Academic literature on the topic 'Dummett, Michael A E Contributions in philosophy of language'

Abstract Throughout his philosophical career, Michael Dummett held firmly two theses: (I) the theory of meaning has a central position in philosophy and all other forms of philosophical inquiry rest upon semantic analysis, in particular semantic issues replace traditional metaphysical issues; (II) the theory of meaning is a theory of understanding. I will defend neither of them. However, I will argue that there is an important lesson we can learn by reflecting on the link between linguistic competence and semantics, which I take to be an important part of Dummett’s legacy in philosophy of language. I discuss this point in relation to Cappelen and Lepore’s criticism of Incompleteness Arguments.

Michael Dummett has nicely expressed a rather widespread doctrine about the primacy of sentences. He writes: "you cannot DO anything with a word — cannot effect any conventional (linguistic) act by uttering it — save by uttering some sentence containing that word ...". In this paper we argue that this doctrine is mistaken: it is not only sentences, but also ordinary words and phrases which can be used in isolation. The argument involves two steps. First: we show — using Sperber and Wilson's relevance theory — that an utterance of "John's father" could COMMUNICATE a proposition. Second: we point out that, in this context, this proposition would be asserted rather than merely implicated. Because there is nothing importantly idiosyncratic about the phrase "John's father", we infer that words and phrases generally can be used in isolation to make assertions.

In his paper “Fanciful Arguments For Realism,” Alan H. Goldman offers what he terms a “local case” argument as part of a more general defence of “semantic realism” against the anti-realist manoeuvres of Michael Dummett and Hilary Putnam. Semantic realism, here, is the thesis that sentences in a natural language L may have content that transcends any verification or assertability conditions associated with these sentences by competent speakers of L: an adequate semantics, the realist maintains, must equate the content of an assertoric sentence with its realist truth-conditions. Goldman contends that his local case argument demonstrates both the need to accord a central role to a realist conception of truth in an account of linguistic meaning, and the manner in which we acquire such a conception. He further maintains that the argument cannot be countered by any of the strategies that anti-realists are wont to deploy against “global case” arguments for realism (“evil demon” and “brain in a vat” scenarios, for example), and that, given the local case argument, we can recognise the fallacy in such anti-realist strategies and thereby rehabilitate the global case arguments that a full-blown semantic realism requires. I argue that Goldman's local case cannot fulfil its intended function in the overall economy of his argument, and that his strategy for defending semantic realism is fundamentally flawed. In so doing, I attempt to curb the realist's flight of fancy before it leaves the ground.

The ability to attribute false-beliefs to others — the hallmark of a representational theory of mind — has been shown to be reliant on linguistic ability, specifically on competence in sentential complementation after verbs of communication and cognition such as ‘say that’ and ‘think that’. The reason commonly put forward for this is that these structures provide a representational format which enables the child to think about another’s thoughts. The paper offers an alternative explanation. Drawing on the work of the philosophers Michael Dummett and Robert Brandom, it argues that the available data better fits an account that grounds the notion of representation in the commitments undertaken by asserters. The competence in sentential complementation that precedes false-belief attribution is viewed as a result of the child developing a meta-awareness of the syntactic forms employed in assertion. This meta-awareness gives the child access to discourse about the commitments undertaken by speakers and the consequences of these for their behaviour. This understanding constitutes the child’s grasp of the representational nature of discourse and thought. The paper thus offers an illocutionary account of theory-of-mind development.

The stand-off involving the asylum-seekers on board the Tampa, off the coast of Australia in August-September 2001, represented a critical confluence of security, fear. The Australian government’s response to the issue of stranded asylum-seekers, it is argued here, was a directly calculated political representation aimed at creating fear in the Australian populace: fear of a threat to Australian security. The fear generated by the Australian government, in which the national media was a willing accomplice, allowed for a perception among Australians that the government’s actions, in refusing to allow the Tampa to offload its passengers, were consistent with the provision of national security. The government was preserving the territorial integrity and sovereignty of the state in the face of this constructed ‘threat’ to Australia’s security. The provision of security is central to the state’s reason for being. If the state is not capable of providing security, however that security is to be defined, the continued legitimacy and even existence of the state itself must necessarily be questioned, as Michael Dillon has argued. The power and importance of the security narrative can therefore not be underestimated. Further, Dillon argues, this security has generally been conceived as the security of the ‘self’ against the ‘other’. Attempts to be seen to be ‘doing the job’ of security has throughout history involved the identification and vilification of this other, with the fear of the other consequently constituting or reifying the self and contributing to the legitimacy of governments. The nature of this relationship between identity, security and fear is central to the government’s politics of representing the asylum seekers. The Howard government acknowledged, rightly, that making people afraid of the threat posed by waves of foreign asylum seekers and evoking the narrative of security would contribute to a solidification of the Australian self, and unite the people of Australia behind its political leaders, who were working to protect Australians from this ‘threat’. The fear created by the Australian government was constructed in a number of ways. First, the government argued that Australia was faced with a possible future wave of illegal immigrants, a situation that threatened the future security of the country. Seen in this light, the decision to prevent the Tampa from offloading asylum seekers was a means of achieving security by sending a message to would-be boat people that Australia was not a ‘soft touch’. Second, the government evoked a range of images central to traditional discourses of security, concerned predominantly with the preservation of the nation-state from military attack. As Burke argues, the government variously talked of ‘territorial integrity’, ‘sovereignty’ and ‘national interests’, concepts that, when spoken of together, would seem more suited to a situation of armed conflict rather than one involving the captain of a cargo boat looking to offload asylum seekers for processing in Australia. The consistency of this type of language with earlier depictions of the threat of Japanese invasion during World War II, for example, is not an historical coincidence. It is argued here that the use of such language helped create a context in which the idea of asylum seekers as threatening to Australian security, and therefore to be feared, had resonance with the domestic population. Finally, the government constructed fear through its attempts to depict the asylum-seekers as an ‘other’, foreign to Australian identity. This was achieved in part through questioning the legitimacy of their claims to asylum over others awaiting processing, and also through the very act of depicting them as threats to security. Their religious and ethnic otherness was not played on specifically by the government, although claims that asylum seekers threw children into the ocean, which were to later be proved erroneous, portrayed asylum-seekers as less than human. The combination of these acts constructed a fear in the Australian populace, a fear of the threat to Australian self from a foreign other, thus pointing to the relationship between fear, security and identity. In an excellent recent text on Australian security, Anthony Burke convincingly argues that the government’s response to, or indeed creation of, the Tampa crisis can be viewed as the continuation of an enduring narrative of security and fear that has been the cornerstone of Australian identity and subjectivity since 1788. This narrative, he argues, has been constitutive and reflective of Australia’s sense of self, and has allowed for politics that has denied the rights of the other throughout Australia’s history. This perspective is not limited to the Australian subject. In a seminal text on US security, David Campbell argues that the provision of security in the United States has similarly been linked to identity politics in which the fear of a vilified other was central to the constitution of the self and the legitimacy of governments. The relationship between fear, identity politics and security is particularly evident, Campbell argues, in the McCarthy era attacks on ‘communist dissidents’ during the early years of the Cold War. The point to be made from these examples is that fear is not just implicated in the construction of security and indeed the self: it is integral to that project. Facile as the comparison may be, the approach of the Australian government to this issue is reminiscent of the plot of the 1995 movie, Canadian Bacon. In the film, a US President suffering from low popularity ratings invents a confrontation with Canada in order to unite the American people behind him and enhance his chances of winning a second term in office. In inventing this threat, his administration portrayed Canadians residing in the United States as possible spies for the Canadian administration and also expressed suspicion of the hegemonic aspirations of the Canadian government in general. The fear created through such a depiction, it was hoped, would allow the President enough popularity to be re-elected. Perhaps the central difference between this example and the Howard government’s approach to the asylum seeker ‘threat’ is that the fictional US President in question was not successful in his bid for re-election. Joseph Camilleri has persuasively argued that security is a psychological rather than material state. In other words, security is about feeling rather than being secure. As such, governments must seek to create conditions in which this feeling of security is engendered in order to retain legitimacy. Enter the narrative of fear. Fear creates a basis for perceptions that the government is providing security, because once a population becomes concerned at threats posed by different actors, that population becomes almost necessarily supportive of actors viewed as capable of addressing that threat. Seen in this light, the creation of threat, regardless of the material significance of the threat itself, is a useful tool for governments to maintain legitimacy. Importantly, in the case of the asylum-seekers, these individuals themselves, and the nature of their plight, had limited relevance to the political project of the Australian government. This is aside from the important caveat that they were not of Anglo-Saxon appearance, and therefore ‘different’ to dominant depictions of the Australian self, a difference reinforced by claims of their willingness to endanger the lives of their own children. The fact that many asylum seekers were escaping the oppression of a regime Howard himself had described as evil, and whose invasion he was simultaneously supporting, seems to have slipped through the cracks of popular consciousness. This paradox did not seem to bother the Australian government, whose political representation of asylum seekers did not require any attention to where they had come from or why they had been willing to risk their lives in seeking refuge. The government merely had to point to a future ‘wave of boat-people’: queue-jumping ‘illegals’ who had targeted Australia as an international ‘soft touch’. The fear created by such an image was enough to suppress any lingering form of empathy or, for that matter, rationality. Even a rationalist would struggle to reconcile the government’s commitment to international human rights norms, its support for the war against terrorism and depiction of the evil Taliban regime of Afghanistan, and its commitment to preventing Afghani asylum-seekers from having claims processed in Australia. The government was riding on a wave of fear, a fear that would play a significant role in the re-election of the Howard government and the continued popular support for mandatory detention of asylum-seekers and the government’s ‘Pacific Solution’. Can we imagine a situation in which security can mean something other than the security of the self (in this case the Australian nation-state) at the expense of the other (asylum seekers)? Can we imagine a situation in which security is associated with emancipation of individuals, as Critical Security theorists advocate, rather than the (military) protection of the sovereignty of the state? Burke is sceptical, largely because the narrative of security as fear has permeated Australian politics, and the Australian subject, since the initial dispossession of indigenous people in the eighteenth century. In an international climate where fear still prevails, particularly in the wording of President Bush’s recent State of the Union address in which he warned Americans of the ‘Axis of Evil’, it is difficult to see how, or where, normatively progressive security politics would be located. When government or regime legitimacy can be assisted through recourse to an identity politics predicated on fear, what incentive could we imagine for an acknowledgment of the claims of ‘others’? The answer to this question lies partly in this paper itself, and in the other contributions in this journal to the question of fear and social relations. The power of fear, it is argued here, is necessarily undermined by an analysis of the construction of fear itself. This form of critique, following Foucault, is critical to breaking down a knowledge-power nexus that, in the case of security and the asylum seekers renders us secure through the suffering of others. While we may not expect critical analysis to reconstitute politics and identity in the short-term, we can reasonably expect such analyses to undermine the resonance of such narratives of fear. References Burke, Anthony. In Fear of Security: Australia’s Invasion Anxiety. Sydney: Pluto, 2002. Camilleri, Joseph. ‘The security dilemma revisited: Implications for the Asia-Pacific’, in W. Tow, R. Thakur and I. Hyun eds. Asia’s Emerging Regional Order: Reconciling Traditional and Human Security. Tokyo: UN University Press, 2000. Campbell, David. Writing Security: United States Foreign Policy and the Politics of Identity. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Dillon, Michael. The Politics of Security: Towards a Philosophy of Continental Thought. London: Routledge, 1996. Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. New York: Vintage, 1979. Canadian Bacon. Dir. Micheal Moore. PolyGram, 1995 (Screenplay by Michael Moore). Citation reference for this article MLA Style McDonald, Matt. "Fear, Security and the Politics of Representing Asylum Seekers" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.1 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0203/security.php>. Chicago Style McDonald, Matt, "Fear, Security and the Politics of Representing Asylum Seekers" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 1 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0203/security.php> ([your date of access]). APA Style McDonald, Matt. (2002) Fear, Security and the Politics of Representing Asylum Seekers. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(1). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0203/security.php> ([your date of access]).

This thesis discusses the central ideas that surround Michael Dummett's claim that there is an incompatibility between a truth-conditional conception of meaning and a minimalist conception of truth. These ideas are brought into relation to the work of John McDowell and Donald Davidson, as all three philosophers can be better understood by locating them within Dummett's dialectic regarding the incompatibility. Dummett's argument crucially depends upon the assumption that a meaning-theory should be full-blooded in nature, against McDowell's insistence that a meaning-theory can only ever be modest. The main contention of this thesis is that neither Dummett nor McDowell is successful in establishing their strong contentions regarding the form that a meaning-theory should take. McDowell only wants to provide trivial answers to questions about the constitutive nature of the meanings and competency of particular items in a language. Dummett, on the other hand, wants to provide a reductive account of the central concepts that concern the philosophy of language. What this thesis will argue is that once both of these claims have been rejected, the position Dummett and McDowell jointly dictate is in fact the position that we should read Davidson as occupying, who lies in a conceptual space between the extremes of maximal full-bloodedness and modesty. This is an understanding of Davidson that is contrary to how McDowell reads him, who has been an influential commentator of Davidson. How Davidson should actually be interpreted is achieved by understanding how he has the resources to avoid Dummett's claim of an incompatibility between a truth-conditional conception of meaning and a minimalist conception of truth.

AbstractIn general, historians of science and historians of ideas do not focus on critical appraisals of scientific ideas such as vitalism and materialism from Catholic intellectuals in eastern and southeastern Europe, nor is there much comparative work available on how significant European ideas in the life sciences such as materialism and vitalism were understood and received outside of France, Germany, Italy and the UK. Insofar as such treatments are available, they focus on the contributions of nineteenth century vitalism and materialism to later twentieth ideologies, as well as trace the interactions of vitalism and various intersections with the development of genetics and evolutionary biology see Mosse (The culture of Western Europe: the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Westview Press, Boulder, 1988, Toward the final solution: a history of European racism. Howard Fertig Publisher, New York, 1978; Turda et al., Crafting humans: from genesis to eugenics and beyond. V&R Unipress, Goettingen, 2013). English and American eugenicists (such as William Caleb Saleeby), and scores of others underscored the importance of vitalism to the future science of “eugenics” (Saleeby, The progress of eugenics. Cassell, New York, 1914). Little has been written on materialism qua materialism or vitalism qua vitalism in eastern Europe.The Czech and Slovene cases are interesting for comparison insofar as both had national awakenings in the middle of the nineteenth century which were linguistic and scientific, while also being religious in nature (on the Czech case see David, Realism, tolerance, and liberalism in the Czech National awakening: legacies of the Bohemian reformation. Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, 2010; on the Slovene case see Kann and David, Peoples of the Eastern Habsburg Lands, 1526-1918. University of Washington Press, Washington, 2010). In the case of many Catholic writers writing in Moravia, there are not only slight noticeable differences in word-choice and construction but a greater influence of scholastic Latin, all the more so in the works of nineteenth century Czech priests and bishops.In this case, German, Latin and literary Czech coexisted in the same texts. Thus, the presence of these three languages throws caution on the work on the work of Michael Gordin, who argues that scientific language went from Latin to German to vernacular. In Czech, Slovenian and Croatian cases, all three coexisted quite happily until the First World War, with the decades from the 1840s to the 1880s being particularly suited to linguistic flexibility, where oftentimes writers would put in parentheses a Latin or German word to make the meaning clear to the audience. Note however that these multiple paraphrases were often polemical in the case of discussions of materialism and vitalism.In Slovenia Čas (Time or The Times) ran from 1907 to 1942, running under the muscular editorship of Fr. Aleš Ušeničnik (1868–1952) devoted hundreds of pages often penned by Ušeničnik himself or his close collaborators to wide-ranging discussions of vitalism, materialism and its implied social and societal consequences. Like their Czech counterparts Fr. Matěj Procházka (1811–1889) and Fr. Antonín LenzMaterialismMechanismDynamism (1829–1901), materialism was often conjoined with "pantheism" and immorality. In both the Czech and the Slovene cases, materialism was viewed as a deep theological problem, as it made the Catholic account of the transformation of the Eucharistic sacrifice into the real presence untenable. In the Czech case, materialism was often conjoined with “bestiality” (bestialnost) and radical politics, especially agrarianism, while in the case of Ušeničnik and Slovene writers, materialism was conjoined with “parliamentarianism” and “democracy.” There is too an unexamined dialogue on vitalism, materialism and pan-Slavism which needs to be explored.Writing in 1914 in a review of O bistvu življenja (Concerning the essence of life) by the controversial Croatian biologist Boris Zarnik) Ušeničnik underscored that vitalism was an speculative outlook because it left the field of positive science and entered the speculative realm of philosophy. Ušeničnik writes that it was “Too bad” that Zarnik “tackles” the question of vitalism, as his zoological opinions are interesting but his philosophy was not “successful”. Ušeničnik concluded that vitalism was a rather old idea, which belonged more to the realm of philosophy and Thomistic theology then biology. It nonetheless seemed to provide a solution for the particular characteristics of life, especially its individuality. It was certainly preferable to all the dangers that materialism presented. Likewise in the Czech case, Emmanuel Radl (1873–1942) spent much of his life extolling the virtues of vitalism, up until his death in home confinement during the Nazi Protectorate. Vitalism too became bound up in the late nineteenth century rediscovery of early modern philosophy, which became an essential part of the development of new scientific consciousness and linguistic awareness right before the First World War in the Czech lands. Thus, by comparing the reception of these ideas together in two countries separated by ‘nationality’ but bounded by religion and active engagement with French and German ideas (especially Driesch), we can reconstruct not only receptions of vitalism and materialism, but articulate their political and theological valances.

In the Begriffsschrift, Frege held that identity is a relation between names, to wit, the relation of co-reference. The verdict of Frege scholarship on this conception of identity has not been favorable, to say the least; indeed, commentators including Alonzo Church, Michael Dummett, and Richard Heck have claimed that it is incompatible with ordinary first-order quantification. We show that these commentators are mistaken. The Begriffsschrift conception of identity is perfectly consistent with ordinary quantification over objects, and moreover generates the same consequence relation between sentences as does standard first-order logic with identity.

This introduction discusses the development of Quine’s system over time and the centrality of structure to it. It explains the contributions made in this volume to our understanding of Quine’s thought on structure and ontology, especially with respect to philosophical logic, philosophy of language, history of philosophy, mathematics, philosophy of time, and set theory. Chapters by Michael Resnik, Frederique Janssen-Lauret and Fraser MacBride, John Collins, Jaroslav Peregrin, and Paul Gregory explore whether Quine’s structuralism is epistemological, language-based, or ontological. Greg Frost-Arnold, Robert Sinclair, and Gary Kemp and Andrew Lugg explore Quine’s views on structure from a historical point of view. Nathan Salmón, Gila Sher, Marianna Antonutti Marfori, and Natalja Deng consider Quine’s views on the structure of logic, language, and theories in relation to contemporary philosophy, specifically ontology, the philosophy of logic and mathematics, philosophy of set theory, and philosophy of time.

Abstract This discussion addresses a number of topics relating to the author’s perspective on our life in groups and, in particular, our collective psychology as this is understood in everyday life. It first compares the author’s account of collective intentions with that of Michael Bratman from the point of view of “creature construction,” estimating that creatures endowed with collective intentions according to the author’s account would be more efficient in carrying out tasks requiring the contributions of two or more of them. Turning to collective emotions, it distinguishes collective emotions on the author’s account from otherconsequential emotion-related aspects of life in groups, including “feeling-rules”, which may be directed to both individuals and groups. It makes a related point about beliefs, alluding in particular to pluralistic ignorance, which related collective beliefs as those are understood by the author would be apt to explain. It goes on to spotlight the idea that conversation—a central component of life in groups—is a context for collective-belief formation, linking this point to classic positions in the philosophy of language of David Lewis and Robert Stalnaker. Next it turns to collective moral responsibility and responds to some critical comments on the author’s account of this. Finally, it briefly explores the relationship of joint commitment thinking to moral thinking, arguing in relation to some suggestions from Michael Tomasello that though joint commitment thinking may be an important prompt for moral thinking, it should be distinguished from it.