 1 and some of Essay 2. Its main burden is that we can hold fast to a relatively common-sense conception of various things that we do with words despite the power of philosophical re ection to make us doubt whether we can do these things at all. e distinctions at stake in Essays 1 to 3 are mostly distinctions among representations. Self-conscious attention to our linguistic behaviour is also liable, sooner or later, to make us consider the distinction between representations and non-representations—which, on a suitable construal of sense, and relative to a suitable domain, is the distinction between sense and nonsense. In any enquiry of this kind, this is the most fundamental distinction of all. ere is material on it in both Essay 2 and Essay 3. But it does not dominate until Essays 4 to 6.
It is a distinction that clearly falls into category (i) above: that is to say, it is a distinction that we nd it very natural to draw. Yet philosophical re ection exposes problems involved in the drawing of it—if not to the extent of placing it in category (iii), then certainly to the extent of raising awkward questions about it. ere seem to be reasons of principle why we shall never be able to attain and express any general philosophical understanding of why the distinction should be drawn in the way in which it should. Or so I argue in Essay 6.
Essays 4 and 5 provide a kind of prolegomenon to Essay 6. In Essay 4 I explore the domain within which this distinction between sense and nonsense is drawn. Or rather, I explore the domain within which a distinction between sense and nonsense is drawn. Essay 4 has a concern with one kind of nonsense. e distinction at stake in this essay is the distinction (albeit not expressed in these terms) between our producing representations and our merely seeming to do so. And the essay has an additional exegetical concern: how Wittgenstein treats of this distinction in his Tractatus, at the end of which he famously admits that he himself has been doing the latter, in other words that he himself has been giving the mere impression of making sense. One of the main lessons of this essay, if it is successful, is that sense and nonsense, so construed, are not two species of an independently intelligible genus, but a phenomenon and its non-independently-intelligible impostor. But this still leaves us without a general philosophical account of the phenomenon: a general philosophical account, in other words, of what it takes for something to be the genuine article. Relatedly, it leaves us without what I call in Essay 5 a philosophically substantial theory of meaning. I argue in Essay 5 that due assimilation of Wittgenstein’s later work must make us despair of ever having such a thing—if, that is, Bernard Williams’ claim that there is a kind of transcendental idealism in Wittgenstein’s later work is correct. In the essay I make clear my sympathy for this claim. In a postscript, written
for the reprint of the essay, I indicate my lack of sympathy for it. But I also argue that my change of mind does not in the end matter. For the main contention of the original essay, as I now conceive it, is that a philosophically substantial theory of meaning is precluded by Wittgenstein’s later work because it would force us to answer certain questions that we cannot answer without explicitly endorsing the transcendental idealism in question—which we have no satisfactory way of doing. According to the Wittgenstein of the original essay, the fault would lie, not with the transcendental idealism, but with our attempt to state it, and hence with the theory of meaning, for forcing us to make the attempt. According to the Wittgenstein of the postscript, the fault would lie with the transcendental idealism too, though it would lie principally with the theory of meaning, for putting us in this position in the rst place. Either way, the theory of meaning would be at fault. And to conclude this is to conclude something that is a variation on the previously proclaimed theme: there seem to be reasons of principle why we shall never be able to attain and express any general philosophical understanding of why the distinction between sense and nonsense should be drawn in the way in which it should.
At the end of Essay 6 I moot the idea, for which Essay 5 has already prepared us, that the second conjunct in the phrase ‘attain and express’ is critical: the attainment of such an understanding may not be what is beyond us, only its expression. is would be our predicament if any attempt to express such an understanding automatically meant failing to respect the very distinction (between sense and nonsense) that is its subject matter. Among the reasons for thinking that this is our predicament is the fact, as I argue in both Essay 5 and Essay 6, that an analogous predicament a icts Kant’s prototypical version of transcendental idealism. And if we do indeed nd ourselves stewing in these Kantian juices, as I believe we do, then one immediate consequence is of course thesis (1): that some things are ine able.
2. Part II: e World and Our Representations of it
Kant’s transcendental idealism reclaims our attention in Essays 7 and 8. In these two essays I consider Kant’s treatment of questions concerning the age, size, and composition of the physical universe. Kant’s treatment of these questions is grounded in one of the most signi cant aspects of his transcendental idealism: his belief that we are incapable, in principle, of representing what the physical universe is like except from some point of view; or, more speci cally, his belief that there is one particular point of view such that only representations from that point of view can count as representations of what the physical universe is like in the rst place.
Kant’s transcendental idealism thus connects with the question whether representations that are not from any point of view, or absolute representations as I called them above, are possible at all. I have argued elsewhere, in broad opposition to Kant, that they are.1 e issues that arise here—about the very distinction between absolute representations and perspectival representations, about what it takes for a fact to be represented perspectivally and whether it takes that fact to be itself in any sense
1 Moore (1997), Ch. 4.
perspectival, and about the assumptions on which my argument for the possibility of absolute representations rests—animate Essays 9 to 13.
Essay 9 is concerned with knowledge. In particular it is concerned with what I call in the essay solipsism: the extreme sceptical view (roughly) that I have no knowledge except of how things seem to me, or (equivalently?) that my knowledge extends no further than my experiences. A er mooting a less rough formulation of the view, and a er following a rather long and tortuous path, I conclude that solipsism, so formulated, can be resisted; but also that the formulation in question is not, a er all, a satisfactory one. is leads to speculation about the status of solipsism itself. Perhaps it does not have a satisfactory formulation—say because it is incoherent, or because it is ine able. e second of these possibilities is especially interesting given the thrust of Part I. In fact, however, my own inclination is to endorse the rst possibility. I do not deny that there are connections with ine ability. But I believe that they lie elsewhere. As for the connections with the notion of a point of view, I argue towards the end of the essay that one of the objections to solipsism is that it makes a mystery of my subjectivity, and that it does this because it makes a mystery of my self-conscious grasp of my own most fundamental point of view on the world.
It is in Essays 10 to 13 that I am most directly concerned with the question whether representations from no point of view are possible—as I have already indicated I think they are. But I am as keen to contextualize the question, and to disentangle it from other questions with which it might all too easily be con ated, as I am to justify my own view of the matter. us I spend much of Essay 10 distancing myself from someone who initially appears to be an ally, namely omas Nagel, who argues in Nagel (1997) that some of our beliefs are indeed from no point of view. I think he arrives at this conclusion too quickly. In particular I think he signi cantly underestimates how hard it can be to tell that a belief is from some point of view.
Essay 11 pursues the potential for slippage here, with a focus on temporal points of view. I try to explain (with further reference to Kant) why the following question is an open one: given a tensed representation, which is just to say a representation from a temporal point of view, is there anything in reality that corresponds in any suitably direct way to its tense? Open question or not, my own view is that the answer is no. I think it would be an abnegation of the unity of reality to think otherwise. More generally, I think that, if reality is uni ed, then representing perspectivally how things are had better not be thought of as representing how things are perspectivally.
In Essay 12 I turn my attention to the signi cance of the question whether absolute representations are possible. I argue that, if we were able to demonstrate that they are, and if, moreover, we were able to demonstrate that any fact can be conveyed by such a representation (which would be a strictly stronger conclusion, although, as it happens, still a conclusion to which I would subscribe), then we would have successfully undertaken what Barry Stroud calls ‘the philosophical quest for reality’. is sets me apart from Stroud himself, whose aim in the book in which he introduces this label2 is to convey scepticism about whether any such quest can ever be successfully undertaken. e ideas about tense canvassed in the previous essay inform my argument in Essay 12, as do certain counterpart ideas about colour.
2 Stroud (2000).
e inspiration behind much of the material in Essays 10 to 12 is the work of Bernard Williams. My reasons for thinking that absolute representations are possible are broadly Williams’ reasons for thinking it: here I am adverting to Williams’ wellknown argument for the possibility of what he calls an ‘absolute conception of reality’, a conception of reality that consists of just such representations. In Essay 13 this argument of Williams’ comes to the fore. But my aim in Essay 13 is not to defend the argument (which, as I remarked earlier, I have tried to do elsewhere). My aim is rather to see what we can learn from the argument about its underlying realism, famously expressed by Williams as follows: ‘knowledge is of what is there anyway’.3 (It is a common mistake, incidentally, to think that by ‘knowledge of what is there anyway’ Williams means absolute knowledge. But that makes a complete mockery of his argument: it casts the principal premise of the argument as not much di erent from its conclusion. All knowledge, for Williams, is knowledge of what is there anyway: what distinguishes absolute knowledge is that it is knowledge of what is there anyway as it is anyway, not as it is from this or that point of view.) Part of what it is to accept such realism, I claim, is to be committed to the very unity of reality that I paraded in Essay 11. I did not argue for that unity in Essay 11. On the contrary, I suggested that to assume it is to adopt a basic unargued assumption to which there are alternatives— which is why I took the question about tense that I raised in Essay 11 to be an open one. e same message can be heard here. But granted such a basic assumption, we can put it to signi cant use. Most signi cant, in the context of Essay 13 itself, is that we can use it to obtain an especially rm grip on some of Williams’ own characteristic views about ethics. But even more signi cant, in the context of the overall dialectic of these essays, is that we can use it in the way in which Williams himself uses it, to argue for the possibility of absolute representations—and also, relatedly, to argue against the existence of ine able facts (more below). However, ‘granted such a basic assumption’ is the operative phrase. e assumption serves as a kind of conceptual datum. e unity of reality, to repeat, is part of that datum; and it is the focus of Essay 14. Although I do not believe that such unity can be argued for, I use this essay to motivate it. I do this by considering, within a Kantian framework, what such unity consists in and then urging that to reject it would be to incur a problematical commitment to the existence of things that cannot be expressed from ‘our’ point of view. I think we should deny the existence of things that cannot be expressed from ‘our’ point of view (just as I think we should deny the existence of things that cannot be expressed from no point of view: see my comments on Essay 12 above). A fortiori I think we should deny the existence of things that cannot be expressed, period. I have more to say about this in Part III. What this denial comes to, of course, is the endorsement of thesis (2): that nothing is ine able.
3. Part III: Ine ability
Essay 15 is hard to classify. It might just as easily have appeared either in Part I or in Part II. It involves consideration of the nature of reality, via consideration of our linguistic representations of reality. My reason for including it in Part III is that the
3 Williams (1978), p. 64.
tension between theses (1) and (2), which is what primarily links the essays in Part III, is felt within Essay 15 itself. is essay is concerned with what it would take to repudiate the transcendent, where the transcendent is construed as that whose most fundamental character is beyond all but analogical expression. e repudiation of the transcendent, so construed, clearly entails the repudiation of that whose most fundamental character is beyond all expression. at is to say, it entails the repudiation of the ine able: it entails the endorsement of (2). Yet there is a hint, at the very end of the essay, that it involves an acknowledgement of the ine able. ere is a hint, in other words, that it involves an endorsement of (1).
e three remaining essays in Part III address the tension between these two theses through an exploration of the very idea of ine ability. All three essays indicate how the tension is to be resolved. e resolution is as advertised above: (2) is a thesis about facts or truths; (1) is a thesis about states of knowledge or understanding.
Note that in some of these essays there is talk of ‘insights’, and in some of them talk of ‘states of enlightenment’: but I do not mean anything other by these phrases than certain states of knowledge. And where, in Essay 17, I say that such states are always grounded in states of understanding, I would be happy to cast the entire discussion, including this reference to what such states are grounded in, in terms of states of knowledge. For I believe that states of understanding are themselves states of knowledge of a certain kind. True, in Essay 18 I leave open the possibility that they are not. But this is a caginess adopted for essay-speci c purposes only. It is supposed to help signal the relative strength of my various commitments. As I explain in note 35 of that essay, if I could be persuaded to surrender my belief in ine able knowledge, then I would rather accede to the possibility of states of understanding that are not states of knowledge than surrender my belief in ine able understanding.4
Essay 16 is concerned with religion. More speci cally, it is concerned with religious language. It is in this essay that I give the fullest reasons for thinking that no truths are ine able: see especially sections 1 and 2. But I also go on to give reasons for thinking that some states of knowledge are ine able. I then argue that religious language is very o en what accrues from a (necessarily unsuccessful) attempt to put these states of knowledge into words.
In Essay 17 I proceed with reference to the early work of Wittgenstein—supplemented, in the nal section, with reference to his later work. I try to show how both the early work and the later work help us to appreciate what it takes for a state of knowledge to be ine able. And indeed it is in this essay that I give the fullest reasons for thinking that this is what some states of knowledge are: see especially sections 3, 4, and 7. is essay contains several links with other essays. us section 5 is largely about unity, the unity that was at issue in Essays 11 and 14, the unity, in other words, of reality. I suggest that our insight into this unity is an ine able insight. And in section 8 there is a link back to Essay 5: I revisit the idea that there is an inducement in Wittgenstein’s later work to put what is ine able into words, in particular an inducement that results from re ection on our own linguistic understanding. Part of my subsequent change of mind about Essay 5 is that I now think that Wittgenstein himself provides us with the resources to resist this inducement. But that does not stop
4 e caginess is not replicated elsewhere: see Moore (1997), pp. 161 and 183 .
the inducement from being there—and, at the end of Essay 17, I provide some evidence that Wittgenstein himself is not always rm in his resistance to it.
In Essay 18 I again proceed with reference to the early work of Wittgenstein. is nal essay reinforces my resolution of the tension between (1) and (2). But it also thereby provides a resolution, indeed the same resolution, of what has come to be a erce exegetical debate about the Tractatus. A more or less traditional exegete is liable to say that, in the Tractatus, Wittgenstein holds that some things are ine able. More recent exegetes, or many of them anyway, are liable to say that he holds no such thing. We are now in a position to say that, suitably understood, both are right. e ‘things’ to which the more traditional exegetes are alluding are states of understanding; and Wittgenstein indeed does hold that some of these are ine able. e ‘things’ to which the more recent exegetes are alluding are truths; and Wittgenstein indeed does not hold that any of these are ine able. On the contrary, he gives us reason to deny it. He gives us reason, in sum, to endorse both (1) and (2).
PART I Language
1
How Signi cant is the Use/Mention Distinction?
Abstract
It is argued that the use/mention distinction, if it is to be a clear-cut one, cannot have the signi cance that it is usually thought to have. For that signi cance attaches to the distinction between employing an expression in order to draw attention to, or to talk about, some aspect of the world, as determined by the expression’s meaning, and employing it in order to draw attention to, or to talk about, the expression itself—and this distinction is not a clear-cut one. In the nal section of the essay this argument is extended to cast doubt on a rather glib appeal to the use/mention distinction that is frequently made in the philosophy of language.
1. e distinction introduced
Let us take for granted that there is a distinction to be drawn between using an expression and mentioning it. And let us say that an expression is employed when it is put to any kind of service. en I shall assume each of the following: that using an expression (in the relevant quasi-technical sense) involves employing it in such a way as to exploit (one of) its meaning(s); and that mentioning an expression involves employing it together with certain other linguistic devices that are themselves being used to demonstrate, or ‘to point to’, some aspect of this employment. ese assumptions take their cue from Donald Davidson’s essay ‘Quotation’.1 Davidson there says that quotation marks are used to refer to expressions by demonstrating particular tokens of them. I have deliberately said something much looser than this. For one thing, as Davidson acknowledges, quotation marks are not the only device that enables us to mention expressions. Also, for reasons that will emerge, I prefer not to commit myself on the question of just what is being demonstrated when such devices are used.
Note that it is perfectly possible to employ an expression without either using it or mentioning it. Consider, for example, saying ‘Cheese’ when having a photograph taken. More interestingly, it is possible for an employment of an expression to be both a use and a mention of it. For example, one would be both using and mentioning the quoted words if one asserted the following sentence:
1 Davidson (1984b). Cf. also Goddard and Routley (1966), p. 21, and Whiteley (1957).
(1) Quine describes the totality of our knowledge and beliefs as ‘a man-made fabric which impinges on experience only along the edges.’
Again, one would be both using and mentioning ‘Arthur’ if one said:
(2) Arthur was so named a er an uncle.
ere are many ways of mentioning an expression other than by using quotation marks or anaphoric phrases such as ‘so named’. One way has just been illustrated: displaying an expression on a separate line of print (here with a numerical label). Writing an expression in italics is another way. Employing an expression a er such a phrase as ‘the word’ or ‘the expression’ is another very common way. For example, one can say that ‘transcendental’ is an esoteric word by using the following sentence:
(3) e word transcendental is esoteric.
Another common way of mentioning an expression is simply to employ it as a singular term. One could just as well have used:
(4) Transcendental is an esoteric word.
If the expression is one that would normally be used as a singular term, an ambiguity arises. But the ambiguity will usually be easy to resolve. Compare how ‘Elizabeth’ would be employed in a typical use of:
(5) Elizabeth has arrived. with how it would be employed in a typical use of:
(6) My name is Elizabeth.
No doubt there are other ways of mentioning expressions besides these. e little that I have said so far leaves it unsettled whether a whole range of uses also count as mentions—for example, uses of expressions in scare-quotes or uses of expressions in italics when they are being de ned. (Consider the scare-quoted ‘to point to’ and the italicized ‘employed’ in the opening paragraph of this essay.) I have certainly not provided a comprehensive and determinate catalogue of the devices that can be used to mention expressions. Nor am I interested in doing so. I think that anybody attempting to devise such a catalogue would nd that, if it could be done at all, then eventually more or less arbitrary stipulations would be called for. For my main contention is this: the kind of signi cance that the use/mention distinction is usually thought to possess must in fact, if the distinction is to be a clear-cut one, reside elsewhere.
2. e impossibility of the distinction’s both being clear-cut and having the signi cance that it is usually thought to have
It is usually thought that the signi cance of the use/mention distinction consists in its coincidence with another distinction: the distinction between employing an expression in order to draw attention to, or to talk about, some aspect of the world,
as determined by the expression’s meaning, and employing it in order to draw attention to, or to talk about, the expression itself. is latter distinction is signi cant because it is sometimes easy to confuse these ways of employing expressions—with serious consequences.
It is undeniable that invoking the use/mention distinction will o en serve to combat such confusion. Imagine, for example, somebody’s challenging scienti c pretensions to have discovered that heat is mean kinetic energy on the grounds that the latter, unlike the former, is a piece of technical terminology used only by a small group of initiates. But notions like what one is employing an expression for, what one is drawing attention to, and what one is talking about are grounded in the pragmatics of communication. How they apply is a messy, complex, indeterminate matter, heavily dependent on particular circumstances and varying in degree from one case to the next. (What is Dylan omas employing the following words for when he writes, ‘the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, shingboat-bobbing sea’?) If the use/mention distinction is to be clear-cut—if there is to be a range of easily recognizable and speciable devices that register when an expression has been mentioned—then, even if the distinction has an interesting bearing on what expressions are employed for, it cannot be right to insist on the coincidence outlined above. And this in turn means that it cannot be right to credit the use/mention distinction with the signi cance that it is usually thought to have.
e sentences (7) to (12) below help to con rm this.
(7) e city where Kant lived was then Königsberg but it has now changed to Kaliningrad
(8) Christopher can never remember his four-times table; he thinks that three fours are sixteen
(9) is is sepia
(10) Do you know the woman who works there called Catherine?
(11) ‘ is is ridiculous,’ she thought to herself
(12) In a certain sense of ‘know’, nobody knows anything
ink about typical uses of these sentences. Imagine (9), for example, being used while pointing to something in order to provide an ostensive de nition, in response to the question: what colour does the word ‘sepia’ pick out? (On one fairly radical view, whereby the meaning of any given expression is continually evolving, this would not be fundamentally di erent from a supposedly non-de ning use of (9).) Now consider what the underlined expressions would be being employed for. is would certainly not depend in the requisite way on whether they were being used or mentioned—provided, that is, that it were transparent whether they were being used or mentioned, the quotation marks in (11), for example, signifying the latter. For excepting (12), the cases where it would be most natural to say that the expressions were being employed to draw attention to, or to make some claim about, themselves ((7) to (9)), would be precisely the cases where they were not being mentioned. And in (12) the two underlined expressions would naturally be said to be operating in tandem, in such a way that little further signi cance (beyond the demands of grammar) could attach to the fact that one, but not the other, was being mentioned.
