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This compilation of original articles contains divergent views concerning the implication, scope, and cogency of the Pittsburgh School’s (i.e., Sellars, Brandom, and McDowell) application of ‘normative functionalism’.

I. An Introduction to the Pittsburgh School and Normative Functionalism

II. Normative Functionalism and Representation

III. Normative Functionalism and Agency

IV. Normative Functionalism and Reference

V. Normative Functionalism and Rhetoric

Author Information: John Lyne, University of Pittsburgh, jlyne@pitt.edu

Normative Functionalism and the Pittsburgh School: Table of Contents

Lyne, John. 2012. “Having ‘A Whole Battery of Concepts’: Thinking Rhetorically About the Norms of Reason.” Social Epistemology Review and Reply Collective 2 (1): 143-148.

The PDF of the article gives specific page numbers. Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1Bfg0-DV

The first part of this paper’s title alludes to the view of Wilfrid Sellers that having a concept requires having “a whole battery of concepts.” This has recently been described by Chauncey Maher (2012) as one of the shared assumptions of the “Pittsburgh School,” an important aspect of which is its commitment to “normative functionalism.” The second part alludes to the view that rhetoric works within cultural norms, as well as within the norms of reason, and that these have a complicated relationship to one another. The relationship between those two halves of the title are what I want to examine in this paper. I do so from the vantage of being physically located one floor up from the Pittsburgh Department of Philosophy, in the Department of Communication, and intellectually located somewhere at the very porous border between the norms of cultural expression and the norms of reason. However far my sensibilities may diverge from those of my philosophical colleagues, I take comfort in the fact that we all share the same elevators.

The rhetorician’s view of the battery of concepts, and of normative functioning as well, is one that presupposes fluidity rather than fixity. Broadly speaking, it shares with inferentialism a pragmatic framework. The rhetorical perspective is one that places emphasis on latitude and repertoire, including stories, lines of argument, and “scripts” for common types of interaction. On this view, to understand the way that concepts and norms bear upon judgment, one must consider how these are invoked and interpreted in variable ways, according to context, purpose, and audience. Rhetorical discourse is one of the inducements to navigating through the normative world. The academic student of rhetoric (hereafter “rhetorician”) is inclined by occupation to see judgments as something potentially and perpetually up for grabs, capable of veering one way or another, and subject to the influence of what Aristotle called “the available means of persuasion.” In what follows I want to lay out what I see as the implications of these starting points for thinking about what it means to be rhetorically situated within a field of norms, with a battery of concepts, and rendering judgments.

I will begin with the observation that anyone’s battery of concepts will overlap with that of anyone else, but that no one is likely to have exactly the same stock as anyone else. How one reads this generalization might depend on how one defines concepts, of course. I am assuming that what we call concepts range from the highly specified, such as one might find in philosophy or law, to those that are quite vague. In everyday reasoning, I would venture to say, most concepts dwell somewhere near the latter end of the continuum. And this is not to suggest that this is a deficiency of everyday reasoning. I follow C. S. Peirce in accounting vagueness an underappreciated property of thought and reality. And I follow Wittgenstein in valuing the terrain of the rough ground, where clarity and precision can become irrelevant or even dysfunctional.

I will not push my luck by pursuing these themes onto the well-tended turf of formal epistemology, but I do think there is some common space to be explored. I have in mind those contexts where people are engaged in practical reasoning, even aspiring to refine and improve their pragmatic judgments by engaging in reflective thought, and by gleaning insight from others. This process may work by invoking either “common knowledge” and/or drawing on the knowledge of experts. What I am calling common knowledge is akin to the Greek notion of endoxa, described in Aristotle’s Topics as those opinions that are not certain (as would be the case with episteme) but are accepted by the majority or by the wise, but here I am adding the proviso that scientific findings accessible to the public are included in the repertoire. [1] Maybe we could describe this attention to deployment of endoxa as social epistemology in order to signal the dual interest in the norms of reason in the territory of knowledge that is usually not tended by philosophy. That would of course fit comfortably in this venue where our present thoughts have been invited. I will be a little bit provocative by referring to “rhetorical reasoning,” while making the point that all manner of everyday reasoning, both good and bad, can be facilitated by rhetoric. [2]

So the question here is what it would mean to think rhetorically about how concepts and the norms of reason function in practical reasoning and linguistic action, and toward that end I want to advance and briefly sketch ten points for consideration:

(1) Although we are by no means limited to thinking of rhetoric in the ways the ancient Greeks did, it is useful to point out that Aristotle conceived of rhetoric as a matter of discovering within different situations “the available means of persuasion” in contingent matters. This meant that the tracks along which reasoning could be guided by a purposeful speaker were defined less by what was inferentially necessary than by what was available as a plausible influence on thinking, and by what was arguable. In this sense, the conceptual landscape as well as the applicable modes of inference, and even the emotional tenor of a discourse, functioned as a kind of deployment of norms for practical purposes. This insight can be generalized beyond formal speaking situations of the sort Aristotle had in mind (courts, assemblies, and public gatherings), in so far as any discourse framed for the consideration of others will attempt to guide the deployment of relevant norms, selecting from available possibilities. We act, not just upon our own inferential processes, but in reference to the inferential processes of those we seek to influence by what we say, how we say it, with what affective and reputational resonances.

(2) While asserting might be the definitive speech act for philosophical analyses of language, and explicitness the desideratum, the rhetorical use of language works both by what is said and by what is evoked. Thus it draws not just upon explicit assertions but upon the relationship between what is explicit and what is tacit. The Aristotelian term for this was the “enthymeme,” a rhetorical action that draws upon unstated beliefs and opinions in order to produce further inferences. The unstated portion of the inferential operation need not be propositional in nature in order to enter the reasoning process. Audiences may be expected to “get the picture” based on depictions, examples, narratives, figurative language, visual displays, and so on; and from this picture they may reasonably draw further conclusions. In the Aristotelian conception of rhetoric, it is not by the logic of an argument alone that people are persuaded, for in addition to the logic of a case, the audience often draws conclusions about the speaker himself, such as “he seems shifty,” or “the speaker is a courageous man.” (Aristotle called this ethos.) Likewise, the logic of an argument is complemented by affectivity. So, for instance, an emotional reaction to the vivid description of a ghastly crime would be appropriate (Aristotle called this pathos), and this too would enter into the inferential process. If put forward as part of an argument these “thoughts” would function as assertions, which might be supported or contested. Up until then, their status as propositions would be latent.

(3) Considered rhetorically, practical reasoning is underdetermined by either logical or normative strictures. By this I mean that the type of reasoning that is at work in practical engagements between people — reasoning that is in the rhetorician’s sense addressed — does not necessarily lend itself to a regime of strict entailments. Inferences inspired or led along by rhetoric may be associative, for instance, rather than logically entailed, or the result of figurative rather than literal claims. To say that these inferences can be made explicit in the form of clearly articulated propositions is to beg the question in favor of the philosopher’s mission, which, as Brandom argues, is to make things explicit. Inferences and assumptions are often made explicit for rhetorical purposes in practical situations — say, as a response to a challenge, or because a speaker wishes to make them explicit. On the other hand, they sometimes remain at work beneath the surface, shaping the range of what is considered plausible or assertable. What is “below he surface” might be thought of as variously sized and shaped tectonic plates (e.g., cultural assumptions, relevant histories) that shape the contours of our thought. In that sense, the inferential impact of rhetorical utterances on practical reasoning can be seen as a joint production of what is explicit and what is tacit, and made effective by the relationship between the two.

(4) The sort of judgments that support assertions and affirmations in pragmatic circumstances can be both contingent and tendentious, which is to say that judgments can be suggested by the specific way in which rhetoric directs attention. In most settings the very reason to assert something reflecting a judgment is that things are not so obvious as to make it a waste of breath, and that there is some motivation that arises in addressing particular persons in particular circumstances. “This book is mine,” for instance, not only presupposes that the object in questions is situationally judged by the relevant norms and concepts (subject to questions as to gray areas, such as e-books or booklets), it also situates the speaker in social space. The point of asserting may be to clarify, to put down a marker, or to take a contentious position, on the matter of who it belongs to; and this in turn would implicate a network of concepts such as that of ownership, possession, and the entitlements thereof. And, depending on context, one might draw inferences about why someone is making such an assertion. By the rules of Gricean implicature, the maxim of relevance could come to the fore, and this would point toward motivations for things said (Is the speaker implying that I might be confused about whose book it is?). And when we open the door to speech acts, things start to look more complex still (“Is he accusing me of trying to take his book?”). The construing of motive is something symbolically complex and much broader than a specific intent (Burke 1969). So, for instance, not only can the list of motivationally relevant concepts expand under scrutiny (e.g., property rights), the norms inferentially linking them can be located in different matrices or registers (e.g., logical entailment, probabilistic calculation, commonplace or local inferential patterns). When we proffer our inferences by playing them out by utterance, we act upon other persons, who in turn act inferentially, whether silent or uttered, in ways that involve us.

(5) As social beings we all need to live within the constraint of norms of conduct and reasoning. But the rhetorical attitude toward these norms is to take them more as directional “vectors” than as precise coordinates. Rhetoric plays upon the leeway thereby afforded, and helps to contour the influence of norms by choices of language, choices of arguments, and choices of presentation. The social space in which practical reasoning may occur is often populated by multiple regions and tiers of conceptual order, the interplay of which is a contingent matter that invites creativity, or what rhetoricians call “invention.” The more repertoire one has available, which might include an arsenal of concepts, strategies of reasoning, or modes of association, the more space and latitude one has for normative functioning. Whether the claim that “this is my book” becomes inferentially linked to the context of, say, interpersonal rivalry, or to that of legal standing cannot necessarily be foreseen, but whatever comes out in utterance can be engaged by argument or discussion, or at least responded to. Rhetoric is in that sense and in principle accountable.

The contextual limits of what inferences are permissible and plausible may usefully be viewed as subject to what Brandom characterizes as “scorekeeping” (2000). That is, interactants may constantly update the commitments and authorizations made by either party in order to grasp the purport of any utterance. In the hurly-burly world in which rhetoric bids for our attention as well as our assent, and where discourse often moves us by indirection, the ways of keeping and calibrating score may be exactly what is at stake. How far should we go in accounting for the history, character, and personality of another person with whom we are interacting? What things are to be taken at face value rather than discounted? Such considerations in pragmatic communicative interactions can signal that we do not always know what another means — or, indeed, what we mean.

(6) Shared norms and beliefs do not necessarily predict a shared pattern of inference. Although it is often assumed that people who share the same beliefs and values will most likely draw the same conclusions given the same evidence, there is reason to believe that argumentative divergences can and do occur quite readily among groups who share common creeds, texts, and orientations. Michel Billig (1996) has provided extensive analysis of this phenomenon, including discussion of religious communities who argue endlessly over the meaning and implications of their shared texts, norms, and histories. Ironically, the plenitude of their shared beliefs and norms provides easy fodder for more, not fewer, arguments. Quite simply, in communities who share many beliefs and norms, there is more on the table to argue about, and more fine points to consider. Thus the possibilities for contestable assertion do not seem, necessarily, to be reduced by the sharing of concepts and norms of reasoning. The feature that Billig emphasizes in such cases is the implicit two-sidedness of any argument, and the lack of guarantee that there will ever be a bottom line in sorting out disputed claims.

(7) Rhetorical argument does not use figurative language merely for embellishment. Rather, it reflects a kind of convergence of the reasonable and the aesthetic. Carefully chosen metaphors or other figures can propel inferences. Irony can reverse the semantic import of statements. Synecdoche can productively or misleadingly skew representation, such that a “part” referred to may generate conclusions about matters of larger entities and categories. Stories can function as powerful analogies. The philosophical analysis of language has tended so much to favor literal propositional assertion as the default speech act that there is a tendency to underestimate the functions of non-literal language. A rhetorical perspective on normative function would need to be alert to these common figurative features of language use and the role they play in inducing judgments. Rhetoric brings the complication of the “think of it this way” inducement to inference. In that sense it serves as an inducement to or reinforcement of attitudes or sensibilities. In so far as these attitudes and sensibilities may influence inference and action, the rhetorical engagement of them can be seen as both forward-looking and aspirational.

(8) Within the transactional reasoning of speakers and audiences, judgments are negotiable, criteria are vague, the range of relevant concepts is variable, and the occurrence of counter-considerations can keep things up for grabs. In this sense, the norms of reason, whether internally employed or deployed under the influence of other voices, are more akin to “rules of thumb” than to logical necessity. And here we might consider Wittgenstein’s analysis of what it means to “follow a rule.” One’s assurance that one understands the game lies in the ability to show that “one can go on.” Yet while the Wittgensteinian metaphor of the language game proves useful in calling attention to the contours of normative expectation, if it is taken too literally, it overestimates the boundedness of communicative interactions. Isolating a game in the midst of the plenitude of the psycho-social and historical landscape can be difficult. Different games are often competing for our engagement within the same discursive space.

(9) The process of justifying and sustaining judgments in the face of doubt and challenge begins to foreground the rhetorical process of finding and using the available means of persuasion. Reasoning that does not “satisfy” will be rejected as unpersuasive. Acts of justification need not be mirror images of the chain of thought that may have produced a belief in the first place, as the variable contexts of justification may require different modes of articulation and proof, according to what will be deemed appropriate for the purposes at hand. Whatever battery of concepts and relevant norms may be used in the production of a judgment (and the model of argument presumed here leans toward a “balance of considerations” approach), there is still the question of what concepts and relevant norms may sustain a judgment that may be called into question.

(10) Rhetoric works to configure thoughts, images, and relations among concepts, depending on the context of utterance and the position and beliefs of variable audiences. In that sense it performs a kind of mapping function, putting concepts in relation to each other and foregrounding relevant normative considerations. This is a dynamic process that arrays evidence and lines of reasoning within some configuration; but this is rarely the only possible configuration. Just as the neurons in the brain develop new connections as they are repeatedly deployed — there is an adage that “neurons that fire together wire together” — new patterns of language and thought can be created and routinized. Thus the “mapping” function is never a completed project or a closed book. New connectives can be created (rhetoricians call this “invention”), new associations can be made, and old ones recovered.

In summary, rhetoric is not an optional accessory in the discursive space of practical reason-giving. The rhetorical shaping of judgment is omnipresent, and it has logical, aesthetic, and ethical dimensions. Although I have not said much about the ethical implications of rhetorical choices, this is in a sense the elephant in the room — and one not easily tamed. Reasoning may be disciplined and corrected by attention to logic, but this does not suffice to constrain ethical choices. Despite my advocacy of a rhetorical turn in thinking about normative functionalism, and my belief that there are rhetorical choices to be made in even the most refined reasoning, I do not suppose that rhetoric is always on the side of the angels. Established norms and values can all too easily be bent in ominous directions — the same knife that may be used by a surgeon to save a life can also be used to commit murder. It is startling, for example, to see that the Nazi doctors, trained in science and logical thinking, who carried out aggressive euthanasia procedures in Germany could speak of their actions as being in accordance with the Hippocratic Oath, just as it is disconcerting to consider how the concept of “a life unworthy of life” came to function normatively within a set of historical circumstances (Lifton 2000). But this is testament to the fact that the norms of reason and the application of concepts can go down unexpected paths, not always with a good result. On the other hand, the possibility for reasoning and normative development to grow in productive and ethically sustainable paths is what makes the relative openness and inventiveness implied by the term “rhetoric” worth pursuing.

In closing, let me say that I appreciate the opportunity to talk about rhetoric and reason in a context that could put the rhetorical perspective in conversation with that of philosophers who come to the subject of reason from another vantage. In that sense, ruminating on the “Pittsburgh School” has opened up opportunities to expand the conversation about how language, concepts, and norms function. Given the historical divergence of rhetoric and philosophy, there are inevitable differences in what is attended to in the processes of reasoning; but (in addition to other locations) this makes for good elevator conversation.

References

Billig, Michael. 1996. Arguing and Thinking: A Rhetorical Approach to Social Psychology, 2nd Edition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Brandom, Robert. 1998. Making It Explicit: Reasoning, Representing, and Discursive Commitment. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

––––––. 2009. Reason in Philosophy: Animating Ideas. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press.

Burke, Kenneth. 1969. A Grammar of Motives. Berekley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press.

Crosswhite, James. 1996. The Rhetoric of Reason. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.

Lifton, Robert. 2000. The Nazi Doctors: Medical Killing and the Psychology of Genocide. Basic Books: De Capo Press.

Lyne, John. 2010. “Rhetoric and the Third Culture: Scientists and Arguers and Critics.” In Reengaging the Prospect of Rhetoric: Current Conversations and Contemporary Challenges, ed. Mark Porrovecchio, 132-152. Routledge.

Maher, Chauncey. 2012. The Pittsburgh School of Philosophy: Sellars, McDowell, Brandom. Routledge.

[1] I have elsewhere advocated for the concept of a “third culture,” that cultivates and encourages the building of a pooled repertoire of public and expert knowledge. (Lyne, 2010).

[2] See James Crosswhite, The Rhetoric of Reason (Madison: U of Wisconsin Press, 1996)

Author Information: Michael P. Wolf, Washington and Jefferson College, mwolf@washjeff.edu

Normative Functionalism and the Pittsburgh School: Table of Contents

Wolf, Michael P. 2012. “Rigid Designation and Natural Kind Terms, Pittsburgh Style.” Social Epistemology Review and Reply Collective 2 (1): 133-142.

The PDF of the article gives specific page numbers. Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1Bfg0-DC

Abstract

This paper addresses recent literature on rigid designation and natural kind terms that draws on the inferentialist approaches of Sellars and Brandom, among others. Much of the orthodox literature on rigidity may be seen as appealing, more or less explicitly, to a semantic form of “the given” in Sellars’s terms. However, the important insights of that literature may be reconstructed and articulated in terms more congenial to the Pittsburgh school of normative functionalism.

I. The issues

Reflection on Frege’s (1892/1980) account of sense led many analytic philosophers of language to view proper names and other apparently simple singular terms as covert clusters of descriptions. Thus, a proper name such as “Aristotle” had as its meaning some set of predicates and descriptions like “the author of Nicomachean Ethics, the teacher of Alexander the Great, the husband of Pythias…” The name (or other singular term) then refers to that object which satisfies all of the descriptions, or some suitable subset of them. Kripke (1980) criticizes this approach extensively, arguing that the meanings of proper names and natural kind terms could not be understood in such terms. While such descriptions might be associated with proper names and natural kind terms, those associations did not amount to synonymy. We might imagine other possible worlds — or discover in the actual world — that some or all of the descriptions in such a cluster were not true of the expression’s referent. We might also imagine such instances where something else better fit the descriptions. If Aristotle forged the credentials listed above, he does not cease to be Aristotle; if someone else did all of those things, he does not thereby become Aristotle. The proper name refers to that person and only that person, whether the associated descriptions are true of him or not.

The notion was initially introduced in modal terms by Kripke (1980, 48): “Let’s call something a rigid designator if in every possible world it designates the same object,” while non-rigid designators would not do so. Such a designator may fail to designate at all (i.e., in some possible worlds, Aristotle never exists), but it does not designate something else if that thing happens to have other properties. Nor does something else (say, Aristotle’s brother) turn out to be Aristotle if it meets more of the descriptions in the cluster. When we use the proper name “Aristotle,” its reference is fixed for us in the actual world, and that reference remains fixed no matter what we may discover about this world or stipulate about others. Putnam (1973, 1975b) contemporaneously [1] extended many of these ideas to natural kind terms, while others have extended them to include still more classes of expressions such as indexicals and pronouns. [2]

Why should any of this trouble a normative functionalist? Many defenders of rigid designation’s place in a theory of meaning have stated its nature in terms of the “object-involving” character of truth conditions for sentences in which they appear. That is, the object itself would figure in the truth conditions, rather than some means — functions, inference licenses, possible worlds, whatever the tools of the theory may be — for reidentifying and differentiating between potential referents. On a first pass, this would seem to involve an appeal to non-semantic items as elements of the semantic order; a more sophisticated reading would appear to involve appeal to a direct, unmediated word-world relation as an explainer in a theory of meaning. In Sellarsian dialects of Pittsburghese, this would amount to invoking the given in semantic form. Outside those circles, most analytic philosophers after Kripke would say that inferentialist accounts seem to preclude an appropriately direct involvement of objects in their semantic contents. Putnam and Sellars spoke directly to one another on this point, in fact. In 1974 at the APA Eastern meetings, Sellars presented his “Meaning as Functional Classification,” a touchstone of normative functionalism in recent theory of meaning, and comments were offered by none other than Hilary Putnam. Sellars’s views are discussed extensively elsewhere in this edition, but Putnam expressed significant reservations:

The normal-form description of the meaning of a word does include a description of the rules for the use of the word. … The “rule” component gives the full specification of individual competence, or even of collective social competence at a given time; it fails to completely capture what is ordinarily called the meaning of the word and in particular it fails to capture the extension. The battery of rules, whether you take that in an individual or a social sense, does not determine the extension of the word. … The determination of extension is a social matter, and also more than a social matter; it depends also on the contribution of the environment. (1974, 453-454).

The crucial point that Putnam’s comments miss about a Sellarsian account is the normative character of the functional classification. (To be fair to Putnam, Sellars (1974) does not address this extensively.) His emphasis on individual competence suggests a kind of causal functionalism — each speaker must have approximately this organization of internal states to produce these patterns of behavior. Dummett (1974) seized upon Putnam’s remark that the “causal” theory of reference (as this account was then being called) would more suitably be called a “social” theory of meaning, noting that making good on this refinement would be a much different project than the one Putnam imagined. [3] While we may grant Putnam’s point about the “division of epistemic labor” and acknowledge that meanings “ain’t in the head,” their introduction into the language cannot determine their extension wholesale in advance of the alterations our theoretical conception of them that subsequent collective epistemic labor will produce. (MacBeth (1995) follows this line even further, asserting that natural kind terms are not truly semantically rigid and do not form actual identities in sentences like “Water is H2O.”)

More charitably, we might say that Putnam’s concession that descriptions of meaning include rules for the use of a word would suggest that he reads the rules and inferential roles Sellars describes as necessary and sufficient conditions — an exhaustive and final account of the meanings of those expressions, against which individual competence could be evaluated. And here we see how rigid designation might be problematic for a Sellarsian account. If the language entry, intra- and exit rules for an expression like “fish” — its inferential role, if you prefer —were fixed by English speakers in, say, 1700 CE, then its extension will be fixed incorrectly to include whales and other cetaceans. This is a substantial objection that merits serious attention. One can probably see a Sellarsian objection lurking in the shadows here, too. The “contribution of the environment” is a rather murky suggestion. If we take it very literally — that the very essence of kinds and particulars directly shapes the meanings of names, kind terms and other rigid designators – then we have the given in a remarkably bare form. If we take it that calling on the “contribution” here simply entails that the extension is a matter that we must determine empirically by involving ourselves with the environment and remaining open to new evidence to expand or contract the extension, then there is nothing particularly objectionable about that point for the inferentialist. The uptake of the environment is what we should concern ourselves with here, and that will still be achieved and articulated in the inferential terms sketched out by Sellars.

What is needed from the normative functionalist is an account that characterizes the inferential role of these expressions without recourse to a given. Such a response need not be a rejection of the very idea of rigid designation, of course, but only to interpretations of it that invoke direct relations to objects in such ways. Nor should we think that these reservations support the descriptivism that Kripke and Putnam rejected for these expressions. What we want is an account of these expressions as singular terms whose usage is appropriately governed by attention to their referents, rather than solely to our linguistic practices. That attention will be inferentially articulated with additional provisions to assure that our commitments are treated fallibly and remain open to appropriate revision. Much of the epistemic groundwork for this is laid out in Sellars (1956/1997, 1974; see also Brown (1986) and Wolf (2006b)) and I will not review this at length here. The starting point for the semantic account I review will call upon results from a number of important sources within the Pittsburgh school (Sellars (1980), Brandom (1984, 1987, 1994)) on the articulation of inferential roles and the technical machinery for characterizing the roles of subsentential expressions — including singular terms such as rigid designators — within such accounts. The rest of the account will involve spelling out what we as speakers and as a community must do in order to use a designator rigidly.

II. Anaphoric theories of reference, existential commitments and substitution inferences

We may begin this account following Brandom (1987, 1994, 2007) in treating singular terms as a class of expressions characterized by their roles in material substitution inferences. Beginning with simple declaratives, singular terms will be distinguished by sorting themselves into equivalence classes whose expressions are taken up in symmetrical material substitution inferences; predicates will be distinguished by being taken up (almost) exclusively in asymmetrical material substitution inferences. Thus, such an equivalence class might include both the expressions “Elvis Costello” and “Declan Patrick McManus” and where one may infer from “Elvis Costello was born in Liverpool” to “Declan Patrick McManus was born in Liverpool,” one may also infer from the latter to the former. This may be seen as an inference by substitution of a portion of a sentence, as opposed to inferences between sentences without such overlapping parts of their sign designs. Inference licenses for such equivalence classes are expressed as identity statements, e.g., “Elvis Costello is Declan Patrick McManus.” Predicates may also be seen as portions of sentences substituted in making inference, but they will almost always permit inferences in only one “direction,” e.g., one may infer from “Elvis Costello is a guitarist” to “Elvis Costello is a musician,” but not vice versa. Proper names, natural kind terms and other standard candidates for rigid designators evidently fit in as singular terms here. What we seek is a more specific, nuanced account of the restrictions on substitution inferences involving them that distinguishes them from other singular terms and a sense of why this inferentialist approach is a preferable alternative to accounts that call upon word-world relations or direct inclusions of objects in propositions. [4]

What distinguishes rigid singular terms from non-rigid ones? Rigidity must be thought of as a particular sort of openness to the world and to experience that manifests itself in ways that we use those expressions. [5] It is a type of commitment that we make in taking up the use of such expressions. We do not simply happen to pick out the same object with those, we are obliged to, and to correct ourselves or others when a regime of reidentification and substitution commitments fail to do so. [6] We take up inferential commitments in using non-rigid designators, as well, but for non-rigid expressions, reidentification and identity conditions are fixed prior our engagement with their referents and we do not take up commitments to revise other inferential commitments by virtue of the referent we determine.

Paradigmatically, definite descriptions assign inferential commitments according to their various subsentential components. Speakers using (or hearing) the expression “the shortest American President” take up inferential commitments in virtue of the component expressions: “the” implies uniqueness, which may be articulated in substitutional terms; “shortest” implies that a name may be substituted into the subject position of the frame “___ is shorter than ____” with each other potential names substituted on the other side in turn. But these commitments dictate a referent to us where they succeed in determining one at all; we would not take up some commitment to revise our usage of “shortest” if the description turned out to refer to James Madison (or anyone else, for that matter). But we might revise our descriptive and reidentification commitments for “Aristotle” if some of them conflict in our ongoing inquiry. (Attention to observation and empirical commitments is especially important here, but not exclusively. Shifts in other theoretical terms may have the same effect.) The commitments surrounding a rigid designator are sensitive to inquiry, empirical and theoretical, at their very heart. But this sensitivity is first and always a matter of inferential commitments. The apparent bareness of ostensive “baptisms” of names, natural kind terms and other rigid designators is a reflection of this openness. It amounts to a readiness on the part of speakers and communities to withdraw commitments when incompatibilities arise. Putnam’s suggestion of a “stereotype” here may be instructive (1975a, 1975b, 249-252); he suggests it as a sort of portfolio of descriptions that most speakers will have at their disposal for a term, but not a defining set of properties in the vein of analytic truths. As far as this goes, the normative functionalist should have no objections. But in Putnam’s account, this would suggest a shabby, provisional character for the inferential commitments surrounding a rigid designator. What our account here suggests is that this pragmatic flux is the stuff of meaning, and that the rigid character of such expressions is a goal for which speakers will be held responsible as they make use of them.

Normative functionalist theories of rigid designation also enjoy an explanatory advantage in accounting for the “reference-preserving causal links” alluded to by Kripke. Putnam sometimes piggybacks on Kripke’s terminology here, and also speaks broadly of the “social” character of rigid designation, as in the extended quote above. Metaphorically, one might think of the “baptism” of an individual or kind — the introduction of an expression referring to it in the language — as a kind of “anchor” that fixes the reference, with chains of interrelated linguistic events (utterances, inscriptions, readings of inscriptions, etc.) in which the expression recurs. Noting that these links are causal tells us too little, though. Your utterance at t₁ may be followed by my utterance at t₂, but almost any duration may separate those two events, and an untold variety of conditions may obtain in the interim. Some account of what sustains or “preserves” the reference must be offered.

Here, the work of Grover, Camp and Belnap (1975) and Brandom (1984, 1994, chap. 7) in developing richer and more sophisticated notions of anaphora is crucial. Expressions taken up anaphorically derive their content by occurring as stand-ins for expressions used in a context. For instance, “Jocelyn loves herbs. She grows her own.” Here, the pronoun “she” has its content determined by its dependence on the name “Jocelyn.” There are many more anaphoric forms, of varying interest to formal semanticists, but beginning with Grover, Camp and Belnap, it became clear that similar analyses could be offered of other expressions — pro-verbs and pro-sentences, in addition to pronouns — and that these could all be understood as forms of inheritance between speakers. What speakers inherit here is not some particular physical item or effect, but the sort of inferentially articulated commitments and entitlements familiar from normative functionalist accounts. The “chains of communication” invoked by Kripke’s account and the social dimension of Putnam’s account of rigidity involve causal interactions among speakers, but the import of these interactions are the transfers of commitments and entitlements among speakers — transfer and inheritance of normative statuses. As Brandom puts it, “causal-historical theories of proper names then appear as dark ways of talking about the sorts of anaphoric chains that link tokenings of proper names into recurrence structures” (1994, 470). (We may add natural kind terms and other rigid designators here.)

To speak in these terms of commitment and entitlement is not to speak of token performances or occurrent psychological states. Meanings still “ain’t in the head” on this account. In fact, speakers may not be overtly, consciously aware of all the commitments and entitlements surrounding an expression. Even those they are consciously aware of may never be invoked in any sort of performance. And my token performance in using an expression may piggyback on yours. If I use a name, you may then use it as well and point in my direction if there are objections to our usage. Putnam’s “division of labor” is now also less darkly understood: these are commitments and entitlements inherited from select social groups, such as scientists, relative to their expertise on our license to make some range of claims and inferences. Most importantly, we may think of all of these communicative exchanges as anaphoric chains stretching back to the origins of rigid designators in a linguistic community, or in ancestor communities using predecessors of the terms in the distant past. Those origins are often lost to the fog of history, though they are often idealized as “baptisms” in the literature on rigidity, and the nature of their introduction — the anchoring of those anaphoric chains — remains a point of interest.

Something must determine a referent in the introduction of a rigid designator (particularly names and natural kind terms). Deixis is frequently part of idealized introductions, but acts of pointing or drawing attention cannot be free of implicit commitments, either. Pointing at an expanse before me to draw the attention of another speaker does not amount to a semantically significant performance unless I’m implicitly invoking reidentification and theoretical commitments in other speakers that are roughly in line with my own. It is these commitments that tell us that I am dubbing a kind of stuff “water,” rather than a particular body of it, or its phase state, etc.; or that we are naming this child, not that other one in the nearby crib, “Michael Padraic Wolf.” Discussion of these ambiguities sometimes turns to the intentions of the baptizing speakers, but this approach threatens to put meanings back in the head. Where an appeal to intentions is useful at all here, it is as a way of speaking of the commitments a given speaker is covertly taking up and would oblige other speakers to take up as well. Most ostensive introductions of rigid designators are routine and leave the commitments implicit, but this reflects a shared set of cognitive dispositions involving joint attention and stage-setting by earlier statements in a context of conversation. They become apparent to us only on occasions of breakdown when explicit clarification is required. But without the inferential commitments of a normative functionalist account, there would be no fixing of referents at all.

III. Natural kind terms and reconciling theoretical commitments

What has been said so far might be said as easily of natural kind terms as readily as we say it of proper names and most other rigid designators. But they are significantly different in some respects. They include both sortals (“electron”) and mass terms (“gold”), and like other common nouns, they may be used both as singular terms and as components of predicates. [7] We may say both “Gold is the corpse of value,” and “Not all that glitters is gold.” Note that the predicative form there is not an identity statement. We could use “gold” in an identity statement, e.g., “the element with atomic number 79 is gold,” but that is not what is being said when I say, “My ring is gold.” As singular terms, kind terms may appear as mass terms (“gold is a metal”), in definite descriptions (“The lion is a mammal”), indefinite descriptions (“A lion has four legs”) and bare plurals (“Lions hunt in a pride”). [8] With some stage-setting in a context, the definite, indefinite and bare plural forms may also be used as singular referential expressions: “A lion attacked me”; “Honey, the dog wants to go out”; “Weasels ripped my flesh” (i.e., some particular group of them, not the species in general). While these are of genuine semantic and logical interest, we may take the singular usages to be abbreviated phrases or covert descriptions that are derivative of the kind-referring usages, so I will concentrate on the kind-level singular terms and the predicative usages here. As I said, natural kind terms share these features with non-natural ones that no one would assert are rigid designators. A great deal has already been said about the sensitivity of rigid expressions to the empirical, and this is certainly central to our openness to new evidence for the usage of terms like “electron” and “gold.” But why would we use kind terms, with this curious combination of subsentential roles for this purpose? We might ask, what do the various features of kind terms described here do that makes them useful for the purposes that lead us to have rigid designators in the first place?

We may note that the singular term usage of natural kind terms has a duality of its own. On the one hand, it may serve as what Sellars called a “distributive singular term” (1974, 430-433). In such cases, we may read the singular term as entailing a conditional with the kind term switched to predicative usage in the antecedent and the predicate of the original sentence, e.g., “an electron has a mass of 9.1×10-31kg” entails “if something is an electron, then it has a mass of 9.1×10-31kg.” (For more formal purposes, we might want to state this with quantifier phrases and open sentences, i.e., “For all x, if x is an electron …” But we need not press that point for the moment.) We could then take designators for any member of the class and make substitution inferences with them as needed. Such strategies will be reminiscent of mid-century efforts at nominalist approaches to meaning via paraphrase, as deployed by both Sellars and Quine. Why not simply have predicative usages, then? Natural kind terms may also be used in reference to extant totalities of a kind in ways that will not reduce to such distributions among members of the kind, e.g., “The lion is disappearing from the Serengeti” or “Carbon dioxide is present in greater concentrations in the upper atmosphere and is increasing mean surface temperatures as a result.” These are not predicates that can be ascribed to each member of a class via simple substitution inference schemes. They express a range of reports about indeterminate subsets of the kind, patterns involving whole populations, and many other possibilities. But they express and report various empirical facts that will be of substantial theoretical and explanatory interest to us, so we should not write them off as merely idiomatic. The predicative usages of natural kind terms serve as what we might call inferential intersections: various reports of observable conditions license them, and they in turn serve as gateways to a wealth of consequences via lawlike and statistical generalizations. Once we can say, “it is an electron,” (or for other singular terms in the subject position) the resources of our best physical theories are at our disposal. Singular term usages for extant totalities permit substitution inferences across both the contingent facts that they report and the lawlike and statistical generalities of the sciences. Such inferential potentials are invaluable for the sort of theoretically mediated usage of a term characteristic of our adoption of it as a rigid designator.

One last subject of concern for natural kind terms is their commensurability with past usage, as raised by Kuhn (1970). Kuhn noted that the linguistic and practical articulation of theoretical commitments involving natural kind terms (to use our terms, rather than his) were so different across the history of science that apparent uses of the same theoretical terms by different groups of scientists would be incommensurable with one another. Rigid designation has often been cast as a remedy for this worries, most explicitly by Putnam. Even if our theoretical accounts change over time, the extension of those natural kind terms remains the same and thus we have sufficient univocality for critical responses, i.e., we can say that scientists were wrong about water before 1700 CE without fear that our use of “water” does not line up with theirs. Kuhn (1990, 1996a, 1996b) has been critical of such appeals to rigid designation. The normative functionalist must give some account here, though. There will be disparities in the inferential commitments taken up by past and present speakers, indeed there will be disparities even among co-present groups of speakers.

To some degree, we should agree that such severe disparities are possible. What we translate from Aristotle as “force” (βια) may simply not reconcile with contemporary usage of the term, to take just one example. (I make no claim either way here.) There is no a priori reason that all terms must do so, and we should find any theory that had such a consequence suspect. However, this is not a fundamentally different scorekeeping problem than the sort we often encounter with other speakers. Where speakers do not agree on the usage of an expression, they dispute the commitments and entitlements to be assigned, and in the most mundane cases, they have their set of social practices to which to appeal. In more potent disputes, the appropriate forms of the practices themselves are in dispute. Assuming that both past and present sets of practices and the inferential commitments surrounding a natural kind term are well articulated, we can treat discrepancies as akin to present-tense disputes about the form practices should take going forward. Obviously, this requires a sympathetic idealization of the responses earlier communities might have made in such an exchange if it is not to degenerate into smug confirmation of progress. Where we undertake such discourse, we search for affinities, both at the level of particular inferences made with the term in hand, and at the level of explanatory strategies in which the distinction is deployed. Where there is sufficient affinity, we find ourselves in a position to take their terms to be our own and correct their commitments. (The more we agree with them, oddly enough, the more we can tell them where they are wrong.) With regard to “water,” retrospective consideration of the usage of the natural kind term will involve comparison of the microstructural explanatory strategies implicit in modern conceptions of elements with, for instance, the transformational explanatory strategies of Stahlian chemistry (In this earlier approach, “principles” are distinguished by how they transform things, and water is thus distinguished by its solvency). But note that that earlier explanatory strategy is part of a larger set of commitments including things like drinking and collecting samples from lakes and streams that will overlap with present usage. This explanatory strategy purported to expand the extension of “water,” and in doing so, it stakes a claim that must be treated with openness, and thus might simply be wrong. Whether such extensions part ways with our contemporary accounts and everyday usage of the past is a subtle and difficult historical question, but one that differs from ordinary questions about scorekeeping in degree and complexity, not in kind.

References

Brandom, Robert. 2007. Between Saying and Doing: Toward an Analytic Pragmatism. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.

––––––. 1994. Making It Explicit. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

––––––. 2001. “Modality, Normativity and Intentionality.” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 63 (3): 587-609.
––––––. 1984. “Reference Explained Away”. Journal of Philosophy 81 (9): 469-92.

––––––. 1987. “Singular Terms and Sentential Sign Designs.” Philosophical Topics 15 (1): 125-167.

Brown, Harold. 1986. “Sellars, Concepts and Conceptual Change.” Synthese 68: 275-307.

Dummett, Michael. 1978. “The Social Character of Meaning.” In Truth and Other Enigmas, ed. Michael Dummett, 420-430. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Frege, Gottlob. 1980. “On Sense and Reference.” In Translations from the Philosophical Writings of Gottlob Frege, eds. Max Black and Peter Geach, 56-78. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.

Grover, Dorothy, Joseph L. Camp & Nuel D. Belnap. 1975. “A Prosentential Theory of Truth.” Philosophical Studies 27 (2): 73-125.

Kripke, Saul. 1980. Naming and Necessity. Oxford, United Kingdom: Basil Blackwell Pub.

Kuhn, Thomas. 1996a. “Commensurability, Comparability, Communicability.” In The Road Since Structure: Philosophical Essays 1970-1993 With an Autobiographical Interview, eds. James Conant and John Haugeland, 33-57. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

––––––. 1996b. “Possible Worlds in History of Science.” In The Road Since Structure: Philosophical Essays 1970-1993 With an Autobiographical Interview, eds. James Conant and John Haugeland, 58-89. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

––––––. 1990. “Dubbing and Redubbing: The Vulnerability of Rigid Designation.” In Scientific Theories: Minnesota Studies in the Philosophy of Science, Volume 14, ed. W. C. Savage, 298-318. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

––––––. 1970. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, 2nd ed. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

MacBeth, Danielle. 1995. “Names, Natural Kinds and Rigid Designation.” Philosophical Studies 79 (3): 259-281.

McDowell, John. 1998a. “De Re Senses.” In Meaning, Knowledge and Reality, ed. John McDowell, 214-227. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

––––––. 1998b. “On the Sense and Reference of a Proper Name.” In Meaning, Knowledge and Reality, ed. John McDowell, 171-198. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

––––––. 1998c. “Putnam on Mind and Meaning In Meaning, Knowledge and Reality, ed. John McDowell, 275-291. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Putnam, Hilary. 1975a. “Is Semantics Possible?” In Mind, Language and Reality: Philosophical Papers Vol. 2, eds. Hilary Putnam, & Stephen Schwartz, 139-152. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

––––––. 1975b. “The Meaning of ‘Meaning’.” In Philosophical Papers, Vol. 2: Mind, Language and Reality, ed. Hilary Putnam, 215-271. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

––––––. 1974. “Comment on W. Sellars.” Synthese 27: 445-455.

––––––. 1973. “Meaning and Reference.” Journal of Philosophy 70, 699-711.

Sellars, Wilfrid. 1974. “Conceptual Change.” In Essays on Philosophy and Its History, ed. Wilfrid Sellars, 172-188. Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

––––––. 1956/1997. Empiricism and the Philosophy of Mind. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

––––––. 1980. “Inference and Meaning.” In Pure Pragmatics & Possible Worlds: The Early Essays of Wilfrid Sellars, eds. Wilfrid Sellars and Jeffrey Sicha, 261-286. Atascadero, CA: Ridgeview Pub.

––––––. 1974. “Meaning as Functional Classification.” Synthese 27: 417-437.

Wolf, Michael P. 2007. “Reference and Incommensurability: What Rigid Designation Won’t Get You.” Acta Analytica 22 (3): 207-222.

––––––. 2006a. “Rigid Designation and Anaphoric Theories of Reference.” Philosophical Studies 130 (2): 351-375.

––––––. 2006b. “Sellars on the Revision of Theoretical Commitments.” In The Self-Correcting Enterprise: Essays in Honor of Wilfrid Sellars, eds. Michael P. Wolf & Mark N. Lance, 231-252. Amsterdam: Rodopi Press.

––––––. 2002. “The Curious Role of Natural Kind Terms.” Pacific Philosophical Quarterly 83 (1): 81-101.

[1] The dates of publication here may obscure the relation between Kripke and Putnam’s works. Kripke’s Naming and Necessity was first delivered as a series of lectures in 1972, around the time that Putnam would have been writing “Meaning and Reference” (1973), and Putnam mentions Kripke’s work in passing (1973, 707). Kripke’s revisions of Naming and Necessity were not complete until 1980, but both authors were working on these ideas independently around the same time in the early 1970s. There has been some controversy about how much of this can also be traced back to ideas presented by Ruth Barcan Marcus a decade before these works, but settling that dispute is well outside the bounds of this paper.

[2] There is an additional, rarely discussed category of rigid designators: those that are rigid de facto. For instance, definite descriptions are not generally rigid designators, but “the square root of 373,248” picks out the same item — 72 — in every possible world. But such items are not rigid as a matter of their semantic or syntactic category, as proper names, pronouns and other items are, so there has been less interest in them as a group. But don’t worry. There are only infinitely many of them.

[3] In a similar vein, McDowell (1998c) expresses concerns that Putnam’s conception of the mind may not go far enough in stepping away from traditional accounts of representation and mentality. Discussion of this is a bit too far afield for the present paper, however. See also McDowell (1998a, 1998b) for a less inferentialist account of some features of rigid designation.

[4] The details that follow in the remainder of this section and the next are presented in greater detail in Wolf (2002, 2006a and 2007).

[5] Cf. Brandom (1994, pp. 468-473)

[6] An emphasis on inferential roles of sentences and expressions is common to normative functionalist views, but the terms “commitment” and “entitlement” are part of Brandom’s program.

[7] They may also occur in complex predicates as direct or indirect objects, but we may think of those as simply other ways for them to appear as singular terms.

[8] The ontology of species and other biological terms is a fiercely contested matter, and I take no position here on whether species are kinds, individuals, sets, etc. I make use of these biological expressions because they behave like the other kind terms and it is these semantic, inferential patterns that concern us.

Author Information: James Swindal, Duquesne University, swindalj@duq.edu

Normative Functionalism and the Pittsburgh School: Table of Contents

Swindal, James. 2012. “Norms and Causes: Loosing the Bonds of Deontic Constraint.” [1] Social Epistemology Review and Reply Collective 2 (1): 117-132.

The PDF of the article gives specific page numbers. Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1Bfg0-D3

Abstract

Some philosophers have developed comprehensive interactive models that purport to exhibit the various normative constraints that agents need to adopt in order to achieve what otherwise would be an unattainable and unsustainable social order. Robert Brandom’s semantic inferentialism purports to show how a rational construction of social coordination is enacted and maintained through specific mappings that agents make of each other’s commitments (beliefs) and entitlements (justified beliefs). Strongly influenced by Brandom’s account, Joseph Heath reconstructs a number of historically emergent deontic constraints that solve what are otherwise unsolvable game-theoretic problems in the maintenance of the social order. But both accounts omit a sufficient analysis of the way in which individual agents, who comprise the normative order, are effectively addressed by norms when they act. How does an agent, who is facing a unique interactive situation with more than one normative path to choose, make a decision? One solution, attractive to some continental thinkers, is to appeal to an innate irrational component of decision-making that lies outside of rational bounds (e.g., Nietzsche’s will to power or Adorno’s das Hinzutrentende). The model I will defend lies in an existential account of agency that occupies a middle ground between a pure naturalism (where instinct dominates) and a pure regularism, or “normativism” (where reason dominates). The existential model asserts that the given normative field within which an agent operates conditions the formation of the agent’s intention to act but does not determine the effecting of an action as such — whether individual or collective. On this model, the specification of the acting or not acting on the normative intention is determined only retrospectively on the basis of what the agent actually did in a way that is in principle public and observable. Thus the content of the agency can be reconstructed only historically. The embodied character of the agent is what makes the action relatable to the sum of conditions that were co-determinative of the action at the time it occurred. The advantage of this view is that it does not overreach the highly limited access that we have to the inner workings of intentions to act while at the same time providing an account of agency independent of simply the agent’s relation to norms.

Some social philosophers as of late have developed holistic models of socially developed and sustained normative systems. Jürgen Habermas, Robert Brandom, and Joseph Heath have developed theories which place rational choice analysis within a broader social holism. [2] Such theories, when fully developed, can actually serve to neutralize the need for strongly interventionist legal and economic steering of social coordination and thereby to support more cultural and hermeneutic forms of social integration. A problem, though, is that their reliance on forms of deontic constraint to solve coordination dilemmas cannot sufficiently account for the role of agent-centered purposive actions in such normative systems. Deontic constraints are determinations of consistency or inconsistency that can be applied to semantic and inferential expressions of decisions to act. For example, if I am deciding whether or not to give a contribution to a charity, I can express the proposition to do so relative to whether it would be inconsistent not to do so given other commitments I have de facto adopted by my prior actions, such as giving in the past.

In this paper I shall argue that, although deontic constraints serve to make coordinating actions possible by supplying what is underdetermined in many prior decision theories, they fail sufficiently to account for the unique contributions of individual actors to development and change within the broader normative fields in which they act. Instead, I shall maintain that a model of agent causation can both account for the originality of action and can make coherent a dynamic normative holism. Moreover, I shall suggest that such a model can actually expand the explanatory range of a normative account. My argument will proceed by reconstructing various aspects of Brandom’s and Heath’s models of normative holism, and then indicating how their models elide crucial causal pre-conditions for the coherence and extension of their models. Then I will present a model of agent causation that, I argue, pre-conditions the intelligibility of free action on the basis of which a dynamic normative model can even be constructed. [3]

Normative Holism

The publication of Robert Brandom’s Making it Explicit provided significant resources for social theorists and philosophers who construct normative models of social cooperation. Brandom works from the assumption that the very “significance of being committed to a certain claim or assertible content is normative.” [4] But he argues that the analysis of the interaction of beliefs and desires alone cannot provide a sufficient account of the phenomena of social action: an inclusion of deontic statuses is also needed. By including them, he constructs an expressive theory of the origin and function of norms that is meant to capture the rationality not only of basic actions, but also of beliefs, speech acts, and all forms of social cooperation. The determination of any single normative commitment can thus be situated within a wide and coherent set of such commitments. Only such a holistic theory of normative statuses, he concludes, can supplant a “gerrymandering” solution to social order that merely constructs ad hoc ways to regularize performance options rather than finding a “correct” solution. [5]

Joseph Heath’s Following the Rules makes an even more comprehensive case for such a normative holism. Heath starts with the basic components of decision theory — beliefs and desires, on the one hand, and states and outcomes, on the other — and then demonstrates how deontic constraints are required to make the mechanisms of instrumental (means/ends) reasoning produce rational decisions in complex social situations where agents lack either adequate information or sufficient intersubjective assurances. [6] Like Brandom, Heath refrains from abandoning instrumental or strategic models of action as such, but rather shows how they can function in game theoretic situations if tempered by certain axiomatic deontic constrains. Deontic constraints guard against otherwise inevitable collective action and regress problems that occur in instrumental reasoning. Heath’s tactic is to begin with certain “folk psychology” assumptions about action (e.g., that we act on the basis of beliefs and desires), and from them to develop an expressive account of normatively guided action that fits with ordinary experience. His model exhibits the constraints but refrains from assembling them into a formal system from which predictive inferences could be made or definitive arguments to support them could be formulated.

The basic conceptual units of a normative system are rules, specifically the rules governing not so much beliefs or desires (as to either their origination or function), but action as such. Heath is convinced that representational models of beliefs are unable to furnish a proper account of the origin of such rules. [7] This is the basis for his rejection of psychological imagism, the claim that meaning is connected to representation in private mental images, and endorsement of psychological sententialism, the need for meaning to be expressed via predications and inferences. Heath is here consistent with a broadly constructivist view of meaning. Kant, as an example, defended a constructivism that rejected cognitive imaging in favor of a temporally linear view of perception as a continuous figuring. [8] Heath finds rules, then, as generated by social actors through their social interactions. Thus he develops a quasi-naturalistic account of the emergence of beliefs and desires within the evolution of our actual cultural practices, explicates the “master concepts” implicit in them (sympathy, virtue, and duty), and then shows how propositional language developed to assist social coordination relative to the beliefs and desires. [9] Like Brandom, Heath argues that the subsentential, sentential, and inferential analysis that we now can reflexively employ relative to our language use bestows us with a power to sharpen and improve coordinated outcomes of our actions by allowing us to represent the “content” of the rules, even moral ones, that guide actions. [10]

Heath knows that adjustments must be made in the theoretical understandings of both beliefs and desires in order to make this normative system work. He understands, like Brandom, that beliefs are fundamentally commitments regarding certain expectations about future states, while desires are oriented towards attaining or preventing certain outcomes. Beliefs are propositionally structured, in order to exhibit many of their properties, such as their two fold status as either de dicto or de re. He strongly refrains from endorsing a non-cognitivism about desires, rejecting Hume’s belief that desires are mere “givens.” In this Heath follows most contemporary Bayesian rational choice theorists. He holds that desires can be adjusted cognitively, particularly given the discounting of them that we impose as we continually face new probabilities as to whether they can be fulfilled. [11]

What we are left with, in both Brandom’s and Heath’s accounts, is a neo-Parsonian normative holism. [12] For Brandom, norms are applicable to acts, and hold the key to their own development and modification through the “game of giving and asking for reasons.” Interlocutors keep track of the statuses an act reveals of an actor’s commitments and entitlements via the moves he or she makes by verbal or nonverbal actions. Language functions to lend intelligibility to specific actions by expressing the commitments they embody and the entitlements they license. Heath gives the entire rational process a transcendental justification, inspired by Kant’s transcendental deduction. Kant had confronted the skeptic not by giving arguments that would refute him, but by showing how, under the epistemic conditions to which humans have “access,” certain models are transcendentally necessary in order to explain what occurs. According to Heath’s justification, then, the skeptic either mistakenly thinks we have access to things we really do not or fails to see that our patterns of thought to which we do have access are constrained in certain ways. [13]

Norms and Causes

Brandom’s conceptual holism thus provides an analysis of how a normative system develops itself over time. In other words, he explains how the system can account for heterogeneous states that it renders intelligible even though the states initially form no intrinsic part of the normative integration as such.

On Brandom’s view, Hegel accounted for this development by reconstructing not only the social constrains on action, but also the semantic intelligibility of them. Hegel had rejected Kant’s efforts to find the source of concepts solely in a priori subjective activity that culminates in judgment. [14] Instead he argued that the conceptual realm emerged in tandem with the evolution of actual human social practices. The conceptual is grounded primarily in determinate negations (which Brandom calls material incompatibilities) that are the disjunctions of certain pairs of concepts that effectively become the impetus by which the normative system adapts to change. [15] A key incompatibility takes place at the level of the status of the social actors as such. While the master comes to realize his dependence on the slave for self-consciousness, the slave comes to realize lordship as lordship — which is not a stable reciprocal recognition. They become opposite and identical at once — and are not ostensibly reducible to an equilibrium. They become part of a set of reflexively yet historically evolved social achievements. [16] So rather than jettison the role of concepts, or rule them as incomplete for coordination, the social theorist can argue that another realm of the conceptual is demanded for rational action — a realm that extends to an emergent set of conceptual norms that supervenes on but is not determined by the empirical.

Brandom, for his part, extends Hegel’s model by articulating how individual actors “keep score” of the diverse deontic statuses of those with whom they interact. He argues that one can accept Hegel’s holism at the level of concepts and still critically analyze the concepts at a metalogical level. [17] Rational agents keep score of each other’s statuses as either committed or entitled to contents that can be either inferentially or noninferentially secured. [18] These commitments or entitlements can be either attributed to another or acknowledged for oneself. An actor can, however, attribute a claim to another without acknowledging it for itself (e.g., in cases where the attributor realizes that one to whom it is attributed might not have had the same non inferential perceptual entries as the attributor). The non inferential claim of a reliable reporter, however, can authorize another to undertake it inferentially. But no knowledge is attributed to another until entitlement also is; no truth is attributed until it is acknowledged. [19] Thus Brandom’s model has the effect of decentralizing epistemic authority and revealing how we negotiate rationally in a world where agents have unique and varied experiences on the basis of which to form their unique doxastic (empirical) beliefs and practical desires. Agents continually assess commitments on the assumption that other agents respond in this deontic fashion to both theoretical and practical inputs.

Brandom thus maintains that “it is the scorekeeping social practices that actually govern the use of an expression.” [20] The interpreter accords cognitive authority to claims based on circumstances. The “authority” needed here is that of having an inheritable entitlement: the sort that supports successful deferrals by others (potentially including the interpreter). One cannot be said to have knowledge unless one attributes to one’s own performance the significance of being a commitment involved in the giving and asking for reasons. First person deliberation is thus only an internalization of third person normative assessment. [21] Whatever self-knowledge an agent gains would be propositionally formulated and vulnerable to challenge — thus the holism is maintained.

Given this shared externalist reading of scorekeeping practice, what are the presumed conditions on the basis of which one can be recognized as a holder of normative status in the first place? One principally has to be a concept user. But if concepts are always caught up in inferential chains between at least two interlocutors, how is a conceptual chain started? Brandom at least opens up a preliminary space for the non conceptual and non inferential origin of concepts by claiming that a causal dimension of acting for reasons stems from acknowledging a practical commitment by acting on it. [22] Acknowledgments of practical commitments serve as “stimuli” eliciting nonlinguistic performances. Thus prior (or pure) intentions cause intentions in action. [23] As Brandom notes, “normative status is one thing, the attitudes of attributing and undertaking those states, the alteration of which is what scorekeeping consists in, is another.” [24] So causation in his account makes possible the externalization and public availability of internal states so that they are available to scorekeepers. It is enlisted to distinguish between perceptual reports and actions that are not entitled on the part of the agent (merely caused) and those so entitled (caused by reasons). [25] But these causal explanations are attributed only post facto. [26] In perception, one is understood to have acknowledged a non inferential perceptual input in a perceptual belief; in practical action, one is understood to have responded to a set of acknowledged commitments by acting on them. So no ex ante deliberative thinking or intention formation causally plays a role in bringing about an action to which a normative status can then be subsequently attributed. Consequently, his account is not clear about how or even whether an agent decides to undertake these attitudes.

Heath for his part, however, drops any sustained analysis of the interaction between causes and norms altogether. [27] But by so doing, he effectively leaves deontic statuses with an even more rarified role: he does not even accept them as mediations between beliefs and desires relative to actions. Although desires can be described as intentional states, talk of intentions is at best only a part of the expressive vocabulary in the game of giving and asking for reasons. To illustrate the impotence of intentions, he refers to Gregory Kavka’s Toxin Puzzle case: an interesting variation of Newcomb’s problem in decision theory. [28] An eccentric billionaire wants to offer someone a million dollars merely to form the intention to take a toxin that would debilitate that person for one day only. The intention can be measured by a special brain scanner. If the intention is formed, then the person will receive the money even before the toxin is consumed, thus allowing for defection. The question is whether the intention could even be formed by the agent. Heath thinks that it is not only psychologically but also logically impossible to form the intention. (I shall assume, below, that is logically possible to form these intentions, but argue that they cannot be agent causes.) As he notes, “there is no fact of the matter as to whether the agent has a particular intention or not … Who has what intention is determined by deontic scorekeeping — commitments and entitlements both ascribed and acknowledged.” [29] He concludes that intentions are in no way causal but are only ascribable deontic statuses derived only post facto from cases where an agent has refrained from making a typical or convention move. They are, in Sellars’s idiom, “mongrel concepts.” [30] They most certainly, for Heath, are sources neither of actions nor, even indirectly, of norms.

The problem with both Heath’s and Brandom’s accounts is that they do not account sufficiently for the origination of the normative system they reconstruct. A normative order cannot be a given or an end in itself, as if rationality could then be derived afterwards from it. The order cannot simply be imposed on agents without regard for the specific agent ends it would foster or hinder. So my quarrel with Brandom is that his reconstruction of the causal role of attitudes towards states and rules is incomplete, lacking an analysis of deliberative intentional aims: whether or not agents do shift attitudes remains in his system only a contingent fact. [31] With Heath, the difficulty is more problematic: individual action is evaluated relative fundamentally to expected social utility. [32] In what follows I shall explicate the form of agency implicit in the purposive actions of individual agents that in turn both presupposes and necessitates the normative systems that coordinate the purposive actions.

Non Reductive Agent Causation

Rational choice theories do not purport to describe how agents actually act, but rather how they would act if they were ideally rational. This ideal model does have some explanatory power: it has informed a number of beneficial social and political policies since its development. But even as ideal, it is incumbent upon such a model to explain irrationality in some measure. Most rational choice models do, in fact, attribute agent “error” to either (i) poor inferences (usually based on the agent’s inadequate information), (ii) weakness of will in the agent, or (iii) factors exogenous to the agent such as the unforeseen intervention of nature to thwart its intended outcomes. The theory can then account for each source of error. It can correct a poor inference (i) by reconstructing the logical form of actions as such and then reconstruct proper inference patterns. It can correct weakness of will (ii) by showing it to be a result of poor inference regarding the combination of the agent’s general aims and its specific resolves. But if lack of success still occurs when the inference patterns are correct, then rational choice theorists attribute the failure (iii) to “nature” or other exogenous factors out of the control of the agent or agents. The problem is, though, that no repair of (iii) can be proposed from within the model itself.

For Heath, outcomes in decision theory are always probabilistic given that the state or states associated with a successful outcome are “chosen” not by the agent but by nature. [33] After all, the probabilities utilized in decision theory are dependent on the chances not that the agent will or will not act on its best rational interest at the time (since it assumes the agent will act only on its best interests), but that certain states of affairs that influence the outcome will or will not occur. In such decision models, nature thus serves as an unpredictable but (usually) law-governed set of possible constraints on desired outcomes — whether they are in the form either of physical states or of states determined by the unpredictable actions of other agents. Norms are thus non-natural entities that serve as bulwarks to stabilize the expectations that agents can have of each other’s actions so that coordination is possible when absolute assurance about states is not. But why is nature accorded so much power over outcomes in this scheme: a power that then can be countered only by deontic norms?

A model of agent causation, on the other hand, provides an alternative understanding of nature which is not in competition with desires for outcomes. In this view, nature — as the total set of what exists temporally (dynamically through time as states) and spatially (presently as events) – competes with neither the desire nor the outcome, but rather informs the actuality of both. Nature no longer simply effects the unpredictable states of affairs that norms function to minimize, but is itself what necessarily contributes to the action’s occurrence as such. The challenge, however, is to try to formulate a view of nature in rational action that does not run into a physicalist reductionism such that nature is simply defined as whatever agents do. [34]

To meet this challenge, what is needed is an additional conceptual vocabulary to express the role of nature in agency. Just as an expressive theory tries to make sense of our instrumental actions, and does so given a deontic vocabulary on the basis of which it avoids game theoretic incoherencies (such as collective action problems or “races to the bottom”), [35] so an additional causal vocabulary is needed to rescue instrumental actions from decision-theoretic incoherencies (such as Buridan’s Ass puzzles regarding the very possibility of arbitrating among rival subjective desires). The vocabulary needed to make this additional element of action explanation includes “limit concepts.” A limit concept refers not to an object or state of affairs, but to a process or condition. [36] In my account here, agency is the crucial limit concept involving what conditions purposive action.

Agency is the process by which individual actors are able to take a desire (pro-attitude) for a future but presently nonexistent state of affairs (outcome) and actualize it via a given normatively bound background set of both physical and cultural conditions unique to the agent at time t. In rational choice terms, agency takes up the perspective not of “what is the probability that if I were to do X, then Y would be the case,” but rather “what is the probability that if I were to do X, then Y would be the case given that I do X at t?” [37] The intelligibility of actions is determinable not just relative to natural or conventional rules that guide them, even if learned over time, but also relative to the original states of affairs agents effect by following the norms. This inverts our common conception: rather than begin with unconstrained or unsuccessful actions and subsequently develop rule based constraints on them to secure coordination, agency theory reconstructs the coordinated background factors that condition purposive but de facto unpredictable actions. It is not nature but the action itself that carries the element of unpredictability.

In an agency view, background norms are always already integrated both cognitively and materially in the action. Cognitively, the agent’s projected purpose has to be something that is meaningful to the rational agent given the way the world now normatively stands according to the agent. An agent simply cannot act to bring about non meaningful ends because it would lack the motivation to do so. Materially, the bringing about of the outcome via the action must rely upon the physical states of the world and of the actor’s body. Agents, who require bodily exertions to bring out outcomes, cannot form intentions to do actions that are impossible physically, such as to travel backwards in time or read other minds. So if there is a failure in reaching an intention, it is a function of the failed conception of the cognitive and material normative conceptualizations involved and not any kind of unprompted or unknown intervention by nature as such (such as in deviant causal chains). Agency is the achievement of acting on the basis of both limit-conceptual processes. So, this dual set of norms or rules thus precedes any action, not the other way around.

An example can illustrate this. Imagine an agent trying to choose between two foods to eat: one healthy and one unhealthy. On any view of action, there are at least four possible regress-instantiating instabilities a deliberating agent needs to solve in order to render a desired outcome rational to act on:

(a) conflicts among the agent’s desires for and aversions from the foods,
(b) conflicts in the agent’s attempt to find a fit between the its present desires/ aversions and past plans it had formed (such as to eat only healthy foods),
(c) probabilities that the foods might be either inedible or unavailable (the problem of scarcity),
(d) inabilities to secure coordination with persons who might be needed to acquire the food or to garner protection from persons who might work to render the food unavailable.

Heath’s view of deontic restraint could solve each of these. (a) would be solved by stipulating that desires and beliefs are not static but fungible because of socialization and the development of the “evolutionary precursors” of duty, virtue, and sympathy. These work to limit problematic variations among desires. For example, one can begin to develop a kind of internal duty to eat healthy foods. (b) would be solved by the fact that hyperbolic discounting can diffuse conflicts between past plans (resolves) and present desires to change the plans in light of new desires. For example, the agent can discount the ill effects of the unhealthy food now, given that he or she has not eaten any in quite a while. (c) involves the problem of constraint by nature. Such constraint actually drives the cultural evolution forward that, in turn, guards against nature’s own unpredictability. For example, sympathy and virtue evolve to enable the action coordination each needs to meet future threats of scarcity. Finally, (d) would be solved by explicating proper modes of language use and other forms of communication among agents regarding either the exchange of basic information about the action situation or a second order analysis of the consistency of any deontic norm involved.

An agent causation view, on the other hand, could account for each of these four possible regresses in a different way. The clue for such a view is actually found in the early Davidson, who held that “the intention with which x did y,” is not principally a description of an entity, state, disposition, or event, but is “syncategorematic.” [38] Such a limit concept, as not itself an event but a process, does not have direct causal relations to various pre-existent states (or events) of belief or desire (a) yet cannot project an outcome without reference to them. [39] Agents are conditioned but not causally determined by their past cognitive and natural histories. Second, agents do not conceive of prior plans (b) as de-temporalized ad hoc constraints, but as material conditions that enable possible actions without being sufficient conditions for them. For example, if I previously gave up calorie laden desserts but am offered one as a guest in a situation that prompts my eating it, I am neither reoptimizing nor discounting the prior resolve but rather responding purposively to a present state that is nonetheless materially connected to the prior resolve to abstain. Moreover, the agent decision does not place the agent in competition with, or at the mercy of, nature regarding which dispositional state to endorse or utility to maximize (c), but rather causes a physical outcome that becomes itself part of nature. [40] The action of the agent is thus described, most properly, not by the mental states that preceded it, but by the physically describable outcome. [41] The action technically does not fulfill a desired outcome, which, after all, is only a mental (intentional) state; rather, it produces a previously underdetermined physical outcome that is both externally realized in the state of affairs caused by the agent and internally realized (as satisfaction or lack thereof) in the agent itself. Yet the description of the outcome is intelligible both to the agent and others only within a historical sequence of prior events that nonetheless cannot in any way predict it.

By their internal and external effects, actions become materially a part of not only the unique history of the agent but, by extension, also the agent’s social and physical environments. [42] Even “failed” actions become part of this history. Consider one evening, returning home, you aim to insert your key in your front door lock and miss because the lighting overhead is dim. Though the failed outcome in this case was presumably neither psychologically intended (by your prior desire to open the door) nor normatively intended (as explicitly following a “rule” of unlocking efficiently), [43] you did in fact bring about a “missing the lock with the key” result for which you uniquely are the agent cause. It becomes part of your history for future action just as much as a successful unlocking would have been. Even as a failed action, it would not have been possible without a coordinated set of physical movements and a determinant intention which remains in play even after the failure (you’ll try again to unlock the lock to satisfy the intended outcome). The failed unlocking cannot even be made sense of without the intention of unlocking determining it. Moreover, presumably prior to the action, you had intended and done at least some relevant physical actions (in the example above, you presumably had a lock installed, chose to have a keyed lock, locked the house that morning, and so forth), all of which form part of the dynamic history of necessary, but never sufficient, conditions for the successful or failed action and thus also for subsequent related actions. For example, the failed action might now prompt you to install a light above the door. A normative constraint — to have building codes that require lights be placed above all outside doors, for example — could eventuate. Thus an action is not in competition with nature dynamically understood, since the new state of affairs brought about by the action – that which specifies the action — is itself natural as a temporalized and spatialized event. [44] Thus the rational determination of action ought not to be in principle reduced to “lotteries” as they are in decision theories like Heath’s: decisions subject to risk because of uncontrollable or unknowable states. [45]

A significant difficulty, of course, remains to explicate exactly how an action is described relative to its prior intentional mental states of desire and belief. Are they natural objects or not, in the sense described above? If they are not agent causes, then what exactly are they? There is no doubt that mental states are existent and describable states of affairs, and are dispositional as extended over time (even when no action emerges from them). Moreover, they are not causally inert. As states they can condition, as Davidson famously noted in his early work on action, events emitted as “onslaughts” from them. [46] They themselves, though, are not actions. Davidson made this clear also in his work on the logical form of action sentences, and repeated it in his later work. [47] But beliefs and desires are caught up in causal nexuses of their own. But their causation is not of agent, but of transeunt, form. [48] Transeunt, or event, causation can post facto be referred to as what can be mapped in a regular law-like succession between a prior event or state (e.g. intention) and a posterior one (e.g. action), but the laws cannot fully determine the future instances that the prior event or state nonetheless conditions. From the point of view of agency, event causes are necessary but not sufficient conditions for actions — and cannot themselves predict the events they nevertheless condition. [49] Thus actions remain free as indeterminant in this way, not in an absolute sense as pure arbitration among probable outcomes.

Of course this view could lead to the immediate objection that no deliberative and free decision effectively is made by an agent, since the decision seems merely a kind of acknowledgement of an ipso facto unpredictable and impersonal set of conditions of the action. But consider initially how prone we are to attribute a naturalized causation to physical objects. To heat things, for example, seems to be a natural property of hot objects. Though the hot object really is not doing anything but what is natural for it, we definitely acknowledge that it is effecting or directing something in the natural world (by either origination or modification). Yet it would be odd – and in fact irrational in Brandom’s and Heath’s accounts — to attribute normative states to these objects (as if it were an entitlement of a hot object to heat). In fact, Heath refuses to attribute deontic statuses even to non human animals: neither to parrots, who can in fact give reliable verbal reports of certain sense perceptions, nor to higher order primates, who can on some accounts accurately apply concepts to objects. [50] But why should the natural directedness of actions of non human agents not reach to same directedness in human agents? From an agency view, all actions are both immanent and material in their effects. [51] The uniqueness of human agency stems not from its connection to deontic constraints (even though these are unique to human agents), but from its power to redescribe acts linguistically as related to a naturalized history and thus to other agents and the constraints they causally impose by their agencies. From this framework alone can actions be described either as coordinating or, conversely, as free riding. This power of redescription of actions in no way annuls their natural, or material, status.

One could then still object that a naturalized account cannot but obviate agency. After all, all agent action will still always be compatible with a totality of physical laws. Heath himself avoids this reductive naturalism by referring to deontic constraint as a whole as “culture.” He is rightly wary of the naturalism of “selfish gene” arguments, and instead analyzes altruistic cultural behaviors that undermine what otherwise would be straightforward instrumental action to protect and increase one’s own offspring at all costs. [52] Yet he is also interested in examining “the sort of biological structures that must be in place in order for human cultural transmission to occur, along with consideration of how these might have arisen.” [53] But even he concludes that these learning structures — such as developmental plasticity and capability for learning — actually are not biological but fundamentally cultural. Cultural constraints are needed to minimize norm-disregarding actions (particularly of free riders). But from an agency view, culture is indeed complex and normatively charged, but still is a product of and is maintained by discrete purpose actions of individual agents. As Davidson maintains, actions always have in principle a complete physical description that includes reference to what was done. But while he takes this in a hermeneutic direction, in his stipulation that the conditioning is discovered via radical interpretation, a better alternative is to view actions, even those that bring about deontic constraints, as initially contingent physical events. [54] In other words every action, as contingent, is not principally determined by its pre-conditions or post-effects, even though it can subsequently be judged either to be in compliance or not with a given set of norms. Yet from the point of view of agent causation, all actions (and, ironically, the acts of free riders principally) have a measure of putative normative neutrality since the conditions under which any prior norm would apply to them are always rendered underdetermined by the originary nature of the action. [55]

What about the role of language in communication among agents about actions ([d] above)? Surely language does not exist at the level of a sheer physical input, like a sense prompting or instinctual reaction. Heath rightly sees language as a species accomplishment that aids in normative development. He supplies a theory of cultural evolution that begins, most fundamentally, with the human species’ “imitation with a conformist bias” that morphs into a sequence of developments: a cultural inheritance system, rule following, the development of norms implicit in practice, the development of semantic intentionality and propositionally differentiated language, and finally the species dependence on language for planning and behavior control. [56] The problem with this kind of developmental account is not that it is irrelevant, since it is actually needed for action description, but that it suppresses the first person account that conditions the description. The alternative is to reverse the process: not to see language as an emergent property of species function, but rather as functioning at the level of the language user. It is a form of transmission from one person to another to resolve either incomplete or asymmetrical information or to determine meaning for outcome projection. [57] So rather than presume that there is an ideal state of optimal information that should drive all agents in their linguistic attempts to decide either on probability of outcomes or on coordination or defection, the exchange of information needs to be viewed as determined as such at the moment it is taken up by the individual agent as an actual condition for its determination of its own satisfaction in either coordination or defection. Still, there is no privilege to intersubjective sources of information relative to an action: a person telling someone convincingly, “you will get burned if you touch that,” is not ipso facto a better source of information than the agent’s own initial tactile sense that the object about to be touched is emitting intense heat.

It could still be objected that this agent-centered view of language represents a reductive view of human communication. The disanalogies between human communication and sense input are admittedly many. Only human communication can be intentionally deceptive or provide information that transcends the present, such as regrets about the past and warnings about the future. But Heath himself, following Dummett, holds to the radically propositional nature of language. It is ineliminatably intentional and thus bivalent: it always, in principle, predicates something about something. Language thus offers no immediate access to a singular meaning. But it is precisely this bifurcated quality of language that is found in perception as well: perceptions are not immediate accessions to what is perceived, but require inferential reasoning, of some sort, to be understood. It would seem, then, that the interpretation of sensory data provides a difference of degree, not kind, from the interpretation of meaning. Thus beliefs and desires, even when linguistically expressed, condition but cannot necessitate actions ex ante even thought they are determinative for description and interpretation of actions post facto. [58]

Conclusion

The challenge for any normative theory of action, of course, is to classify the wide variety of human actions which would have to be subsumed under it: acts of perception, acts involving interaction with physical objects, acts of appreciation of (or distaste for) perceptual experiences, risk taking acts, mental acts, and explicit acts of intersubjective coordination (e.g., political actions) — just to name a few. The account sketched here is meant not to obviate the need for normative constraints on action, but to enclose the constraints in a broader description. All actions cause natural effects and as such are, in the first instance, able to be singled out (thus ipso facto have a measure of contingency) and thus are extra-normative. [59] Normative systems and the deontic constraints within them are thus second order prescriptions cognitively developed precisely to allow for agents to reach agent-determined outcomes. The normative restraints cannot be ends in themselves. Culture is a repository of deontic constraint, a kind of “second nature” that, in Heath’s account, fills in coordinative gaps. But in the account here, if we no longer take “first nature” to be considered a set of capricious restraints on outcomes, it becomes superfluous to give a second (deontically developed) nature a primary status. Thus an agent causation view solves the vaunted Parsonian “problem of order” by specifying exactly how nature, viewed dynamically, stands in no arbitrary relation relative to free purposive action. What should be clear is that no game theoretic coordination can resolve the problems stemming from complex situations in which agents view nature (and ipso facto other agents) primarily as a potential obstacle to their securing of outcomes. Sub-optimal outcomes should be explained, rather, not as failures of a probability calculus but as derived from insufficiently naturalized desires and beliefs.

Some measure of spontaneity in an action is what prompts us to attribute agency to an agent. The somewhat cursory outline of non reductive agent causation that has been presented, though, would also still have to account for those internal conflicts in agents indeed properly described by psychological predicates. This is usually the point of the analysis of weakness of will. The account here attempts only to reconceptualize such conflicts: an inner conflict occurs not between the intentional states competing to prevail and thus determine an action, but as a permanent tension arising from the concise spatial and temporal situation of each agent action relative to a history, both past and anticipated, of action outcomes. [60] What remains primarily determinative of an individual action is thus not how it was desired or believed by the agent, but that it, in a constitutive sense, may or may not have occurred at all in the process of natural development. Thus an action’s occurrence is better explained not as an achievement of an equilibrium of motivation, projected outcome, information about the physical world, or cultural background, but as a contingent and spontaneous actuation of a new state of affairs in both a cognitive and material ambient. [61] Such a theory thus could serve to form a compatibilist theory of freedom of the will.

[1] I was assisted greatly in the development of this argument by Jonathan Gunderson and two anonymous reviewers of a previous draft.

[2] For an example of Habermas’s commitment to a social holism, see his Theorie des kommunikativen Handeln, vol. II (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1981), pp. 583-593. He reconstructs the normative foundations of a critical social theory predicated on the universal structures of the lifeworld.

[3] Kant distinguished sharply between mathematical connections in a series, in which every condition is itself a part of the series, and a dynamical condition, in which exogenous, “purely intelligible” conditions can be allowed. See Critique of Pure Reason, tr. A. Wood and P. Guyer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), A530/ B558.

[4] Robert Brandom, Making it Explicit (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1994), p. 260.

[5] Making it Explicit, p. 208.

[6] In the rational choice literature, these are generally understood to be axioms. “Axioms hold independently of what would happen in terms of calculating expected utility in the long run… e.g., every decision problem can be transformed into a decision problem with equally probable states in which the utility of acts is preserved.” See Martin Peterson, Introduction to Decision Theory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), pp. 73-75.

[7] Like Rorty and others, Heath also takes Kant to be an image based representationalist. For an objection to this claim, see footnote 22 below.

[8] Following the Rules, p. 103. So, like Dummett, he assumes that “thought is communicable without residue” (ibid.). But Heath’s attribution of psychological imagism to Kant is problematic. In the Schematism section of the First Critique, Kant is quite clear that the bases of concepts are not momentary images, but temporalized schemata (in a linear successive time framework). He in fact strictly distinguishes schema and image. The former is a “method” of representation, a kind of macro image not reducible to specific momentary images: “Indeed it is schemata, not images of objects, which underlie our pure sensible concepts. No image could ever be adequate to the concept of a triangle in general. It would never attain that universality of the concept which renders it valid of all triangles. … The schema of the triangle can exist nowhere but in thought. It is the rule of synthesis of the imagination … The concept ‘dog’ signifies a rule according to which my imagination can delineate the figure of a four footed animal in a general manner, without limitation to any single determinate figure such as experience, or any possible image that I can represent in concreto, actually presents. This schematism of our understanding, in its application to appearances and their mere form, is an art concealed in the depths of the human soul.” See Critique of Pure Reason A 141/B 180 – A141/B 181. In fact images themselves, which do exist, are products of the schemata, not vice versa. I am constructing the same order here: individual actions produce norms, not the reverse

[9] Joseph Heath, Following the Rules (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), pp. 121-123, 217. For a discussion of his reconstruction of a socio-biological basis for ethics, see his “Three Evolutionary Precursors to Morality,” Dialogue 48 (2009): 717-752.

[10] Following the Rules, p. 265.

[11] Following the Rules, pp. 234-241.

[12] See, for example, Talcott Parsons, The Social System (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1991), pp. 15-16. Parsons defines norms as “patterned interactive relationships” that make intelligible both the position of the action in the social system and the status, or role, of the actor.

[13] See Following the Rules, pp. 214- 215 and Heath, “The Transcendental Necessity of Morality,” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 67:2 (2003): pp. 385-389. But Heath does not consider the difficulties attendant upon justifying or proving what we indeed do or do not have access to. Kant, for example, assumed that we had no access to objects of intellectual intuition, only to objects of sense intuition. Such intellectual intuition would constitute knowledge “altogether different from the human.” See Critique of Pure Reason, A278/ B334. But the assumption that there is no intellectual intuition is itself not subject to a transcendental argument.

[14] For a critique of Brandom’s particular attribution of holism to Hegel, however, see Stephen Houlgate, “Phenomenology and De Re Interpretation: A Critique of Brandom’s Reading of Hegel,” International Journal of Philosophical Studies 17:1 (2009): pp. 38- 40. In contrast to Brandom’s claim that Hegel understood the truth of things as being freed from their opposites, Houlgate sees Hegel as holding that things turn into their opposites such that things never are what they are. But both of their interpretations concern the holism of perception and knowledge, not of action per se.

[15] Making it Explicit, p. 160. See also Brandom’s Articulating Reasons (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2001), pp. 33-34, and “Sketch of a Program for a Critical Reading of Hegel: Comparing Empirical and Logical Concepts,” Internationales Jahrbuch des Deutschen Idealimus (2005): 140.

[16] For the reconstruction of Hegel’s arguments, see Brandom, Tales of the Mighty Dead: Historical Essays in the Metaphysics of Intentionality (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2002), pp. 178-209. But Allegra de Laurentiis argues that Brandom reads Hegel’s theory of the concept too narrowly, attributing to Hegel the view that concepts operate only in the public, empirical domain of intelligibility associated with Kant’s concepts of the understanding. See her “Not Hegel’s Tales: Applied Concepts, Negotiated Truths, and the Reciprocity of Unequals in Conceptual Pragmatism,” Philosophy and Social Criticism 33:1 (2007): 83-98. She claims that this mistakenly entails that the concept in Hegel refers to the sum total only of empirical concepts. Instead, she reconstructs Hegel’s account to show that his domain of the concept includes non-empirical concepts (concepts of reason, e.g. freedom, spirit, God) and the concept of the subject as such, as self-actualized by its unified self-knowing and self-willing. As for the employment of concepts, while Brandom insists that concept use applies to a process of negotiation between self and other on the basis of attribution and acknowledgement of each other’s commitments, she argues that for Hegel the dynamism of social interaction emerges in the asymmetry of the relation of master and slave that is never fully overcome. De Laurentiis puts this non-normativism quite bluntly: recognition in the Phenomenology is “directed to the activity and power of self consciousness in its role as ‘other,’ not to another individual’s concept-use or rule-acknowledgment.” (p. 91).

[17] See Brandom, “Sketch of a Program for a Critical Reading of Hegel,” p. 133.

[18] Reasoning is a form of inferential articulation; perception and action are non-inferential.

[19] Making it Explicit, pp. 201-202. Brandom makes it clear, though, that this is an expressive notion of truth.

[20] Making it Explicit, p. 213.

[21] Making it Explicit, p. 269.

[22] Making it Explicit, p. 261. Moreover, he refers to a parallel causal theory of perception: observable states of affairs causally elicit a perception. But the empirical inputs have to cause the dispositions in the right way.

[23] Making it Explicit, p. 259. Davidson sees intentions as “all things considered judgments.” See his “Intending,” in Essays on Actions and Events (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), pp. 83-104. But according to Brandom, Davidson fails to show how the implicit commitment is made propositionally explicit. He thinks Davidson models action determination only on a special speech act of “shall” that makes for a promise. For Brandom, this entails that there is no sanction if an intention is not performed, thus if one changes an intention there is no need for an explanation or apology.

[24] Making it Explicit, p. 260.

[25] See Making it Explicit, pp. 260-262. He justifies this by a performative, contrary to fact, argument: if language users did not alter attitudes according to the shifting deontic statuses of their claims, there would be “no point in interpreting them as engaging in the practices specified by those proprieties of scorekeeping” (p. 260). Such a performative justification has difficulties of its own, but I shall not take up those problems here.

[26] Making it Explicit, p. 268.

[27] At one point in a section on weakness of will, Heath does talk about “attention management” and “self control.” But these seem to be overwhelmed by the sheer rationality of re-optimizing on the basis of not exponential but hyperbolic time discounting. See Following the Rules, pp. 246-254.

[28] See Gregory Kavka, “The Toxin Puzzle,” Analysis 43 (1983): 33-34, as quoted in Following the Rules, p. 164. See, also, Andy Egan, “Some Counterexamples to Causal Decision Theory,” Philosophical Review 116:1 (2007): 93-114 for an incisive account of problems with basing decisions on the best available (event) causal knowledge of the world we have at a given time.

[29] Following the Rules, p. 165.

[30] Following the Rules, pp. 164-165.

[31] At times Brandom resorts to a non causal language with regard to the efficacy of attitudes and acknowledgements: “Any effect that such elements of the score have on what performances are actually produced is indirect, mediated [emphasis mine] by the attitudes of those who keep score.” See Making it Explicit, p. 260.

[32] Heath does, however, mention causation, and obliquely agent causation in his earlier, Communicative Action and Rational Choice (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2001), pp. 53-54. See my criticism of this in “Can a Discursive Pragmatism Guarantee Objectivity? Habermas and Brandom on the Correctness of Norms,” Philosophy and Social Criticism 33:1 (2007): 113-126.

[33] Following the Rules, p. 16. See also, Communicative Action and Rational Choice, pp. 52-59.

[34] A number of theorists attempt to do this. E.J. Lowe takes issue with the way that physicalists have wielded the causal closure argument to identify mental states with bodily states. See his Personal Agency (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), pp. 12-14. Lowe argues instead for a non-Cartesian substance dualism that can posit an agent causation associated with mental states (“subjects of experience”) not thereby reducible to physical states.

[35] For a good example of such collective action problems or “races to the bottom,” see Heath’s analysis in “Problems in the Theory of Ideology,” in Pluralism and the Pragmatic Turn, ed. W. Rehg and J. Bohman (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2001), pp. 169-176.

[36] This term is attributable to Kant. See Critique of Pure Reason, A 255/ B 311. The noumena is an example of a limit concept.

[37] Peterson, Introduction to Decision Theory, p. 194. Emphasis mine.

[38] Davidson, “Actions, Reasons, and Causes,” in Essays on Actions and Events, p. 8. I am basically endorsing this claim of the earlier Davidson, even though he later repudiated this theory in light of his development of a theory of all out intentions that need not be acted upon. See also, Making it Explicit, p. 256. Also, “having an intention” could be considered either an event or state.

[39] This is consistent with the fact that agents arguably are not even phenomenologically aware of their desires and intentions as causes. See, for example, Derk Pereboom, “Is Our Conception of Agent-Causation Coherent?” Philosophical Topics 32 (2004): 275-286.

[40] The account here is thus clearly at odds with that of the early Habermas. Though he spoke of a “natural history of the human species,” he distinguished it from those actions that represent a “cultural break with nature” and urge towards “utopian fulfillment.” See his Knowledge and Human Interests, tr. J. Shapiro (Boston: Beacon Press, 1971), pp. 310-312.

[41] Thus we are not referring here to the classical “interventionist” understanding of agent causation as shaping nature from without. See Lowe, Personal Agency, p. 6.

[42] As Theodor Adorno claims in a similar vein, one ought not narrow thought and action to their “inner historicality,” but rather see them within a historicality that is far broader and includes what he terms “tradition.” See his Negative Dialectics, tr. E.B. Ashton (New York: Continuum, 1973), p. 54.

[43] Of course, it is also trivially assumed that it is normative for an agent to be allowed to lock doors, open doors with keys, and so forth.

[44] There is an extensive literature on whether actions are events. Davidson argues that, at least semantically understood, actions are events. See his “The Logical Form of Action Sentences,” in Essays on Actions and Events, pp. 105-149. Ryle and von Wright are among those who hold the opposite view. On the account here, actions are events as defined by their outcomes, though they are uncaused by prior events.

[45] Introduction to Decision Theory, p. 94.

[46] Following the Rules, pp. 20-24.

[47] They are “primary reasons” for action, which are essentially what Davidson later calls “all out intentions.” For the later reference, see his “Problems in the Explanation of Action,” in Problems of Rationality (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), pp. 103-104.

[48] Chisholm distinguished between event, or transeunt, causation, and immanent, or agent, causation. See his “Freedom and Action,” in Freedom and. Determinism, ed. Keith Lehrer (New York: Random House, 1966). See also Dorothy Emmet, The Effectiveness of Causes, (Albany: SUNY Press, 1985), pp. 76-77. A thorough formulation of agent causation is found in Richard Taylor, Action and Purpose (Englewood Cliffs NJ: Prentice Hall, 1966).

[49] A classic example here would be when the stillness of the lake prompts someone to take a boat out on the water. The stillness is the event cause for the agency of the person taking the boat out.

[50] Following the Rules, pp. 126-127.

[51] As for mental acts, they have definite physical correlates, such as brain states or outputs of the central nervous system.

[52] See Following the Rules, pp. 170-176; “Three Evolutionary Precursors to Morality,” pp. 722-724

[53] Following the Rules, p. 188.

[54] In other words, they bring about outcomes that otherwise would not have existed, yet exist such that their (upstream) prior non-existence and (downstream) later possible return to non-existence constitutes their content as actions.

[55] And specifically in the case of free riders, their actions might in fact serve to obviate the very rationality of the norms they are purportedly violating. For example, the existence of too many free riders probably indicates the failure of the norm they free ride on to be rational.

[56] Following the Rules, p. 217.

[57] See Communicative Action and Rational Choice, pp. 65-67.

[58] But another similar objection could be lodged against this account. One could argue that an interpretation requires a level of triangulation that requires another language-using agent with whom sources of perceptual chains of events can be located. For one relevant view of triangulation, see Davidson, “The Emergence of Thought,” in, Subjective, Intersubjective, Objective (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), p. 128. Only this would seem to give closure to what otherwise would produce problematic regresses concerning origins of stimuli. But an agent view would find the origin of the stimulation a rather remote problem. It is rather the agent’s taking of the stimuli that is determinative, not the grasping of an account of its origin. But when origins are important, it is quite possible to triangulate without a second human agent: even an inanimate object, such as a measuring device, can serve to triangulate one’s determination of a distal object’s stimuli. Thus I am sympathetic with Dretske’s view of triangulation primarily as a causative one, in contrast to Brandom who, like Davidson, sees it as necessarily involving at least two language users. See Fred Dretske, Knowledge and the Flow of Information (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981). For Brandom’s account, see Making it Explicit, p. 430.

[59] Some philosophers of action raise problems that involve failed actions in persons with bodily paralysis. Jennifer Hornsby, for example, argues that these situations serve to indicate that actions are not bodily movements, but tryings: and these tryings have no direct causal relation on any bodily movement. See her Actions, (London: Routledge, 1980), pp. 39-45. But the account developed here would reduce the resolve in these paralysis cases to mental intentions, but not actions as such.

[60] This assumes the somewhat problematic claim that every state of affairs is begun by a singular event.

[61] Kant foreshadowed this when he indicated the existential and conceptual orders are distinct, save the fact that the existential entails that perception, restricted by empirical laws, in principle precedes all concept formation. See Critique of Pure Reason, A225/B272.

Author Information: Dave Beisecker, University of Nevada, Las Vegas, beiseckd@unlv.nevada.edu

Normative Functionalism and the Pittsburgh School: Table of Contents

Beisecker, Dave. 2012. “Normative Functionalism and its Pragmatist Roots.” Social Epistemology Review and Reply Collective 2 (1): 109-116.

The PDF of the article gives specific page numbers. Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1Bfg0-CT

Precis

In what follows, I shall characterize normative functionalism and contrast it with its causal counterpart. After tracing both stripes of functionalism to the work of the classical American pragmatists, I then argue that they are not exclusive alternatives. Instead, both might be required for an appropriately illuminating account of human rational activity.

Section 1

When we attempt to unpack some notion or phenomenon functionally, we try to characterize it, not in terms of its intrinsic features, but rather in terms of its upstream “inputs” and its downstream “outputs.” However, there are different ways in which we may choose to characterize or specify such inputs and outputs, which thus give rise to different flavors of functional analysis. Thus when we subject some phenomena to a normative functionalist analysis, we conceive of the relevant inputs and outputs in broadly normative terms. That is, we attempt to understand the phenomenon in question in terms of how it is influenced by, and how it in turn influences patterns of proprieties, obligations, and permissions (or commitments and entitlements, to deploy Robert Brandom’s (1994) preferred idiom). So Wilfrid Sellars, one of the pioneers of normative functionalism, urged us to think of the meanings of words or concepts in terms of their role in a richly interconnected network of material inferential proprieties (Sellars 1953, 1956). To give the meaning of a word is (on the upstream side) to specify when one is obliged or permitted to infer sentences deploying that word, and also (on the downstream side) to make explicit what one is in turn obliged or permitted to infer from such sentences. Those who can properly be said to understand a concept are those who have, perhaps implicitly, mastered these inferential proprieties. More recently, Rebecca Kukla and Mark Lance (2009) have similarly encouraged us to botanize various kinds of speech acts according to the interpersonal proprieties that govern when speakers may deploy them, as well as the licenses and obligations they confer upon their audiences. Kukla and Lance ambitiously argue that by doing so we can make substantial headway understanding how mind meets world in perception and action.

Section 2

Thus those who advertise the virtues of normative functionalism will typically urge us to view their chosen phenomena (usually something like thought, rationality, or meaning) in a social setting. The thought is that such phenomena only become intelligible in an intersubjective context. Subjects to whom certain philosophically interesting concepts are appropriately applied must be understood in a context of many such subjects interacting with one another to produce a pattern of changing permissions and obligations. Normative functionalists are thus likely to be unabashed social externalists. And here we have one chief contrast in philosophical temperament between normative functionalists and their cousins who subscribe to more traditional, and possibly more familiar, causal functionalisms. Causal functionalists like to think of the relevant inputs as causal influences upon the states of a system exhibiting some target phenomenon, and the outputs as the various causal effects that stem from such a system being in those states. Famously, Hilary Putnam (1975) suggested that mental activity was amenable to such causal-functional analysis, in which individual mental state-types could profitably be identified as states of a system characterized in terms of intrasubjective causal inputs and outputs. Causal functionalists like Putnam typically construe the relevant systems of interest as a sort of stimulus-response machine: individual organisms receiving inputs from their environments and then making responses to those inputs, perhaps through the mediation of some internal “cognitive processing.” Causal functionalists are much more likely than their normative counterparts to be methodological individualists.

Section 3

Interestingly, both flavors of functionalism can justly trace their origins to the work of the Classical American pragmatists, and indeed, causal functionalists like Putnam and normative functionalists like Brandom each style themselves as inheriting the mantle of the pragmatist tradition stemming from the “great triumvirate” of Peirce, James, and Dewey.[1] In defense of the case for causal functionalism, Peirce’s early articulations of the pragmatic maxim instruct us that the meanings of our ideas are to be understood in terms of their “upstream” effects upon sensory experience and also upon their subsequent “downstream” influences upon our habits of action. Such a characterization accords well with the intrasubjective “conceptual role semantics” advocated by causal functionalists about meaning (e.g., Block 1986). But perhaps more significantly, each of the great triumvirate was concerned to characterize intelligent activity in adaptive, evolutionary terms. Thus we see the pragmatists’ particular fascination with adaptive networks and feedback-guided learning systems, governed by what we would now think of as test-operate-test-exit (or TOTE) cycles. Organisms to which (or whom) concepts of mind and experience are aptly applied are those who monitor the effects of their own actions upon the environment, and who can adjust their patterns of responses accordingly. The upstream stimuli that matter to them have been influenced by their prior actions, which in turn influence their subsequent responses. As Chauncey Maher (2012) has recently pointed out, this focus upon dynamic systems is something that the Classical American Pragmatists share with the neo-pragmatists that comprise the so-called “Pittsburgh School.”

Section 4

But if we dig further into the fertile soil of classical American pragmatism, we can also find the seeds of normative functionalism, especially in the works of Dewey and the later Peirce. It is striking that in his later (post-1900) articulations of the pragmatic maxim — or those in which he sought to distance himself from James — Peirce shifts his language from causal-talk to more normative-talk. Whereas earlier he talked about the meaning of a concept or idea in terms of its “effects” upon sensory experience and behavior, later on he speaks in terms of its “consequences for deliberate self-controlled conduct” taking note that any reference to sensory effects is to be “sedulously excluded.”

The word pragmatism was invented to express a certain maxim of logic, which, as was shown at its first enouncement, involves a whole system of philosophy. The maxim is intended to furnish a method for the analysis of concepts. A concept is something having the mode of being of a general type which is, or may be made, the rational part of the purport of a word. A more precise or fuller definition cannot here be attempted. The method prescribed in the maxim is to trace out in the imagination the conceivable practical consequences, — that is, the consequences for deliberate, self-controlled conduct,— of the affirmation or denial of the concept; and the assertion of the maxim is that herein lies the whole of the purport of the word, the entire concept. The sedulous exclusion from this statement of all reference to sensation is specially to be remarked.” (Peirce 1997, 56-57)

In other words, the whole meaning of a concept is bound up in what affirmations and denials involving it oblige or permit one to do (including to infer) — hence “pragmatism.” This change in vocabulary from the causal to the normative is particularly evident when Peirce characterizes the meanings of terms, not as he did earlier in terms of effects (especially sensible effects), but rather in terms of implications and non-implications:

In another sense, honest people, when not joking, intend to make the meaning of their words determinate, so that there shall be no latitude of interpretation at all. That is to say, the character of their meaning consists in the implications and non-implications of their words; and they intend to fix what is implied and what is not implied. (Peirce, 1905/1966, 211)

The point is that we can begin to discern in these passages (and others like them from the same timeframe) a semantic picture that anticipates Sellars’ own normative functionalism about concept and word meaning!

Section 5

Following Peirce, Dewey also speaks of meaning, not in terms of effects, but rather in terms of “conditions and consequences” of application, almost as if it were a mantra. In so doing, Dewey presages the vocabulary of another pioneering inferentialist and normative functionalist, Michael Dummett (see Dummett 1978). But that’s only the beginning, for Dewey shared many other philosophical predilections that are characteristic of the normative functionalism espoused today by the “Pittsburgh School.” Not only did Dewey think that rational, mental activity could only be understood in the terms of a dynamic system interacting with its environment, he also tells us in the pivotal Chapter V of Experience and Nature that it is not to be understood in terms of an internal realm conceptually prior to language. Instead, such activity originates in, and can only be rendered intelligible in terms of, our ability to communicate with one another through linguistic behavior.

Nevertheless it is a fact of such distinction that its [communication, language, discourse]occurrence changed dumb creatures – as we so significantly call them – into thinking and knowing animals and created the realm of meanings. (Dewey 1925, 139) [2]

Thus well before the emergence of the “Pittsburgh School,” Dewey had already advocated the idea that thinking is essentially a social, linguistic affair. It is also perhaps worth mentioning that in the first part of Experience and Nature (Dewey 1925), one can see Dewey rejecting empiricism (or an experiential given) in a way that predates and prefigures Sellars’ (1956) own rejection of the “myth of the given.” While Sellars doesn’t speak much of Dewey in his own autobiographical reflections, there certainly does seem to be an evident connection and affinity between the two, the story of which certainly merits greater exploration and elaboration. [3]

Section 6

Given their common roots in classical American pragmatism, one might well wonder whether these two flavors of functional analysis are mutually exclusive. Perhaps there is hope of brokering some sort of reconciliation between them. In his Locke Lectures, Sellars (1967) spoke of a systole and diastole in philosophy in which analysis and synthesis are kept in balance. [4] Accordingly, I would indeed suggest that within an appropriately synoptic view of intelligent activity, there is room for both the narrowly focused analytic impulse that animates causal functionalism as well as the wider, synthetic vision that speaks the truth of normative functionalism. Causal functionalists appear to have a more atomistic or mechanistic view of explanation and understanding, while normative functionalists — in seeking to understand an agent’s mental activity within a wider context of the similar activity of other agents — tend to have a more holistic picture of understanding and explanation. We can marry the two models, and do so in a way quite amenable to the idea of normative functionalism generally and meaning functionalism specifically. The key is to understand the explanatory shortcomings or costs of pitching one’s analysis of some philosophically interesting phenomena in entirely causal or entirely normative terms.

Section 7

Normative functionalists have long been questioned on their naturalistic credentials. The cost of pitching matters in a wholly normative, non-naturalistic manner opens oneself up to the charge of a certain “frictionless spinning in a void.” Insofar as the normative functionalist is silent about implementation details, then it might well seem like magic how creatures thoroughly subject to scientific laws are able to realize the interesting sorts of norm-governed activity the normative functionalist is seeking to describe. By contrast, causal functionalists are much more recognizably naturalistic by contemporary lights. Ultimately, their concern is how one might go about trying to build, construct, or otherwise fangle creatures for which the attribution of (certain grades of) intentionality or mental activity is appropriate, perhaps with an eye eventually toward engineering something capable of reasoning, thinking, and talking as we do. However, when causal functionalists give their favorite stories about what mental states are in appropriately non-normative vocabulary, one is inevitably left with the following question: why exactly should a system being in a state with such and such a causal profile specifically count as having, say, a belief (or other form of mental representation) that such and such is the case, or an intention to bring about a certain state of affairs? And the answer to that question must ultimately appeal to normative considerations — because a creature in such and such a state can profitably be understood as making a mistake about how things are in its environment if such and such conditions are not met. Insofar as we fail to address this normative question in a sufficiently convincing manner, we are left with a sneaking suspicion that some ultimately normative notion has been illicitly and unsatisfyingly replaced by something else entirely (see Beisecker 2006).

Section 8

To my mind, it is a very sad and appalling scandal in recent philosophy of mind that many so-called “naturalistic” accounts of mental representation and content, those that attempt to unpack primitive mental representation in terms of something like causal regularities or co-variance (e.g., Fodor 1987), fail so spectacularly to meet this explanatory burden. The trouble is that we cannot see these causally specified states as liable to error unless we are already prepared to see them embedded in a wider context of human or biological purposes.[5] For that reason, accounts that try to unpack mental representation in terms of selectional processes (e.g., Millikan 1984, Dretske 1988) fare better. However, that means that our focus must shift from the implementation concerns of the narrow (or methodologically individualistic) causal functionalist to ever-wider selective contexts. And one might well suspect that we will eventually see the need to reach (and to develop the vocabulary to describe) selective processes where the subjects of selection eventually graduate to become the agents or instruments of selection. In Sellars-speak, we’ll see fit to describe cases of social selection in which those merely subject to “ought to be’s” eventually come to enforce these norms by recognizing that they themselves are subject to “ought-to-do’s” (Sellars 1969). But as soon as we’ve attained this level of analysis, one must admit that we have reached the very sorts of social contexts that the normative functionalist finds most congenial, and has been urging us to consider from the outset.

Section 9

So it would seem that each type of functionalism needs the other, just as a systole cannot be understood as such without a diastole. But how can we pull these two seemingly opposed philosophical impulses together in a satisfyingly naturalistic picture of human activity in the world? Once again I think we can profitably turn to the classical pragmatists for guidance. For they were self-styled naturalists, though not in a sense that many would recognize today. Theirs was not a reductive naturalism, in which philosophically suspect vocabulary could be legitimated only by showing that we can form an expression equivalent to them in non-suspect vocabulary. Rather, theirs was a naturalism more oriented around evolutionary biology as their paradigm of naturalistic explanation, rather than physics. As long as one could tell a reasonable genetic story about the evolution of the mastery of such vocabulary, then that vocabulary is thereby rendered naturalistically respectable. This is exactly the kind of project that we find normative functionalists undertaking — from Sellars’ various elaborations of “mythical” extensions of our language games to Brandom’s “pragmatic bootstrapping” from mastery of one vocabulary to mastery of another expressively richer sphere of discourse, ideally through algorithmic elaboration. In short, the normative functionalist sees the naturalistic project to be that of telling a satisfying story about how we might get from the expressively limited “grunts and groans of the cave” to the “polydimensional discourse of the drawing room.” [6]

Section 10

Similarly, we can embark on the project of telling naturalistic (though mythical), evolutionary stories about how our primitive ancestors ever got to be grunting and groaning to each other in caves in the first place. One of the lessons that can be carried away from the normative functionalist’s evolutionary program is that just as there are many discrete grades of discourse, there may also be many discrete levels of pre-linguistic intentional or proto-mental capacity. We may attribute to sensing and reacting creatures a primitive kind of mentality that is intelligible as such by understanding them in terms of natural or biological purposes. At less rudimentary levels (though well before we reach the pinnacle of language use), we might attribute different kinds of mentality to creatures capable of learning or selecting their own “habits” (as the classical pragmatists would put it). But the capacity to learn is itself not monolithic. Various kinds of learning capacities can be scaffolded upon one another, making for interesting differences in the kinds of mistakes that may be attributed to creatures. Creatures capable of more sophisticated learning are liable to more sophisticated kinds of errors as they succeed or fail to latch onto more progressively nuanced kinds of contingent regularities in their respective environments. Eventually, we might well reach creatures that (or at this point who!) are capable not only of latching onto regularities in their environment, but are also capable of enforcing regularities as well, culminating in time with communally enforced regularities, which individual enforcers may succeed or fail to grasp. In such fashion, we can begin to see (and mythically describe) how social norms could ever emerge out of more rudimentary forms of mental activity.

Section 11

There are two aspects to telling this sort of mythical, evolutionary story. The first corresponds to the causal functionalist’s implementation project. That’s the project of rendering intelligible progressively more interesting forms of cognitive activity by elaborating them out of more primitive ones. The second aspect corresponds to the interests of normative functionalists. That’s the task of explaining why exactly we should be interested in a given such elaboration by showing how it would enable creatures to attain (or fail to attain) a certain cognitive achievement or goal. It should be evident, then, that these two strands don’t compete at all, but rather complement one another – as does normative and causal functionalism more generally. And so the general idea that I would like to advance is that causal functionalism often answers the question of how one might go about trying to BUILD something that can appropriately be characterized in certain (largely normative) terms, while normative functionalism is often an attempt to respond to the question of whether a certain TARGET for such construction has been met. The language of the causal functionalist is the one that is appropriate for constructing the ”blueprint” for building a system with certain capacities, while the language of the normative functionalist is that of detailing the appropriate engineering “specs” for such a capacity.

Section 12

Now this idea meshes well with the normative functionalism about concept meaning espoused by semantic inferentialists like Brandom and Sellars. Like traditional pictures of definition, the semantic inferentialists take the project of defining a term to be one of providing necessary and sufficient conditions for that term’s proper use. However, whereas traditional accounts of definition largely take this to be a single unified task, semantic inferentialists pull the task of giving sufficient conditions apart from that of giving necessary conditions. On their picture, to give the meaning of a concept is to provide the conditions in which a concept is properly applied and also to provide the consequences that attend such application. This separation of tasks opens up the intriguing possibility that at least in some cases, an illuminating account (or definition) of something will be one that places certain restrictions on the language in which sufficient conditions are to be specified as well as different restrictions on the language of necessary conditions. By doing so, one can see that illuminating accounts of some target phenomena are those that offer bridge rules between vocabularies, and that phenomena for which we feel the need of an account are generally those Janus-faced ones that stand in need of such bridging. The language of human rational activity, embodied as it is in a physical world, is precisely one such vocabulary, with tendrils that reach into both the normative and the physical. But now we can see our way through to offering an illuminating account of what such activity is. Causal functionalists go about specifying conditions that are illuminatingly sufficient for a critter to engage in such activity in a relatively narrow vocabulary, while normative functionalists give us illuminating necessary conditions specified in a different, wider vocabulary. Insofar as we insist upon viewing a phenomenon such as human mental activity from a wholly causal perspective or a wholly normative perspective, then we are bound to be left with an insufficient, “one-sided” or “monoscopic” picture of such activity. [7]

References

Beisecker, David. 2006. “Dennett’s Overlooked Originality,” Minds and Machines 16 (1): 43-55.

Block, Ned. 1986. “Advertisement for a Semantics for Psychology.” In Midwest Studies in Philosophy, Volume X: Studies in the Philosophy of Mind, edited by Peter French, Theodore Uehling, and Howard Wettstein, 615-678. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press

Brandom, Robert. 1994. Making it Explicit. Cambridge, MA: Harvard.

––––––. 2004. “The Pragmatist’s Enlightenment (and its Problematic Semantics).” European Journal of Philosophy 12 (1): 1-16. Reprinted as Chapter 2 of Perspectives on Pragmatism: Classical, Recent, and Contemporary Harvard, 2011.

Conant, James and Urszula M. Zeglen, editors. 2002. Hilary Putnam: Pragmatism and Realism. London: Routledge.

Dewey, John. 1925. Experience and Nature. La Salle, IL: Open Court.

Dretske, Fred. 1988. Explaining Behavior: Reasons in a World of Causes. Cambridge, MA: MIT Bradford.

Dummett, Michael. 1978. Truth and Other Enigmas. Cambridge, MA: Harvard.

Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 1841. “Friendship.” Essays: First Series.

Fodor, Jerry. 1987. Psychosemantics. Cambridge, MA: MIT Bradford.

Haugeland, John. 1998. “The Intentionality All-Stars.” In Having Thought, by John Haugeland, 127-170. Cambridge, MA: Harvard.

Kukla, Rebecca and Mark Lance. 2009. Yo! And Lo! The Pragmatic Topography of the Space of Reasons. Cambridge, MA: Harvard.

Maher, Chauncey. 2012. The Pittsburgh School of Philosophy. New York: Routledge.

Millikan, Ruth. 1984. Language, Thought, and Other Biological Categories. Cambridge, MA: MIT Bradford.

Peirce, Charles Saunders. 1905. “Issues of Pragmaticism.” The Monist 15. Reprinted in Charles S. Peirce, Selected Writings (Values in a Universe of Chance). Dover. 1966.

––––––. 1997. “A Definition of Pragmatism.” In Pragmatism: A Reader, Louis Menand, editor, 56-57. Vintage.

Putnam, Hilary. 1975. “The Nature of Mental States.” In Mind, Language, and Reality: Philosophical Papers, Volume 2, by Hilary Putnam, 429-440. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Sellars, Wilfrid. 1953. “Inference and Meaning.” Mind 62: 313-338. Reprinted as Chapter 1 of In the Space of Reasons: Selected essays of Wilfrid Sellars, edited by Kevin Scharp and Robert Brandom. 2007. Cambridge, MA: Harvard.

Sellars, Wilfrid. 1956. Empiricism and the Philosophy of Mind. Reprinted in Knowledge Mind and the Given, edited by Willem DeVries and Timm Triplett. 2000. Indianapolis, IN: Hackett.

Sellars, Wilfrid. 1969. “Language as Thought and as Communication.” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 29: 506-27. Reprinted as Essay 3 of In the Space of Reasons: Selected Essays of Wilfrid Sellars, edited by Kevin Scharp and Robert Brandom. 2007. Cambridge, MA: Harvard.

Sellars, Wilfrid. 1967. Science and Metaphysics: Variations on Kantian Themes. London: Routledge and Keegan Paul.

[1] And with occasionally unfortunate, acrimonious exchanges when representatives of both camps come together. See for instance Putnam’s rejoinder to Brandom in Chapter 4 of Conant and Zeglen, 2002 (59-65).

[2] It is interesting to observe that this chapter is given two different titles. Whereas it is titled “Nature, Communication and Meaning” at the start of the chapter, it is called “Nature as Communication and as Meaning” in the Table of Contents. Alert readers of Sellars will quickly note that the curious construction of this title (different from all the other chapters of Experience and Nature except one) closely parallels that of Sellars’ classic, “Language as Thought and as Communication” (Sellars 1969). And after reading the two alongside one another, one cannot help but suspect that Sellars’ article is precisely an extended attempt to work out the principal idea in Dewey’s chapter, namely that language is not an expression of an antecedent realm of thought, but rather is to be identified with thought itself. (see especially Dewey 1925, 148-149).

[3] Maybe we’ll hear this story soon. At the Sellars Centenary conference (2012), Preston Stovall talked about the many affinities between the Sellars of Empiricism and the Philosophy of Mind and the Dewey of Experience and Nature.

[4] Sellars (1967, chapter 6, paragraph 19). I cannot confirm whether there’s a direct connection, but this use of the metaphor of systoles and diastoles echoes Emerson’s famous passage in “Friendship” (1841): “Yet the systole and diastole of the heart are not without their analogy in the ebb and flow of love.”

[5] And insofar as we can understand a certain target system or model as liable to error only against a backdrop of externally imposed purposes conferred upon it by others, then it looks as if we’re only describing something with a second-rate, “derivative” sort of intentionality (see Haugeland 1998).

[6] See the lyrical last paragraph of Sellars 1956.

[7] In his (2004), Brandom attempts to saddle the classical pragmatists with such a one-sided semantics. I try to rebut this charge in my “Affirming Denial: Peirce and Dewey on an alleged blindspot of Classical Pragmatism,” (ms.).

Author Information: Chauncey Maher, Dickinson College maherc@dickinson.edu

Normative Functionalism and the Pittsburgh School: Table of Contents

Maher, Chauncey. 2012. “Normative Functionalism about Intentional Action.” Social Epistemology Review and Reply Collective 2 (1): 100-108.

The PDF of the article gives specific page numbers. Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1Bfg0-CG

1. Introduction

In any given day, I do many things. I perspire, digest and age. When I walk, I place one foot ahead of the other, my arms swinging gently at my sides; if someone bumps into me, I stumble. Perspiring, digesting, aging, placing my feet, swaying my arms and stumbling are all things I do, in some sense. Yet I also check my email, teach students and go to the grocery store. Those sorts of doings or behaviors seem distinctive; they are things I do intentionally.

What exactly is an intentional action? How does it differ from other things we do?

In this essay, I motivate and sketch an answer to those questions. On this view, an intentional action is a behavior that essentially alters what the actor is rationally accountable for, what she is rationally permitted or obliged to do, think, or feel. On this view, acting intentionally essentially involves a normative expectation that one has reasons for what one does. I call this view Normative Functionalism.

I begin in §2 by presenting a different, somewhat intuitive and popular view of intentional action, the so-called Causal Theory of Action. While that view does seem plausible, I allege that it doesn’t seem to accommodate the apparent fact that actors are accountable for their intentional actions. That motivates Normative Functionalism, which I sketch in §3. I conclude
in §4 by offering an interim assessment of the discussion.

2. The Causal Theory of Action

2.1. The Big Idea

In one of his many memorable remarks, Wittgenstein asks, “What is left over if I subtract the fact that my arm goes up from the fact that I raised my arm?”[1] In reply, it’s very tempting to say something like this: ‘my desire to lift it!’ That expresses a fairly common way to think about intentional actions. When I intentionally raise my right arm, my body seems to go through the same motions that it would go through if someone else were to raise it for me; the only difference is how the motion is caused. So, it can seem that the main difference between the two cases is that intentional actions are behaviors that are caused in a certain way.

Many philosophers have developed that basic idea into a theory, commonly known as the Causal Theory of Action.[2] There are many versions of this sort of theory.[3] Schematically, a behavior is an intentional action if and only if it is caused by X. Different versions of the Causal Theory replace ‘X’ with different things. For instance, one might replace ‘X’ with ‘intention’; thus, a behavior is an intentional action if and only if it is caused by an intention. That is not merely a claim about how intentional actions happen to be caused; it is a claim about what constitutes being an intentional action; if you like, it is a definition of intentional action; it says that being caused by an intention is essential for being an intentional action.

Beyond its apparent intuitive appeal, what else can be said in favor of a Causal Theory of Action?

2.2. Its Appeal

Let’s consider three apparent features of intentional action that a Causal Theory seems able to explain well: control of the action; the possibility of failure; and knowledge of what one is doing.

Intentional actions seem to be different from other sorts of behavior because they are under the actor’s control in a way that other behaviors are not. First, intentional actions seem to be chosen — or, anyway, things toward which the actor has some kind of affirmative mental stance or attitude.[4] For instance, if I intentionally lift my arm, it is normally also true that I chose to lift my arm. By contrast, when my arm rises because of a shock induced by contact with an electrical outlet, it is normally not also true that I chose to lift my arm. The etiology of the movement seems to be a—if not the—distinguishing factor. Second, through their duration, intentional actions seem to be behaviors that the actor guides.[5] For instance, if I am intentionally raising my arm, I can control how I am doing it, e.g., how fast or in which direction. By contrast, when my arm is caused to rise by shock, I do not have that sort of control. Again, it seems the difference lies in how the movements are causally sustained.

Another way in which intentional actions seem to be different from other behaviors is that they can fail in a way that other behaviors cannot. For instance, suppose I begin to intentionally check my email, but something interrupts me; thus, I don’t succeed. By contrast, when I walk as one normally does, my arms might not swing as they typically would; perhaps because my hands are in my pockets; or they might swing less than they normally do. Here it seems out of place to say I did not succeed in swinging my arms or that my arms were unsuccessful at swinging. Rather, my arms simply did not swing, or they did not swing as much as they normally do. It would be misleading to say that my arms failed to swing, or failed to swing as usual. Likewise, when I walk as one normally does and my arms do swing, it would be misleading to say that my arms were successful at swinging. They are no more successful at swinging than a leaf that falls to the ground is successful at falling to the ground. Unlike non-intentional behaviors, intentional actions seem to be goal-directed. They come with the possibility of failure and success. A Causal Theory of Action looks like it can explain that. A failed intentional action is a sequence with a certain kind of beginning and a certain kind of ending: the relevant cause occurs (such as an intention) but the relevant effect (that is, the intended effect) does not. A successful action is a sequence in which both the relevant cause and the relevant effect occur.

A third way in which intentional actions seem distinctive is that actors have special knowledge of them. First, actors seem to know about their intentional actions before they occur. For instance, just before I intentionally raise my arm, I could tell you that I am about to do so. By contrast, when my arm rises because of a shock, I do not necessarily know in advance that it is about to rise. According to a Causal Theory of Action, in the first case, I know what is about to happen because I have knowledge of the cause (e.g., my intention to raise my arm); in the second case, I don’t necessarily know what is about to happen, because I don’t have knowledge of an event that will tend to lead to a rising of my arm. Indeed, in general, of the intentional actions I perform, I seem to be better placed than others to know that these actions are about to occur, and also what sort of action it will be (e.g., an arm raising). This sort of “privileged” knowledge extends to the duration of the action. When performing an intentional action, I seem to know better than anyone that I am acting intentionally, and what it is that I am doing intentionally. Others have to observe my behavior, and infer whether it is intentional, and if so, what sort of action it might be. I need not rely on observation and inference in that way.[6] According to a Causal Theory of Action, such knowledge is possible because I am uniquely placed to be aware of the cause of the behavior.

2.3. A Problem

Many objections have been made to the Causal Theory of Action.[7] Let me offer just one that motivates the alternative that I want to bring into view.

Agents seem to be essentially accountable for their intentional actions, but the Causal Theory of Action does not make adequate room for that.

What do I mean when I say that agents are accountable for their intentional actions? Consider an example. Suppose that I intentionally visit the grocery store. Others may now think or even feel things about me. That is not merely a claim about what they are physically or psychologically capable of; it is a claim about what is permissible or appropriate. Clearly, one may now think that I have gone to the grocery store, but one may also wonder why I did, or doubt that I should have done so; and a friend to whom I had made a promise may even resent me for not telling her. Likewise, I should have reasons for going to the grocery store; if someone were to ask me why I went, I should be able to give a reason for going; perhaps I just wanted to; or maybe someone else needed something; or maybe I needed a distraction from work. [8]

Now, it is possible that no one actually thinks or feels anything about me or my going to the grocery store; maybe no one ever addresses me about it. Similarly, it is possible that I have no reason (let alone a good one) for going; even if I were addressed by someone, I might give no reason at all. Nevertheless, if I have intentionally gone to the store, these things are now, in principle, appropriate.[9] If they were not, it would be questionable whether I really did intentionally go to the grocery store. In this way, an intentional action essentially changes what the agent is accountable for, what she may (not) or should (not) do, think, or feel and what others may (not) or should (not) do, think, or feel vis-à-vis the agent. [10]

Why does a Causal Theory of Action seem unable to account for that? The basic reason is this: causal facts do not by themselves entail normative facts. [11] More exactly, the causal history of something does not entail that anything may (not) or should (not) happen. The fact that a behavior is caused in a certain way (e.g., by an intention of an actor) does not entail that it is permissible for others to think or feel things about the actor or address the actor. Nor does it entail that the actor should have a reason for the behavior.[12] For instance, the fact that my presence at the grocery store was caused by an intention to go to the grocery store does not by itself entail that I may (not) or should (not) do, think, or feel one thing or another.

4. Normative Functionalism about Action

Normative Functionalism about intentional action can be seen as a response to this shortcoming in the Causal Theory of Action; it centers on the idea that actors are essentially accountable for their intentional actions. In this section, I want to give a sketch of Normative Functionalism.

4.1. The Big Idea

Let us first contrast causal theories and functionalist theories generally. A causal theory of X—of what it is to be X — defines X in terms of X’s causal history. Such a theory seems plausible for things like bird tracks, wind erosion, tides, sunburn, or real Champagne. All of those things seem like they are at least partly defined by what causes them.

A functionalist theory of X — of what it is to be X — defines X in terms of X’s function or role. More exactly, X is defined in terms of its input and its output. Such a theory seems plausible for things like carburetors or pencil sharpeners, which convert a certain input into a certain output. They are not defined simply by what causes them. For instance, a carburetor could be caused by different people, factories, or designs; what matters is what it does.

Both causal and functionalist theories differ from a third sort of theory, which we might call the composition theory. This sort of theory holds that to be X is to be composed or “made of” a certain sort of stuff or material. Such a theory seems plausible for things like water and table sugar, which have specific chemical compositions (H2O and C6H12O6, respectively). On the face of it, this sort of theory is not plausible for things like bird tracks or carburetors, since bird tracks and carburetors need not be made of some specific stuff — although, of course, there are limits on what such things are normally made of.

Functionalist theories are often expressed in merely descriptive terms, but they don’t have to be expressed that way. For instance, one might propose that a pencil sharpener is anything that does is in fact sharpen pencils or is able to sharpen pencils. But there is good reason to think that adequate functionalist theories need to use not just descriptive terms, but normative terms, such as ‘may’, ‘should’ and ‘appropriate’. A pencil sharpener is not just something that does or can sharpen pencils, but something that should or ought to sharpen them, even if they don’t actually do so on some occasion, or ever. After all, there can be dysfunctional and unused pencil sharpeners. Let us call any functionalism that relies essentially on normative terms, a normative functionalism. [13]

A normative functionalist theory of intentional action could take many different forms, but any such theory will define an intentional action in terms of a role or function, relying on normative terms.

I will sketch one version of Normative Functionalism about action, rooted in the idea that actors are essentially accountable for their intentional actions. The core of the view is this: an intentional action changes the normative status of the actor, what she may (not) or should (not) do, think or feel, and what others may (not) or should (not) do, think or feel with respect to her.

To get the basic idea, consider an analogy. Actors are like players in a game or sport, or participants in a practice or institution more generally.[14] Thus, actors are like chess players, soccer players, parents, students or citizens. Like players of a game, there are certain things that actors may (not) or should (not) do, depending on the circumstances.

In turn, acting intentionally is like making a move in a game or participating in some way in a practice. Crucially, making a move in a game essentially affects the state of play, who may (not) or should (not) do what to whom and when. A player on the field in a soccer game is not just able to kick the ball at the opposing team’s goal; that is also something she is allowed to do. If the ball happens to go in, then her team is credited with a goal. Although a player is able to touch the ball with her hands, she is not allowed to do so. If she does so, then the other team gets a free kick. Likewise, an intentional action essentially affects who may (not) or should (not) do what to whom and when. If I intentionally go to the grocery store, that is not just something that my body happens to physically engage in; it is also something for which I should have reasons, and it is something which can legitimate certain responses to me in turn, such as calls for reasons.

If this analogy is at all apt, then we must ask: what practice or institution are actors participants in? Philosophers in the Pittsburgh School suggest an answer, captured well in a phrase from Robert Brandom; actors are participants in “the game of giving and asking for reasons.” [15] To be an actor is to participate in this multi-faceted practice. To act intentionally is to make a move within it. Roughly speaking, an intentional action transforms what one is rationally permitted or obliged to do, say, think or feel and in turn what others are rationally permitted or obliged to do, say, think or feel.

This proposal raises many questions. Is there one, unified game of giving asking for reasons? Or are there many? Is participation in this game necessary and sufficient for acting intentionally? Who or what settles the norms of this game? Does this proposal over-intellectualize intentional action? By defining intentional action in terms of rational accountability, does this proposal simply define away important substantive questions about whether we are accountable for any of our actions? [16]

Those are just some of the important questions that Normative Functionalism must answer if it is to be ultimately acceptable. Given that my goal is to introduce the view, however, I think it is more important to indicate more of its basic appeal.

4.2. Its Appeal

Let us consider, then, how Normative Functionalism handles the facts about intentional action that seem to be handled well by a Causal Theory of Action.

First consider control. Earlier I observed that intentional actions seem to be under the actor’s control in a distinctive way. This control seems to have at least two aspects. First, intentional actions are chosen; second, actors guide their intentional actions. Normative Functionalism explains these aspects of intentional action by appealing to normative expectations. Roughly, actors should have control of their intentional actions. That expectation is normative, not merely descriptive or predictive, for it licenses various forms of rational accountability. If the actor does not in fact exhibit sufficient control of a behavior, then she is accountable for that lack of control. For instance, if I intentionally lift my arm, but it waves erratically and doesn’t rise very far, then I am the person who should account for that. Why did I do it that way? Perhaps I don’t have a good reason. Or maybe it just happened that way, despite struggling against it. In that case, we might say that what started as an intentional action devolved into mere behavior. I might then need to defer explanation of the behavior to a neurologist. Likewise, if an actor does exhibit the relevant sort of control, then she is accountable; she is to be “credited” with satisfying the expectation. Crucially, if the actor is not, in principle, accountable for successful or unsuccessful control of a behavior, then the behavior is not an intentional action. To treat someone as having done something intentionally is to treat her as in principle accountable for the control (the choice and guidance) of that behavior.

Now, second, consider the possibility of failure. Intentional actions seem like they can fail. Normative Functionalism will again explain this by appeal to a normative expectation. Roughly, actors should complete the intentional actions they undertake.[17] That expectation implies that the actor is in principle accountable for the failure of her action. For instance, if I begin intentionally to check my email, but I don’t actually do it, I am accountable for the lack of success. It could be that I changed my mind; it could be that the computer froze; it could be that my son interrupted me. These are all reasons I might give for why I did not complete something I set out to do. I might not have a reason, but I should have one. Once again, the key point is that if the actor is not, in principle, accountable for the ultimate success of the behavior, then it is not an intentional action. To treat someone as having done something intentionally is to treat her as in principle accountable for the success or lack of success of that behavior.

Turn now to the distinctive knowledge that actors have of their intentional actions. Normative Functionalism will again account for this appearance by appeal to normative expectations. An intentional action is not just a behavior that an actor has knowledge of in advance of its performance. It is a behavior of which she should have such knowledge. She is accountable for that knowledge or its lack. If I am about to intentionally check my email, I should know that I am about to do so. Similarly, while in the course of intentionally checking my email, I should know that I am doing something, and, in particular, that I am checking my email. If I do not know that I am about to check my email before I intentionally do so, I am in principle accountable for that. Why didn’t I know? Did I choose to do so on the spot? Or did my plans change suddenly? Likewise, when I am intentionally checking my email, if I do not know (a) that I am doing something or (b) that I am checking my email, I am in principle accountable for that. I should know. Why don’t I? To treat someone as having done something intentionally is to treat her as in principle accountable for knowledge of that behavior.

In general, where a Causal Theory of Action treats control, the possibility of failure, and knowledge of action as features of the causal structure of intentional actions, Normative Functionalism treats those features as normative expectations governing intentional actions.

5. Interim Assessment

Where do things now stand?

While a Causal Theory of Action is intuitively appealing, and seems able to explain a few important features of intentional action, it also appears to have a crucial flaw. Intentional actions seem to be things for which actors are essentially accountable. That flaw initially motivates views like Normative Functionalism, which emphasize that feature of intentional actions. Normative Functionalism is also appealing because it too can make sense of the same features of intentional action that a Causal Theory seems able to make sense of.

On balance, then, Normative Functionalism seems to handle well one more thing than the Causal Theory. And so it can seem as though Normative Functionalism is the better view. But accepting that conclusion would be too quick. First, in passing, I mentioned several questions that Normative Functionalism must address. Second, there are other objections one might make to the Causal Theory. Third, I have not presented an exhaustive list of the desiderata or explananda for a theory of intentional action. Fourth, there are other theories out there. So, we do not have a decisive end to the discussion, but only the beginning.

I think an important question to ask about Normative Functionalism is this: Why should we think that the distinctive features of intentional actions are best understood as normative expectations governing those actions?

References

Anscombe, G.E.M. 1957/2000. Intention. London: Basil Blackwell.

Bishop, John. 1989. Natural Agency. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Brandom, Robert. 1994. Making it Explicit. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1994.

––––––. Reason in Philosophy. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009.

Davidson, Donald. 1963/1980. “Actions, Reasons and Causes.” In Essays on Actions and Events, by Donald Davidson, 3-20. New York: Oxford University Press.

Dretske, Fred. 1989. Explaining Behavior. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Enc, Berent. 2003. How We Act. New York: Oxford University Press.

Fischer, John Martin, and Mark Ravizza. 1999. Responsibility and Control. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Ginet, Carl. 1990. On Action. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Goldman, Alvin. 1970. A Theory of Human Action. New York: Princeton University Press.

Hume, David. 1739/1985. A Treatise of Human Nature. New York: Penguin.

Kukla, Rebecca, and Mark Lance. 2009. Yo! and Lo! The Pragmatic Topography of the Space of Reasons. Cambridge, MA: Havard University Press.

Lance, Mark. 2008. “Placing in a Space of Norms.” In The Oxford Handbook of American Philosophy, edited by Cheryl Misak, 403-429. New York: Oxford University Press.

Macnamara, Coleen. 2009. “Holding Others Responsible.” Philosophical Studies 152 (1): 81-102.

Maher, Chauncey. 2010. “On Being and Holding Responsible.” Philosophical Explorations 13 (2): 129-140.

––––––. 2012. The Pittsburgh School of Philosophy. New York: Routledge.

McDowell, John. 1994. Mind and World. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

McKenna, Michael and Paul Russell. 2008. Free Will and Reactive Attitudes. New York: Ashgate.

Mele, Alfred, ed. 1997. Philosophy of Action. New York: Oxford University Press.

Moore, G.E. 1903/2008. Principia Ethica. New York: Cambridge University Press.

O’Shea, James. 2007. Wilfrid Sellars. New York: Polity.

O’Connor, Timothy and Constantine Sandis. 2010. A Companion to the Philosophy of Action. New York: Blackwell.

Rosenberg, Jay. 1974. Linguistic Representation. Dordrecht: Kluwer.

Sehon, Scott. 2005. Teleological Realism. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Sellars, Wilfrid. 1963. “Philosophy and the Scientific Image of Man.” In Science, Perception and Reality by Wilfrid Sellars, 1-40. Atascadero, CA: Ridgeview Publishing Company.

Shoemaker, David. 2011 “Attributability, Answerability, and Accountability.” Ethics 121 (3): 602-632.

Smith, Angela. 2012. “Attributability, Answerability, and Accountability.” Ethics 122 (3): 575-589.

––––––. 2005. “Responsibility for Attitudes.” Ethics 115 (2): 236-271.

Strawson, P.F. 1962/2009. “Freedom and Resentment.” In Free Will, edited by Derk Pereboom, 148-171. Indianapolis, IN: Hackett Publishing Company.

Wallace, R. Jay. 1994. Responsibility and the Moral Sentiments. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Watson, Gary. 2004. “Responsbility and the Limits of Evil.” In Agency and Answerability, by Gary Watson, 219-259. New York: Oxford University Press.

Wilson, George. 1980. The Intentionality of Human Action. Berkeley, CA: Stanford University Press.

Wittgenstein, Ludwig. 1958. Philosophical Investigations. 3rd. edition. Translated by G.E.M. Anscombe. New York: Blackwell.

[1] (Wittgenstein 1958, §621).

[2] For example, (Mele 1997) and (O’Connor and Sandis 2010).

[3] For example, (Davidson 1963/1980), (Goldman 1970), (Bishop 1989), (Dretske 1989), and (Enc 2003).

[4] Donald Davidson called this a “pro attitude” (Davidson 1963/1980).

[5] John Martin Fischer and Mark Ravizza refer to this sort of ability as “guidance control” (Fischer and Ravizza 1999).

[6] G.E.M. Anscombe calls this sort of knowledge “practical knowledge” (Anscombe 1957/2000, §48).

[7] For instance, (Wilson 1980), (Ginet 1990), and (Sehon 2005).

[8] Anscombe emphasizes this idea. She writes, “What distinguishes actions which are intentional from those which are not? The answer I shall suggest is that they are the actions to which a certain sense of the question ‘Why?’ is given application; the sense is of course that in which the answer, if positive, gives a reason for acting” (Anscombe 1957/2000, §5).

[9] Whether some particular person may or may not do, think or feel something often depends on her standing in other ways, see (Macnamara 2009) and (Maher 2010).

[10] ‘May’ and ‘should’ are coarse stand-ins for what is probably a much more finely textured array of normative statuses and relationships. In unpublished work, Maggie Little refers to this idea as “deontic pluralism”.

[11] This idea has its roots in the work of David Hume (1739/1985, 3.1.1) and G.E. Moore (1903/2008, §12).

[12] A proponent of a Causal Theory has available two broad lines of reply. First, she might contend that actors are not in principle accountable for their intentional actions. She would then have to explain why they appear to be. Second, she might contend instead that causal facts can indeed entail normative facts. Here the challenge is to deal with Hume’s contention that one cannot derive an ‘ought’ from an ‘is’ alone, which seems plausible on its face.

[13] For discussion of the idea, see (Rosenberg 1974, 38-40), (O’Shea 2007, 77), (Lance 2008, §1), (Kukla and Lance 2009, 14), (Brandom 2009, 12), and (Maher 2012, 30-31, 108).

[14] One seminal articulation of this idea is (Strawson 1962/2009). For an important development of the view, see (Wallace 1994). For critical commentary on Strawson, see (McKenna and Russell 2008).

[15] For instance, (Brandom 1994, xxi,17,141). For versions of the idea in the work of Sellars and McDowell, see (Sellars 1963) and (McDowell 1994, Lectures V-VI).

[16] For instance, many hold that it is a substantive question whether actors are accountable for their intentional actions. It is a vexed question just what accountability is. See, e.g., (Watson 2004), (Smith 2005), (Shoemaker 2011), and (Smith 2012).

[17] That does not imply that any particular person wants or would prefer the actor to complete the action. We all might be relieved or overjoyed that an actor failed to complete some intentional action that she began, such as a nuclear attack. The claim is that the actor bears responsibility for the completion or non-completion of the action.

Author Information: Joseph Margolis, Temple University, josephmargolis455@hotmail.com, Joseph Margolis: Wikipedia Entry

Normative Functionalism and the Pittsburgh School: Table of Contents

Margolis, Joseph. 2012. “A Response to a Question Regarding ‘Normative Functionalism’.”Social Epistemology Review and Reply Collective 2 (1): 98-99.

Editor’s Note: Professor Margolis provided an updated version of his piece on 8 January 2013 (seen here). The original post and pdf, uploaded on 20 December 2012, have been replaced. The PDF of the article gives specific page numbers. Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1Bfg0-Cn

I do have some definite views about normativity, but I confess to not being at all sure about the intended meaning of the expression “normative functionalism.” I see some possible ways of construing the expression. But I’ll just speak about normativity and perhaps it will have some bearing on the other!

In one of his posthumous papers, titled “Logic” (1897), which seems to have influenced Robert Brandom some, Gottlob Frege tenders the following suggestion: “Like ethics, logic can also be called a normative science.” [1] (In context, it’s clear that he also means to include the “science” of aesthetics.) I’m struck by the fact that Charles Peirce says something very similar, though I don’t know whether Peirce had ever seen a version of this particular remark by Frege: it’s not impossible. In any case, my own thought is that, although what Frege says (and what Peirce similarly says, in speaking about the normative sciences: logic, ethics, and aesthetics), is true enough, it needs also to be said that the normative cannot be construed uniformly across such a range of conceptual “spaces.” Indeed, both authors give us reason, by what they add, to signal that they are aware of important differences among the “sciences” being compared.

Frege remarks that “all the sciences have truth as their goal,” but singles out “a quite special way” in which logic “is concerned with the predicate ‘true’” (128). He assigns a normative function (I suppose one could say) to the predicate “true,” though, as he explains the matter, the predicate can be dropped since “its” normative force is really borne by the “assertoric form [and force] of the sentence [as used]” (128-129). He concludes, along these lines, that “logic is the science of the most general laws of truth,” by which (perhaps with some qualifications peculiar to Frege: regarding geometry, for instance, even more than the natural sciences), he means the “normative” force of logical necessity in purely deductive contexts (which is, in fact, precisely what Peirce claims). But if we take the normative — of logic — to signify the unique function of the idea of formal necessity, then the idea of normativity will (however important) be very spare indeed. We might capture its meaning approximately by, say, appealing to the analogy of a game like chess: one cannot play the game without playing by its constitutive rules; but chess has no prescriptive force beyond what, conditionally, holds true in accord with its constitutive rules; read this way, would-be chess moves are “in the true” (so to say) iff they conform with the constitutive rules of the game. (That is all the necessity they need.) Logic, then (perhaps minimally conceived), enjoining us to favor rational thought and discourse under all possible conditions — hence, necessarily taken in the strongest possible formal sense, universally — counts as the unconditioned norm (of this conditional form of play). Otherwise, it has no distinctly prescriptive function.

But, of course, the interesting fact about logic, viewed this way, is that we do prize logical necessity, understand it and its conditions, and can actually make progress in extending the scope of “the science of logic” — for instance, with regard to deontic and epistemic logic — in accord with the exemplary canon (say) of first-order predicate logic. But if we say that “true” (in the sciences and cognate uses) is, apart from logical truth, “normative,” we have no comparable assurance that we can formulate, in any operatively sounds sense, the conditions (or criteria) of that normative notion; and we are even more uncertain when it comes to ethics and aesthetics (or other cognate notions). I concede that, on the assumption that the constitutive conditions of truth (in the sciences, etc.) can be formulated in more than pragmatically tolerable and changeable terms (which I more than inclined to doubt), the prescriptive force of the norms of truth would, of course, conform with the constitutive constraints of the predicate’s function. The irony is that the match between constitutive and prescriptive norms, in logic, may be construed (if you please) as discovered rather than as merely constructed (although, even here, logician’s like W.V. Quine would demur); whereas it’s unlikely that knowledgeable theorists would subsume the prescriptive function of truth under its constitutive constraints. The game of truth (in the sciences) is not like the game of chess.

Furthermore, on my view, there are no constitutive norms of ethics or aesthetics to be discovered: they are entirely (however plausibly or reasonably, perhaps in a special sense) socially constructed; say, in the sittlich sense; so that, as in ethical or moral matters, there is no simple way to distinguish their constitutive and prescriptive functions. They belong to the sphere of practical life (as we say), so that the two sorts of function are usually intertwined, strictly or laxly, in the constructivist sense — “constituted,” we may perhaps say, in accord with some more oblique use of the term, by the processes of cultural evolution rather than merely as produced by some sort of fiat). In any case, ethics (and, even more assuredly, aesthetics) does not proceed in any way analogous to the way in which the constitutive and conditionally prescriptive norms of chess are called into play.

My own intuition is that the important questions about all of these different kinds of norms (and others that may be added) make sense only in the context of an adequate theory of what it is to be a human person or self. That’s a huge topic for another occasion (or a lifetime). But it may be of some value to begin to see how diverse the concept of a norm may be and of how we may proceed to flesh out a reasonable account of any “species” of norm we care to examine.

[1] Gottlob Frege, “Logic” (1897), in Posthumous Writings, eds. Hans Hermes, Freidrich Kambartel, and Friedrich Kaulbach, trans. Peter Long and Roger White (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979), 128.

Author Information: Frank Scalambrino, University of Dallas, Texas, scalambrinof9@gmail.com

Normative Functionalism and the Pittsburgh School: Table of Contents

Scalambrino, Frank. 2012. “Tales of the mighty tautologists?” Social Epistemology Review and Reply Collective 2 (1): 83-97.

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Abstract

There is supposed to be deep agreement among the work of Wilfrid Sellars, Robert Brandom, and John McDowell in regard to normativity. As a result, according to Robert Brandom (2008), and echoed by Chauncey Maher (2012), “normative functionalism” (NF) may refer to a position held by Sellars, Brandom, and McDowell, i.e., “The Pittsburgh School” of philosophy. The standard criticism of the various forms of this normative functionalist position points out the inconsistency in the commitment of normative functionalists to both metaphysical realism and psychological nominalism. Yet, the inconsistency between metaphysical realism and psychological nominalism may be difficult to see until the relation between normativity and perception is clarified. To this end, in this article I discuss the role of habit in perception. Normative functionalists aspire for a sort of pragmatism between the horns of psychologism and pan-logicism. However, once a discussion of habit in perception reveals a kind of relation between an agent and its environment that exceeds the inferential capacity of normativity, the normative functionalist position seems tautological. Put more specifically, the NF thesis may merely be claiming that the inferential sort of normativity which governs rational synthetic processing of experience is an inferential sort of normativity governing rational synthetic processing. The revelation of such a tautological grounding should be sufficient evidence for the Pittsburgh School to consider re-working its understanding of the functionality of normativity; for example, regarding claims such as: “In an important sense there is no such boundary [between the discursive and non-discursive], and so nothing outside the realm of the conceptual” (Brandom 2000, 357). This discussion should be, at least, valuable as a supplement to the standard criticism of NF or in regard to the Pittsburgh School’s avowed relation to G.W.F. Hegel.

“[A] tree or a rock can become subject to norms insofar as we consider it as engaging in social practices.” [1] — Robert Brandom

I. Introduction

The “Pittsburgh School” of philosophy refers to the work of Wilfrid Sellars, Robert Brandom, and John McDowell from the University of Pittsburgh. And, there is supposed to be “deep agreement” within the Pittsburgh School regarding normativity (cf. Brandom 2008, 357; cf. Maher 2012). “Normative Functionalism,” then, refers to the philosophical position indicated by the deep agreement among these various Pittsburgh School understandings of normativity. So, how may the position of normative functionalism (NF) be characterized?

Consider Brandom’s characterization from his Reason in Philosophy: Animating Ideas (2009),

The synthesis of a rational self or subject: what is responsible for the [normative] commitments … has a rational unity in that the commitments it comprises are treated as reasons for and against other commitments, as normatively obliging one to acknowledge some further commitments and prohibiting acknowledgement of others [Brandom’s emphases] (Brandom, 2009, 14).

It is as if the meaning of an experience for an agent depends on its relation to the norm-governed network, i.e., a space of reasons, in which it functions as an assertion. And, according to Brandom: “This is Kant’s normative inferential conception of awareness or experience” (Brandom 2009, 14). Further, in his book The Pittsburgh School of Philosophy (2012), Chauncey Maher explains, “the big idea is that the meaning of a term or a whole sentence is its norm-governed [emphasis added] role in rational conduct, broadly construed to include perception, thinking, speech, and deliberate action” (Maher 2012a, 5). Ultimately, in this article, I will argue that the domain of experience the Pittsburgh School considers norm-governed is too widely construed in regard to perception.

On the one hand, this criticism is not novel. Jürgen Habermas,[2] Joseph Margolis, Tom Rockmore, James Swindal, Patrick Reider, and Wilhelm Wurzer, among others, have in various ways already criticized NF for what may be called its commitment to “metaphysical realism.” So, for the purposes of this article, call this critical position that of “The Other Pittsburgh School”, i.e., Duquesne University. On the other hand, the focus of my discussion regarding NF centers on the role of habit in perceptual experience. And, this focus is an innovation.

The kind of perceptual memory I am concerned to introduce into the conversation corrects the problem regarding the overly wide construal of NF. Rather than hold a position resembling the claim that perception is conceptual “all the way out to the impressions” (McDowell 1994, 69), the kind of memory I will discuss is non-discursive and involves relations. So this kind of memory is non-conceptual because it is relational, not because it has non-conceptual content. In other words, to question whether non-discursive habit has conceptual or non-conceptual content indicates a longstanding prejudice among philosophers regarding memory and fails to appreciate this kind of perceptual memory. Hence, in this article I advocate for incorporating the differentiating function of non-discursive memory into the research project of NF. Whereas criticism from the Other Pittsburgh School tends to invoke G.W.F. Hegel’s Phänomenologie des Geistes (Phenomenology of Spirit) and illustrate the incommensurability between two of the normative functionalist’s commitments, i.e., metaphysical realism and psychological nominalism, I invoke Immanuel Kant’s Kritik der reinen Vernunft (Critique of Pure Reason) and illustrate how the Pittsburgh School’s understanding of perception as norm-governed misunderstands the role of habit in perceptual experience. That is to say, a non-discursive memory, i.e., habit, governed synopsis buffers the relation between the rational synthesis of norm-governed aspects of experience and the mind external environment. Due to the limited space of this article, I will focus primarily on Chauncey Maher’s claims in his book The Pittsburgh School of Philosophy and the work of Robert Brandom.

Specifically, I argue that the Pittsburgh School’s thesis of normative functionalism does not consider the function of procedural memory involving perceptual relations, i.e., non-discursive habit, to differentiate which aspects of the environment are instantiated into lived perceptual experience. And, I then show how including this differentiating function of non-discursive habit necessitates that the Pittsburgh School reduce the domain of experience to which NF is supposed to pertain. In other words, the Pittsburgh School must acknowledge habit-governed aspects of experience in addition to norm-governed aspects, and as non-conceptual, these habit-governed aspects are beyond the purview of normativity. Lastly, I show that though acknowledging habit-governed aspects of experience would allow normative functionalists to adjudicate themselves from the Other Pittsburgh School’s accusation of a commitment to metaphysical realism, it would also follow that the normative functionalist position is ultimately tautologically grounded.

That the tautological grounding of NF is undesirable may be seen in two primary ways. First, it leads normative functionalists to claims such as Brandom’s: “In an important sense there is no such boundary [between the discursive and non-discursive], and so nothing outside the realm of the conceptual” (Brandom, 2000, p. 357). Not only is such a claim false, it hinges on a misunderstanding of the concept of “nothing” (cf. Scalambrino, 2011). Second, regarding the mind external environment the totality of the norm-governed space traversable by inference would necessarily be limited by communal reciprocity, i.e., agreement, among adherents to the norms. Put another way, through projective anticipation a map may be used to guide the re-structuring of a terrain. Yet, originarily maps depend on terrains, not the other way around; and, as a result terrains always exceed the capacity of mapping techniques to represent them — mapping techniques being one manner of relating to terrains.

Hence, my discussion of perceptual memory in this article should motivate the Pittsburgh School to re-work its understanding of the difference between discursive practices and, what Brandom calls “the non-concept-using world” in which these practices occur (cf. Brandom 2000, 356). There is, of course, a difference between claims regarding what can be done with (that which is) the mind external environment and claims regarding what the mind external environment is. And, in Kant’s wake metaphysical realism is a bust. In other words, the work of the Pittsburgh School does not overcome the paradigm shift invoked by Kant’s Copernican revolution. Perhaps this insight regarding metaphysical realism may be also gained through the later Ludwig Wittgenstein’s notion that language games depend upon forms of life (cf. Wittgenstein 1969, 62 §475) and Thomas Kuhn’s notion of incommensurability between paradigms (cf. Kuhn 1962, 148-150), among others.

II. The collapse of the discovery / demonstration distinction

The discovery/demonstration distinction is at least as old as Aristotle, and it is retained in Kant’s vocabulary through his distinction between regulative and constitutive ideas (A 508/B 536-A 567/B 595). The transparency resulting from ideas, i.e., thoughts, playing a role in both the dimension of discovery and the dimension of demonstration does not mean that the logic of the relations of the one is the logic of the relations of the other. For example, both dimensions, i.e., thought and knowledge, include assumptions; yet, as their points of departure reveal, the demonstration dimension relates to an inferential cluster of norms for the purpose of justification, and the dialectic dimension of thought relates in discovery to information. Elsewhere I discuss more thoroughly the relation between the discovery/demonstration distinction and Aristotle (Scalambrino 2011); suffice to say here that Aristotle explains this distinction in the Prior Analytics (23b24-24a34).

In both his book regarding NF, i.e., The Pittsburgh School of Philosophy, and his “Reply to Reider” Maher uses the same example to illustrate a fundamental point regarding NF. Maher tells the story of “Sarah and Mark.” According to Maher,

Mark and Sarah enter their house, walk into the kitchen to put away some groceries, and Sarah recalls that the air conditioning is on. She asks Mark whether the door is shut. He looks and sees that it is shut and says so, thereby passing his knowledge on to Sarah, whom we would normally now count as knowing that the door is shut (Maher 2012a, 7-8).

In regard to this story Maher suggests that the search to justify Sarah’s knowledge leads to a problem. He then goes on to elaborate the worry of the “regress problem.” Namely that “The problem here should be clear: this demand for justification seems like it can go on forever” (Maher 2012a, 5). Further,

This worry is not unique to Sarah’s case; it is a general worry. The fact that knowledge requires justification seems to spark a regress of reasons or justifications. If it doesn’t stop somewhere, there would seem to be no knowledge at all. Thus it can seem like we need a foundation of knowledge, something that will halt the regress, something that one can know without any further reasons or knowledge (Maher 2012a, 7-8).

I quote Maher at length here to show that the enunciation of NF for the Pittsburgh School results as a solution to the regress problem. Yet, as I indicated with the title of this section, the Pittsburgh School’s articulation of the regress problem does not seem to appreciate the distinction between discovery and demonstration. Maher’s use of the word “knowledge” makes this clear.

Specifically, when Mark, in the above example, sees what appears to be a closed door, he does not have knowledge that the door is closed. Rather, he has discovered evidence that might be used to demonstrate that the door is closed. Therefore, he cannot pass on “knowledge” to Sarah that the door is closed. So, in hearing Mark submitting his evidential testimony toward demonstrating to Sarah that the door is closed, Sarah discovers evidence with which she might persuade herself to believe the door is closed; that is to say, she now has evidential testimony with which to decide whether she believes the closure of the door to have been sufficiently demonstrated for her.

Further, regarding Mark, Maher claims, “although Mark’s knowledge is non-inferential, it is not independent of other knowledge” (Maher 2012a, 9). Maher goes on to unpack the dependence of Mark’s knowledge on “other knowledge” to emphasize that since language users are following rules, experience must conform to these rules, i.e., be norm-governed. In fact, according to the Pittsburgh School, “One cannot talk or think unless one sufficiently complies with ‘the rules’” (Maher 2012a, 4). Yet, such Pittsburgh School realizations apply to the dimension of demonstration. If Maher were to not use the term “knowledge” regarding what is merely a hypothesis for Mark, then the Pittsburgh School’s confusion would be cleared. And, it would seem to follow that the scope of NF should be reduced regarding how much of experience is norm-governed upon realizing that the dimension of discovery, i.e., the space of hypothesizing, includes external relations both independent of the rules of language use and non-inferential.

So, in building toward the position of NF, when Maher suggests that something is needed to “halt the regress,” notice he says that what is first needed is something that one can “know.” Yet, were the matter, as the Pittsburgh School would evidently have it, merely about language, then all disputes might be resolved by reference to the norm-governed “space of reasons,” not perceptual experience. What Maher should have said is that agreement regarding the state of affairs in question is what is first needed. Whereas the “normative space” occupied by a group of agents may characterize how they determine a demonstration sufficient, the normative space does not exhaustively determine the dimension of discovery. Because hypothesis, not knowledge, pertains to the dimension of discovery, it is possible for two users of the same language to disagree about the state of affairs in question. For example, gardening need not depend on cartography. In the next section, I discuss the role of habit in perceptual experience by showing how to think about an efficacious habit-governed aspect beyond the function of normativity.

To sum, by collapsing the distinction between discovery and demonstration the Pittsburgh School is able to suggest that norms determine the dimension of discovery just as they determine the dimension of demonstration. However, it is rather the case that sapient beings hypothesize based on what appears in discovery, and sapient beings gain demonstrable knowledge through the normative practice of scrutinizing hypotheses in an inferential space of reasons. Further, though it is possible to claim to have demonstrable knowledge based simply on what appears to an agent through perception, the constraints on what appears through perception are not the same as the constraints in regard to what counts as demonstrated knowledge. In other words, what appears to an agent through perception can result from non-norm-governed relations to the environment. So, what then determines which aspects of the environment are instantiated into perceptual experience beyond the function of normativity?

III. Habit, Pruning, and Agency

There is a difference between the function of habits and the function of norms in the determination of sapient experience. For example, when a skill or manner of relating to the external world is not practiced the capacity to perform the skill or manner of relating can be eliminated. Psychologists and neurologists refer to this process as “pruning.” The principle here being “use it or lose it” (Smilkstein 2003, 59; cf. Craik and Bialystok, 2006). Further, it is widely believed that pruning indicates the diminishment of capacities for the sake of efficiency — much like habit itself. So, since capacities diminish, it follows that the possible events in the external world that an agent can manifest diminish without practice, i.e., without their exercise — again, much like the maintenance of a habit. Hence, the possible relations to the manifestation of events in the external world exceed the agent’s capacity to manifest these events. In other words, numerically there are more possible ways to relate to the external world than what an agent is capable of, even as the agent is entering into its period of highest potency.

Just as different agents can use the same language while cultivating different habits, habits determine the perceptual horizon of, i.e., the instantiation of objects in, experience prior to the function of normativity. This is not to say that norms cannot influence the formation of habits (cf. Maher 2012a, 108). However, if norms were enough, the locution “trying to break a habit” would be meaningless (cf. Habermas 2003, 155). The power of memory in question here is found in the relations, i.e., it is non-discursive. For example, consider that learning occurs even when agents are unable to linguistically express what has been learned (cf. Wolf, Ebeling, and Müller 2009; cf. Erickson 2008). The horizon of possible perceptions is narrowed by the agent’s habitual non-discursive perceptual engagement with that which is external to the mind prior to the judgment of the identity of what is perceived (cf. Sperling 1960). In this way, the differentiating function of habit determines states of affairs by limiting for an agent the ways the agent can perceptually take up an environment.

One should remember, then, to include an account of the agent’s memory when examining the agent’s relation to its external environment. It is as if the Lebenswelt were first and the Umwelt next in the order of awareness. For example, consider the influence of the tendencies of orientation (right or left), preferences for sounds (female or male voices), and preferences regarding color, shape, and symmetry. Norms, even once affirmed, still answer to Scalambrino, the presence of habits, e.g., consider the intention to overcome the habit of smoking. One way, then, to state the alternative to the thesis of the Pittsburgh School’s position of NF for which I am advocating here: habit has a mnemonic grip on the dynamics of perception and that mnemonic grip is governed by actual practice, i.e., the relational activity of practice, not norms (cf. Scalambrino, 2012). An agent must first grapple with habit, not norms, if it is to engage in discursive practices.

Notice that Kant was working toward enunciating these relations with his distinction between constitutive ideas, which pertain to understanding, and regulative ideas, which pertain to reason. In regard to the shift from habit-governed to norm-governed contents, i.e., from dialectic of discovery to justification through demonstration, Kant notes,

we in all cases represented the conditions for their conditioned as belonging to relations of space and time, which is the usual presupposition of common human understanding, on which, therefore, the conflict entirely rested. In this respect all dialectical representations of totality in the series of conditions for a given conditioned were of the same kind throughout … the regress is never thought of as completed, or else, if this were to happen, a member conditioned in itself would have to be falsely assumed to be a first, and hence unconditioned member [emphasis added] … the dynamic series of sensible conditions, on the contrary [emphasis added], allows a further condition different in kind [i.e., habit-governed, not norm-governed], one that is not a part of the series but, as merely intelligible, lies outside the series; in this way reason can be given satisfaction and the unconditioned can be posited prior to appearances [emphasis added] without confounding the series of appearances, which is always conditioned, and without any violation of principles of the understanding (Kant 1998, 530-532 [A 528/B 556-A 532/B 560]).

As this quote shows, Kant consciously avoided the “Myth of the Given” (discussed below) in regard to “the regress” of justifying the identity of perceptual experience. As Kant indicates, what is needed is a “further condition different in kind.” This difference in kind is between conceptual and relational, which is why it does not appear in the series of conditions to which norms apply, i.e., for which we have concepts. With a shift from the series of conditions to “outside the series” and “prior to appearances” Kant moves from constitutive to regulative ideas, i.e., away from normative concepts of the understanding.

As noted in the previous section, the Pittsburgh School seems to want to make regulative ideas constitutive, i.e., to falsely make the normative function of understanding equal to the regulative function of reason’s idea. So, here the notion of a gestalt might provide helpful clarification for the Pittsburgh School: That reason’s idea is greater than the sum of its parts, i.e., what derives from (normatively) taking it apart, means the external world to which it refers is greater than one can understand through an analysis of reason’s idea. Wilhelm Wurzer helpfully refers to this aspect of reason’s relation to experience as “reason’s dehiscence” (Wurzer 1992, 129). In other words, relating an idea of the mind external world to the inferentially constellated space of norms to analyze it will not result in the representation of mind external reality.

It seems better to use the vocabulary of contemporary memory research (cf. Scalambrino 2011), than the language of counterfactual reasoning to discuss the separation, or “dehiscence,” which occurs as reason retracts from considering sensibility to consider the contents of its idea derived from experience. Maintaining the discovery / demonstration distinction should itself show that alternative discoveries to what appears through perception do not depend upon inference; notice, this is the case even if “The limits of my language mean the limits of my world” (Wittgenstein 1922, 149 §5.6). Whereas the demonstration of alternatives may be constrained by the inferentially constellated concepts to which a language provides access, alternative discoveries are constrained by the non-discursive relations that allow for discursive practices. Hence, I suggest this dimension “outside the series” and “prior to appearances” — of the relations between the content of reason’s idea and the other contents which supposedly could have been instantiated through a different consideration of sensibility – is not a constellation of inferentially connected norm-governed ideas; instead, it is a constellation of an agent’s memory-governed capacities to instantiate various perceptual experiences related to the mind external world.

To sum, the contents of perception depend on non-discursive memory in two ways: (1) the relational memory that governs perception, i.e., habit; (2) the identification of the contents of perception requires retentional awareness to fill an experiential role as subject in a judgment of perceptual identification. Now, these mnemonic functions can be influenced through practice and repetition, e.g., forming habits that conform to norms. Yet, even if such habits seem like second nature (cf. Pascal 1995, 33 § 126; cf. Micheyl, et al. 2009; cf. Huys, et al. 2008), neither of these mnemonic functions depends primordially on rationality or normativity, i.e., a “space of reasons.”

So, when Brandom makes the (metaphysical realist) claim that “we are beings who can make explicit how things are” (Brandom 2009, 18), that we can know “how things really are” (Brandom 2009, 17; cf. Brandom 2009, 81, 99, 100, 127; cf. Rockmore 2010, 168), he must be clarified as commenting on how things appear for a group of agents with sufficient agreement (in “form of life”), for to “make explicit” is a kind of demonstration. In other words, a state of affairs may be determined differently by different agents depending upon the manner in which their habits contribute to the determination of their perceptual horizon (cf. Aristotle, 2004, Bk II: 1&2, esp. 1109b); therefore, the differentiating function of this non-discursive perceptual memory points to the dynamics of the dimension of discovery and beyond the aspects of experience, as if mathematically, governed by norms. Relational non-discursive habit determines the perceptual horizon of experience “prior to appearances” and “outside the series” determined by the function of normativity, i.e., the inferentially constellated norm-governed space of reasons.

IV. Tales of the Mighty Tautologists? The Myth of the Given, anti-foundationalism, and the very logic of regress

Is the position of NF ultimately tautological, and if so, then, so what? This section examines the Pittsburgh School’s justification for NF combined with the insights gained from the above discussion. So, despite the Pittsburgh School’s prizing NF as a successful anti-foundationalism that “halts the regress” without relying on a version of the “Myth of the Given,” the regress pertains to the dimension of demonstration, and an anti-foundationalism that avoids the Myth of the Given thereby precludes metaphysical realism. Hence, though a tautologically based grounding of the structure of sapient understanding may have been acceptable to Kant, the Pittsburgh School construal of experience to fall under the purview of tautology would not have been acceptable to Kant.

Put in Kantian terms, the rational synthetic processing of experience moves along a trajectory that functions to limit the dynamic mind external environment through sensibility toward understanding; yet, “prior to” the limiting function of the rational synthetic processing and “outside the series” revealed through rational synthetic processing, perception’s limiting function is always already the experientially-based condition for the possibility of the rational synthetic processing of experience (i.e., post-Locke, Leibniz, and Hume Kant is not Descartes). Ultimately, norm-governed attempts to demonstrate mind external reality must rely on post hoc norm-governed determinations arrived at by traversing the inferentially constellated space of reasons. The Pittsburgh School reading of Kant’s Transcendental Deduction from the Critique of Pure Reason shows where they collapse the distinctions that lead to neglecting the non-norm-governed perceptual limiting of the dynamics of the mind external environment.

The Pittsburgh School builds toward justification of the need for the position of NF to solve the regress problem by discussing what Wilfrid Sellars named “The Myth of the Given” (cf. Sellars1956). Returning to the above example of Mark and Sarah: Maher notes, “it can seem like we need a foundation of knowledge, something that will halt the regress, something that one can know without any further reasons or knowledge. Foundationalism is the view that there is such knowledge” (Maher 2012b, 17). Maher clarifies, “foundational knowledge would have to be knowledge that one could have independently of any other knowledge” (Maher 2012b, 17). And, as such, “The Given is the idea that there could be a foundation of knowledge in that sense” (Maher 2012b, 17). Hence, NF is supposed to provide the (psychological nominalist) anti-foundation that halts the regress without appealing to foundational knowledge, i.e., while avoiding the Myth of the Given.

Yet, it seems important to realize that in the process of objects conforming to mind there can be efficacious non-conceptual aspects of the process on the side of the mind. In other words, avoid accepting the “find a corner in a round room” challenge from the Pittsburgh School that is, at least, traceable to Hegel. For, it is a faulty inference to conclude that: since the concept of non-conceptuality pertains to mind external reality, there is “nothing outside the realm of the conceptual” (Brandom 2000, 357), and therefore mind external reality can be rendered conceptually knowable. Such an inference is what allows for the Pittsburgh School’s inconsistent commitments to psychological nominalism and metaphysical realism, respectively.

As an alternative, I have advocated for incorporating insights from contemporary memory research to help get a better grip on what Kant had in mind. To sum, three concerns should be addressed regarding the Pittsburgh School’s justification of the need for NF. First, recall the Pittsburgh School’s very definition of knowledge requires a connection to other knowledge to count as knowledge. Therefore, the Pittsburgh School has already ruled out the possibility of foundationalism. Second, as I showed above what should “halt the regress” is the weight of the evidence involved in the demonstration of what, if deemed knowledge, would stop the need for further reasons. I offer this as an alternative anti-foundational halt of the regress (more on this below). Third, we must keep separate (a) the normative space of reasons with which we judge the sufficiency of a demonstration to count as justification for deeming a hypothesis “knowledge” and (b) the space of habitual relations to which the perception of a state of affairs is contingent. Keeping these two dimensions separate helps maintain awareness that the state of affairs to which an experiential hypothesis relates is contingent upon an agent’s habit-governed relation to its environment.

According to this alternative then, to say an agent, e.g., Mark, conceives a perceptual norm-governed fact means that the agent conceives of the state of affairs at the time of the event that the fact describes. Notice, hypotheses can function as facts in a space of normative reasons so long as the norms pertain to the state of affairs actualized. Yet, as the above section showed, there are other states of affairs to be considered. Both counter-factual circumspection and counter-factual thinking fail to consider the possibilities relating to the different states of affairs that could have been actualized by different habit-governed environmental relations, e.g., of different (-ly trained) agents.

Moreover, returning to Maher’s example, it seems intuitive to think Mark might respond to Sarah not with evidence of the door’s closure but by trying to open the door or by responding with statements such as: “How good of you to be environmentally conscientious”; “You remind me of something Proust wrote about obsessive types” (cf. Proust 2003, 29-30); or, “Are you trying to get me out of the kitchen so you might hide some of the groceries from me again?” By not accounting for experience in a way that maintains awareness of the contingency of states of affairs to an agent’s habit-governed environmental relation, the Pittsburgh School is ultimately suggesting that states of affairs have a reality independent of (the experiential capacities of) agents. Though the members of the Pittsburgh School differ in how they articulate this metaphysical realist position, Brandom’s way of stating it is: “we are beings who can make explicit how things are” (Brandom 2009, 18). And, the seeds of NF’s inability to keep separate habit-governed and norm-governed spaces can be seen in Brandom’s reading of Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason from his seminal text Making It Explicit: Reasoning, Representing, and Discursive Commitment. [3]

Recall according to Kant, there are three original sources of experience, “namely sense, imagination, and apperception [Kant’s emphases]” (Kant 1998, 225; A 94/B 127). And,

On these are grounded 1) the synopsis of the manifold a priori through sense; 2) synthesis of this manifold through the imagination; finally 3) the unity of this synthesis through original apperception [Kant’s emphases] (Kant, 1998, p. 225 A 94/B 127).

Notice, apprehension as part of the three-fold synthesis is not included with synopsis, but rather appears to coincide with imagination under Kant’s heading “2)”. Further, each one of these grounds has its own law. Whereas you might expect a temporal law regarding sensibility, the law governing synopsis is actually “affinity” (Kant, A 113), and affinity pertains to memory. The law governing the (three-fold) synthesis is “association” (Kant, A 123). And, the law governing the unity of the synthesis, i.e., the reference through judgments to apperception, is “non-contradiction” (Kant, A 151/B 191), so it is here that one should speak of an inferential norm-governed space of reasons revealed through rational synthetic processing.

Now, most importantly, the synopsis hangs together by the law of affinity, and the initial “fold” of the three-fold synthesis must “run through” the synopsis in a certain way. “For apprehension is only a placing together of the manifold of empirical intuition; and we can find in it no representation of any necessity which determines the appearances thus combined to have connected existence in space and time” (Kant 1998, 298; A 177/B 219). Kant’s point that no necessity determines the appearances is not to say that an inferential necessity is grounded in the function of norms. Rather, it is to say that affinity non-discursively differentiates an agent’s external environment such that the subsequent “connected”-ness determines a state of affairs. Hence, the determination of a state of affairs is habit-governed, not norm-governed.

Blurring the distinction between receptivity and spontaneity in commenting on Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, Brandom makes explicit the mistake of considering the “synopsis” to be itself a “synthesis.” Of course, according to Kant, the synopsis is not a synthesis. For example, because Brandom refers to the synopsis as a synthesis, “there is synthesis in intuition and imagination also [my emphasis]” by way of chain argument, i.e., since synthesis occurs in both sensibility and understanding, and “synthesizing activity is an aspect of judgment,” he arrives at the mistaken conclusion — central to his and the Pittsburgh School’s project — “Thus all our cognitive activity consists of judgment and aspects of that activity” (Brandom 1994, 80). Whereas, in the language I used above, Brandom sees a state of affairs as formed through the synthesis of implicit conceptual, i.e., discursive, theses regarding an agent’s experience of the external environment, he should have said that a state of affairs is a primordially memory-governed contingent formation of an agent’s potential relations to their synoptic Umwelt, i.e., the totality of reciprocally related potential instantiations limited by an agent’s perceptual capacities.

Notice, Brandom’s above reading of synopsis in Kant as synthesis is a precursor for his later claim that “In an important sense there is no such boundary [between the conceptual and the nonconceptual], and so nothing outside the realm of the conceptual” (Brandom 2000, 357). And, Brandom’s footnote to this quote states, “Although the details are very different, at this level of abstraction there is on this point deep agreement between the views expressed in Making It Explicit and those John McDowell puts forward in his important, powerful, and original Mind and World” (Brandom 2000, 357). Hence, I read the Pittsburgh School generally, and specifically Brandom’s belief that he has provided proof of discursivity throughout perceptual experience, to derive from a mistaken reading of the Transcendental Deduction in Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason (cf. Scalambrino, 2011).

So, when central to NF Brandom says, “conceptual contents might be attached to states and performances functionally, in virtue of their relations to one another and to elements of the environment to which they apply” (Brandom 2009,177-8), he pulls in the assumption of an independent environment filled with objects that answer to the normative space of reasons. On the one hand, what is implicit in this assumption is the conclusion Brandom will later make explicit, i.e., metaphysical realism. On the other hand, I have already shown that this mathematical image of the external world seems to derive from (a) collapsing the discovery/demonstration distinction, (b) not affirming the differentiating function of non-discursive habit toward determining the state of affairs for perceptual experience, and (c) an interpretation of the Transcendental Deduction in the Critique of Pure Reason that seems inconsistent with Kant’s Copernican revolution.

What remains, then, is to respond to two questions regarding tautology and post hoc inference: (1) to what does counter-factual reasoning pertain if the position of NF excludes awareness that the state of affairs to which an experiential hypothesis relates is contingent upon an agent’s habit-governed relation to its external environment; (2) when NF halts the regress, to what does the regress pertain?

First, for the normative functionalist, counter-factual reasoning is supposed to provide support for NF by showing that, for example, if the door had not been open it would have been closed. Yet, as I hope is clear at this point in the article, this counter-factuality relates to an already agreed upon state of affairs. So, to ask within the demonstrable constraints of valid inference if there were another logical possibility than open or closed is to have already shifted from the dynamic to the mathematical, i.e., from discovery to demonstration. Moreover, to use counter-factual reasoning regarding perceptual experiences that did not occur is to post hoc postulate within a state of affairs that need not have been the state of affairs that would have been perceived. To be clear, I do not consider Kant, the standard criticism of NF, or myself to be attempting an argument against the rules of valid inference. Rather, the question is how can inferential reasoning be correct regarding perceptual experience while at the same time not revealing the mind external world as-it-is-in-itself? Kant, of course, already answered this question.

Second, the logic of the regress itself pertains to the dimension of demonstration. That this is so can be seen by noticing that the discursive identification of an environmental perception receives its determination within a norm-governed inferentially constellated space of reasons. And, since the dimension of demonstration is norm-governed, of course what halts the regress does not rely on a (The Myth of the) Given foundation; what halts the regress will ultimately be some norm arrived at by traversing the inferential logic constellating the space of reasons from which the environmental perception in question received its meaningful identity.

That the normative functionalist position affirms a tautology is only a problem in so far as its tautological borders are construed too widely. To say that the norm-governed space in which assertions have meaning is the space that halts logical regress is ultimately to state a tautology. Recall Maher, “norms or rules of reasoning are important not simply because one must be responsive to them in order to think or speak at all, but also because they constitute the very meaning or content of our thoughts and claims” (Maher 2012a, 5). Just as A = A: the inferentially constellated normative space on which we base the meaning of our identifications is the space in which we give and ask for reasons so as to demonstrate the appropriateness of our identifications, and to give and ask for reasons is to provide a basis for the meaning of our identifications. Yet, normative functionalists go too far by not acknowledging the non-norm-governed functions contributing to experience.

V. Conclusion

In this article, I have shown that normative functionalists reduce the differentiating function of non-discursive habit in experience to post hoc logical possibility. This discussion helps fill-in the Other Pittsburgh School’s critical position, since it shows how the Pittsburgh School commits itself to the position of metaphysical realism, i.e., the claim to know mind independent external reality. On the one hand, habit influences perceptual experience by determining the state of affairs in which instantiated objects of experience are conceptually identified. On the other hand, taking normativity as a point of departure, normative functionalists account for mind independent external reality by considering the inferential relations that pertain to the norm-governed identification of the object instantiated in perceptual experience. Yet, such accounts fail to consider the states of affairs non-inferentially related to the norm-governed identification of the instantiated object of experience. And, these states of affairs would need to be included in an accounting for mind independent reality. Hence, the Pittsburgh School’s understanding of perception as norm-governed misunderstands the role of habit in perception. As a result, the Pittsburgh School should reduce the domain of experience to which the position of NF is said to pertain.

Further, I have specifically shown that the Pittsburgh School’s construal of perception is too wide. This overly wide construal of perception seems to mislead normative functionalists to include an affirmation of metaphysical realism as part of the position of NF. I advocated for a narrowed construal of norm-governed-perception by discussing non-norm-governed, i.e., habit-governed, aspects of perceptual experience. More specifically, the position of NF does not consider the function of procedural memory involving perceptual relations, to differentiate which aspects of the environment are instantiated into lived perceptual experience. I, then, showed that the version of NF corrected of its overly wide construal of perception is tautologically grounded. We do not have knowledge of the world until our claims about the world are justified. Whereas it is this tautologically grounded inferentially constellated norm-governed space of reasons that halts the regress as anti-foundational and is operable in regard to counter-factual reasoning, consistent with Kant’s Copernican revolution the space of reasons cannot provide knowledge of mind independent external reality. Hence, I have advocated for the incorporation of perceptual memory into the normative functionalist research project as a bulwark against tautological arguments that might otherwise lead astray into metaphysical realism.

References

Aristotle. 2004. Nicomachean Ethics. Translated by Roger Crisp. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

––––––. 1962. Prior Analytics. Translated by Hugh Tredennick. London: William Heinemann.

Brandom, Robert. 1994. Making It Explicit: Reasoning, Representing, and Discursive Commitment. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

––––––. 2009. Reason in Philosophy: Animating Ideas. Cambridge, Mass: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press.

––––––. 1979. “Freedom and Constraint by Norms.” American Philosophical Quarterly 16 (3): 187-196.

––––––. 2000. “Facts, Norms, and Normative Facts: A Reply to Habermas.” European Journal of Philosophy 8 (3): 356-374.

Craik, Fergus I.M. and Bialystok, Ellen. (2006). “Cognition through the lifespan: mechanisms of change,” Trends in Cognitive Sciences 10 (3): 131-138.
deVries, Willem. Wilfrid Sellars. New York: McGill-Queen’s University Press.

Erickson, Michael A. 2008. “Executive attention and task switching in category learning: Evidence for stimulus-dependent representation,” Memory & Cognition 36 (4): 749-761.

Habermas, Jürgen. 2003. “From Kant to Hegel: On Robert Brandom’s Pragmatic Philosophy of Language.” In Truth and Justification, edited by Barbara Fultner, 131-173. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Huys, Raoul, Nicholas J Smeeton, Nicola J Hodges, Peter J Beek, and Mark A Williams. 2008. “On the dynamic information underlying visual anticipation skill.” Perception & Psychophysics 70 (7): 1217-1234.

Kant, Immanuel. 1998. Critique of Pure Reason. Translated by Paul Guyer and Allen Wood. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Kuhn, Thomas S. 1962. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Chicago: University of Chicago.

Maher, Chauncey. 2012a. The Pittsburgh School of Philosophy. New York: Routledge.

––––––. 2012b. “Reply to Reider.” Social Epistemology Review and Reply Collective 1 (11): 16-23.

Margolis, Joseph. 2007. “Present doldrums, pleasant prospects: Philosophy early in the new century.” Philosophy and Social Criticism 33 (1): 15-34.

McDowell, John. 1994. Mind and World. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Micheyl, Christophe, Josh H McDermott, Andrew J. Oxenham. 2009. “Brief Reports: Sensory noise explains auditory frequency discrimination learning induced by training with identical stimuli.” Attention, Perception, & Psychophysics 71 (1): 5-7.

Pascal, Blaise. 1995. Pensées. Translated by A.J. Krailsheimer. London: Penguin Classics.

Proust, Marcel. 2003. In Search of Lost Time, Vol. I: Swann’s Way. Edited by D.J. Enright. Translated by C.K. Scott Moncrieff and Terence Kilmartin. New York: The Modern Library.

Reider, Patrick J. 2012. “Pittsburgh and the analytic tradition in philosophy.” Social Epistemology Review and Reply Collective 1 (9): 20-27.

Rockmore, Tom. 2010. “Some Recent Realist Readings of Hegel.” In Hegel and the Analytic Tradition edited by Angelica Nuzzo, 158-172. London: Continuum.

Rorty, Richard. 1979. Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature. New Jersey: Princeton University Press.

Scalambrino, Frank. 2011. “Non-Being & Memory: A critique of pure difference in Derrida and Deleuze.” Doctoral dissertation, Duquesne University. Retrieved from ProQuest. (UMI: 3466382).

––––––. 2012. “Mnemo-psychography: The Origin of Mind and the Problem of Biological Memory Storage.” In Origins of Mind edited by Liz Swan, 327-339 Biosemiotics, Vol. 8. New York: Springer.

Sellars, Wilfrid. 1956. Empiricism and the Philosophy of Mind. Minnesota Studies in the Philosophy of Science, Vol. I, edited by Herbert Feigl and Michael Scriven, 253-329. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press.

Smilkstein, Rita. 2003. We’re Born to Learn. London: Sage Publications.

Sperling, George. 1960. “The information available in brief visual presentations.” Psychological Monographs 74 (1): 1-29.

Swindal, James. 2007. “Can a discursive pragmatism guarantee objectivity?: Habermas and Brandom on the correctness of norms.” Philosophy and Social Criticism 33 (1): 113-126.

Wolf, Kerstin, Daniel Ebeling and Notger G Müller. 2009. “The effects of implicit attentional learning and habituation on inhibition of return.” Attention, Perception, & Psychophysics 71 (1): 26-41.

Wittgenstein, Ludwig. 1922. Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Translated by Charles Kay Ogden. New York: Harcourt, Brace & Co.

Wittgenstein, Ludwig. 1969. On Certainty. Translated by Denis Paul and G.E.M. Anscombe, Oxford: Basil Blackwell.

Wurzer, Wilhelm. 1992. “Nietzsche and the Problem of Ground.” In Anti-foundationalism Old and New edited by Tom Rockmore and Beth Singer, 127-142. Philadelphia: Temple University.

[1] Brandom, Robert. 1979. “Freedom and Constraint by Norms.” American Philosophical Quarterly 16 (3): 187-196. Page 192.

[2] Cf. Habermas, p. 140; though Habermas and Margolis are not necessarily affiliated with Duquesne University, the rest of the thinkers on the list are, thereby demonstrating the appropriateness of associating this position with Duquesne.

[3] On the importance of Kant for the Pittsburgh School see Rorty, 1979, p. 149, and Brandom, 2009, p. 114.

Author Information: Patrick J. Reider, University of Pittsburgh at Greensburg, PJR23@pitt.edu

Normative Functionalism and the Pittsburgh School: Table of Contents

Reider, Patrick J. 2012. “Sellars and Knowing the Thing-In-Itself.” Social Epistemology Review and Reply Collective 2 (1): 68-82.

The PDF of the article gives specific page numbers. Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1Bfg0-BQ

Abstract

DeVries’ article “Sellars, Realism, and Kantian Thinking” misinterprets my argument that Sellars cannot show a sufficient degree of perceptual access for science to produce knowledge of “things-in-themselves” as involving a Cartesian characterization of Sellars. In correcting this misinterpretation (among many others), I will show that there are aspects of Sellars’ views on sensory receptivity, analogies, and representation that are at odds with the epistemic claim Sellars makes in regard to knowing the thing-in-itself, which deVries fails to acknowledge. In highlighting the nature of these internal discrepancies, I argue that Sellars’ and deVries’ (reading of Sellars’) account of science’s ability to achieve metaphysical realism entails criteria for knowing the thing-in-itself that is normative and/or presumed rather than the product of scientific discovery. In short, this paper has two foci: first, to respond to deVries’ misinterpretations of my account of Sellars, and second, to show that the traditional analytic commitment to metaphysical realism is central to Sellars, as well as to his readers, but cannot be sustained.

Section 1

In “Sellars on Perception, Science, and Realism: A Critical Response,” I argued that Sellars cannot show a sufficient degree of perceptual access to permit his accounts of scientific concepts, theories, analogies, and models to count as knowledge of “things-in-themselves.”[1] DeVries’ response to this paper in “Sellars, Realism, and Kantian Thinking” misinterprets my critique as relying on a Cartesian form of the “new way of ideas” to characterize Sellars. In attempting to dissuade me from a view I do not hold, deVries offers several excellent accounts of Sellars’ views on analogy and picturing. While correcting his mischaracterization of my view of Sellars, I will argue that neither Sellars’ nor deVries’ (reading of Sellars’) account of science and picturing permits knowledge of the thing-in-itself. Additionally, I will argue that Sellars’ and deVries account of the attainability of metaphysical realism via science entails criteria for knowing (what Sellars calls) the “thing-in-itself,” which can only be normative and/or presumed rather than the product of scientific discovery.

Section 2

I will begin by revisiting a key passage from Science and Metaphysics: [2]

Kant’s account implies indeed that certain counterparts of our intuitive representation, namely God’s intellectual intuition, are literally true; but these literal truths can only be indirectly and abstractly represented by finite minds, and there is an impassible gulf between our Erkenntnisse and Divine Truth. If, however as I shall propose [...] we replace the static concept of Divine Truth with a Peircean conception of truth as the ‘ideal outcome of scientific inquiry’, the gulf between appearances and things-in-themselves, though a genuine one, can in principle be bridged. (50)

Sellars believes that the historical development of science can “in principle” provide, in some undetermined future, knowledge of the thing-in-itself. Here the thing-in-itself refers to mind-independent existence free from the false or contingent ways the human mind perceives, thinks, and/or pictures it. Sellars emphasizes this aspect of his claim by associating “Divine Truth” with knowledge of the thing-in-itself. For instance, Christian theologians claim that God alone possesses perfect intellectual understanding of existence such that there is no difference between His knowing and existence.

Sellars suggests that science makes it possible to arrive at knowledge of things-in-themselves, which is not “merely indirectly and abstractly represented.” This kind of knowledge seems to indicate something akin to the metaphysical exactness or perfection traditionally attributed to God alone. The quality, kind, and degree of representational similarity that Sellars believes science can garner of the thing-in-itself will remain a theme throughout this paper.

Kant believed that the human mind is completely responsible for the manner in which it synthesizes (i.e., unifies and arranges) sensory content and judges such content. As a result, he claims that one cannot know mind-independent reality. In other words, it is not possible for humans to know how entities exist independent of the manner in which they appear to the observing subject: “cognition reaches appearances only, leaving the thing in itself as something actual for itself but unrecognized by us” (Bxx). However, even though Kant claims we cannot know the thing-in-itself, it is natural for us to infer its existence: “For that which necessarily drives us to go beyond the boundaries of experience and all appearance is the unconditioned” (Bxx).[3] By “unconditioned,” Kant means that which endures in its naked existence unadulterated by the human mind’s understanding and representation of it. This view supports the claim that the thing-in-itself cannot be known, for according to Kant, all experience requires the ‘conditioning’ of mental processes. Thus, the thing-in-itself, by its very nature, is something necessarily unknowable to the human mind.

With a perfected science, Sellars seems to think that our knowledge of things-in-themselves will indicate their ‘unconditioned’ existence, and that such knowledge will be free from the various ways one can incorrectly picture existence. If this is possible, such knowledge may be similar to God’s knowledge. He thus appears to be taking the following stance: a perfected science may use a very human means to acquire knowledge, but the understanding it provides will transcend the contingent models in which it is obtained.

Section 3

Understanding Sellars’ view concerning knowledge of the thing-in-itself requires an appreciation of Sellars’ use of analogy.[4] Unfortunately, deVries misinterprets my views concerning Sellars and analogies.[5] Rather than focusing on these misinterpretations, I will instead focus on the substantive differences between our views about Sellars and analogies. Perhaps the strongest point of disagreement concerns the extent to which Sellars can avoid the analogy of proportion in attempting to arrive at knowledge of the thing-in-itself.

DeVries’ article begins with a concise rendition of relevant types of analogies that he believes escape the limitations associated with the analogy of proportion and which promote Sellars’ view that knowledge of the thing-in-itself is attainable. He writes:

One is a matter of analogical relations between sets or family of concepts. Scientists use such analogies to generate new conceptual schemes that might prove explanatory useful and be subject to empirical tests. So, for instance [...] J.J. Thomson proposed the “plum pudding” model to explain the structure of the atom, which was fairly quickly replaced by the Rutherford “planetary” model [...]. This facilitated the development of new tests that drove the scientist to now models. Sellars has this kind of analogy in mind when he argues, as he did in so many places, that our mentalistic concepts are formed by means of such analogy, and in fact, by two different analogies. One likens our intentional states to episodes of ‘inner speech’, the other likens our sensory states to ‘inner replicas.’ (58)

I am in full agreement that these types of analogy can count as knowledge and promote scientific discovery. I would also argue that Sellars is often underappreciated for providing deep insights into the manner in which this type of thinking plays a prominent role in knowledge and scientific advancement. However, it is unclear how the above noted analogies directly or indirectly contribute to knowledge that is akin to Divine Truth, that is truth claims about the so-called thing-in-itself. For instance, Sellars writes:

[A]lthough the world we conceptually represent in experience exists, only in actual and obtainable representings of it, we can say, from a transcendental point of view, not only that existence-in-itself accounts for this obtainability by virtue of having a certain analogy with the world we represent but also that in principle we, rather than God alone, can provide the cash (49).

Analogies by their very nature offer a tenuous mixture of similarity and difference, e.g., atoms are presumably like and unlike a solar system. In order to have knowledge of the thing-in-itself qua thing-in-itself, one must remove the differences until only what accurately depicts the thing-in-itself remains. New models replace old models precisely because they are deemed to offer fewer differences and more similarity than their predecessors. As a result, what drives most forms of justification for one type of analogy or model supplanting another is that it is deemed to be more similar to the entity (or event) it is intended to represent. Since one analogy is deemed to be more like the entity than another, there is a presumed progression of similitude. The acceptance of this progressive development functions as an analogy of proportion, i.e., some likeness found in models and analogies are proportionally closer (in similarity) to the entities (and events) they represent.

In this regard, when science is seen as a tool to get at the thing-in-itself, it necessarily sets up a dichotomy between insufficient analogies and models, which are replaced by ones that are seen as more accurately depicting some relevant feature of the thing-in-itself. Since the progression involves a chain of analogies that are deemed to be progressively more like the entity they represent, the analogies are in one important sense linked to views concerning degrees of likeness. This in turn requires that one understand the differences or inadequacies of the previous models and some presumed feature of the entity or event that it fails to represent or even misrepresents.[6] However, if analogies play a key role in Sellars’ proposed means of gaining knowledge of the thing-in-itself, how will one know what the thing-in-itself is like in order to discern which analogies are more like it? This problem will be the theme of sections 4, 6, and 7.

Section 4

DeVries also believes that isomorphism supports Sellars’ claim that the thing-in-itself can be known. He writes:

[I]somorphism between two domains of objects and their relations (as opposed to concepts and their relations). [...] [This occurs in at least two distinct ways for Sellars.] One is in the analysis of the sensory domain, where our sensory states exhibit counterpart properties to those exhibited by the manifest image sensory objects they are typically caused by, and arranged in a scheme that involves counterparts of spatial temporal relations (SM I §74). The other is in Sellars’s difficult notion of picturing. Some tokens of a linguistic type (what Sellars calls a “natural linguistic object”)[7] picture some object in nature in virtue of participating in a complex system of such natural linguistic objects that, in virtue of unimaginable complex projection relation, is isomorphic (in certain respect) to worldly objects thus pictured. (58)

It is true that isomorphic relations between models, theories, concepts, and the appearing world constitute knowledge on account of the manner in which they can help us predict empirical occurrences and successfully accomplish feats in the empirical world. Additionally, these relations can be deemed a type of knowledge insofar as they permit us to think about what is not evident in our everyday perceptual experiences. While the above is true, it is unclear how isomorphic relationships contribute to our knowledge of the mind-independent reality of the thing-in-itself.

For deVries and Sellars, the contributing role of such isomorphic relationships, as they concern knowledge of the thing-in-itself, is resolved by invoking a Peircean ideal of science. DeVries writes:

[D]irectly inferring how things in themselves are from any stage of our conceptualization of the world short of the Peircean ideal would be a mistake. For only in the Peircean ideal that such statement express, not merely ‘best knowledge,’ but final knowledge, knowledge that will never be ill-guided” (66).

DeVries additionally claims that “[t]he important point remains that we do not know things by first constructing a picture and then inferring from that how things are; rather, we know how things are (in part) by representing them in ways that conform to the requirements of picturing” in the sense that “pictures enable our engagement with the world around us” (66). What this apparently means is that, through our functional engagements in the world, we begin to “picture” in such a fashion that one “in part” gets epistemically closer to the thing-in-itself.

In SPSR, I argued that practical engagements and predictions concerning the empirical world do not require metaphysical accuracy and, as such, are not proof or convincing support that successful models, theories, analogies, concepts. etc., indicate that metaphysical truth had been obtained or that one is closing in on such truths. Additionally, the claim that science can obtain “final knowledge” is dubious, because science is not equipped to demonstrate when it has reached a final stage. For example, I wrote:

Given the limitations of our access to existence (i.e., it is restricted to appearing phenomena) and social influences (as asserted by the normative functionalist) on scientific research, it is unlikely that we could recognize when we happen upon the best possible model/theory. Nor is it clear how the human intellect is capable of making such a distinction, because the success of a scientific model is limited to how well it solves a specific set of well-defined questions. The speculative claim that X is the best possible model is not demonstrable in science, because all that one can validate via science is that X is the best available (i.e., at a future date a better one may come along) model/theory for resolving a specific set of practical problems or predicting certain kinds of appearing phenomena. (50)

Even if science can achieve the Peircean ideal of final knowledge, it is unclear how an isomorphic structure of “unimaginable complex projection relation” or even simple ones disclose the thing-in-itself (58). Strictly speaking, such structures are not the thing-in-itself, but merely an intermediary mental structure or tool to “picture” mind-independent existence (58). But how will one know if one’s picturing is correct? One cannot observe if it is; one can only infer it. For instance, a complex projection of relations that is believed to constitute an isomorphic relation to things-in-themselves is inferred from how well it can be confirmed in observation or practical engagements in the empirical world. Yet, as noted above, practical and predictive models do not require metaphysical accuracy. As such, their success is not an indicator of metaphysical truth. One must then have some other means to verify if “pictures” based on presumed isomorphic structures are metaphysically accurate, but the only means science (and Sellars) has for verification and justification is irreducibly one of observation. In other words, deVries’ and Sellars’ account of isomorphic structures are “presumed,” in the sense that they are said to possess discernible relations to the thing-in-itself; yet, such relations, and the ‘pictures’ they provide, transcend what can be confirmed in observation.

When science is seen as verifying metaphysical truths (as opposed to empirical truths), it is relegated to circular thinking that does an injustice to this noble discipline. For instance, as noted above, one analogy is replaced by another because the first analogy is seen as less useful in comparison to the second. But the insufficiency or sufficiency of analogies, models, and concepts lies in observable outcomes. When one claims that observable outcomes match their analogies, it is often presumed that metaphysical truth has been obtained. But this cannot be shown. The only remaining avenue is merely to presume what the thing-in-itself is like and then to claim that one’s model has matched it or accept some normative prescription (rather than the outcome of supposedly true scientific discovery).

The Peircean ideal, as conceived by deVries and Sellars, is short sighted. It not only assumes that practical engagements indicate metaphysical accuracies but also tends to overlook the fact that there are competing models that can achieve different or similar results. The assumption that science will necessarily come to a specific formulation of non-competing models is presumptive. Moreover, competing models can (at times) offer similar practical and observable results but nonetheless differ in the quality (i.e., in a Kantian sense of the term) and content they provide. When this occurs, it is often not possible to determine which model is better. For these reasons, I argued in my paper that scientific realists can only beg the question as to what the thing-in-itself is like and then presume their scientific reasoning captures it.

I have briefly made a case for the view that science does not disclose, uncover or discover metaphysical truths. Rather it is a process of the ongoing accumulation of empirical truths concerning what is observable, methods for predicting more nuanced observations and achieving practical results, which I regard as a modified version of Kant’s “empirical realism.” Scientific realists, especially those like Sellars who overtly claim science can or at least in principle could obtain knowledge of the thing-in-itself, must be able to show how the latter description of science is wrong. This is a steep, if not insurmountable, task. It is in my view bewildering that many proponents of scientific realism regard the aforementioned view of science as unacceptable. I claim that the scientific realist has the burden of proof to show that science can produce metaphysical truth (and not those who doubt this extravagant knowledge claim). I believe Sellars thinks this as well, and for that reason, wrote Science and Metaphysics in an attempt to provide such proof. Though brilliant and often insightful, I argue that it goes astray by appealing to common themes found in Hume, Kant, Stace, and instrumentalism.[8] In turn, these themes lead to the conclusion that knowledge of the thing-itself is either presupposed or a product of normative prescriptions that contingently assert epistemic standards and tolerances for acceptable degrees of similarity and dissimilarity.

Section 5

Now that I have addressed some global reasons why I believe Sellars’ project fails, I would like to address some more specific problems. In so doing, I tackle additional misinterpretations of my view by deVries.

DeVries and I disagree in regard to Sellars’ view of perception and how it hooks up with mind-independent time and space. I will simply start with Sellars’ own words from Science and Metaphysics:

Kant’s failure to distinguish clearly between the ‘forms’ of receptivity proper and the ‘forms’ of that which is represented by the intuitive conceptual representations which are ‘guided’ by receptivity — a distinction which is demanded both by the thrust of his argument, and by sound philosophy — had as it consequence that no sooner had he left the scene than these particular waters were muddied by Hegel and the Mills, and philosophy had to begin the slow climb ‘back to Kant’, which is still underway. (29)

Sellars believes that the distinction between the “‘forms’ of receptivity” and the “forms” of “intuitive conceptual representations” permits him not only to answer an affirmative to the below questions but also to demonstrate the truth of these affirmative responses (in the form of illustrations i.e., drawings):[9]

But is it genuinely necessary to interpose non-conceptual representations as states of consciousness between the ‘physical’ impact of the sensory stimulus and the conceptual representations (guarded or daring) which find verbal expression, actually or potentially, in perceptual statements? Can we not interpret the receptivity involved in terms of ‘purely physical’ states and attribute to these the role of guiding conceptualizations? Why should we suppose that receptivity culminates in a state which is neither ‘purely physical’ nor conceptual? Yet to do just this is, I shall argue, of the greatest importance for the philosophy of mind and, in particular, for an understanding of how the framework of physical science is to be integrated with the framework of common sense (Science and Metaphysics 16-17).

The excerpts cited above frame a key component of Sellars’ view on how “common sense,” which stems from everyday perceptual experience, can be legitimately integrated into the framework of the physical sciences. In SPSR, I argued that this view forms the ‘backbone’ of Sellars’ realism, because it shows that he thinks empirical observations are significantly connected to outer existence without appealing to the myth of the given or assuming perceptual states directly show the nature of the thing-in-itself.

It is natural for a scientific realist to take the above stance for the following reasons: if science can achieve the Truth, 1) empirical observation must be significantly connected and responsive to space-time (e.g., it would be curious to hear a scientist claim that observational science leads to the Truth, but empirical experience bears no significant or privileged relation to existence), while at the same time, 2) perceptions (in themselves) cannot accurately represent existence, because if they did, the findings of science would be manifestly false (e.g., the sun would not be over a million times the volume of the earth or nearly 93 million miles away from it, light would not be the product of wavelengths of energy, etc.). [10]

Perhaps the best place to see Sellars’ explanation of the above stance can be found in sections 11 to 15 in his appendix “Inner Sense” from Science and Metaphysics. These sections are riddled with diagrams, so I will provide a shortened account of these passages. In these sections, he attempts to illustrate (metaphorically and literally) how the temporal and spatial characteristics of perceptual experience are informed by non-conceptual sensory content, which ‘guides’ the understanding. He claims that our spatial and temporal experiences share characteristics (or structural similarities), which are analogous to actual time and space. Lastly, he argues that Kant wrongly assumes our understanding must be restricted to the ‘forms’ of space and time (which concern only the possible arrangement of empirical content), and as such, fails to notice how non-conceptual sensory content does inform our perceptual understanding a posteriori. [11]

Sellars correctly shows the manner in which Kant wrongly argues that our awareness of time and space must be ideal. However, Sellars is wrong to believe he has shown that our empirical experience delineates representings, which in turn possess characteristics such as “τ-characteristics” (temporal characteristics) and “σ-characteristics” (spatial characteristics) that bear important similarities to mind-independent space and time (without themselves being spatial or identical to mind-independent time). Here, my claim is not that this view is or must be false, but rather that Sellars cannot demonstrate it.

DeVries seems to believe that the Sellarsean view (or at least my account of it) requires something akin to the Cartesian foundationalist view, in which one is intimately and immediately aware of one’s own mental states, e.g., “the Cartesian foundationalist thinks that what we know directly and primarily are certain sensory states of ourselves” (Kant and Pre-Kantian Themes 125). [12] However in SPSR, I made it clear that Sellars’ account of sensory receptivity is Kantian in the sense that it is something for which we are not directly aware. Taking this into account, I argued that the arrangement of sensory content and its guiding role is a preconscious event similar to Kant’s account of ‘association’: the “subjective and empirical ground of reproduction in accordance with rules is called the association of representations” (A 121). [13]

DeVries is correct to argue that, according to Sellars, physicists are “free to develop a theory of space-time that is in principle quite independent of the peculiarity of the constitution of human sensibility,” but he is wrong to argue that it is a misreading of Sellars to claim that he deems perception to be significantly connected, responsive, and analogous to mind-independent space-time (7). [14]

Section 6

DeVries is also critical of my claim that “when we ‘picture’ what something is like, we can use relevant sensory content and apply such content in a manner that is compatible with scientific theories. If this is the case, then ‘picturing’ stems neither from sensory nor conceptual content alone, but some fusion of both.” (SPSR 42). This view is evident in the following context: 1) Sellars believes that empirical experience is significantly tied to mind-independent existence, 2) as a result, “the framework of physical science” can be legitimately “integrated with the framework of common sense [which is a derivative of empirical experience],” and 3) consequently, theoretical science, insofar as it is based on empirical observation, is on a solid footing (Science and Metaphysic 16-17).

Furthermore, carefully note Sellars’ following claim:

I mean by ‘picture’ literally picture because as Wittgenstein correctly emphasizes philosophers of different persuasions are hypnotized by different pictures: literally picture, little diagrams they draw on the margin of their pages even if they don’t get into the heart of the text. But you can read a philosopher’s work and pretty soon you can illustrate it. I’ve always been very candid. You can illustrate what I say because I provide the illustrations. (5) [15]

One cannot ‘picture’ or illustrate in the above sense without appealing to one’s empirical experiences (though one of course is not unilaterally restricted to them) as they are perceived to occur in space and time.

This latter point brings me to a further criticism of deVries. He claims that I think knowledge of the thing-in-itself requires an “exact replica” or again that I am arguing that Sellars espouses a form of Cartesian representationalism. I adopt neither of these views, but it is worth mentioning, since it brings to light an issue often found in Sellars’ work and scientific realism as a whole: 1) what degree of similarity (or dissimilarity) is permissible for legitimate knowledge of the thing in-itself, and 2) what degree of qualitative difference can there be between our representations and the actual existence of the thing-in-itself? For example, different kinds of practical engagement and experimentation result in different types of ‘pictures.’ These pictures can be the product of radically different kinds of analogous relations to observable phenomenon. Is each of these different types of ‘pictures’ just as true or accurate as the next? These questions beckon the reader to question what it means to know the thing-in-itself and what degree and type of similarity finite minds can produce in regard to scientific accounts of things-in-themselves.

The above questions are not something science can directly answer. Thus, enters the philosopher. Yet, can any degree of difference found tolerable by the philosopher (and still count it as knowledge of the thing-in-itself) be anything more than a presumed, contingent, and/or normative view of what is deemed to be true? In the same way, any accepted normative range of similitude or dissimilarity cannot be confirmed by science, for as I have argued, science is based on observations, and one cannot observe whether theories concerning the unobservable thing-in-itself are similar or dissimilar to it. Finally, though a scientific realist might claim science can achieve the latter, I argued in SPSR that he/she can only do so by begging the question as to what the thing-in-itself is truly like. When this occurs, the flood gates open for unproven similarities in analogies being upheld as the gold standard of “how things really are.” [16]

Section 7

Kant’s Copernican revolution makes a case for the claim that knowledge is limited to empirical objects (as empirical objects), minds, as well as their mental contents and processes. This claim is easily misunderstood. It does not deny the occurrence of mind-independent existence, but rather only that we cannot have knowledge of it. Nor does it claim that knowledge cannot exist. Similarly, it does not transform empirical experience into a subjective fantasy, which devolves into global skepticism or solipsism. [17]

While Hegel finds Kant’s dualism of the thing-in-itself problematic, he makes his own contribution to the Copernican revolution by emphasizing that in fact all experience, including empirical experience, is an expression of the observing subject’s consciousness. [18] For Hegel, at least in the Phenomenology of Spirit, the height of knowledge (and the only type worthy of being considered ‘science’) begins when human consciousness recognizes itself in the act of experience. When this is achieved, consciousness will no longer consider the lived world of empirical entities and events as something foreign to or other than itself. [19] In short, Hegel believes that all experience is necessarily a form of consciousness, even when it appears in the guise of empirical certainty (i.e., “sense-certainty”) or an intentional attitude one holds towards the empirical world.

A strong case can be made that knowledge of mind-independent content is not possible and all knowledge is irreducibly mind-dependent. There are of course many superficial ways to respond to this type of claim. Yet I believe that careful consideration will show that it is a matter of epistemic limits and that the qualitative status of knowledge (at an ontological level) is at stake. These issues are clearly some of the most important, deep, and enduring concerns a philosopher can address. Because scientific realism is in vogue, I am concerned that such perennial philosophical issues of philosophy, issues which deepen and renew the philosophical discipline, are routinely ignored.

Sellars should be celebrated as one of the first analytic philosophers to truly appreciate and respect the problems presented by German idealism. It is unfortunate that his work is often seen as supporting the view that one can circumvent these problems by merely appealing to science.

Section 8

The analytic tradition epitomizes a dangerous trend, starting with its progenitor G.E. Moore. He argues that all forms of idealism and all challenges to metaphysical realism are absurd and unworthy of serous philosophical reflection. The analytical tradition seems habitually to misrepresent German idealism as a form of global skepticism, the bad idealism of the British variety, or as a type of pseudo realism, which only needs to be gently nudged to ripen into full blown metaphysical realism.

Perhaps the analytic tradition is in the process of returning to German idealism, as Sellars believes (and via the Pittsburgh School and its proponents in general). This primarily occurs as the various forms of analytic realism increasingly accept German idealism’s account of the subject. Yet the analytic tradition cannot, despite its claims to the contrary, demonstrate how knowledge of mind-independent content (e.g., such as the thing-in-itself) is possible. In this regard, there is a tension between its sympathies with the German idealist’s account of the subject (which supports the claim that mind-independent content is unknowable) and its insistence that knowledge must, and can, encompasses mind-independent content. Hence, it is doomed to be at odds with itself on important epistemic and metaphysical issues. If, however, it accepts that it cannot demonstrate such knowledge, then all of its considerable methodological strengths and enormous intellectual resources can be unleashed on more productive pursuits that avoid extravagant faith in metaphysical realism. It can perhaps, at last, let go not only of the myth of the given but also the myth of metaphysical realism, where knowledge of mind-independent entities are presumed to be perfected and demonstrable.

I will close by reminding the reader that in the Western philosophical tradition, the winning epistemic stance is not the one that appeals to one’s wishes to know but fails to be validated. It is not the one that proves to be the most practical. Nor is it the one that appears to be most likely. The victor is always the one who can demonstrate his position. It may in fact be the case that German idealism holds significant epistemic advantages over the metaphysical realism of the analytic tradition, in that German idealism can demonstrate their objects of knowledge in ways metaphysical realists cannot. [20] For all the above reasons, it is important to challenge the analytic tradition about its numerous expressions of metaphysical realism and force it to reevaluate the viability of such views. In doing so, metaphysical realists (and perhaps the analytic tradition as a whole) will become more sophisticated either by rethinking what it means to know the “in-itself” (rather than considering this and similar themes to be unimportant) or by returning to the bosom of philosophy in making the human intellect its object of knowledge.

[1] I will now refer to “Sellars on Perception, Science, and Realism: A Critical Response” as SPSR.

[2] Wilfrid Sellars, Science and Metaphysics, Atascadero: Ridgeview Publishing Company, 1992.

[3] See Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, USA: Cambridge University Press, 2005.

[4] Sellars writes in Science and Metaphysics:

The thesis I wish to defend, but not ascribe to Kant, though it is very much a ‘phenomenalism’ in the Kantian (rather than Berkeleyian) sense, is that although the world we conceptually represent in experience exists, only in actual and obtainable representings of it, we can say, from a transcendental point of view, not only that existence-in-itself accounts for this obtainability by virtue of having a certain analogy with the world we represent but also that in principle we, rather than God alone, can provide the cash. For, as I see it, the use of analogy in theoretical science, unlike theology, generates new determinate concepts. It does not merely indirectly specify certain unknown attributes by an ‘analogy of proportion’. One might put this by saying that the conceptual structures of theoretical science give us new ways of schematizing categories. (49)

[5] DeVries misinterprets my view of Sellars’ account of analogy by claiming that I attribute to Sellars only (or perhaps primarily) a Thomistic “analogy of proportion.” I clearly indicate that Sellars believes analogies can help us “reshape and reorganize (i.e., schematize) the concepts we apply to phenomena” (SPSR 40). I also indicate that Sellars maintains science can provide us with new “schemas that are better suited (than our non-scientific schemas) to represent existence” (40). Additionally, he mistakenly suggests that one of my illustrations was intended as a comprehensive overview of Sellars’ views on analogy (i.e., the fallacy of composition) — especially, since I note that Sellars “believes that science can exceed the achievement of ‘analogy of proportion’” directly after this example (40).

[6] DeVries takes one of my examples of a stick figure representing a man as requiring an understanding of the proportional differences between the figure and an actual person, and falsely concludes that I believe all analogies are reducible to spatial imaginings. The point I made was that this type of analogy, like all analogies, requires an understanding of the possible or actual difference between the first entity of comparison to the second. This type of reasoning is a central part of the “type of thinking required of analogies” (SPSR 41). The fact that one of my examples requires spatial proportions is purely incidental, i.e., it is not indicative of all analogies.

[7] Johanna Seibt writes:

“Natural-linguistic objects” are those natural items that can be said to picture. They are not necessarily the written or oral expression of a natural language: they may be hand movements of sign language, rhythmic patterns of an acoustic code, machine states of a Turing machine, or neurophysiological states. In fact, they include any collection of material items embodying a normative system as long as “there is a relevant degree of similarity” (Sellars “Mental Events” 36: 331; in Philosophical Studies: 288).”

The previous quote can be found in the following text: Johanna Seibt. “Function Between Reasons and Causes,” in Empiricism, Perceptual Knowledge, and Realism, 247-282 ed. Willem A. deVries (Oxford University Press, 2009), 253.

[8] DeVries radically misrepresents my view on instrumentalism and appears to misunderstand some of its basic features. Instrumentalists disagree with scientific realists in that scientific realists argue theories describe reality:

A major controversy among philosophers of science is between instrumentalist and realist views of scientific theories (Leplin 1984; Psillos 1999; Niiniluoto 1999). The instrumentalists follow Duhem in thinking that theories are merely conceptual tools for classifying, systematizing and predicting observational statements, so that the genuine content of science is not to be found on the level of theories (Duhem 1954). Scientific realists, by contrast, regard theories as attempts to describe reality even beyond the realm of observable things and regularities, so that theories can be regarded as statements having a truth value. (Niiniluoto, Ilkka, “Scientific Progress”, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2011 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2011/entries/scientific-progress/>.)

DeVries misconstrues my view concerning the claim that general theories, which do not include particular entities or observable content, do not possess truth values for the instrumentalist. He believes that I assert instrumentalists claim one cannot make general observations concerning particular circumstances (or that my account has this unintended consequence). He, for instance, claims that, if my account were true, one could not note that “All the coins in my hand are pennies” as being either true or false. This is a gross misunderstanding of what I stated concerning the instrumentalist view. The context in which I was writing clearly refers to “observations concerning particular objects [...] can be reference, and hence, they are capable of being true or false” (59). My discussion concerns general theories, models, and concepts that are not applied to particular and observable existents, which the instrumentalists argue do not possess truth values like statements which reference observable entities. Similarly, I am confused by deVries claims that my statement “Sellars takes a quasi-instrumentalist stance” is wrong, because (in deVries own words) Sellars admits that “a correct account of matter-of-factual truth, even at the perceptual level, must contain ‘instrumentalist’ components’ (60). My use of ‘quasi’ is meant to indicate that there are similarities without being the same view.

[9] A fuller account of Sellars’ view of Kant and perception can be found in Kant and Pre-Kantian Themes. In it, he draws the following parallels between this work and Science and Metaphysics:

You will find the account of the τ-dimension in the appendix to Science and Metaphysics and you will find the account of space as a form of sense […] I am giving you an exposition of these which I placed in a larger context in Science and Metaphysics (133).

[10] In this regard, I disagree with deVries, in that there is a sense in which Sellars believes in the “inalienable prerogative of the perceptual level.” However, this is the case only when one avoids couching the perceptual level in the current conceptual order, i.e., a non-final science of the Peircean order. According to Sellars, to do otherwise would be to make the same mistake as the instrumentalists.

[11] Sellars write the following in Science and Metaphysics:

If Kant had clearly drawn the relevant distinctions, the way would have been open for him to argue that the fact that τ-characteristics are characteristic of presentings doesn’t require that the intuitive representing which are synthesized by the understanding in response to them be representings of representings. For in the case of Space, in spite of the fact that the σ-characteristics (we may call them), which are the counterpart of spatial characteristics, are also characteristics of representings, the corresponding intuitive representings are representings of non-representings, i.e., spatial structures. Thus, that a form of sense is a form of (unrepresented) representings does not require that corresponding form of intuition be a form of (represented) representings. (235)

[12] DeVries writes the following with my paper SPSR in mind: “Sellars must not be shoved into a Procrustean bed structured by the old “new way of ideas” that claimed we know mental occurrence first and best and must infer from that knowledge to any knowledge we might be able to gain about external reality or thing in themselves” (66). I have not attributed “the old ‘new way of ideas’” to Sellars. In this regard, deVries provides a straw man characterization of my arguments. For those interested, in “Normative Functionalism and the Pittsburgh School”, I show that Sellars considered the above view of the “new way of ideas” as one form of the myth of the given, which Sellars rejects.

[13] Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998.

[14] One can find many passages throughout Sellars’ career where he takes this view. For instance, in Kant and Pre-Kantian Themes, he cannot help but provide the following stance even though the framework the context under which the expert is written is Kant’s view of time and space:

In other words, this sort of relationship between material things in space and time and the empirical self is the way in which, to my mind with its faculties, this kind of action, the action of the in itself on my faculty of sensibility, appears.

So, as I would like to put it, the empirical action of material things, on our body and our mind, is the appearance of a real in itself relationship of impingement by the in itself on my faculty of sensibility. (178)

[15] Wilfrid Sellars, Kant and Pre-Kantian Themes: Lectures by Wilfrid Sellars, Atascadero: Ridgeview Publishing Company, 2002. I would like to thank Aaron Schiller Vice President of the WSS (i.e., Wilfrid Sellars Society) who sent the above “favorite quote” to all WSS members.

[16] Hence Loki, the trickster god, cursed man to be the measure of all things, but compelled his eyes to look forever outward so he may never know the truth of himself.

[17] Sellars commendably avoids these shortcomings.

[18] Hegel writes:

Thus what seems to happen outside of it [i.e., the conscious self], to be an activity directed against it, is really its own doing, and Substance shows itself to be essentially Subject. When it has shown this completely, Spirit has made its existence identical with its essence; it has itself for its object just as it is, and the abstract element of immediacy, and of the separation of knowing and truth, is overcome. (21; 37)

See the following text: G. W. F. Hegel, Phenomenology of Sprit, USA: Oxford University Press, 1977.

[19] Hegel writes:

In pressing forward to its true existence consciousness will arrive at a point which it gets rid of its semblance of being burdened with something alien, with what is only for it, and some sort of ‘other’, at a point where appearance becomes identical with essences, so that its exposition will coincide at just this point with the authentic Science of Spirit. (56-7; 89)

Arguing for the truth of a specific reading of Hegel is a bit like attempting to change another person’s political affiliation. I will therefore not make such an attempt here, as it requires extensive commentary. Those familiar with the history of Hegelian scholarship will not find any reading of Hegel surprising (e.g., he has been read as being everything from a more extravagant version of Berkeley to a metaphysical realist). I of course believe there is much textual support for this account of Hegel.

[20] Since this a major theme of my book manuscript “The Analytic Tradition and German Idealism: A Case for Epistemic Idealism,” I will refrain from further comment.

Author Information: Willem A. deVries, University of New Hampshire, willem.devries@unh.edu

Normative Functionalism and the Pittsburgh School: Table of Contents

deVries, Willem A. 2012. “Sellars, Realism and Kanitan Thinking.” Social Epistemology Review and Reply Collective 2 (1): 57-67.

The PDF of the article gives specific page numbers. Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1Bfg0-BA

This essay is a response to Patrick Reider’s essay “Sellars on Perception, Science and Realism: A Critical Response.” Reider is correct that Sellars’s realism is in tension with his generally Kantian approach to issues of knowledge and mind, but I do not think Reider’s analysis correctly locates the sources of that tension or how Sellars himself hoped to be able to resolve it. Reider’s own account of idealism and the reasons supporting it are rooted in the epistemological tradition that informed the British empiricists, rather than in the metaphysical reasons that ruled within the German tradition from Leibniz through Hegel that has much more in common with Sellars’s position. Thus, Reider takes Sellars’s notion of picturing to be just another version of the representationalism that has dominated the Anglo-American tradition since Locke, whereas, in my view, because picturing is a non-semantical relation, it is an important ingredient in naturalizing the coherentist theories of the idealists.

Section I

Reider starts off, appropriately, with a discussion of analogy and science in Sellars’s thought. The target here is correct, but the discussion goes awry in some important ways. This is most directly seen in Reider’s speaking as if Sellars wants to exploit something like a Thomistic “analogy of proportion,” when, in fact, Sellars is claiming that the kinds of analogies he’s exploiting, unlike the Thomistic version, offers us “new determinate concepts” [my emphasis], rather than an allusion to something of some general nature whose specific reality remains beyond our ken.

Granted, there is something like a Thomistic analogy of proportion in play when, in the midst of his analysis of perception, Sellars tells us that “sheer phenomenology or conceptual analysis takes us part of the way” in understanding sensory episodes, namely, “to the point of assuring us that

Something, somehow a cube of pink in physical space is present in the perception other than as merely believed in (SSOP §26: 89).”

This result yields, like a Thomistic analogy of proportion, a highly indeterminate concept of what is present to us in the perception: something that is somehow a colored, shaped object in physical space. However, for our purposes the main point is that scientific theorizing goes far beyond this; eventually, it will develop a determinate conception of what is present in the perception and how it can manage to be colored and shaped, that is, what properties it has that are counterparts to the properties of the physical objects that normally cause such sensory states. This will be a family of determinate concepts of sensa.

There are two significantly different forms in which Sellars thinks analogies can lead to new determinate concepts. One is a matter of analogical relations between sets or families of concepts. Scientists use such analogies to generate new conceptual schemes that might prove explanatorily useful and be subject to empirical test. So, for instance, around the turn of the 20th century, after the discovery of the electron, J. J. Thomson proposed the “plum pudding” model to explain the structure of the atom, which was fairly quickly replaced by the Rutherford “planetary” model, which was then quantized by Bohr. Analogies to plum puddings and solar systems enabled scientists to think about the objects they were investigating and the principles that might explain their behavior by using concepts of domains with which we were already familiar. This facilitated the development of new tests that drove the scientists to new models. Sellars has this kind of analogy in mind when he argues, as he did in so many places, that our mentalistic concepts are formed by means of such an analogy, and in fact, by two different analogies. One likens our intentional states to episodes of ‘inner speech’, the other likens our sensory states to ‘inner replicas.’

The second significant form of analogy that Sellars considers is based on an isomorphism between two domains of objects and their relations (as opposed to concepts and their relations). When the objects and their relations in one domain bear a useful isomorphism to those in some other, nominally different domain, Sellars often speaks of “counterpart properties and relations.” We can find at least two or three different places where Sellars claims that such an isomorphism plays an important role. One is in the analysis of the sensory domain, where our sensory states exhibit counterpart properties to those exhibited by the manifest image sensory objects they are typically caused by, and are arranged in a scheme that involves counterparts of spatial and temporal relations (SM I ¶74). The other is in Sellars’s difficult notion of picturing. Some tokens of a linguistic type (what Sellars calls a “natural linguistic object”) picture some objects in nature in virtue of participating in a complex system of such natural linguistic objects that, in virtue of an unimaginably complex projection relation, is isomorphic (in certain respects) to the worldly objects thus pictured.

Notice, these two forms of analogy occur at different levels, one is purely within the conceptual realm, the other between objects. It is important not to confuse the two, though that can be easy to do, since wherever there is an isomorphism between objects an analogy between the relevant concepts of those objects will be available. Reider sometimes writes as if Sellars thought that representation depended not only on analogies, but analogies of proportion.

Any truth that one can glean from a stick figure representing a man lies in our ability to understand the differences, i.e., the ‘proportional relation,’ between the representation and the actual person. Sellars believes that science can help us establish the proportional differences between our representations and reality by developing new and better schematizations (Reider 41).[1]

But this seems to me a confusion: For one thing, it sounds like representation depends on a relatively simple geometric projection relation, the way perspective drawings represent spatial objects. That is not a recognizably Sellarsian thought, because it seems to hark back to the old and awful theory that representation is a matter of resemblance. Bringing the notion of proportionality in here at all is misleading.

Section II

Reider is led further off base by faulty characterizations of logical positivism and scientific instrumentalism. He characterizes logical positivism as “the belief that all existents are material objects persisting in determinable points in time and space” (41), but this confuses logical positivism with a kind of materialism. The logical positivists were originally committed sense-datum theorists who believed that material objects were logical constructions from ontologically and epistemologically prior sense data. It is only in the late ‘30s and thereafter that the positivists came around to the view that the physical-thing language is basic. Logical positivism is better identified as a philosophical approach that accepted the anti-metaphysical, science-idolizing notions of classical positivism and combined them with a high regard for the advances in logic of the early 20th century. Verificationism was the logical positivists’ bulwark against metaphysical excess, until that doctrine self-destructed in the ‘30s.

Reider claims that instrumentalism denies that theories can “pertain to or accurately account for the individual and discrete nature of material objects and occurrences” simply because theories are general and material objects are not. He even argues that instrumentalists hold that general claims are incapable of being true or false. But this misconstrues instrumentalism. For one thing, it would mean instrumentalism would apply even to observation-level empirical generalizations. Surely a general but easily observable claim such as “All the coins in my hand are pennies” is capable of truth or falsehood and, indeed, of being known to be true or false. Reider’s characterization cannot account for the fact that central to the instrumentalists is the distinction between the observable and the unobservable, for this distinction does not track any distinction between the general and the particular. (Observation is not always of particulars; I can just see that all the coins in my hand are pennies.) In the eyes of the instrumentalist, observability afforded assurance of metaphysical solidity; unobservability puts it in doubt.

What is of central concern to instrumentalism is the ontological status of so-called ‘theoretical entities’: objects, events, and states that are unobservable (at least in the current state of science) but postulated to exist by an explanatory scientific theory. Our evidence for the existence of such theoretical entities must itself come back down to observable objects, events, and states. The instrumentalist is skeptical enough to wonder, then, whether we have the right to believe in the existence of any such entities unavailable to direct inspection, and decides that we really do not. The apparatus of our theories, including any mention they make of theoretical entities such as electrons or quarks, serves merely as a grand calculational device. The only serious ontological commitments made by theories that postulate unobservables are to the existence of the observable entities involved in the evidence for and the corroboration of the claims and results of the theory.

The instrumentalist, from our point of view, is one who holds that theoretical statements of all kinds, including singular statements, are essentially instruments for generating statements in the observation framework. Thus, if he went along with our distinctions he would hold that (ampliative) theoretical statements are simply more sophisticated instruments which along with molecular, quantified and law-like statements in the observation framework are means of constructing observation framework pictures of objects and events (SM V §82: 144).

Reider claims that “Sellars takes a quasi-instrumentalist stance” (42). But this is a misunderstanding of Sellars’s admission that “a correct account of matter-of-factual truth, even at the perceptual level, must contain “instrumentalist” components” (SM V, §81: 143). What I think Sellars has in mind here is that theories and conceptual frameworks of all kinds “can be fruitfully compared to instruments” (loc. cit.). This, he points out, “is true even of the conceptual framework of common sense” (loc. cit.). While Sellars readily admitted that the fundamental metaphor behind instrumentalism — that theories are tools — is correct, he was an implacable foe of instrumentalism in any more full-bodied sense. Since the tool metaphor is applicable to any theory or conceptual framework (this is part of Sellars’s pragmatism), he relocates the fundamental issue in the debate between instrumentalist and realist into new territory; namely, “whether basic singular statements (in a sense to be defined) in the language of such a theory can meaningfully be said to “correspond” to the world in the “picture” sense of ‘correspond’” (loc. cit.).

So Reider correctly understands the significance of picturing as the key to Sellars’s defense of realism. He also correctly reminds the reader that Sellarsian picturing is not a kind of visualization or imagination. But his positive characterization of picturing points in us in the wrong direction. Reider says “when we ‘picture’ what something is like, we can use relevant sensory content and apply such content in a manner that is compatible with scientific theories” (42). But I don’t think it makes sense, using Sellars’s notion of picturing, to speak of picturing what something is like, at least as the “what it is like” phrase is used today. Reider’s description also makes it sound as if picturing is something that we do with conscious intent tied to scientific theorizing. Sellars’s discussion of picturing in SM thus needs to be read with extreme care, so I’d like to review a few of the basic claims made there about picturing.

First, picturing is a natural, empirical relation (an isomorphism) between objects. “What something is like” (whatever it is) is not an object, thus not suitable fodder for picturing. Second, the existence of a picturing relation between “natural linguistic objects” (or their mental counterparts “natural intentional objects”) and objects in the world is, in Sellars’s view, a transcendental requirement on the empirical meaningfulness of the language or conceptual framework. This is just as true of the conceptual framework and language of the manifest image as it is of the eventual scientific image. Hence there is no special connection between picturing and science. The language(s) of highly advanced science(s) will, indeed, bear a different picturing relation to the world from the language of common sense; it will be a much finer grained picture than that of common language, but both must picture in some way. We will return to issues concerning picturing later.

Section III

There are also problems with Reider’s interpretation of the notion of a perceptual taking. To begin with, when he says that “What makes perceptual takings a special kind of representation is that they represent one subject, despite the fact that we are always experiencing a succession of appearances” (44), Reider speaks too loosely. There is a perfectly good sense in which every intuitive and conceptual representation represents one subject, despite the fact that we are always experiencing a succession of appearances, for concepts are representations of the unity of a succession of appearances. What distinguishes perceptual takings and the Kantian intuitions Sellars wants to illuminate via the comparison is the fact that they combine the characteristics of (1) unifying the (successive) manifold of sensation in a single representation and (2) relating immediately to the object so represented.

Reider goes further off the mark, however, when he asserts that “The non-perspectival representation of the house is an instance of what Sellars call a ‘perceptual taking’”(44). Perceptual takings are clearly, in Sellars’s view, always perspectival. Consider the examples Sellars gives of paradigm perceptual takings:

I do not simply perceptually accept a house; the content of my perceptual acceptance is something like

this house over there facing me left-edge-of-front-wise (KTI ¶45 in KTM: 435).

Or as Sellars himself pulls his points together:

The object of a perceptual representing of a house is the non-perspectival content house; yet as the sort of item that can be the object of a perceptual representing, it must provide rules for explaining (together with other factors) why such and such sequences of perceptual takings with perspectival contents were necessary (KTI ¶50 in KTM: 436).

And again:

The essential structure of the content of perceptual takings is not just

house from a certain geometrical point of view

but, to make a complicated point in a simple way,

house in front of my sightful eyes
ship in water moving to the left of my sightful eyes.

In my argument I have thinned out this mutual involvement of object, circumstances and embodied perceiver into a ghostly ‘object from a point of view’ (KTI ¶51 in KTM: 436-7).

Or, from a different essay:

A perceptual believing in [i.e., a perceptual taking] would be illustrated by the subject constituent of the believing expressed by

This red brick facing me edgewise is too large to fit that gap (SRPC ¶22, in KTM: 454).

What is non-perspectival is the house itself, which is the thing taken, though not the taking of it.

…[I]f the total content of a perceptual act is point-of-viewish, it is because it is the content of a perceptual act. Thus, while the content house is not a point-of-viewish content, it explains (together with certain other factors) why such and such perceptual representings with contents which can be subsumed under the rubric

house-from-such-and-such-a-point-of-view

take place. Thus, the concept of a house as a perceptible object essentially involves a reference to perceptual acts, i.e., to the perceptual takings of a perceiver (KTI ¶49, in KTM: 436).

This misunderstanding of the nature of a perceptual taking becomes doubly dangerous when it is combined with another thesis that Reider seems committed to. After discussing the ways in which objects differ from perspectival views of objects, he maintains that “any particular perspective cannot accurately ‘represent’ a mind-independent object. This is the case, because vantage-points are the products of the observing subject and should therefore not be confused with the mind-independent object” (44). Few philosophers would be tempted to confuse a vantage-point with an object, but there is a deeper worry here.

Reider infers that perspectival views of an object cannot “accurately ‘represent’” (44) (Why the quotes around ‘represent’?) it, because (1) the object has many sides, while the perspectival view shows only one; (2) the object is not foreshortened, while the perspectival view is; (3) “in brief, mind-independent entities are not the facing side of the object we are looking at” (44). The inference Reider makes thus seems to rely on the notion that an accurate representation of an object duplicates the object itself. But surely the representation ‘relation’ is neither some form of identity relation nor even any kind of resemblance relation. If part of his argument that Sellars is trapped in a form of idealism rests on the notion that representing reality would require a duplication of reality ‘in the mind,’ then the argument cannot carry much weight.

Section IV

The section of his paper in which Reider discusses Sellars’s criticism of Kant’s treatment of space and time is undermined by several misconceptions or misinterpretations of Sellars’s text. Let’s briefly set the context. Kant thought that space and time are the forms of receptivity, entirely dependent on our constitution. Therefore, he concluded, any object that appears in space and time must be ideal, itself also dependent on our constitution and thus not the thing as it is in itself. Sellars thinks that Kant missed a significant distinction between the forms of sensibility strictly so-called, which would pertain to “the characteristics of the representations of receptivity as such” (that is, as sensations), from the space and time in which our conceptual representations (including our intuitions) locate their objects. Roughly, Kant needed to better distinguish the phenomenal space and time that psychologists (even transcendental psychologists) can investigate from the space and time about which physicists develop theories. Physicists, Sellars contends, are free to develop a theory of space-time that is in principle quite independent of the peculiarities of the constitution of human sensibility. The constitution of space-time can be teased away from our subjective experience and grounded in objective experimental results that do not rely in any direct way on the peculiarities of our subjective constitution. Differently constituted beings investigating the world would, in principle, come to the same theory of space-time as us. That earns the theory the right to claim to be a description of the real, of things as they are in themselves.

Reider thinks that Sellars supports his view that ideally good theories describe reality with a clearly question-begging argument. But the argument he attributes to Sellars could not be Sellars’s own, for it ignores or misinterprets a number of crucial Sellarsian distinctions. The first one I want to focus on here distinguishes “the perception of a sequence from a mere sequence of perceptions” (SM Appendix ¶11: 232). According to Reider, “In this passage, Sellars distinguishes between the succession that occurs in mind-independent existence and the mental succession found in perceptual experience” (48). Then he attributes a fairly simple but bad argument to Sellars: that mental succession depends on (is possible only because of) the mind-independent succession, so time is not just a form of intuition. But this is not what Sellars (or Kant) is doing at all.

What is Sellars up to? A mere sequence of perceptions is, in one sense, mental, for it is a sequence of mental states. Sellars’s own example is the perception of a whiz followed by the perception of bang. But this is a sequence in actual time; it is an actual succession. The perception of a sequence, however, is a unitary state of mind, and, as a single item, is not itself successive. It represents a sequence; a sequence is part of its intentional content. There is no actual succession, but only a represented succession. Sellars always emphasized in his Kant course that Kant’s predecessors, with their unsophisticated conception of ideational composition, tended to think that one represented a complex object via a complex of ideas. But it just isn’t true. A simple representation, say, a proper name, can represent something complex. In the other direction, a sequence of representations is not thereby a representation of a sequence; an array of representations is not thereby a representation of an array. Notice, this is a point about the semantic relationships among our representations, and by no means directly about our relations to ‘external reality’.

Reider thinks Sellars simply assumes that any conceptualization of succession must be caused by some actual, non-mental succession, thus assuming realism rather than vindicating it. In order to explain the succession of mental states according to Reider’s version of Sellars, we have to assume that there are physical successions responsible for them. Notice how very unSellarsian this argument is. It assumes the distinctively Cartesian notion that we have prior access to our mental states and their relations, which in turn we explain by reference to physical states and relations.

Sellars emphatically rejects the Cartesian conception that we have prior (and better) access to our own mental states and their relations. This is one of the places where reading Sellars on Kant becomes very difficult, because Kant remains to a not insignificant degree under the spell of the Cartesian conception. Kant may have thought — at least at times — that we do have some prior access to our mental states and their relations, and thus may countenance the general idea of an argument from our knowledge of the mental to knowledge of so-called ‘external’ reality. But it is clear that this view is not compatible with the 2nd edition refutation of idealism. The accusations that the first edition of the Critique of Pure Reason was just warmed over Berkeley forced Kant to clarify his position. For Sellars, however, this Cartesian viewpoint is a nonstarter. His commitment to realism cannot be vindicated in such a fashion.

Section V

Reider’s whole discussion seems framed by the Cartesian assumptions — the “new way of ideas” — that Kant came to reject and Sellars sought to dismantle. Reider’s Hegel, for instance, sounds much more like Bishop Berkeley than the Hegel I know and love. Notice that what Sellars says he wants to avoid is, not Hegel, but “the dialectic which leads from Hegel’s Phenomenology to nineteenth-century idealism” (SM I ¶40: 16). What Sellars really wants to avoid is Bradley and Bosanquet. Reider attributes to Hegel the claim that “only human consciousness and its varied contents are knowable,” (50) and I’d like to see the textual basis for that attribution. As far as I can see, the claim is either trivial (equivalent to the claim that we can know only what we can think about) or it makes hash of Hegel’s Philosophy of Nature as well as of any knowledge of the Absolute, for neither Nature nor the Absolute are themselves contents of human consciousness, except in the trivial sense that they are things we can think about. I have argued elsewhere that Hegel and Sellars are not nearly so much at odds as one might think, and others have echoed this claim.[2] So I will not linger over these issues here. Rather, I return to thinking about the role of picturing in Sellars’s theory.

Let me boil down what I think is wrong with Reider’s reading of Sellars. He would make of Sellarsian pictures a “veil of ideas” that we cannot get beyond. Like an “external world skeptic” he argues, roughly, as follows:

We know our pictures.
We have no reason to think that our pictures are like, resemble, or are analogous to anything extra-pictorial (things in themselves).
So our pictures cannot afford us any knowledge of things in themselves.

Thus, Reider sees Sellars as committed to an epistemologically-based idealism. I have argued against any such reading of Sellars in my “Getting Beyond Idealisms,” and I do not want to repeat those arguments here, but I would like to point out why Reider’s picturing-focused version does not gain traction.

Reider starts his argument against Sellars by claiming that “Sellars’ method for knowing the thing-in-itself is ‘picturing’.” (52) This cannot be right. According to Sellars, the method that leads us to knowledge of things in themselves is science. Picturing is not a method at all, nor is it essentially connected to science itself. As we’ve seen, picturing is a transcendental condition on the empirical applicability of any conceptual framework. Furthermore, picturing can’t be the method involved in science, because science and its commonsense ancestor has been around for millennia, whereas the conception of picturing is a relatively late acquisition developed in the attempt to comprehend naturalistically how our thoughts and theories engage with the world of which they are a part.

Reider then claims the Sellars’s argument insists that we know things in themselves by knowing our pictures and then (and independently) drawing an inference by analogy to the nature of those things. This is where he treats pictures as similar to the “veil of ideas” that early modern thinkers had so much difficulty getting out from behind. But, of course, the ‘picture’ Reider employs of the role of pictures is faulty. We do not independently construct pictures of chunks of the world and then notice (to our surprise?) that there is an analogy between them and reality. Rather, paying attention to evidence and orchestrating one’s responses to it in accordance with appropriate rules enables one to produce maps or pictures of chunks of space-time that can be employed in devising or controlling further activity. For the most part, the pictures that we produce while employing the manifest framework are produced unconsciously. They belong in the animal representational system that we employ unconsciously on a minute-by-minute basis to modulate our behavioral responses to the flood of sensory information we constantly receive. The accuracy of those maps or pictures is vindicated by the success of the activities based on them.

The central point here is that these pictures are not, in the first instance, objects of knowledge from which we inferentially derive beliefs about things in themselves. Rather, pictures enable our engagement with the world around us. Once language evolved, the first-order atomic statements that occur within a system of such statements that bear a picturing relation to the world are expressions of our knowledge of things in that world. They do not function as independent premises about a picture for an analogical inference to a further, distinct claim about what there is and how things relate; rather, they embody our current best knowledge of what there is and how things relate. They are actively involved in the modulation of our behavior in the pursuit of our goals. Even so, directly inferring how things in themselves are from any stage of our conceptualization of the world short of the Peircean ideal would be a mistake. For it is only in the Peircean ideal that such statements express, not merely ‘best knowledge,’ but final knowledge, knowledge that never fails to be vindicated. Action guided by such an ideal map of the world will never be ill-guided. As Hegel himself would say, knowledge that is not of things as they are in themselves is not knowledge at all. The important point remains that we do not know things by first constructing a picture and then inferring from that how things are; rather, we know how things are (in part) by representing them in ways that conform to the requirements of picturing.

Reider asserts that Sellars “merely assumes that the manner in which the mind maps or pictures spatial relations is analogous to mind-independent reality” (53). But this just isn’t true. First off, if this were the case, Sellars would not have tried to give us a transcendental argument that picturing is a presupposition of the empirical meaningfulness of a representational system. Second, there is no single way in which we map or picture reality. There may be a kind of instinctive or hard-wired form of mapping built into our sensibility, but there are as many different forms of conceptual maps or pictures of reality as there are conceptual frameworks that we evolve and then develop. It is ironic that he thinks that Sellars assumes that picturing is “the inalienable prerogative of the perceptual level” (SM V ¶82: 144; quoted by Reider on 41 and 53). For Sellars rejects this idea: this is one of the points that separates him from the instrumentalist. Sellars thinks that picturing, at its best, is the prerogative of the theoretical level, and that is why he is a scientific realist. Of course, since Sellars rejects a hard-and-fast distinction between the language of observation and the language of theory, picturing will always be one of the functions of perceptual states — but it is not a function solely or ideally of perceptual states.

Sellars must not be shoved into a Procrustean bed structured by the old “new way of ideas” that claimed we know mental occurrences first and best and must infer from that knowledge to any knowledge we might be able to gain about external reality or things in themselves. Sellars rejected that old form of representationalism, just as Hegel did. We are a part of the world, engaged with it, engaged, indeed, with things as they are in themselves. The more in tune we are with the world, the more we can understand and explain it in its multi-dimensional complexity, the more right we have to accept the higher-order belief that we grasp things as they are in themselves. It is the explanatory adequacy of our conception of the world that really grounds our ontological confidence in that conception. Picturing plays a role in explaining the explanatory adequacy of our framework, and is thus important — but it is not the whole picture in ontology.

Section VI

Sellars’s realism is in tension with his Kantian approach to conceptuality to the degree that we want to keep the notion of reality connected to that of truth. The picturing relation that plays an indispensable role in tying our conceptual activity to the world in which we live is a sub-conceptual relation. Pictures are neither truth nor false. Pictures are also inarticulate: some language use may picture, but pictures, it turns out, cannot be said, at least not as such. Yet the concept of an object turns out, for Sellars, to be framework- or language-dependent. This must be just as true for the objects of ultimate science as for the objects of the manifest image. Sellars paints for us a picture of ultimate reality as a Tractarian/Humean extreme: just one damn thing after another. Causal relations — any property or relation that contains some modal force — are not ‘in the objects’, but expressions of how we, in our conceptual dealings, recognize commitments and entitlements to utilize and transform our representations. So, one might say, everything formal, which is almost everything interesting, is mind-dependent. In order properly to pressure Sellars on these points, however, Reider needs to leave behind the Cartesian new way of ideas and recognize that a different mode of thought is in play in Sellars, precisely because he adopts a Kantian and sometimes even post-Kantian approach.

[1] Editor’s Note: Page numbers for quotes from Reider’s article “Sellars on Perception, Science, and Realism: A Critical Response” can be found in the PDF version of: Reider Patrick J. 2012. “Sellars on Perception, Science, and Realism: A Critical Response.” Social Epistemology Review and Reply Collective 2 (1): 39-56. Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1Bfg0-B8 Accessed: 16 December 2012.

[2] See, e.g., “Sense-Certainty and the ‘This-Such’” Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit: A Critical Guide. Cambridge Critical Guides. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008: 63-75; “Getting Beyond Idealisms” in Empiricism, Perceptual Knowledge, Normativity and Realism: Essays on the Anniversary of “Empiricism and the Philosophy of Mind,” W. A. deVries, ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009: 211-45. For others, see Terry Pinkard, “Sellars the Post-Kantian” in The Self-Correcting Enterprise: Essays on Wilfrid Sellars. Michael P. Wolf and Mark Norris Lance, eds. Poznan Studies in the Philosophy of Science and the Humanities, 93 Amsterdam and New York: Rodopi, 2006: 21-52.